Tony wasn't sure how long he'd been hiding inside this woman's office. He'd grabbed a hoodie before he left the house, so at least he wasn't terribly cold.

As long as he had been hidden under one of the many desks, the constant tapping of fingers hitting a keyboard kept him company.

Simply hiding out wasn't going to do him any good, and it didn't seem like the woman was going to leave any time soon. So against his better judgement, he reached a hand above the table he was crouched under, moving as slowly as he dared. He felt around the table's surface, letting his fingers alert him to the slightest change in texture.

Really, at this point, he was hoping he'd find anything. Because just being here, he realized something that should have been apparent, before he decided to sneak into this place.

He was really out of his depth. What possessed him to come back here? Sure, he'd stolen a notebook with info on his uncle and the predators, but that was extremely tame compared to what he was doing now. These people weren't the military, or at least not a main branch, he could guess that much. No telling what would happen if he were to be caught.

The typing across the room was still sounding. What was she working on, Tony wondered. It had to have been extremely important for her to be typing as long as she has.

His fingers felt something change in texture from the metal of the desk to something more pliable and leather-like. It was book sized and felt like a binder.

Quietly as he could, he slid the binder towards the edge of the desk. He quickly threw up hos other hand to stabilize it when he felt loose papers shifting inside of it.

He'd retrieved ot without incident, and he'd let out a breath he'd unconsciously been holding.

He couldn't read it. It was too dark in the room and what little light there was came from the laptop the lady was still working on. He'd have to sneak back out and get to safety.

He was glad that the door was still cracked ajar. At least no noise should be made from trying to slip through the door. So he made his move. He remained crouched low, looking behind himself once to chack that she was still distracted. He moved forward, slipping through the door easily.

Easy enough, Tony reasoned. Now he just had to use the walls, hide in the shadows, and get back to the service ladder. Hopefully, the binder would have something he could investigate and get some new leads.

Something cold and metallic pressed itself against the small of his back, making him flinch.

Shit.

He felt the binder taken from hos grip, and along with it his hope of getting any answers.

"Put your hands behind your head and turn around."

He recognized the voice from earlier as the asian woman whose office he just vacated. How did she catch him? He guessed he wasn't as stealthy as he thought he was.

He did as told, folding his hands behind his head, slowly rotating until he was facing the woman.

Seeing her face for the first time, she was younger than he'd thought. She looked to be in her early 30's, when he'd assumed she was 40 something. She was fairly attractive really, and her hair was styled professionally in a japanese updo, a simple ornament keeping it in place. He was slightly taller than her, the top of her head coming up to his nose.

She held the gun comfortably with a steady hand. It was easy to tell she knew how to use it; she held it close to her hip, so it'd be difficult for him to wrestle the gun away from her if he tried.

She pulled a walkie from her belt, patching into another reciever, her eyes leveled at his.

"Come in, we have a tresspasser on hallway 1, over," she spoke into the device.

Now that he was close enough to really study her voice, he could hear the slightest bit of a japanese accent in her voice. Subtle enough to make her english sound exotic.

"I can explain-"

"Stop talking," she interrupted him, cocking the pistol in her hand.

The sound of the gun chambering caused him to swallow unconsciously. After this week of crazy, it all seemed ironic and maybe anticlimactic that he might die to a fellow human with a gun. What a time to be alive, he reflected sarcastically.

The walkie burst to life on it's speaker. "10-4. En Route."

The woman glared at him before glancing down at the binder she'd recovered.

"What were you doing with this?" she demanded, angling the binder parallel to him so that he could see the label on it.

Information

on

First Encounter Survivors

Tony closed his eyes in exasperation. He didn't even know what was in the binder, but that label sounded like it was exactly what he needed. He argued internally on whether to answer her or not. Trying to act like a hardass right now would probably get him shot. He knew nothing about this woman or whatever operation was being run down here, so it only seemed reasonable to just be honest.

Tony took a deep breath. "I'm searching for my uncle. He dissapeared in the 90's. Military."

The woman watched him intently as he spoke, as if gauging whether he appeared to be lying or not. Her eyes were a light brown, and they didn't waver as she studied him. It almost felt like she could see right through him, and it left him uncomfortable. He tried unsucessfully to maintain eye contact, but found himself glancing at the harsh lights from the ceiling or the shadows along the wall, afforded by the intense overhead bulbs.

