Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars.

August 23 2012, 12:43a.m. Central Intelligence Agency Board Room 1, Langley Virginia.

"Name."

"Emily Fields."

"Number Identification."

"00736180."

"Handler."

"Hastings, Spencer."

"Branch."

"Central Intelligence Agency Field Agent."

"So Miss Fields I understand you've been through a lot these past three and a half weeks. Tell me about your operation."

"Operation Carnival 1 was a need to know highly classified case that had to do with finding the whereabouts of the global terrorist A. It was deemed a failure following my capture."

"Tell me about that day Miss Fields, the day you were taken."

"It started out as any normal day. I had been deep undercover for the past seven months, gaining the trust of a terrorist cell that had connections with A when my cover blown."

August 1 2012, 8:28a.m. Gabino Apartment Complex, Ankara, Turkey.

A hot, dry breeze drifted through the open window on the far side of Emily's cramped apartment. She huffed and wiped away the gathering perspiration on her brow before rifling through a few sheets of paper she held in her hands. Her dark perceptive eyes scanned the documents quickly, memorizing important dates and locations that had been highlighted in bright neon yellow. Sweat trickled slowly down the back of her neck and Emily cursed her broken air conditioner, which sat in the corner next to the open window.

The summers in Turkey were known for being unbearably hot. In the seven months that Emily had been living in Ankara she had decided that the worst season in Turkey was summer. She mopped the sweat off of her neck and brow and stood to get a glass of water from her small adjacent kitchen. The little apartment was sparsely furnished and quite small, but it suited Emily's needs just fine. Besides, if the information she had stolen from her terrorist contact proved to be true she would be out of this tiny cramped apartment and back to Washington DC in no time to debrief her CIA superiors.

Emily took a long sip from her lukewarm water before returning to her spot on the couch and resuming her study of the files that were spread out over a small nicked up table. Emily had been an operative for the CIA for eight years now ever since she had joined back at the tender age of twenty. She had gone to college for three years before applying to the CIA. She spent a year going through the intense training and passing every test they threw at her by the skin of her teeth before becoming a fledgling agent. She was put under the mentorship of Fulton, a strict middle-aged woman who had been a CIA analyst for three years and a field agent for twelve. She took Emily under her wing and taught her everything as Emily went through the training courses to become a field agent. She officially became one at twenty-five thanks to Fulton's guidance.

As a field agent Emily started out with case officers always accompanying her ops and hounding her nonstop to perform to her very best. It took her a long time to prove to her superiors that she responsible enough to do solo ops. At the age of twenty-seven she was given her first solo op. It wasn't anything huge, just intel gathering, however it was a success and slowly, but surely Emily worked her way up. Now she was twenty-eight and doing her own long-term solo ops.

This particular operation would be her longest and most extensive one yet. Eight months ago her handler Spencer Hastings had briefed her on a delicate need to know op known only as Carnival 1. Carnival 1 was a detailed plan designed to track down and ensnare the global terrorist A. Carnival 1 was highly classified and Emily only reported to Spencer who reported to the top CO's within the CIA, including the Director of the CIA. Tracking down and eliminating A was one of the CIA's top priorities.

A is a globally known terrorist entity wanted by the CIA, FBI, Interpol, and many other government agencies around the world. No one knows the true identity of A or how many people actually are A, but one thing is certain, A lives to twist and manipulate people's lives. Formally known as a weapons black market dealer, A has funded many terrorist cells and even committed treasonous terrorist acts against the UN, the United States, Europe, and other nations.

That's why Emily was here in Ankara, Turkey. She was chasing a lead she found on a terrorist cell being directly linked to A and one of A's chief subordinates that went by the name of Drake. Detaining and interrogating Drake would help solve one more piece of the A puzzle that Emily had been studying and trying to make sense of for years. She thought back to all the sleepless nights she had spent searching endlessly for any link or connection she could find. Spending her days balancing her caseload and chasing down dead end leads. Now Emily finally had something solid she could with, a tangible result that was nearly within her grasp. She chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully as she read over a brief transaction one of the unsubs, or unidentified subjects, had with the weapons dealer Drake. Emily scribbled a few notes down on a coffee stained notepad. She had to finish examining these files then return them before anyone realized they were missing.

