She shot up and scanned the motel room. There, in the corner, sitting down and smoking a cigarette, was a man in black.

The man quietly reached for the ashtray and put out his cigarette, and then put it back in its place.

"Hello, Nadya. It's been a while."

Nadya backed into the wall, and tried to search her options for escape. The man cleared his throat.

"It's no use. You won't be going anywhere tonight."

"Who the fuck are you?!" She yelled.

The man in black cleared his throat once again, and reached for something beside him. A file, Nadya realized. He opened it and began to read.

"Nadya Sobol, born February 14th, 1930, in the Kharviv province of Ukraine, to Jakob and Anya Sobol. Happy birthday, by the way."

Nadya glanced at the bedside clock. 23:47.

"You still didn't answer my question..."

The man in black sighed, and closed the file. "To put it simply, I'm part of an organization — a family, if you will— that has been monitoring you since your arrival in the United States in 1963."

"You mean trying to kill me?" Nadya said incredulously. She was aware she was being watched, but she had not thought much of it.

I told you of the dangers of hitchhiking.

"I admit, our previous members were... Hostile, and succeeded in neutralizing you several times."

"One of them gunned me down! In broad daylight! In a public park!"

"And my superiors apologize for that. In fact, my superiors are are sorry enough to invite you a place in our organization."

Nadya glared at the man. She couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. He seemed to pick up on her uneasiness.

"I know, I know. We've given you no reason to trust us. But what I say is true. You're not the only one like yourself, you know."

"What?"

Don't listen to him.

"There are others like you. People with... Beings like whatever is inside you inside them. In fact, we have one working for us. Recently, as well. Been around since 1578. I feel you'll like him.

Nadya, he is lying.

"You're lying."

The man in black chuckled. "They're telling you that, right? What makes you think they're not lying themselves, eh?

"They wou—"

"Let me lay it to you straight. If you don't accept the offer, I'll have no choice but to attempt to terminate you. That's my orders. Now, we both know that won't keep you down for long. Even so, we already have agents tracking your every move, and I assure you, they will not be as cordial as I've been.

Please know that we're trying to give you a chance with this offer. We both know you don't have anything keeping you out here, other than prostituting yourself for a damn ride and a shitty motel room."

Nadya perked up at that. "How do you know that?"

"Like I said, we've been monitoring you. The guy who picked you up yesterday night? Well, he turned himself in earlier this afternoon. We managed to get him to tell us where he left you. And the motel clerk? Shit, I killed him for the key."

The man in black leaned back, reached within his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. "Think about it."

Nadya thought in silence, considering her options. There was truth to his words. She had been wandering for fifty three years, ever since she first died when she took Them in as Ana's dying wish.

She didn't know what to do with herself anymore. What to decide. They've grown silent too. She glanced at the clock once more. 23:57.

"What do I get out of it?"

The man in black pulled a drag of his cigarette before answering.

"You get to work alongside us, keeping the peace. Under strict observance, of course, but trust can be easily built. We will provide good shelter, food, and freedom. We will explain more."

Nadya asked Them what they thought.

Do what you think is best for you.

She closed her eyes and took a steady breath. "Fine. I'll work for you."

The man in black put out his cigarette and stood up. "That is great news. You won't regret this, I promise you. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself. Special Agent Monroe."

He held out his hand. As Nadya reached out to shake it, he grasped her hand firmly. Quicker than she could react, the man had pulled out a silver dagger and slit her throat.

She fell back onto the bed, choking and clasping her throat as her black blood gushed through her hands and onto the sheets. She glared at Monroe with betrayal in her icy blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, but this is protocol. Can't have you getting cold feet. Plus, I didn't bring the body bag for nothing..."

Nadya's vision blurred and her limbs weakened as she fought to stay alive this time. As her consciousness faded, she felt Them chastising her.

Foolishness. Your sister would've been wiser...

It was 00:00 CT on February 15th, 1996, in rural Pennsylvania when Nadya Sobol died once again, for the 33rd recorded time since 1943.