Loud footsteps could be heard, reverberating off the metal of the walkway, quickly heading in their direction. They were coming from the opposite direction he'd last seen any militia, so they were coming up behind him. Bracing himself, he prepared for them to knock him to the ground.

They didn't dissapoint. The flat side of a boot connected with the back of his knee, crumpling him towards the floor. His wrists were grabbed almost instantaneously, and were forced together, cuffed. At this point, the woman reholstered her pistol.

"Dammit!" he blurted on reflex at the feeling of his legs stinging from the impact.

"Get up," one of the soldiers ordered flatly. He picked himself up, hesitating only briefly. The soldiers' take down banged his knee up. Felt like it would be sore for a day or two. The bastards.

Hands searched his person, removing his posessions. A wallet and a crumpled receipt from a convenience store. Why did he bring his wallet, he would never know. In hindsight, he should have left it home. Then again, who knows what they would do if they only knew him as a John Doe.

"Mrs. Yutani, what do you want us to do with him?"

Tony inhaled then breathed out through his nose, almost wishing Amazon were here.

Or probably not. Something didn't sit right with him about these people. Why else would they be snooping around the place she blew up, instead of the government doing it on there own?

"Who are you people really? You can't be military," he mustered up thr courage to declare. He almost thought the soldiers would strong arm him in response, but they remained still, either soldier behind him holding him still.

"Apparently, your not wise enough to not ask probing questions," she replied offhandedly.

She sighed in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the first case of a tresspasser, and he hadn't gotten deep enough into the compound to really find anything worth blabbering about. He also didn't seem very bright, she judged. Very unlikely he'd have anything to do with Weyland Corporation.

"Your name?" Yutani asked, idly moving the binder between her manicured hands.

"Tony..." Tony hesitated, giving only his first name. Unimpressed, Yutani gestured for a soldier to hand her Tony's wallet. So much for being vague.

She handed the binder off to one of her guards before she skimmed through the debit cards, business cards and receipts, before coming to a stop and pulling out his state ID.

"Anthony Schaefer..." she said aloud, studying the plastic with interest. She tore her gaze from the card, looking Tony up and down as if sizing him up. She made a vague gesture with her head.

The soldiers standing guard behind him moved to undo his handcuffs. Tony massaged his wrists. They hadn't been on long enough to bruise, although they'd been secured tight.

"It seems we might be able to help each other after all," she supplied cryptically before shooing him off. "You can go."

"What?" he said, confused by her statements. She tossed his wallet back to him, and he was able to react fast enough to catch it with both hands.

"Escort him out," she ordered.

Still confused, Tony began to resist the grip of the soldiers. Why would she say he'd be able to help her and then send him off in the same breath.

"Wait!" he cried. "Do you know where my uncle is?"

Mrs. Yutani ignored his pleading and turned to the two remaining soldiers. The other two restraining Tony began to drag him off against his protests towards a lift.

Tony quieted down after they forced him into the lift. It was obvious the two two men were set on ignoring anything he said or did.

So much for his plan.

He was hoping he'd find some information, and just when he grabbed ahold of it, it was ripped from his fingers.

The twelve second ride was silent, and once the crudely built lift's gate was opened, he was guided outside to an area different from where he entered. He could still see the museum, but it seemed a couple of blocks away from his entry point. The complex must have been a lot larger than what he'd assumed. He continued to be walked a short distance and was then roughly shoved in the small of his back, forcing him to the ground.

"If you know what's good for you, don't come back here," one of the men warned. He sounded seriousserious about it, too.

With thar, they left him on the ground, heading back to the lift. On their retreating forms, Tony could spot strange looking weapons that looked like some advanced sort of gun that he'd never seen before. He picked himself up for the second time. He wasn't hurt too badly this time, but his clothes and shoes were scuffed quite heavily. Favoring the leg that wasn't bruised, he began the trek to his bike at a slight limp, his confidence deflated. Nothing came out of the adventure except injured pride, a sore leg and more questions. He hadn't given up on his search, but he had no more energy to spare for tonight.

He hadn't noticed a fingernail sized disc planted on the hem of his shirt. A muted blue light shone from it, sending data back to the complex he'd just vacated.