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Sharad, alias Agent Darkangel, pulled out his daggers and jammed them into the wall, creating a small hole in the metal blast doors through which he could hear the conversation. He couldn't pick up much through the incision, but caught a few important words. "Hostile," "locate," "takeover," "artifact." Loaded words. Hot words.

He heard squelching footsteps, and withdrew, sealing the hole with instant camoputty and getting the hell out of there. Playing undercover wasn't very easy, especially without any physical support. Sure, he had agents on the line... but was he really the only one ballsy/stupid enough to actually enter the lion's den?

He shook it off. The rogue Zurg craft that had crash-landed a few miles away was a remnant of the original trading forces, but a rogue vessel that had strayed away. It was hostile, but the motive was unknown, other than several attempted artifact recoveries and an apparent abduction of members of the surrounding populace. Simple and clean, Sharad thought to himself. Either a peaceful treaty, a complete withdrawal of enemy forces, nonhostile assimilation... or aggressive negotiations. Sharad preferred the latter strategy, although he was both a skilled crisis mediator and a gifted fighter. He rang in for backup and spun his right dagger into the air, catching the blade gingerly and condensing his breath on the cold silver-laced steel.

Sharad sat there for a bit, relaxing. If there's one thing he had learned as an agent, it was to leave a calm before the storm. It was written it down, somewhere, on a bulletin board long forgotten in the Sector 4 HQ. Sharad chuckled to himself. Some idiots had switched the two middle letter in "calm." Now, whenever Cap Crimson got angry, it was customary to place a live clam under his door. Wonderful.

He cracked his back against a tree and got up, yawning, from his stakeout. It had been 15 minutes, and still no-show from Agent Pent. He smiled grimly. Sharad had gotten the luck of the draw, getting assigned to this particular high-risk mission not only for his bladeskills, but by luck of the draw. Poor Pentigan. Sharad almost felt sorry for him. Sucking in a breath of cool night air and basking in the moonlight, he waited for Pentigan to show himself (and his sword, hopefully) and get this party started. Sharad sheathed his daggers and pulled out his trusty G.I.B.-issue Glock-17's. He might have to range this one.

Safe and comfortable inside her office, Agent Dalvar watched the scene unfold on her wall monitor. Or, more accurately, this was one of the many windows and video feeds that cluttered the wall. She leaned in, about to enlarge it, when the computer chirped. A new window unfolded under the video feed. It was a requisition form from Agent Justice. For ten anteaters. She blinked her large black eyes in bewilderment and shook her head, signing it with her stylus. She didn't really want to know why. The Zurg turned her attention back to the video feed with a slight feeling of trepidation. These were new Agents, at high risk for doing something diplomatically dangerous or stupid. She drummed her fingers on the arm of a chair then leaned forward and turned on voice communications.

"Agent Pent, Agent Darkangel, please remember the required diplomatic procedures. Despite what Agent Crimson's actions might lead you to believe, we are not known for running in guns blazing. I know you would hate to be the ones to give us a bad reputation."

Agent Albion Mercury, at the moment, was still in her office somewhere in Durem, killing time surfing the Internet. At that moment, she heard a beeping sound coming from the desktop, upon which she pushed a few hotkeys.

The screen displayed the symbol of GIB, an instant indicator she was being requested. "...Albion Mercury here. What's up?"

The message from Darkangel played, giving her a location to go.

Anima smirked to herself as she answered the call. "Agent Albion Mercury here. I'm on it."

She tucked her disheveled button-down shirt into the waistband of her pressed black pants and took one of her many black ties from the rack behind her, tying it around her neck. She threw on her short black trenchcoat, adjusting the sleeves on her arms. On her way out she grabbed her thin shades and trademark black fedora. For some reason, wearing battle gear didn't occur to her at all.

Before she stepped outside, she made a last-moment detour back to her office. "Dammit, how do I keep forgetting those?" She tapped one foot on the ground before leaping a few feet into the air, hopping onto the awning in front of her door and using it to jump into the second floor window, her residence. She grabbed a pair of pistols from the bed, sliding out and landing back on the floor next to what looked like an outside cellar door.

A few moments later, the citizens of Durem would be able to occasionally glimpse an unidentified flying object streaking across the sky. Anima's transport was a Zurg single-seat UFO reclaimed from the GIB.

Agent Pent stood for a moment, amazed by the sudden disapearance of Agent Darkangel and began to turn his attention to his own gear. 'Okay,' Pent started to himself 'Titan Seed Cloak, check, Titan Seed Helm, check, Double-Bladed-sword-thing-that-came-from-the-Titan-Seed, check, Corallus Snake... Hey, where's my Corallus snake?' and as he said that he spotted a green snake slithering towards the Zurg base.

Toki laughed. "I could have landed on you, if I wanted." She smirked. "Anyways, I'm here to make sure you kids don't do anything stupid." She stretched. "Damn, those things are cramped. Anyways, I'm just gonna hang back and maybe help out if you guys screw up." She twisted a small microphone, so she was hooked up to the conversation. "And don't freak out." She said, allowing the last part to be picked up by the microphone. "You'll kill us. Well, not really. Crim has kept me alive plently of times, even with his lack of any respect for stealth. Of course, he's not my section head, so I'm not sure if he'd mind terribly if I died. Anyways. go ahead, kiddies. Show us what you guys got."

if you be my star...

"Don't let them see your weapons. You are a diplomat, not a warrior." She reminded them through the com system. "Well, not until they attack you, at least." She grinned as she leaned against the small shuttlecraft she had flown there. If they screwed this one up, they were going to get yelled at, which was a nice change. Normally it was her or Rin, and occasionally Ginji if Rin got him to do something stupid.

...I'll be your sky.