Good Morning London! (3)

“Take a seat,” Lumina’s boss, Owen Maryn, intoned. Lumina wordlessly complied.

“Welcome back,” he began, “your timing is… impeccable. I hope your time off has been sufficient to recover from, well, you know…”

“Yes sir,” Lumina replied, although she was unsure herself of the truth of that statement.

“Excellent. My colleague, Miss Dalia, has requested you in particular to accompany her agent on a job of utmost importance.” Owen pushed a file across his desk. “This comes from Mister Sonnac himself.

Lumina skimmed the file. The seriousness of this development wasn’t so apparent to her at first glance, but she could see she had some lore to brush up on. She had heard of the Mothman before but didn’t recall the details of this particular cryptid off the top of her head. “I am not soloing this operation?” she inquired, attempting to suppress her incredulity.

“A more experienced agent than you has requested assistance for this task. This should clue you in as to the expected difficulty of this assignment, Miss Hawkins,” Owen chastised. “After your previous debacle, I would hope that you would be more cautious and ready to accept help. We may not be able to bail you out of San Francisco the way we bailed you out of Hyderabad. And do you know why?”

“It… it’s Illuminati country,” Lumina stammered.

“Exactly. If this threat is crossing our desk, you can bloody well bet your arse that the Illuminati are swarming to keep their eye on their back yard!”

Lumina paused. “I’m sorry, but what business do we have dealing with this if the competition is indeed so fierce?”

“No doubt Mister Sonnac has his own reasons for being concerned about the sightings and deaths, but I think it is safe to conclude that the Illuminati cannot be trusted to contain this threat in a way that will sufficiently protect the people and the Secret World. This Mothman has been allowed agency in that country for over half a century. Those fools must have thought there was something to be gained from its continued presence. They are wrong. If they will not contain or eliminate the threat not only to those innocent people, but also to the discovery of the Secret World, then we will.”

Owen took a breath to gather his composure, then continued, “You will go to San Francisco, confirm if these sightings of the Mothman are legitimate, and capture or destroy the beast if it is indeed there. And if there is anything to Mister Sonnac’s intuitions regarding ley lines in the area, learn as much as you can and report on this as well.”

“And who am I being assigned to partner with in this investigation?” Lumina reminded him.
“Ah, that will be Mister Whitethorn. I am hoping he will temper your recklessness, at least by a little bit.”

“Corinth? Doesn’t he have, like, three other jobs that he’s on?”

“It would behoove you to mind your own business,” Owen groused.

“Sorry, habit comes with the trade,” Lumina apologized.

“Whatever,” Owen sighed. “Your flight leaves at Heathrow at 2:30. You will meet Mister Whitethorn there by 12:30 with packed bags. I expect you to be punctual. Any questions?”

“We’re flying?”

“Yes, the Illuminati will likely be keeping watch over the portals to Agartha near San Francisco, and as Mister Sonnac noted, local, and likely federal, authorities are containing the noise of these incidents as much as they can. You will likely have to get close to get the facts you need, and it will be best to have the proper paperwork on hand if they ask for it. As such, we will use legal channels to get you there even if more expeditious means exist. If you can find a portal to Agartha that is clear of oversight, we can smuggle you weapons and other equipment you may need to support your investigation. Anything else?”

“Can I stop by the archives and read up on this Mothman and Ley Lines before I go?” Lumina pleaded.

“Yes, but make it quick. One last thing.”

“Yes?”

“For the love of God, do not forget your passport.”

…………………………………………………………………

“Shit shit shit shit…”

Lumina scrambled out of the cab with her luggage and carry ons. She was, of course, running late. But surely two hours was more than enough time to get through the airport, even if it was the busiest in the world…