I got the call a little after five in the afternoon.

A couple weeks have gone by since my recruitment and abduction with the foundation.

I spent the time reading up on their, or I guess, our, mission statement, and different containment procedures,

at least the ones I have access to.

This organization is built upon secrets upon secrets and need to know is their mantra.

I could probably work here my whole life and never get access to all of the anomalies

they've come across.

Guess I'll find out, because I'm pretty sure this is a lifetime appointment. Book, my faithful

miniature mutt, strolls along at my feet as I follow one of the white coats out to the van

in an underground garage. The white coats are the only ones that have something resembling a

uniform. I guess the whole point of a secret organization

is to blend in. Still, most of the staff have a sort of semi-formal wear, khaki pants and button-up

shirts, the kind you would expect to find at a bank. I stand out in my Blink 182 shirt and jeans.

If they want me to dress nicer, they're going to have to get me some more clothes. The only outfits I have are the ones that were in my suitcase the night the foundation jumped me.

While everyone blends together, it's easy to tell which of the three foundation departments everyone belongs to.

The security members are all former military or law enforcement,

standing at strict attention or with chips on their shoulders.

When they shed their white coats, the researchers usually look into tablets or stare off into space.

The investigators generally pass their time looking at

everyone and everything. It doesn't take long to recognize a familiar face. Minnie looks pretty

much the same as when they scooped us up. Her knuckles and ankle have healed since I last saw her.

She wears a sleeveless blank tank top and cargo pants.

...