Gaining entrance to the underground terrorist cell she was currently tracking was no easy feat. Emily spent many months crafting her false identity and slowly gaining the cells trust. To the terrorist cell Ahool she was known as Shannon Michaels, special weapons dealer on the black market. The supplied the Ahool with weapons not readily available. She quickly earned a name for herself and within seven months she was given word of their movements and made aware of their dealings and meetings. It was a long, grueling process, gaining entrance to the cell, but it would be worth it in the end when she finally had some more information on A. At least that's what she kept telling herself. Every night Emily slept with one eye open. She constantly kept looking over her shoulder everywhere she went, convinced she was being followed her overheard. This extensive undercover op had made her paranoid and skittish. She lived a life of lies that at any moment could unravel and get her killed or worse.

A sharp knock at her apartment door jerked Emily from her musings. She scrambled to collect the papers and briefly wondered who could be at her door. She wasn't expecting anyone. Emily unceremoniously shoved the papers in a folder and threw the folder in a cabinet. The knocking grew louder and more persistent the longer Emily delayed opening the door. Emily unlocked the door and opened the door on a crack.

The face of her terrorist liason peered back at her through the slight opening. Baran was an aging man in his late forties. He was fit, with rugged skin and thin greying hair. His eyes were dark, a deep shifty brown that keenly took in the surroundings. His thick shoulders led down to brawny arms and large, meaty hands. His entire frame was intimidating, and Emily always felt tense when he was around. She opened the door more and quickly gestured for them to come in. Baran strode through the door and straight into the tiny living room. Adam, a young idealistic youth, scurried after Baran as Emily shut and relocked the door. Emily turned and took in the two men as they sat down on her couch that she herself had been occupying moments before. Adam seemed nervous. He kept nervously running his long fingers through his thick dark hair and glancing about the room. Emily always felt a slight sense of pity when she looked at the young man. He was twenty-four, and for the life of her, Emily could never figure out why he joined terrorist cell. Maybe for excitement or opportunity? Emily didn't know. She walked into the room and sat across from the two men in an old wooden chair that was far too uncomfortable. Adam tried to offer her a charming smile and Emily gave him a slight nod of recognition. It was no secret that Adam was attracted to her. He often flirted with her on multiple occasions, but Emily would always brush him off. Sure he was good looking, but Emily swung in different direction when it came to sexual attraction.

"Why are you here?" asked Emily, getting straight to the point. If there was one thing she learned from working with Baran it was that he was a man who appreciated straightforwardness. He didn't like to beat around the bush.

"Straight to the point as usual Miss Michaels," chuckled Baran lowly. Emily shrugged. She wasn't in the mood for mind games or mindless chitchat. Already Baran's abrupt visit had left her feeling antsy and on guard.

"I wasn't expecting you today," Emily pointed out.

"True, but the circumstances under which I'm meeting you demanded that I contact you as soon as possible," Baran revealed inspecting his fingernails.

Emily leaned forward slightly in her chair to appear like she was interested. "What circumstances?"

"One of our benefactors has an interest in meeting you. We have told them about your work in dealing weapons and they are interested in speaking with you," Baran elaborated. Emily took in the fact that Baran only used words like them and they, alluding to the fact that he either didn't know the benefactor or he did know and was trying to gauge her reaction, see if she would pick up on his careful wording.

"This benefactor…what can you tell me about them?" asked Emily, trying to carefully dig for further information.

"Not much, only that they are part of a much larger organization and the name we were given was Drake." Emily's heart stopped for a second. Drake was the name of the person she had been tracking for months now. Had she finally gotten a break? Was luck on her side? Emily fought to keep her expression neutral as she processed what she had just heard.

