Hello. Uh…..yeah. Let's just get started, okay?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except maybe the OCs…

"Antos, your team has a new assignment."

"Thank you, sir."

"Good, now go debrief your team."

"Yes sir."

Following the clear dismissal, the dark haired man exited his boss' office. Walking down the hardwood halls, feet silent, the man examined the folder handed to him.

Considering the task before him and his motley support crew of three, the folder was unusually thin. Normally the organization would have more papers of info for them to slug through.

He turned a corner. Faint voices from afar tickled his ears. Ignore the sounds, he open the thick manila paper. Inside were far fewer than expected pages. Frowning, Nike Antos thumbed through the type filled pages. Did they seriously expect his team to do well on their task with this little information? More importantly, how come the organization only had this much information on a man? Standard protocol stated that all available information on a target would be available for the assassin team. What a mess.

At the very least, there were a few pictures to tag along with the frustratingly little amount of paper. A blonde man grinned, blue eyes flashing behind glasses. It certainly wouldn't be difficult to find this man in a crowd; the hair style was rather unique, even more unique than his sister's hair.

Nike arrived at the end of the hall. He turned left. The voices were louder. As if the lack of information wasn't bad enough. He knew why his team was going to be sent on yet another insane mission; they weren't important enough that their death or capture would put the organization into jeopardy, but they were good enough to get their jobs done without much fuss or mess. They were nicknamed "Team F" for a reason.

He could clearly hear the words from the conversation now, but didn't pay much mind to it. Rather, he was reading the files. After all, how could you debrief someone if you didn't even know what was going on?

It was just usual information, just a lot less of it. Had it been his personality to do so, he would have swore. It would take a miracle to pull off this job without everything completely blowing up in their face.

Instead he merely sighed and closed the folder, tucking it under an arm, and entered the room his team had claimed as theirs. They quieted slightly at the sight of him.

"Alright guys, we have a new assignment. Type K."

He threw the folder onto the table. It landed with a flop, and the other three looked at the folder skeptically.

"Is this seriously all the info we are getting for a type K assignment?"

Nike pulled over a chair and sat down, addressing the hacker. "Yes, this is seriously all the information we will be getting. Go over the files inside. There aren't many. This man must be highly elusive if the recon teams could only gather this much information on him. I want all of you to memorize everything on those pages and be ready for mission start on Monday."

The three frowned at the folder. Finally, man nearest to Nike tapped the folder and asked, "What's so special about this person?"

"I don't know," Nike huffed, "and it doesn't matter to us. All that matters is that this assignment gets carried out and only there is only one dead man in the end."

Contemplative silence filled the room. The four regarded the unordinary folder with varying levels of interest. With this little information on the target, it was highly possible for someone to get caught and potentially killed. What kind of person was this?

Writing in green ink on the tab, were the bold words, "Alfred. F. Jones."

Yeeeeaaaaaah...I don't really want to work on other stuff right now...