A man walks down the street, unaware of a curious fate about to befall him.
He's an ordinary man, of average height and build.
A middle-aged man simply on his way to work one day, choosing to go by foot rather than by car.
A choice he would soon come to regret.
Behind him, two curious women followed.
The first was a tall dark-haired woman with hair tied back in a sternly tight bun. She wore a green turtleneck sweater, a long brown skirt, and a pair of brown boots. She carried a big leather handbag slung over one shoulder. On her face, she wore a bitterly austere expression.
The second woman was a short, squat woman with fiery, long curled hair strewn wildly about her shoulders. She wore a pale periwinkle sweater, a pair of tight black pants, and a set of low heeled ankle boots. She carried a small, blue leather purse and wore a hard, flinty expression on her own face.
“An acceptable target, Ms. Tree?” the short woman asked.
“A most acceptable target, Ms. Take,” agreed the tall woman.
The duo quickened their pace and began approaching the unwary, hapless man from behind.
“Excuse me sir,” said Ms. Tree. “I believe you dropped this.”
“Here you are sir,” said Ms. Take. “I believe this is yours.”
The man turned around in confusion and looked at the pair of strange women. He was quite certain he hadn't dropped or lost anything.
In that fraction of a second it took for him to face the women with a frowned look of perplexed bemusement, the man suddenly felt a painful stabbing sensation in his arm.
“What did you just …” he started to say, before crumpling to the ground unconscious.
“It looks like he couldn't stand it, Ms. Take,” observed Ms. Tree gazing down at the man's drugged body.
“Yes. It only stands to reason, Ms. Tree,” concurred Ms. Take.
Together, the two women lifted the sedated man by hoisting his arms over their shoulders. With surprising strength and agility, the duo navigated the man's numbly unresponsive body down the street, around the corner, and through the entrance to an ordinary, nondescript looking storefront.
As the women brought the man's body inside, they were greeted by a short, thin woman with jet black, Bettie Page style hair. She wore a brown, tweed skirt suit with a pair of brown, chunky heeled shoes. Moving quickly to lock the storefront's door behind the visitors, she next cleared off a display counter top in the store.
“Put him here,” she said quietly.
Ms. Tree and Ms. Take immediately complied, stretching the man's now snoring body out atop the counter.
“Is he good for your purpose?” asked Ms. Tree.
“Will he serve our ends?” asked Ms. Take.
“He'll do,” said the woman in the tweed skirt suit.
She rummaged around in the man's pockets, finally retrieving a wallet.
“He won't be needing this any longer,” she said after briefly pausing to read the man's identification. “He'll have an entirely new name in a few moments. A new life, a new identity, a new purpose.”
“We should bring in the equipment, Ms. Tree,” said Ms. Take.
“Yes, we should bring in the equipment now, Ms. Take,” agreed Ms. Tree.
As the duo left the room, the woman in the tweed skirt suit dropped the man's wallet into a metal wastebasket full of shredded paper, then tossed a lit match in behind.
“A whole new purpose awaits you my friend,” she said the unconscious man. “We have a most important mission for you to undertake.”
When the man awakens …
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