"Hmm perhaps this Drake meeting would be good for my business if you say this Drake is part of something bigger," mused Emily out loud setting the bait for Baran to take.

"Drake has been our main line of communication with another cell that is much more powerful and larger than the Ahool. They provide us resources and information on our targets while we give information about our areas, governments, numbers, and anything else Drake requests," explained Baran while Adam nodded fervently in agreement. That was all Emily needed to hear to confirm her assumptions that the Ahool were connection with A, and that this mysterious Drake character had information on A's whereabouts.

"Give me a time and date to meet this Drake and I'll be there," said Emily, leaning back and crossing her legs and arms casually.

"Drake runs a very tight schedule and only has time to meet with you today in a few hours. I will give you the address of where you are to meet and the time. When you reach your destination you will only have to say your name and you will be taken to Drake." Emily nodded. It seemed simple enough, however Emily could already predict a million different things going wrong.

August 1 2012, 2:53p.m. Kalbur Balik Restaurant, Ankara, Turkey.

Emily stepped out of the cab onto the bustling streets of Ankara and followed the crowd down the street to the jammed crosswalk. She waited patiently for the light to flash indicating she could walk. As she waited Emily stared across the street at the upscale restaurant she would be meeting Drake in. At least she knew that this person had good taste. Expensive taste. Kalbur Balik was one of the most expensive restaurants in Ankara, and getting reservations was extremely hard. You definitely had to have some money to wave around to get into that place. The light blinked and Emily walked forward with the rest of the surging crowd that jostled and pushed in order to get across the street first.

Emily turned when she reached the other side and pulled open one of the double glass doors that led her into the restaurant. The interior was relaxed with a hint of ritzy upscale tightness. The walls were a deep rouge color that was offset with a soft clean white. Emily straightened her blouse one last time and smoothed a hand over her pristine black slacks. She had to dress to impress Drake and appear as the well to do arms dealer that she portrayed herself as. Emily took a deep calming breath before approaching the hostess stand. Showtime.

"Shannon Michaels," Emily announced. The hostess barely glanced up at her before he gestured stiffly for her to follow. He led Emily near the back of the restaurant into a secluded spot where only two other diners were seated. The hostess approached a tall slim blond woman and whispered quickly in her ear. The blond woman nodded and gestured for Emily to sit down across from her. Emily did, not sure if she should feel surprised that Drake wasn't a man, but a woman. Emily took moment to memorize her features. She was wearing a long deep blue off the shoulder dress that accentuated her curves and hinted at a tiny bit of cleavage. Her skin was flawless with the hint of a tan, like that of someone who sun kissed. Her manicured fingernails blushed some of her long golden locks away from her face, revealing high cheekbones and icy blue eyes. All in all this girl screamed femininity and socialite rather than notorious terrorist, but looks can be deceiving. Finally the hostess left and Drake turned and set her cunning eyes on Emily.

Emily had seen that look many times before. It was the look of a predator ready to toy with its prey, but Emily had no intention of being prey or toyed with.

"Drake I presume?" began Emily offering the other girl an easy smile in order to seem friendly and defenseless.

"You presume correctly, however just call me Cece Miss Michaels," said the blond beauty smiling back. Emily could tell it was fake but played along.

"Call me Shannon, we don't have to be formal here."

"Hmmm I agree. So let's order, enjoy some wine, then discuss business shall we?" asked Cece picking up menu without waiting for Emily's answer. Emily picked up her own menu and scanned the through the contents. Everything was pretty top notch and expensive. She chose a simple stir-fried salad and water while Cece went with a crab and lobster pasta drizzled with white sauce. The girl had expensive taste. Emily leaned back and watched as Cece poured a glass of Merlot and swirled the expensive red wine around a few times before taking a small sip.

