The Harpy had a long way to go. It was only the second day of her journey, and she had already run out of food. Her stomach growled and the night was a howling cold. Her shoulders and back had begun to ache from fighting against the air currents of an oncoming storm.

${Name} grimaced. She hadn't felt this way since she had been a fledgling... but there was no time for thoughts like that now.

The landscape darkened until only faint outlines like mere scratches in obsidian remained. She turned, stretching out her amethyst wings and allowing the indecisive gales to glide her down through the trees until she came within ten feet of a clearing, and crashed. The damp soil reeked of iron and detritus. Misshapen bulges long since overgrown with a bitter grass told ${Name} this field had once been the site of a gruesome battle.

${Name}'s eyes narrowed as she saw it. She didn't have much time, but she'd found what she was looking for. She stood up, wincing as she straightened her back, and made her way around the edge of the clearing. There was a single stone building here, one of many seemingly abandoned in the area. It was surrounded by a high wall, and even though it was covered in vines, ${Name} could see it was still in good condition. A primitive engraving on the wall read, 'PFTF'.

She shook the remaining clots of dirt from her feathers and with a flick of her wings leapt over the wall and padded toward the door. The wood was worn and splintered and there were rough iron bands holding it together, but it was still intact. ${Name} pulled out the small key her sister left her. It was made of bone, and had been fashioned into a strange, double-ended tool. The lower end had a pointed tip, and the upper end was curved like a hook. "This better work," she muttered, inserting the hooked end into a crevice in the wall. With a click, the iron latch loosened and the door swung wide.

"Hello?" ${Name} called out, trying to keep her voice steady. "Is anyone here?"

The dark gave no answer.

"Please be alive," ${Name} whispered as she entered the building. She had been worried that it might have fallen into ruin, but the interior was surprisingly clean and well-maintained. ${Name} was relieved when she saw a small lamp burning in the corner of one of the rooms.

"Hello?" she repeated. "Hello?"

"Identify yourself!" came a tiny voice. ${Name} turned around to see a fluffy little kitten with a very upset expression pointing a gun at her.

"I'm a friend," ${Name} said in a calm tone. "Please don't shoot." She raised her wings to show she was unarmed. "My name is ${Name}. I'm looking for someone named Socks?"

The kitten hesitated. "No one by the name of Socks here. Just me." The kitten looked ${Name} over carefully. "Why are you here?"

"I..." she began, "...lost my sister." ${Name} swallowed hard. "A while ago. She told me if I ever ran into trouble that I should come here. She gave me this." ${Name} slowly reached into some feathers and pulled out the hooked bone key.

The kitten stared at the key in disbelief. "How did you get that?"

"She gave it for me before she left. I know what this place is."

The kitten shook his head and lowered the gun. "Damn. And here I thought I could finally retire. Looks like the taskforce isn't done with me just yet." He sighed. "Fine. Come along."

${Name} nodded and followed the kitten down a long hallway. She saw a few other doors along the way, but the kitten led her to a large room at the end of the hall. The walls were covered in maps and diagrams. "This is where we kept our records," the kitten explained. "And this," he said gesturing with a small paw towards a huge wall of high-tech weaponry, "is where we keep the big girl toys."