A minute later, an entire squadron of agents burst into the empty room, armed and ready for battle. Instead of a thief, they had found Julia. She was struggling helpless, with a single handcuff that bound her too a grate. sealed in on the exhibit's wall. Julia had never felt so helpless before in her life. The agents held in their laughter as they used some fancy electronic device to free Julia of the handcuffs. Rubbing her sore wrists, Julia turned to face the amused agents. It angered her to see that they were decked out in all sorts of complex gadgets, from heat seaking sensors, to night-vision goggles, and  semi-automatic pistols, when Julia herself had got nothing of the sort.

"It's not my fault, I would have liked to see you do any better." She said, addressing the squadron leader, who's only name tag red #86438. But Julia clearly knew her as Louise Booker, a smart-mouth girl whom had gone to the training academy with her.

Louise smirked, "I scored a near perfect score during my M.A.T. Unlike your idiotic performance."

"Well, Despite my 'idiotic performance' at least I got assigned an actual mission instead of back-up work." Julia retorted, her face growing hot, all of her anger she had felt at the thief was coming of on Louise.

Louise's pale face flushed, and she pushed the barrel of her gun in between Julia's shoulder blades harshly.

"What?! I am not an enemy, you do not have a right to treat me this way!" Julia objected fiercely as Louise herded her through the museum.

"The Director would like to speak with you. He thinks anyone who could have failed a simple mission so easily, could be conspiring with the enemy. He insists asking you a few questions." Louise said in her cocky manner.

Julia scowled. She was pushed through the sliding glass doors out of the service entrance of the natural history museum. A car was idling in the empty parking lot, the engine running. Louise opened the door and shoved Julia into the backseat of the Sedan, slamming the door behind her. The car sped up immediatly, and Julia instantly noticed the bullet-proof partion between her and the driver. So Louise wasn't bluffing, they really didn't trust her after all. She crossed her arms over her chest, which was still panting from the fight. But she did trust the Director, a kindly but businesslike man named Harold Brownstone.

They drove for a long while. 

Finally, the reached an insanely modern looking buildings. They had to drive the Ct onto a glass plate, then underwent a dozen scans ranging all the way from a normal serial license check, to a 360 degree nuclear radiation check. After they were cleared, they drove in front of the grandest building, and Julia was ordered out of the car.

She was marched through the sliding glass doors of the building. She felt the whoosh of air-conditioning as the entered. It was a large room, that looked like a very nice hospital waiting-room. A smartly dressed young woman looked up from the computer, and smiled. As if a whole squadron of agents in full combat gear were just your everyday customers. 

"May I help you?" She asked, her accent suggesting she had come far from the south.

Before Julia could respond, Louise pushed forward, "We got J. Tremaine for the Director." 

The woman punched it in on her computer. "Ok, y'all Send her on up."

Reluctantly, Louise let her go into the elevator alone. Thankfully, because standing in an elevator with a squadron of heavily armed agents while elevator music played might have been the last straw. Julia was not a traitor, and it took all of her self-restraint not to take out Louise and her whole team of lunatics. Julia was not weak, she was top of her class at the academy, and very talented at hand-to-hand combat, and at most fight forms. Sure, they said she was a failure. For a Tremaine, maybe. But for an agent, she was formidable. Louise better watch her skimpy little back.

The pleasant music was  cut of by a beep as the elevator reached the top floor. She was discharged into a narrow hallway, with gold plaques next to every polished oak door. This was the elite level, she knew, because this was where her parents offices were. Her knowledge of the floor helped her instantly locate the directors office. It was, of course, the cliche corner office. She looker up at the plaque, it read  Director  Julia was in the right place now, she was sure of it. She was about to knock lightly, when a disembodied voice spoke from a small speaker embedded in the door frame.

"Enter." 

Most people would have not noticed this sort of thing, but Julia did She had been trained for spotting bugs since a young age. She entered, twisting the overly ornate doorknob.

The office was plain and clean. There was white walls, clear but almost certainly reinforced windows, and an oak desk. 

The director looked up. He was a plain man, with dark skin, a bald head, and a carefully maintained beard that was speckled with white hairs. A single plaque on his desk read:

CIA Dir. Harold Brownstone

"Julia, please sit down" He greeted, he had known her since birth, their families were well aquatinted.

She sat down in the chair across from him, keeping her posture perfect and her eyes guarded.  

"What is the meaning of this?" She inquired, keeping her voice measured when inside she was practically seething.

"Well, your obvious and ballast failure at both your mission and M.AT. leave me puzzled. But, I do not think you are a traitor, your a Tremaine. Tremaine's do not sell out." He watched her carefully, and when she gave no response he continued. "We think that this theft is not what we originally thought, it may be part of something much larger. In any case, we would like you to tell us as much as you can about the thief you have encountered. The security camera's were remarkably disabled, so that makes you our only witness."

Julia thought for a moment, "It was a man, around 20 or so. Dark brown hair, light eyes, fair skin. He said he wanted the sunstone, and he was very skilled, with very expensive gadgets at his disposal too. "

The director furrowed his brows, then pulled three mug shots out of his manilla folder, and slid them across the desk to her.

The first one was a man with bleached platinum hair and tattoos up his neck and face. A small bottom part labeled him as "Markus Blake" a thief from Australia.

"No." She said and went to the next one.

This one was a teenager with light hair and dark, hate-filled eyes. It read "Jax Bolt". Julia shivered, the Bolt's were one of the oldest and most infamous villainous families, dating back almost 200 years. They were the worst of the worst and ruled villainy with an iron fist. Thankfully, this was not her culprit. 

She flipped to the next one. Dark and unkept hair, amused ice blue eyes looked up at the street camera as if he knew they were taking a picture. It was the thief. Anger exploded inside of her, she looked down at the name.

Adam Bolt.