[centre][hr][color=Cyan][h2]Marcus Nickelson[/h2][/color][hr]
[color=Silver][b][i]Two Weeks ago...[/i][/b][/color]
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[color=Silver]	Marcus stared down at the text message, surrounded by figures dressed to please, others dressed to scare. Two individuals, so thickly covered in riot-gear that it was almost impossible to make out their gender. Each had access to a weapon, and Marcus knew exactly why they would. Deep down, they were probably scared, especially after hearing of his accident in the Police Station. But who was he to blame? Marcus was scared as well. This wasn't what he asked for, but the distorted figure in his visions told him why it was him, something about a purpose. Everything's been kept under the radar to the public, and not a word was ushered towards the Police about spreading these details.

	His eyes darted around the room, looking towards the man across the table to himself. Marcus' handcuffs were released before he came into the room, indicating some sort of negotiation or friendly interrogation. Marcus had seen it all before, during training. A sort of way to play with the mind into giving you what you wanted, friendliness always had its perks. The man slid the phone towards him, pushing his glasses up his nose once more.[/color]

[color=f26522][b]"So there's more, Nickleson? More that you didn't know about? I'm surprised that this message actually reached you considering what [i]Terrible[/i] reception you must be having in here..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The two stared at the phone as he slid it across to Marcus.[/color] [color=f26522][b]"Marcus, if what is said about you is true, then I propose that you go and meet with these individuals...This [i]Gavin[/i]...If they are facing the same [i]difficulties[/i] as yourself...Perhaps we should contact them directly?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Marcus looked up towards the smartly, sharply dressed man. His eyes darted between him, the armed personnel at the door and the interrogation mirror, where clearly multiple people would be sitting down and writing notes about this disastrous discovery. He flashed a glimpse into his superior's eyes, as if screaming to him what he was implying. His emotions spoke loud and clear, as he discovered. The man handed him a small folder, with information written from a higher-authority. The Military? Secret Services? Congress? He was out of ideas of who'd authorise these, but it wasn't his position to find out. Marcus had trained all his life to follow orders, right?

	His hands picked it up, reading the notes. They read about plans for sending investigation teams towards locations of other reported suspects nation-wide. There were only a few reported that linked to these cases, but it was quick work since New Year's Eve. Marcus knew that by reading this, he was asking for his assistance with this project. After-all, why would it matter? He's one of these suspects, isn't he? Treason wasn't his highest bidding point, even if he wasn't strictly American with blood or bred.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"But what about my Job? My family? My friends? What about my life that I live?"[/b][/color]

[color=f25422][b]"Mr Nickleson, we regret to bring this to the table, but you left those all behind once you were contacted by whatever this...Being was? I'm afraid it's one of the few options, possibly the only option, if you wish to continue your service...We'll relieve you of your duty, inform your family that you are in our hands and are undergoing a strict programme completely made up for them and yourself. It's what we have to offer, and we hope you can learn as much as you can about them to us, in case they are hostiles or friendlies to our nation, and the world..."[/b][/color] [Color=Silver]He stared blankly at where the contract held a position for his name. It was waiting, begging in his mind to be scribbled on with black ink to appoint him as part of a new service. His life [i]was[/i] gone. His accidental demonstration towards the Police, as well as controlled ones in front of his peers here, proved he would be the soul candidate for this task...But what should he do?[/color]

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[centre][color=Silver][b][i]Present Day...[/i][/b][/color][/centre]
	[color=Silver]He pulled up in his Land-Rover Defender, reaching the right place at the right time. He was nervous. Why wouldn't he be? Whether it was a cult of killing, covetous murderers or a friendly bunch of hippies, it was his duty to at least report what he could back to his taskers. Nothing bad had to come out of it. Nothing good had to either; but he hoped for the latter. A gathering of individuals were hanging around one door as an individual opened up. Marcus' rolled down window allowed him to faintly hear greetings, even mentions of familiar names from the text. That being said, he slowly slid out of his car and nervously stood by the open door of his vehicle. This was the location. The two-weeks of preparation and practice to see if he could master his abilities alone proved difficult and straining, but worthwhile. He'd covered at least six separate powers, and the choices he made within his visions made it clear he'd found them all.

	He pulled on his green jacket and dragged his feet slowly towards the area, fixing his mixed-emotional glances towards the gathering as they chatted away, some even making their way inside. What he was doing didn't look suspicious, not that there was any reason to be. It was just difficult to process. Processing was usually a strong point, until the last few weeks went by. His hiking boots clunked as they ascended the wooden steps, slowly reaching a far-flank of the group. The Motel wasn't 100% amazing, but it was better than any other he'd seen laying around in a place so desolate like this one. Marcus moved closer to the group, noticing him being fully in view and appearance. His voice was low, but awkward to some extent, his accent different from the regular nation's.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Gavin...Price? Guy or...person who messaged me?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]His eyes darted towards the group that were crowding the door. He was the last one to arrive, which made it far worse for him.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Quite a...uhh...Distance to get out to here, am I right? Or...Ahem...Marcus, Marcus Nickleson...You...sent me a message...I guess you knew that, bu-. Y'know...Meeting and stuff, hello."[/b][/color]