"You know why I got into this business Shannon?" inquired Cece out of the blue. Emily perked up at her strange question, but nodded for her to continue. "I appreciate the finer things of life. A glass of aged red wine, silk, fast cars, and breathtaking views from a classy hotel. These things are only attained through money and power. Nowadays information, who you know and what you know, is the easiest way to gain power over someone. That's why I became a information broker with my associate, to gain power. Do you understand?"

"In a sense, we all have our reasons for doing what we do, yours is for power and control," Emily replied evenly.

"That's very astute of you Shannon," observed Cece as she scrutinized Emily shrewdly. Emily shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Their food came and they both ate in relative silence, making small talk and commenting on the goings on that were happening in Turkey. After they finished Cece ordered another glass of Merlot while Emily just continued to sip her water.

"So, to business," Cece began. "My associate and I have been tracking your black market sales and dealings. We've done an extensive background check on you and your buyers."

"Scoping out the competition are we?" poked Emily trying to get a reaction from Cece.

"Perhaps, or maybe looking for another partner. I like what you sell and how you operate. So does my associate," revealed Cece.

"And who is this mysterious associate?" asked Emily, fishing for more information.

"Mmm let's save that for the second dinner shall we? Besides we still have to broker out a deal."

"What did you have in mind?"

Cece smirked from across the table and turned to stare out the floor to ceiling windows by their table. "I want copies of your trades, a full inventory of all the weapons that you carry, and a list of your buyers."

Emily blinked and tried to appear surprised. "That's it. You don't want to buy anything from me or set up a trade extension?"

"I do, but like I said before I'm only interested in what information you get for me. I will pay you for it, but I have no need for your weapons," Cece elaborated finishing off her glass and standing. "If you will follow me to my apartment we can iron out a more firm deal in privacy." Emily nodded and went to pay for the bill, but Cece waved her off. "Don't bother, I know the owner and the meal is free. Consider this my olive branch from me to you."

"How can I say no to a free meal?" joked Emily back. She followed Cece outside where a black SUV was idling. A tall, thin balding man stepped out and quickly opened the door, allowing the both of them to slip into the SUV before he shut the door and began driving. Emily sat stiffly, trying to organize her thoughts. She was going back with Drake to her apartment, a dangerous yet golden opportunity to get information on A that no one has ever been able to get. The drive was short and they pulled up to a large brownstone apartment complex and got out of the SUV. A doorman opened the door and Cece strode inside to the elevator with Emily following closely behind. The automatic doors slid shut and Cece pressed the top floor button and waited patiently for the elevator to reach her floor. Emily counted the raising numbers in her head and waited for the inevitable ding. The elevator halted at the top floor and opened to a long hallway with one door at the end. Cece walked forward and opened the door. Emily glanced around the spacious apartment and noted how much bigger it was than hers. Floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the apartment let in large amounts of natural light, bathing the rooms in golden yellow. Hardwood floors gleamed underneath expensive red leather furniture and a spiral staircase went up to the second floor.

"Impressive," Emily breathed out.

"It's one my favorite estates," agreed Cece.

"It is quite nice," a third voice announced. Emily turned quickly to see a middle aged man standing behind the marble countertops pouring out two tall thin glasses of champagne. The man was tall and built solidly. He was muscular and quite good-looking. His honey blond hair was slightly spiked, but combed down in the back and his eyes were a cold bluish grey. Cece rolled her eyes as she addressed the mysterious man in her kitchen.

"Wilden, to what do I owe this unpleasant visit," snarked Cece.

Wilden offered her a sardonic smile before answering. "What? An old friend can't stop in?" Cece snorted. "Okay I get it. I have some…business I have to explain to you in private." Wilden pointedly looked at Emily and Emily stared back evenly.

"Hmm well I'm about to conduct business, but I guess I could spare a few minutes for you," offered Cece. "Shannon you can wait upstairs."

Emily nodded and turned to head up the spiral staircase. As soon as she was upstairs she tuned out the sound of the muffled voices coming from downstairs and instead began quickly looking through each room. She happened upon a large bedroom with a laptop sitting open on the desk. Emily quickly approached the laptop and brought the lock screen on.

