January 19, 1993
Bladensburg, Maryland
7:42 AM Local Time

A sunny sky shone over the landscape, a rare gem of the typical January weather in the capital’s outskirts, as the roads into the District of Columbia became packed with vehicles headed to the capital. One of these was a black 1991 Camaro driven by one Michael Gildtalon, making his way along the main street of this glorified village; a veteran of the Pacific War, Michael had been in the Office of Strategic Services for over twenty years now and had seen his fair share of missions and assignments. Once a field agent, he was now in charge of overseeing the operations of agents around the world, a mid-level player in the OSS with some well-earned respect. He and his wife Sofia were even invited to the impending inauguration of Paul Tsongas as President, which was sure to be all fine and dandy.

Since 1985, the Gildtalons had lived in Landover, east of the District of Columbia, in a quiet suburb neighborhood where their four broods grew up. It was a typical middle-class D.C. area, a far cry from the industrial towns both Michael and Sofia had hatched in, and their children experienced little in the way of the sort of hardships they had endured in their youths. The family attended a local methodist church and various extracurricular events while the elder Gildtalons worked their respective government jobs. While Michael oversaw agents, Sofia worked at the Brazilian embassy, interacting with diplomatic staff she had known back when she still lived in her home country; often they would have overtime and have neighbor housewives or teenage daughters babysit the children while the parents were away. 

Michael drove past Memorial Park, which was centered around a large concrete cross dedicated to lives lost in the Great War, a reminder of the destruction that occurred in this area seventy-five years beforehand. He crossed the Anacostia and drove past Fort Lincoln Park through the Gateway neighborhood and drove over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. As he continued down the highway, he reflected on the morning: a restless night, a groggy awakening amidst the usual chaos of having seventeen chicks and three drakes running through the house, the eldest were set to attend a class field trip to the Smithsonian Institute, and both Michael and Sofia watched the news as they ate breakfast.

Iran’s enforced No Fly Zone over Iraq following the two nations’ war was violated when the Iraqi military began operations in the southern zone bordering Kuwait, with Iran responding by firing cruise missiles at Baghdad factories linked to the Hussein regime’s nuclear weapons program. The Serbo-Croat War continued as the Croatian Army besieged the border city of Sabac despite multiple Serbian counteroffensives. Violence in the Central African Republic continues as the Entente-backed government endures a wave of attacks against buildings and officials by Bokassists and believed to be aided by Vostokia and Mozambique. The Union of Turkestan, the oldest-surviving Communist nation in the world, had completely collapsed amid economic, ethnic, and religious tensions, having barely survived the Russian invasion that had ended more than three years prior. And Poland was still grieving over the loss of the ferry MS Jan Heweliusz off the coast of Rugen five days prior.

Always something to keep an eye on, Michael thought as he drove down Maryland Avenue toward the Capitol Building.

Turning onto Constitution Avenue, he continued his way toward his destination: the Old Naval Observatory overlooking the Chesapeake. The campus housed the headquarters of both the Office of Strategic Services and the Navy’s Bureau of Medicine and Surgery. The Office did have a complex to the northwest near Kent, but it was Navy Hill that was the brains of the entire operation, where the director and department heads worked. From there, they managed OSS activities throughout the world. Normally, Michael worked at the Kent facility, but he was summoned here, on the eve of the President’s inauguration for a reason.

Having arrived at the campus, Michael showed his ID to the guards before parking his car at the designated spot and headed on in, toward the wing where the director’s office and his meeting room were. He walked through clean hallways, past analysts, maintenance staff, and military personnel, occasionally nodding or saluting those passersby who recognized him. There was fifty years of OSS history here, when the Office was established in 1942 by military order on President Willkie’s part. A handful of the hallways even bore some faint scar dating back to the Great War, when the campus was held by Naval personnel who defiantly held their ground against the invading Confederates for several days after they had crossed the Potomac in August 1914.

At last, Michael was at the director’s office and the secretary told him that he was expected in the meeting room. Outside the room, he was stopped by security who inspected his ID before permitting him inside, where Director Gates and some other high-level personnel were seated. There he was addressed by his