Pointing the gun in front of her, Bette entered a large room. It seemed relatively empty, except for a mental table in the middle of the room and a few boxes adorning the walls. Bette’s breathe started to come out in smoky puffs of cool condensation as the room got colder the further she walked in. Bette looked down and realized that the entire half of the room which the metal table stood was covered with a clean plastic wrapping, from the ceiling, to the walls, down to the floor. Bette walked closer, intrigued and curious by the set up.

And then suddenly, there was a loud thump.

Bette felt a warm pain at the back of her head.

The last thing Bette saw was black.

◊◊◊

Gen sauntered into her office early on Monday morning, the weekend had passed like the breeze. She had expected to see Bette sitting on her sofa, like she did every morning, but today was different. She hadn’t been able to contact Bette during the weekend, and today, she was no where to be seen.

She must busy at her office working on the clues she found on Saturday, Gen thought to herself as she booted up her computer.

“Have you seen Bette,” Dana asked, poking her head into Gen’s office, “Shane has a message for her.”

“I haven’t heard from her since Saturday,” Gen said.

“Oh, just let me know when she contacts you alright?”

“Sure, Dane.”

An hour later, Gen was reading through her case files when her phone rang. She picked it up to hear Helena on the line.

“Taylor, is Bette with you?”

“No, the last time I spoke to her was Saturday, isn’t she in the office?” Gen asked, frowning.

“From what my agents have informed me, she has not been into work yet, and she did not even call to say where she would be or if was taking a sick day,” Helena replied haughtily, “I haven’t reached the office yet but could you please let me know if you hear from her. Thanks.”

Gen felt a sinking feeling in her gut as she grabbed her coat and rushed out of her office hurriedly over to Bette’s building.