"Damn it," Emily muttered under her breath. She didn't have the time to try and hack it considering Cece could be back at any moment, so Emily grabbed the watch at her wrist and slid out a small USB drive and inserted it into the computer. The USB would download all the files from the hard drive, but if the user unlocked the computer they would see that all the files had been downloaded. Essentially Emily was blowing her cover, but this was the only chance she would probably get to obtain some information on A's movements. There was no way Emily was going to pass up this opportunity. She tapped her foot anxiously as she waited for the download to complete. She glanced back at the open door and saw nothing. So far so good. A blue light flashed on the tiny USB signaling it was done with the download. Emily unhooked the tiny flash drive and slid it back into place on her watch before closing the laptop and walking out the door towards the spiral staircase. Cece was already making her way up the stairs, a look of annoyance plastered to her face.

"Everything okay?" Emily asked, feigning interest.

Cece scowled. "My friend is an idiot. I have to fix something he screwed up so I don't have time right now to patent out a deal with you. We'll have to meet some other time."

Emily nodded. "You know how to contact me. Through Baran."

August 1 2012, 4:48p.m. Gabino Apartment Complex, Ankara, Turkey.

Emily grabbed the copied files from her cabinet and stuffed them along with some clothes into her duffel bag. She was leaving Ankara and driving to Istanbul to catch a flight tonight back to the US. It was only a matter of time before Cece found out about the downloaded files and put two and two together. She had to be on a plane and back to the US by then or she was dead. Emily hurried into her bedroom and reached under the bed and withdrew a small metal lockbox. She brought it back to her duffel and fished out a key. She unlocked to box and withdrew an unmarked P229 Sig Sauer. She pulled back the slide and saw that she had one bullet in the chamber before she let the slide click back into place. She pressed the magazine release and the magazine slide out to reveal a full clip. She clicked the magazine back into place and holstered the gun in her shoulder holster along with another magazine. She would ditch the gun before she got to the airport, but for right now she felt safer having it with her.

Emily took one last glance around the apartment. This was the place she had been living in for the past seven months. The place she had called home. Emily shook her head vehemently. No, this was the place Shannon Michaels called home. Emily Fields home was back in the United States with her friends and family. Satisfied that she was leaving nothing behind of importance, Emily walked outside, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets, head down trying to look discrete. She had nearly made it down the block when she heard a loud shout. She turned and saw a white van start speeding towards her, the passenger door was opened and a man was waving a semi automatic rifle in her direction. Emily through the bag on the ground and sprinted down the street. She didn't exactly need the documents in the bag since she had all the proof she would need on A. Besides the bag would weigh her down. A spray of bullets ricocheted off the wall to her right, just narrowly missing her. People screamed and scurried out of the way to find cover from the onslaught.

Emily whipped around a corner and made for a small side ally. She had to get off the crowded streets before more people got hurt. The van screeched to a halt behind her and Emily heard the gruff shouts of three men as they ran after her. Shots from rang out around her and bullets whizzed by as she zigzagged around trash and garbage cans. She took refuge behind a large dumpster and drew her SIG, leveling the sights on the closest man approaching. He was the one with the rifle. She fired off three shots. One hit his shoulder and the other two found their home in his chest. He dropped to the ground, gurgling blood and twitching before lying still. The other two men took safety behind an array of trash and debris and fired off a few shots in her direction. From the sound and consistency of the shots Emily could deduce that the man on her right behind some trashcans was using a shotgun and the man on her left was using some low caliber handgun. The man on her right was more dangerous since the shotgun dealt more damage. Emily fire off a few shots causing both men to retreat behind their respective barriers. Emily's heart thumped wildly in her chest and she forced herself to breath and remain calm.

