by Justin Bell
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Agent Grace stood in his office, staring out the window over his town. Ever since he'd gone to school here, this had felt like his town, and that sentiment remained.
The noise out in the hallway a few moments ago shook his windows and rattled his fillings, if had any. His impeccable dental hygiene prevented the need for them. But now, it had grown quiet. Glancing back over his shoulder, he once again eyed the open top drawer in his desk. Along with the cylinders and the syringe, a .44 caliber Magnum heavy pistol remained, and Grace figured if one of the items in that drawer didn't solve this problem, the other one sure as hell would. Walking past the desk, he scooped out two different vials as well as the pistol-grip syringe and slid them smoothly in his pocket, though he left the pistol where it was. Smiling just slightly, he crossed the threshold and walked towards the door that led to the hallway outside, a suddenly silent and ominous calm before the storm.