21 September, 2007, Boston FBI Field Office

Marian came bounding into the office with her usual enthusiasm. It was completely baffling to her fellow agents how she could be so chipper in light of things they investigated. Who could be invigorated by death, abuse and the general evil side to human nature?

Apparently, Marian was. Her enthusiasm, while misplaced and somewhat unprofessional, was actually her saving grace. She'd been in the detachment only eight months and had a miserable track record as a profiler. As of today, she'd been able to solve two cases out of twenty or so she'd been assigned. While these stats might be all right for a veteran agent working only the high profile crimes, Marian was only an agent for nine months and should be producing more results, instead of her usual "Well, I THINK that the killer is a white male who has problems dealing with intimacy." (This pronouncement came about during the investigation of a stolen lot of women's lingerie that turned up three states from where it started. The perpetrators were later found to be a 5'9 African American by the name of Carlos and his wife, a 6'8 Chicano man by the name of Buddy. They'd been together for years and were just looking for something to spice up their lives. Go figure.)

The SAC (Special Agent in Charge) looked down at his paperwork and shook his head contemplatively. So far, she'd lost her weapon (luckily it was recovered...in the water cooler), totaled an Office vehicle (it DID happen in the line of duty, and really wasn't her fault), and bungled more cases than he cared to count. However, viewing the fitness reports sent up by her supervisors, he knew that she had what it took to be a good agent...she just needed something to season her out a bit.

Hmmmmm...on every other case, she was always partnered with someone older and more experienced. Could it be a case of her being intimidated by them and making stupid mistakes? He picked his pen up and twirled it for a moment. "This could be just what she needs," he thought to himself. "It'll be a chance to do something on her own, with no other cases pending. I hope to God they're insured up there." He signed off on the request, wincing when he heard someone screech followed by Marian's soft "I'm SO sorry!"

"Maybe some extra insurance would be worth it."

21 September 2007, Boston FBI Office

Marian got the call from the SAC that he wanted to see her and groaned inwardly. She knew, deep in her heart, that this was the call she'd been waiting for and dreading - they were going to either relegate her to support staff, or send her to a detachment alone, one where she couldn't hurt anything. Everything she'd done in the past nine months had honestly been an accident, and had been proven as such. But she still felt like a screw-up. So she was a bit klutzy at times, so what? It didn't hurt anyone...well, not much anyway. And besides, she'd helped find the guy who kidnapped the oil magnate's daughters! She would have been able to do it faster and with fewer mistakes had ASAC (Assistant Special Agent in Charge) Nelson not been right with her the whole time. That old windbag wouldn't know his head from a hole in the ground when it came to forensic clues. While she hadn't been top of her class at the Academy, she'd not been the bottom, either. Nelson probably had the lowest scores on the tests.

She humphed softly and gathered her wits about her for the meeting. She'd need them.

Twenty minutes later when she came out of the SAC's office, she was dazed and slightly confused. She was being given a case by herself. A case that was somewhat high profile in the area. It was one she'd actually been following a bit, in case, on the off chance, the FBI got called in. It looks like her legwork may have paid off. She was on her way to Manchester, New Hampshire, the little backwoods town it was, to catch the Manhater. She shook her head again, grinning to herself and began clearing off her desk. Once word spread around the office, she was besieged with well-wishers, somewhat strange among all of these hardened vets. However, she smiled and took it in stride, touched that they'd make a special effort to help her pack and carry things to her car.

The new ASAC, Agent Carmichael, watched the proceedings from his office with a wry quirk to his lips. He'd have to get in on the betting pool about how long she'd last without a mishap. The average bet was three days, he'd go a week, maybe more. She really DID want this assignment to go well, after all. He picked up the phone and made a quick call to a friend of his posted in New Hampshire.

The ASAC in the New Hampshire main office received a requisition order for a large number of medical supplies for the office, needed ASAP. He simply shook his head and filled the order. Damned politicians.