She stepped out from cover briefly and leveled her SIG at the head of the shotgun carrying man. Before he could even react Emily fired off a single shot, hitting right between the eyes. He fell backwards, his gun falling and his body cracking against the hard pavement. The other man let out a cry and fired on her. Emily rolled forward to dodge the spray of bullets and landed in a partially kneeling position, firing off three shots, missing on the first two, but hitting the man in the throat on the last. She severed his carotid artery and watched as he dropped his gun and reached up cup his severed throat that had a bullet lodged in his trachea. Blood squirted out of the grotesque wound as the man opened his mouth to let forth a silent gargling scream before falling face down on the ground dead. Emily didn't even spare a glance back as she took off down the ally way and emerged out onto a back street.

The sound of tires screeching on asphalt brought her attention to the same white van speeding towards her. The goon squad was still on her tail and Emily had nowhere to go. She fired a few shots at the windshield of the van, killing the passenger, but missing the driver. Her SIG clicked signaling her magazine was empty. Emily cursed and sprinted down the street. A gated warehouse caught her eye. She leaped onto the gate and scrambled up and over it as she heard van doors slam and the sound of heavy boots following her.

Emily ducked into the warehouse and ran through the stacks of crates and machinery. The sound of men's voices echoed throughout the building and Emily ducked behind a crate and slid to the floor. She hit the mag release switch on her SIG and the empty magazine clattered to the floor. She reached into her shoulder holster and withdrew her only mag. All of her ones were in her duffel, which she ditched a while ago. She slid the mag into place and leaned back against the crate, listening to the shouts and footsteps grow closer. They had her surrounded. She only had fifteen shots and she estimated there were at least six men in the warehouse searching for her carrying a vast array of firepower. Emily slid the USB out of her watched and eyed the tiny flash drive. She couldn't let this fall back into the terrorist's hands. She had to hope that when she didn't check in with her handler in a few days that Spencer would figure out something was wrong. Until then she had to stay alive and keep the information safe. She placed the drive in her mouth and swallowed, wincing as she felt it scrape down her throat slowly. When she was finally finished she unhitched her watch and threw it off into the warehouse. It clanked and the sound of gunfire erupted. A man screamed for a cease fire and Emily crept towards his voice. She happened upon a group of three that hadn't noticed her presence. She cocked her gun and took aim at the man carrying an AK-47. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest and sweat rolled down her brow. She fired. The man fell and the others scrambled for cover. Emily caught one of them in the leg before she darted off. Ten shots left. A shotgun shell tore off a huge section of crate right near Emily's head. Splinters of wood flew in all directions, scraping Emily's face and irritating her eyes. She tucked and rolled behind a group of boxes and saw to men sprinting towards her. Emily fired once, twice, thrice, and both men ducked out of the way. Seven shots left. The sound of a gun being cocked behind her caused Emily to whip around. A man was staring down the barrel of a shotgun at her. Time sped up, her heart pounded in her ears and she let pure reflex and adrenaline take over. Her hand flashed out and wrapped around the barrel jerking it to the side to move the man's line of fire. Before he could react she slammed the barrel of the shotgun into the man's face twice. His grip faltered and Emily ripped the gun from his grasp and smashed the butt of the shotgun down onto the man's bloody face, his nose crunching and his teeth flying loose. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Satisfied Emily turned to face the other two assailants and saw that they were nearly upon her. She let off two shots from her SIG into the chest of the man closest to her and he dropped. The other launched himself over the boxes and tackled her to the floor, his hands going around her neck. Emily's combat training kicked in and she weaved her forearms between his and grasped his head in her hands. She plunged her thumbs deep into his eye sockets, hooking her fingers around the vulnerable retina's and viciously tugging them out. The man screeched in agony and shot upright gripping his damaged pupils. Emily took the moment to deliver a swift jab to the mans kidney and windpipe, knocking him off of her and onto the ground in a gasping, shaking mess.

