Relocation
March 28 - Watford City, ND
   There isn’t much to say to about Watford City. Its grounds are dry, its skies are dull, its people are quite boring, and its weather is terrible. Were it not for the FBI and its constant demands, Clarice wouldn’t even be there in the first place.
   A large group of Homeland Security agents are out and about trying to find out about a possible suspect that has to do with a terrorist plot involving one of the nation’s largest oil producing wells – located in tiny Watford – but little do they know that the FBI actually holds some clues as well; perhaps more, perhaps less. …  A little friendly competition between two elite American organizations never hurt anyone, right?
   Despite her sparkling social skills, Clarice swore not to tell anyone about the leads that they – the FBI –have to any Homeland agent. The fact that they have a solid lead makes Clarice nearly tremble with excitement because she can possibly get recognized so that when she goes back home to Virginia, she can have some well-deserved recognition. (Despite its flowing array of women employees, a large amount of the men who work in the Federal Bureau of investigation seem to be elitist and pay Clarice the type of attention she’d rather not get.)
   The recently promoted agent doesn’t expect things to be much different there in Watford, but she’s never been one who works well in groups so she doesn’t get assigned to them very often, which, in essence, means she can work more quickly and with her own moral compass to guide her – as opposed to others’; and, more importantly, alone.
   A black Escalade SUV pulls up to a bustling oil mill and parks toward the back of its rather shabby looking building that is labeled as the main office. Starling exits the vehicle and walks up to the dusty glass doors of the building – or, large shack – with her assigned team and walks in with her FBI badge open and in hand so she can succinctly let the desk worker know who she is and why her and a team of admittedly intimidating agents are there with her.
   “Sir, we’re with the FBI and we’d like to know where the Homeland Security agents are at, if you’d direct us.”
   The desk worker lets them all know where the other government agency members are located and Clarice and her group follow the man’s directions until they walk up to an achingly loud fracking well that is surrounded with a clan of men and women in blue button ups with various badges and pairs of black pants on. The rather small group of FBI agents spread out so that everyone is noticeable.
   With a Virginian drawl, five foot three Clarice speaks up and introduces herself and the rest of her group to the Homeland Security agents. “We’re here to investigate some wells and employees here in this institution and we kindly ask if we can have some undisturbed time here at this well for a short while.”
