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Adela shrugged in response. "My guess is that he's with the others. The Hosts I mean." Not sure if that was the right thing to say. She had no idea what the Hosts were like and if they would willingly hurt the Eves. Nah, that shield girl seemed like she'd give him a chance. And the other chick is probably the same.

Her eyes widened slightly as a new thought hit her. Ooh s**t. The small girl. God help Fin escape that crazy one. The few times Adela saw Clarissa, the teen was either going through a mental breakdown or covered in blood. I wouldn't trust that kid as far as I could throw her.

"I'm sure your brother is fine. He can take care of himself well." She gave Saieve a comforting smile. "Honestly, I'd be a little more worried about yourself. What made you want to join the side that's after you?" It still made no sense to her whatsoever - they'd been enemies two days ago!

The conversations were interrupted as Host-Agent R stalked into the room. The atmosphere instantly shifted due to his presence, and dropped further when they saw his expression.

“We’ve had... an interesting situation pop up,” Agent R explained. “In Dubai, to be specific. Your assignment is going to be to stop an international incident, of the very worst sort. You see, there’s a new EVE there.”

“In Dubai?” someone inevitably asked.

“Yes, in Dubai. We checked; he was nowhere near the Felt’s home when that whole steaming pile happened. So, theoretically, this is impossible, so we’re sending you into what’s likely a trap, without any promise or ability for reinforcements. We’d send Adams with you, but the squad is... otherwise occupied. Host-Agents wouldn’t be tolerated, but they’ll be hanging back on a helicopter, preparing to drop across the border if something happens. It shouldn’t, but it might.

“Now, you may be facing opposition of an oddly mundane sort. The best description would be, frankly, ninjas.” Agent R held up hands to silence any disbelief. “We don’t know how or why, but that’s the closest parallel we can draw. They will look like local armed forces. They may even be armed with rifles and pistols, but they won’t use them against you. They are expecting people like you and could very well be equal to you - and the Host-Agents. We’ll have to find out.

“The actual task at hand is... difficult. This new Eve is both a US citizen and very unstable at the moment. If we can’t calm him down, he’ll be killed. If he’s killed, the President is... not going to be happy. Even though he knows the situation, he doesn’t want that happening. So, the objective is to get in, stop him from doing anything untoward, and get out. Secondary objective, I should say; you’re more valuable than he is. If something bad happens, get out. Understood?”

Xu sat silently in the corner of the room, with his sketching book out and scribbling madly in its pages. His face was blank, and his eyes, though looking at the paper, seemed to peer right through, down to the floor. His hand and pencil moved systematically, only pausing when the page is filled, before returning to its course once a blank parchment was replaced. Xu had not said a single word since waking.

What he drew seemed at all random, or whimsical at the best. If one were to watch, they would see a walking tree in one, a toothed worm, a sort of bird with extravagant tail feathers, a butterfly, and a fantasy flower among other things. As the conversations went about around him, Xu kept quiet, and continued drawing.

Xu lifted his head briefly when Host-Agent R stepped into the room. His pencil stopped as the Host-Agent spoke, as Xu absorbed everything that was said. Xu gave a slight nod, when the Host-Agent had finished, and returned to his mad sketching when Saieve spoke up.

"I got a question. What is this guy's name? And what does he look like?" It's a valid reason. I don't want to go up to the wrong guy and start up a fight.

Adela perked up a little when she heard Host-Agent A's name brought up. "Ah and speaking of the other Host-Agents, how is A doing? And M for that matter?"

What was keeping her from showing any anger towards the Host-Agent in front of her was the information she'd learned. Ninjas. Seriously? And we're going to Dubai of all places? For Americans to be in an Arab territory did not sound like a terribly good idea.

Transport was not, unexpectedly, arranged by the Adams; in fact, they were absolutely nowhere to be seen, probably off ret-conning something. The accustomed location didn't even carry a hint of the team they had grown somewhat accustomed to, which seemed rather odd.

Instead, they were shepherded into a van, which drove to an airport, where they were led to a LearJet, which took them into the skies.

They had quite a few hours, so if there was something to be said, it had to be said at once.

Xu's statement was met with awkward silence. Complete. Silence. Nobody said anything because they were lazy bums who didn't post.

Anyhow. The plane spent hours in the air, each Eve wrapped up in their thoughts. They napped or thought or read or ate, passing the time. Eventually, the plane began to descend. Below them was a desert city, its lights glowing in the night that had befallen them. The Learjet descended to about the center, landing on one of the runways and quickly taxing to a terminal. They did not, however, dismount to the terminal; instead, a single limousine pulled up outside the LearJet, onto which a few mundane US agents shepherded them. The limousine, likewise, contained a few US agents.

"Alright, here's what's happened," the one driving began suddenly. "Up at Atlantis - The Palm - the guy we're lookin' for, the Greer fellow's holding up the bridge between the towers. No hostages, but he's proven to be a bit more... powerful than we expected. Been goin' on about how he's hearin' voices and he doesn't want 'em in him anymore. We called on you not because you're diplomats but because we figured you might have some idea about what he's talkin' about - keeps sayin' 'the Sigil is talkin' to me,' and we thought you might know what he's talkin' about. Either way, you gotta talk him down from there, 'fore the Arabs decide it's time to just gun 'im down from there." The limousine pulled past a crowd of people behind a police line in the parking lot, then pulled up to the door of the resort. The Eves disembarked, got onto the elevator, and rode to the top floor, where the bridge was.

Already they could feel it - the sort of power source an Eve or Sigil-user set off. It was surprisingly present before they could even see him, and they realized what the man had been talking about - he was strong.

They disembarked at the eerily empty top floor of the building, then walked through an eerily empty hallway. They arrived at the bridge. There had been a doorway to the bridge; now there was a hole. A number of soldiers in all black - apparently a local SWAT team of some variety - stood around the hole, watching the Eves as they approached. The soldiers motioned the Eves inward, and the Eves obeyed, getting their first look at the man they were going to be talking to.

He was tall, burly, pale, very blonde, and had a fair amount of facial hair. It looked like he had had a nicely trimmed mustache, but he hadn't shaved or trimmed it in a while and that was no longer true. His hair looked a little better cared for - it was long and tied back into a ponytail. At the moment, he was not wearing a shirt, though he was wearing jeans. Around him, the bridge was partially destroyed. Windows had been blown out, and the carpet appeared to have been burned. Colors swirled around him and the destroyed scenery. His aura was large and dangerous.

He looked up at them from where he knelt on the ground. "You people," he demanded. His voice was deep bass. "Do they talk to you too? All of 'em?" His eyes were slightly crazed.

The man stared blankly back at her. "Sigils... they're saying..." He paused, looking off into space. He did this for about thirty seconds before turning back to the group.

"What was I sayin'?"