Emily shot to her feet and moved to grab her gun before an explosion of pain blossomed at the back of her skull and she fell to her knees, hands scraping on the cement floors. Her vision blurred and the whole world tilted to the side. She had been struck from behind. She blearily looked back and saw a man gripping a bloodied pistol. Great she had been pistol-whipped. The man descended upon her and Emily kicked out, catching the man in the knee causing him to stumble forward as Emily rolled out of the way and struggled to her feet using the boxes as support. The man's eyes flashed murderously and he swung at her. Emily ducked and brought her knee up to the man's gut, driving it into his kidney. The assailant coughed and Emily took that brief second to slam her elbow into the man's jaw. He howled in pain as Emily shoulder checked him away. A vicious tug on her wrist sent her careening into the pile boxes. A new assailant had joined the fight and he swung her haphazardly by her wrist. She felt it twist and pop and she cried out in pain as she thrown to the floor. A booted foot smashed into her chest knocking the wind out of her while another boot kicked her viciously in the back. The blows reigned down from all directions and all Emily could do was try to protect her head as her senses swam with pain. The beating stopped abruptly and Emily could vaguely make out voices. There was a shuffle of feet and a sneaker pressed down on her throat, blocking her airway. To weak and injured to fight back Emily felt herself slip off into inky black darkness.

August 1 2012, Time: Unknown, Location: Unknown.

When Emily awoke the first this that created her was a pounding headache, slowly followed by her body screaming out in agony. She was sitting in a wooden chair, her hands cuffed behind her, her wrist protesting. She was pretty sure it was dislocated. She breathed in deeply and winced. Two possibly broken ribs. Her face throbbed and her head was pounding, but nothing seemed to be broken in those areas. At least Emily hoped her skull wasn't fractured. She weakly glanced around the room she was in and her heart sank when she recognized the red leather furniture, polished hardwood floors, and sterling marble countertops. She was back at Cece Drake's apartment. She had failed to escape her attackers and now she was going to pay the price for stealing from Cece Drake. Speaking of the she-devil, Cece strode down the stairs, no longer wearing the elegant blue dress, but a pair of dark slacks and white button up shirt. Her face remained impassive when she came to stand in front of Emily, but Emily had been extensively trained to catch even the slightest slip ups in behavior. Drake's left eyebrow would twitch ever so subtly letting Emily know she was nervous.

"Where is it?" demanded Cece, staring down at Emily, attempting to intimidate her.

"Where is what?" Emily decided to play dumb.

"Don't play games with me," Cece hissed. "Where is the flash drive? The one you used to download files off of my computer?" Emily just shrugged, but felt the flash drive in her stomach suddenly feel like it weighed a million pounds. "I know you have it, it was pretty stupid of you to leave the download window open. You practically announced it to the whole world that you're a fraud. So you are you working for? Interpol? FBI? CIA?"

Emily remained silent.

"So, we're going with the silent treatment. That won't work with me because one way or another I will get that flash drive back. You can make it whole lot easier on yourself if you just tell me where it is," Cece threatened, grabbing a handful of Emily's raven locks and viciously tugging her head back. Emily just stared back. She wouldn't give Drake anything or give her the benefit of seeing that her action was greatly hurting her. Emily gritted her teeth to keep in a hiss of pain as Cece roughly tugged her hair, yanking out the roots before throwing her head forward. "I see I'm not going to get anything out of you, so we're going to see a…friend of mine. You've actually already met him. Wilden remember? He's a professional interrogator and I can promise you he's not going to be talking to you. If I can't get you to talk he will."

Cece walked out of Emily's line of vision. Emily strained to see where she went, but couldn't move much thanks to the handcuffs and her injuries. She returned with a white cloth and again grabbed a handful of Emily's dark hair and firmly pressed the cloth against Emily's mouth and nose. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the cloth had been doused in chloroform, the odorless chemical commonly used to quickly knock someone out. Emily struggled against Cece's hand, even going as far as to try and bite her, but she was losing her fight. Her eyelids began to droop shut with every wheezing breath that she took and for the first time today Emily knew she was in deep shit as she passed out.

New story, this one is a lot darker and more gritty. I'm going to try to make this novel length. Key word here is try. I hope you all enjoy.