1 Prelude:

It was just another day. Special Agent Scott Numan orders information on new cases, particularly those involving threats to American interests, as well as the enforcement of the law to guarantee that anyone who would damage American persons or national interests face criminal prosecution.

He does not respond kindly to being told what he can't do as the leader of a small team of three highly qualified professionals, especially when lives are at risk. He desires to keep things as they are. There exists no such thing as an easy solution in today's world, and one must tread carefully to not offend or alienate your international allies lest they doom us all to War World 3.

This lesson was gained while putting an end to a pedophile sting operation in Budapest, which featured American billionaires trafficking young girls to their rich pals in their home countries, in violation of international law and sex trafficking statutes.

Then, he heard cries and shouting from outside his small office, and grabbed his standard handgun. He rushed the door and discovered his entire team handcuffed to the floor.

He was clearly outmatched and outgunned by the FBI SWAT team, so he surrendered and fell to the ground.

"Director, the coast is clear," said the top SWAT commander over the radio. The huge doors were opened by two agents on either side, and a young man in his late twenties rolled in. He was in a wheelchair, although he did not look to be what Numan had anticipated.

How did a former SAC from the New York office become FBI Director, and why did he appear so..... well, young? All of these were questions that might be addressed later. For the time being, the wisest course of action is to move closer to the truth.

"Release them," the young man said, his gaze fixed on Scott. Agent Numan had an unpleasant feeling. He didn't want to recall that emotion because of the risk it posed, especially in this sector.

The other SWAT members followed protocol and uncuffed the agents. Special Agent Jane Becker raced to her feet and assisted her teammates who were also struggling to get to their feet.

"What is your name?" Agent Becker inquired, her gaze drawn to the young man in the wheelchair, who appeared unimpressed by this sack of excrement of an FBI fly team.

"Yeah, I guess I'd want to know myself," Special Agent Vash Johnson remarked, intrigued by who this young man was and why he appeared so frightening.

"Get on your feet, agents. All of you," the young director ordered, his voice icy.

"Who I am will become revealed in due course. For the time being, we are relocating our offices." The squad was perplexed and suspicious as the young man turned and rolled out of the building.

"I don't like this guy," Scott muttered quietly to his team. Nonetheless, they followed him outside, where a fellow agent escorted them to their assigned car without saying anything to the befuddled team.

"Hey! You'd better tell us who the heck you are before we come in with you!?" Scott yelled angrily at the young man in the wheelchair.

"Agent Numan, like I previously stated, I will resolve this matter as soon as we are in the clear. NOW get your butts in the car so we can go!!" The young man ordered, not glancing at the special agents.

While the team was still unconvinced of what was going on and why they were being taken from their safehouse, they followed orders in the hopes of getting closer to the truth.

The team drove to Croatia's Dubrovnik Airport, approximately 60 miles north of their safehouse. The Croatian national police got on the scene just as they were ready to board the jet to prevent anybody from leaving their airport.

"STOP!" yelled a man approaching them. Croatian national police officers had their weapons drawn and ready to fire if anyone made any sudden movements.

"Ugh. "Now we have to deal with this piece of crap," Numan remarked, after forming an uneasy alliance with their leader.

"Stow the chatter agent!" the young man in the wheelchair ordered as he got out and greeted the Croatian captain.

"Captain, how may we assist you?"

"You are not going anywhere until we have confirmed your credentials!"

He abruptly handed the captain a document containing orders from the President of the United States, Secretary of State, Attorney General, and the EU, granting the FBI International division the authority to investigate any and all crimes involving the interests of the United States, as long as they fall within the laws of the nations.

"Thank you for your time, Captain, however, we need to be moving." The young man said, smirking while turning and going back to the SUV.

The captain had pulled his handgun and was about to kill the young man as he turned around to get back into the SUV.

"Captain, stand down!" A man in the Croatian black SUV yelled. It was the Minister of Justice and the National Police Chief.

"They don't have the authorization to leave, sir!" The captain was furious, but he did as he was ordered.

"Yes, Captain, as much as you don't like it, they do!"

The jets set out toward the United Kingdom.