THE CITY, 2000 A.D.

Blinking lights in the sky made James aware of the various aerial and rotor vehicles criss-crossing the city. Headlights formed long chains that were strewn all over the city as the denizens roamed the streets. Down below the crowds of people went back and forth, each ant with his or her own agenda, not caring for anybody else, not caring for the common good. Business. Money. Power. These things seemed to be all that mattered to the citizens of the City. Business and money weren't bad things, James thought, but there had to be more.

What profit would a man show if he were to gain the whole world and destroy himself in the process? James Venture nearly destroyed himself as chief of Section 13. The years of running black ops, recruiting paranormals, sending young men and women to their deaths in the name of security and patriotism, the political machinations - all these took their toll on one's whole being - spirit, soul and body.

James Venture was six foot four inches and his lean, sinewy frame had begun to surrender to the slow assault of aging and the rigors of too many sleepless nights guarding the free world from any and all enemies. James sported a goatee long after and long before it was and became fashionable. His beard and what remained of his shock of hair had turned into a distinguished silver-gray. As was his habit, James rolled up the shirtsleeves up to his elbows and pensively rubbed his thumb on his grizzled chin.

The President of FREELancers Inc. imagined he could hear the faint whirring and swishing sound of the GaiaPro Streetcleaner down below. He took one more look down and saw the bulky industrial machine spraying the street, the two largish brushes whirring around, sweeping away the clutter of the past day. The GaiaPro vehicle swished at the curb of his corporate headquarters.

F.R.E.E.Lancers was James Venture's one shot at redemption. Probably his last."What can a man offer in exchange for his very self?", James murmured to himself.

"What was that, father?", a voice behind him asked. Turning around, James saw his daughter. Lee Venture was petite but she always stood tall. Her shoulders square but always relaxed, radiating confidence. She had the emerald eyes of her father but she also inherited the high cheekbones and epicanthic folds of her mother. Lee wore a crisp business suit, the collars razor sharp, with a silver triangular fist bordered in crimson emblazoned over the right chest. Her dark hair was cut equally severely.

"Just the musings of a man who has grown weary of the world. I didn't hear you come in. Is there a problem?", James asked.

"No. Except for the fact you're getting sentimental again. You know that's bad for business.," Lee Venture chided.

James Venture chuckled. "Ah! Always the consummate businessman, my child. I was just thinking about all these years and all those good men and women we lost to the Proprietor."

"Yes. They were good agents, father." Lee said a matter of factly. "But they knew what they signed up for. Their families were justly and generously compensated. All of them knew they could make a difference and they payed the price for it."

James nodded gravely. He gripped one hand in the other behind his back as he turned around to gaze out the window. The people below hugged their coats tight to their bodies. The year before the turn of the millennium had brought unseasonably cold weather.

A look of concern came over Lee's face. "It's getting late and you must rest, father. We'll review the new agent dossiers tomorrow. I'll tell Control not to bother you and page me instead when the team sitreps come in."

"Don't treat me like the old man that I am!," James replied. His grin was mimicked by the ghost of a reflection on the window pain. His daughter knew him better than to tell him to let things be and relax especially when James found himself in such a sentimental mood. A second chuckle erupted from him as he realized that he probably more reasonable when he was cold and calculating. However, James Venture could not fault his daughter for her concern. "I know the doctors said that it won't be long..." James Venture stumbled on these words and the grin faded from his face. "... before it's too late."

"It won't be long till we have all the resources for the project," Lee Venture said. "And Dr. Rhand is almost finished with his work."

The president of F.R.E.E.Lancers Inc. set himself down upon the chair behind his desk. With a quick motion of his wrist, James Venture flicked the mouse. The screensaver gave way to a host of screens that made agent, team and business information readily available.

"I know, Lee. And I must finish mine."

[ I N D E X ]