“Zara the Alien”. Part 1, Chapter 3: CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia. Anton Vibe Art
At the CIA, weekdays are like a spy movie, minus the dramatic background music and sleek, tailored suits. Agents roll in looking as inconspicuous as your next-door neighbor — because, you know, they probably are. The day kicks off with a symphony of keyboards clacking away, creating a soundtrack that rivals the most intense hacking scenes in Hollywood.
In the high-tech briefing rooms, PowerPoint slides become the unsung heroes of the day, revealing the thrilling secrets of international espionage. If only James Bond had access to such cutting-edge visual aids.
Over in the cafeteria, agents engage in a covert operation of their own — extracting information from colleagues while sipping on subpar coffee. Forget shaken, not stirred; it’s more like sipped, not savored.
As the day progresses, field operatives, our real-life action heroes, embark on missions marked on maps with all the drama of a treasure hunt. They communicate through encrypted messages, probably debating whether to use emojis or stick strictly to code.
Security protocols are tighter than a double knot, ensuring that even the office plant doesn’t spill classified information. And let’s not forget the night shift, the unsung heroes keeping the spy game going 24/7 — because even secret agents need their beauty sleep.
In this covert circus, the CIA headquarters stands tall, a fortress of secrets and the occasional office prank. After all, even spies need a good laugh to keep things interesting. Just don’t ask them to reveal their sources — or the punchline.
Adrian Blackwell (Head of the UFO Research Department): Marcus, we’ve got a situation on our hands. Classified intel just landed on my desk — UFO activity over the Russian Arctic. It’s not your run-of-the-mill weather balloon. This thing might’ve landed in the Urals.
Marcus Bennett (his deputy): in the Urals? You’re serious?
Blackwell: Dead serious. The thing is, we need eyes on the ground, and not just any eyes. We need Alexey.
Bennett: Alexey? The one who packed his bags and left the service? Good luck with that. Last I heard, he’s soaking up the California sun.
Blackwell: I know. But he’s our best shot at understanding what went down. Everyone else is tied up. We need someone who knows Russia like the back of his hand.
Bennett: Yeah, but he’s made it crystal clear — no more special ops, no more secrets. He’s done.
Blackwell: We’ve got to try. Get Alexey on the line, see if you can work that persuasive magic of yours.
Bennett: I’ve tried, Chief. No response. Guy’s gone off the grid. Probably sipping cocktails on a beach somewhere.
Blackwell: Find him. Tell him it’s not about the agency; it’s about the world. Something big is happening, and we need his expertise.
Bennett: You think patriotism’s gonna be enough to get him back on the field?
Blackwell: Remind him why he joined in the first place. We don’t ask him to risk his life; we just need his knowledge.
Bennett: Fine. I’ll pull out all the stops. But if he’s dead set on retirement…
Blackwell: Then we’ll have to deal with this UFO mess without our best man. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Blackwell: Marcus, if all else fails, it’s time to lay our ace on the table. We’ve got something that might just bring Alexey back into the fold.
Bennett: What’s that, Chief?
Blackwell: We’ve got information. Information about Anna.
Bennett: Anna? The one from his past, the one he…?
Blackwell: The very same.
Bennett: That might get his attention, but he left for a reason.
Blackwell: Marcus, we need him now more than ever. This UFO business is just the tip of the iceberg. Anna might be the key to understanding what’s really going on.
Bennett: Playing the Anna card is risky, Chief. He might see through it.
Blackwell: It’s a gamble we have to take. Get him on the line and play it cool. If he bites, we might just have our best man back in action.
