A/N~ Hello, my fellow agents! Sorry for the very long delay - but barely anyone frakking reviewed! Except for a few very fantastical peoples, so thanks to them. However, I rewatched the finale recently, and noticed something that I hadn't before, which will change the story slightly. Now then, as for this chapter - there are obvious parallels between this chapter and the pilot episode of WH13. But don't worry, the whole story won't be like this. I might do that with some episodes, but not too often. If you would like to see a certain episode be revamped, REVIEW and let me know!

Two days later

K-39-ZZZ

The Badlands

I had just climbed out of my car when I heard someone calling out behind me.

"Wuornos!" Turning around, I saw….. Pat?

"Pat?" I asked, shocked, as he came over to me, embracing me in a hug. "What're you doing here?"

"Same as you, I guess." he said, his demeanor becoming serious once more. "Some creepy chick showed up in my apartment -"

"Ms. Donovan" I guessed, and he nodded, before continuing.

"Gave me orders to come here. Said it was a matter of -"

"National Security." we finished together.

I turned to look at the building in front of us. It was built into the mountain, and towered above us, all rusted metal and weathered-down wood.

Suddenly, a new, slightly familiar voice came from behind us.

"Sorry I'm late." They said. "I had to fix the F.I.S.H." Walking towards us was an older man, around his late fifties, with a straw hat on his head, big round goggles covering his eyes, and a bandana covering his mouth and nose. He pulled off the bandana and goggles to reveal… the man from the subway.

Acting on instincts, I pulled my gun on him. "Freeze." I told him.

"What the hell are you doing, Wuornos?" Pat asked me, his tone harsh.

"That's the guy, the one from the subway!" I said, gesturing to the man.

He didn't even react when I pulled my gun, except to give me a small smile and a nod. "Isadora Duncan's scarf. You did a nice job with that."

"What was that?" I asked, still keeping my gun trained on him. "That…. That wasn't real. It was a hallucination, caused by, by, lack of oxygen to my brain, or a trick, or something…. Right?"

The man actually had the nerve to laugh at me as he moved past. "Nice theory. But sorry, its not right." He pulled something out of his pocket and clicked it - there was a beep, and then a door that had been nearly hidden in the rusted warehouse wall.

"Agent Steven Jinks, by the way." He said, turning back to look at us again. "You can call me Steve."

He turned his back to us again, and started walking down a sterile white corridor. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour!" He called back to us, not even bothering to turn around. He did turn around when he noticed that we weren't actually following him, though.

"I made cookies." He coaxed, then paused, as if reconsidering. "Well, I bought cookies. I can't actually bake."

We grudgingly followed the man through the door, where I was surprised to see a pristine white umbilicus, like something that you might find at an airport. Every couple of yards, there were white poles with clear glass sections.

"Don't touch the bombs." Agent Jinks said. Sure enough, Pat had been just about to tap one of the poles.

"Bombs?" Pat mouthed, looking at me. I just shrugged, unsure if he had been joking or not.

We followed Agent JInks for a while, before he stopped in front of a big metal door. He swiped a card before typing a code into a keypad next to the door, scanning his fingerprint, and then finally bending over and putting his eye up to the scanner before the door finally opened.

"Impressive security." I said, only slightly sarcastic. Agent Jinks just looked at me.

"You have no idea." Was all he would say.

He led us into the adjoining room, and it was like we had walked into the past. The room was spacious but cluttered, giving it a cozy feel. The wooden flooring was covered by several different worn rugs, and there was a large window that looked out onto a balcony of some sort. An enormous set of filing cabinets took up one corner of the room, along with a little table covered in file folders and index cards. In another corner there was a kitchenette, next to a metal spiral staircase that led to a little loft area. A desk that was covered in paperwork and knick-knacks stood in the center of the room, and a dog bed with an old - nearly ancient - collie sleeping in it was next to that. All around the room there was a strange assortment of items - everything from a ship's wheel, to a suit of armor, to the Times Square News Ticker. The effect of the room as a whole was decidedly steampunk, except for the brand new, state-of-the-art computers that were set up on the desk.

"So this…" Agent Jinks began, "Is Artie's Office."

"Who's Artie?" I asked immediately. "Why isn't he giving us the tour?"

"He... retired… about thirteen years ago." Agent Jinks told us. Apparently my face betrayed some of my horror at how he had phrased his response, because the older man quickly reassured us, "Oh, no! Artie's fine! I just meant that he's not exactly retired, because he comes in all of the time to consult on cases…" then Agent Jinks mumbled something else, but the only word that I could make out was Claude.

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked. Agent Jinks looked at me, surprised that I had heard.

"Hmm?" he asked, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

The collie lifted his head to look at us for a minute, and Agent Jinks immediately crossed the room to pet it.

"These are going to be our new agents. Adelaide Wuornos, and Pat Greene." he said.

"Sorry, but… who are you talking to?" Pat asked. I had been wondering the same thing myself.

"Trailer." Agent Jinks said, as if it were obvious. "And yes, Tray - she's that one." he muttered, almost as an afterthought before standing back up. I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but thought better of it.

"Right!" he said, clapping his hands together. "So, this is where you will be working for the foreseeable future -"

"What?" I asked, panicking slightly. "No one ever said anything about being stuck here."

Agent Jinks winced slightly. "Sorry, Miss Wuornos. But that's how it is. Now, its getting late, and I don't know about you, but I'm tired. There are rooms for you at Leena's Bed & Breakfast - its about seven miles down the road. Phillip should have everything ready for you."

And with that, Steven Jinks sat back down at his desk and started doing… something… as if we were no longer even in the room. Pat and I just stood there for a moment, having a silent conversation like only people who have known each other for years and years could. Finally, I won the argument and we were about to leave when Agent Jinks turned to us again.

"Wait! I almost forgot!" he said quickly, getting up out of his chair. "I need to show you this before you go."

With that, he started to head for a big heavy-looking door that was next to the big windows. We stood there hesitantly for a minute or so before he noticed, and waved us over. "Come on!" he said. "I'm not going to bite you or anything."

Pat gave a nervous chuckle before following after the older man, and I rolled my eyes at the both of them but followed anyways.

As soon as we made it out that door, my heart leapt into my throat.

"Welcome… to Warehouse 13."