I gazed out the window of my private limousine as it carried me to the scene of the crime. I scowled as I took in the desolate landscape. It looks worse in real life than it did in the pictures. Oh Katrina, what the hell have you done?  "Stop here," I said to the limousine driver.

She pulled over onto the decimated sidewalk and I stepped out of the vehicle. I lifted my hand to shield my face from the sun as I surveyed the damage. An entire street was blown to oblivion, and the Annihilation Code is gone with it. I lit a Hazebriar cigarette and took a long drag. We're going to have a hell of a time covering this up.

My assistant, Quentin Holgate, came barreling down the road towards me. "Miss Spoketon, I wasn't expecting you to be here so soon."

I blew a large puff of smoke into his face. "I'm not happy, Quentin. I'm not happy at all."

He coughed. "Of course not, Miss Spoketon. We're working to rectify the situation as we speak."

"Please tell me, how do you plan to rectify all of this?"

"Well, the construction team is working tirelessly around the clock to repair the damage and all the news outlets are reporting it as a tragic accident caused by a malfunction in the island's mechanics."

I gave an approving nod as I stared out at the wreckage. How can one girl cause so much trouble?

"Where is Oblivion?"

We've been unable to locate her.

I glowered. "That wretched girl doesn't appreciate anything I've done for her! Send out a search team to track her, she couldn't have gotten far."

If I may, Miss Spoketon. I am not convinced that's a good use of company resources. She mostly likely perished in the explosion. I think we should focus our efforts elsewhere."

I shot daggers in his direction. "That's funny, I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter, Quentin."

"You didn't but–"

"Don't you dare talk back to me! Now do exactly as I say, or you're fired!"

"Yes, ma'am," He stammered. He typed out a message to our team to alert them of my orders. I could tell by the look on his face Quentin thought I was a delusional old woman.

He could believe whatever he wanted; I don't care. I know Oblivion is alive. Just the other day, I received a message from an anonymous sender. It read, Hey Marjorie, did you miss me? I have some Bionic Corp secrets I've been dying to share with the world, and I'm going to leak them soon. So, if you'd like to silence me, just like you silenced my mother, you'll have to come and find me. Good luck! I'll be waiting! —O. She sent that message with a winky face attached. Not many people have my contact information, and the ones that do would never be so bold as to taunt me like this. She sent me a winky face for God's sake! Who the hell does she think she is? I am the most powerful person in the world and I won't tolerate being disrespected.

"I assume Curseword 2.0 has been taken care of."

His voice quavered, "Um, unfortunately, we've been unable to assassinate Atlas Contreras."

"He's still alive!" I shouted, not caring who overheard.

Drops of spittle fell onto Quentin's face, and he wiped them off with his sleeve. "We've tried. He's left the bodies of our assassins on our doorstep."

I clenched my jaw. This is what I get for creating the perfect assassin. A target we can't kill.

I took a long drag of my cigarette. "Do you have any good news for me, Quentin?"

"The cloning chambers were mostly unharmed, and Curseword 3.0 is ready to begin training. If he's anything like his predecessors, he should be ready for missions in no time."

I tossed my cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. "Good. Katrina was a sorry excuse for an assassin. It's time we get back to the basics, don't you think?"

He nodded.

"Contact the science division  and tell them to begin developing a new Annihilation Code."

"Yes, mam."

The end.