Let's go back in time for a bit.

It was a bright and cheerful day in the suburban neighborhood. The sun was shining overhead, not a cloud in the sky. The birds chirped and butterflies flew between the trees along the sidewalk.

A black sedan drove through the neighborhood, coming to a stop at the curb of a large building.

A woman exited the driver's seat and walked onto the sidewalk. She had blonde hair, done up in a ponytail, blue eyes, and sharp features with high cheekbones and narrow eyes. She wore thin jeans and a hoodie on top.

She turned her head this way and that as she hunted for her quarry.

The edges of her mouth curled up.

She raised her hands.

“Mom!”

And a little girl leapt into her arms.

“Hi Sweetie, how was school today?”

The woman shut the doors of the sedan and locked it, turning to let her daughter into the house. Just then she heard footsteps on the driveway.

“Dr. Elma Schieffer?”

She turned around. In her driveway stood a man in a black suit with a pair of sunglasses and an earpiece. She rolled her eyes.

“I already told you, I don’t do overtime. There’s no point in rushing me, you’ll get it when it’s done.”

The man shook his head and reached into his jacket.

“I’m not here for that.”

He pulled out a rolled up blue paper, holding it out to the Doctor. She raised an eyebrow.

“Any new requests are going in the backlog, you know?”

He shook his head.

“Not a request. A gift.”

She crossed her arms, her eyebrow still raised.

“Honestly we can’t make heads or tails of it. But we’re thinking you might. A bit of inspiration, just something to pass the time?”

Dr. Schieffer stared at him for a moment before sighing and taking the papers.

“Don’t expect anything. I don’t work for free.”

The man nodded and turned around, walking down the driveway. He raised a hand as he left.

“Take care, Dr. Schieffer.”

Dr. Schieffer heaved a sigh and entered her house, leaving the papers off to the side. Now, what was for dinner tonight?

After dinner Dr. Schieffer carried the papers into her workshop. She glanced at the papers and sighed again.

“Well, it won’t hurt to take a quick peek.”

She first strode to the wall, grabbing a lab coat hanging there. She wrapped it over her shoulders and put her arms through the sleeves. She let down her hair, and then rumpled it about with her hands. She took a deep breath.

She then spun around.

“HOW DARE HE! To imply that I, the great Dr. Schieffer herself, would require inspiration from anyone else! He will pay a terrible price for such an insult to my great genius!”

She heard a muffled voice.

“Mom! I can’t hear the TV!”

“Oh, sorry Sweetie!”

She let down her shoulders and exhaled.

Ok, no harm in taking a look.

She moved over to a desk at her workshop, pushing some scattered papers and tools to the ground with a crash. She then spread the papers out.

“Hm.”

She glanced this way and that.

And paused.

“Hmmmm….”

She began to look more closely. She took out a notepad and pencil, and began to write.

“I see…what is this…but that is…what if it was like…and maybe this…yes…yes…”

She jumped as a buzzer went off on her phone.

She took out her phone. She smiled softly.

She put the phone on her desk. She laid down the notepad and stood from her seat. She walked over to the wall and hung up her lab coat, tying her messy hair back into a ponytail.

The plans would still be there later. Abby’s bedtime would not.

She shut the light, stepped out of the room, and closed the door.

And now back to the future...

“Good afternoon all you citizens of the planet Earth! This is GNN and I’m your host, Brendan Baird. Today we’re talking about the only thing on anyone’s mind: the supergenius Dr. Elma Schieffer and her Schieffer-Oscillation Engine.”

“Dr. Schieffer announced the engine just a few months ago. The device works by resonating with the geothermal movements of the Earth’s own core, producing practically limitless clean energy! And not a moment too soon! The loss of several major refineries at the hands of the Order of Harmony disrupted fuel supplies across the globe and world governments were unable to respond after having their reserves drained by the dastardly Necrosaurus. A new source of energy was desperately needed.”

“Dr. Schieffer’s designs proved invaluable and cost-efficient, and governments, companies, and consumers around the globe have all rushed to embrace the Schieffer-Oscillator. Some are calling it the biggest revolution since the steam engine. Many are already calling for Dr. Schieffer to be nominated for a Nobel Prize for this grand contribution to humanity.”

“Some critics say the device is too good to be true. They point out Dr. Schieffer’s dubious origins and wonder if this is some sort of plot. Dr. Schieffer herself has refused to step into the public view and some claim her silence is a sign of subversion. But I, for one, will sleep warmly tonight, under the warm light for all mankind granted to us by Dr. Schieffer.”

“GNN goes to the experts to explore the inner workings of this incredible device. We’ll be back after a short message from our sponsors.”

Bob shut off the television. He laid back into his chair and his face curled into a smile.

He loved it when a plan came together.

Sure things grew out of control at points. There were more casualties and closer calls than he would have liked. But that was the nature of life. And it was worth it in the end.

After all, one couldn’t make an omelet without cracking some eggs.

And that’s what it takes to change the world.

Bob’s phone began to buzz. He stood up as he looked at it, reaching for the fully enclosed helmet hanging from the wall.

A faceless minion’s job was never done.

“GNN goes to the experts to explore the inner workings of this incredible device. We’ll be back after a short message from our sponsors.”

Back in the Bureau of Special Investigations, Agent Wilson stared at the television, rubbing his chin. He turned to look at the paper in his hand and heaved a sigh.

Steve walked over, coffee in hand.

“Why the long face, Wilson?”

Agent Wilson handed him the paper.

“Hm, redacted, classified, redacted, redacted, and redacted. Thrilling read, Wilson. Weren’t you CIA? Don’t you have some sort of un-redactor glasses or something?”

Agent Wilson shook his head.

“Only the popular agents get those.”

“What are you looking at anyways?”

“The Ulsan case.”

“This again? Give it up, BSI’s never going to touch that one, Wilson.”

“I know, but it’s strange.”

“What is?”

“That case seemed very straightforward and was already highly public. So why are they pulling details now? It makes no sense.”

Steve shrugged again.

“Maybe she’s got a friend. Or maybe your CIA buddies cut a deal, want her on a suicide squad or something.”

“That’s just a rumor.”

“You sure?”

“...maybe.”

“For the CIA that means yes.”

“...let’s just do our jobs.”

Steve shrugged again.

“I’ll get right to it. I’m sure there’s another urgent request to escort a geriatric super across the street. Or maybe another floating kitten stuck in a tree.”

“She was pretty cute though.”

“You didn’t get scratched.”

“Must be the scary face.”

“Ouch. That hurts, Wilson.”

Agent Wilson turned to the papers. He sighed and began to put them away. Ulsan. Freeport. The Order of Harmony. The Necrosaurus’s reign of terror. No connection. No relation. Just random, isolated incidents. He was just wasting time. Distracting his mind. Trying to grasp some tiny modicum of control as a mundane federal agent in a world of magic and monsters. And yet…

He couldn’t get rid of the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.