Agent Finch was every inch the stereotype of a man in his position. He stood at six foot one, with square shoulders and a crew cut to match. Both eyes and lips were but narrow slivers on his face, while his nose and cheekbones were sharp enough to cut concrete. He wore an American cut black and white suit in tints and shades as bland as the rest of him. One glance was all it took to recognize his most prominent trait; that he was, as many had said, an irredeemable ass.
He, along with a convoy of black vans, sat on the roadside between the pines. Before them was an electrified fence surrounding a three story compound. The building was square and featureless save for the sparse warning signs along the ground level. Yet for all its drabness the building was conspicuous. An unsettling aura neither seen nor heard rattled the atmosphere. Not even birds dared to approach.
Soon they were joined by a second set of cars. Agent Finch didn’t smile at the figure in the passenger seat of the front car. He folded his hands in front of him and braced for the force of a ten foot woman compressed in a five foot body. The car pulled to the scanner, and the purple haired scientist reached to touch her card.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you inside, ma’am.” Continue reading “Glimmer Girl #25 – “Crossing Over” (Part 1)”