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July 19, 2007
This isn't going so well.
It's been nearly a month and we've made such little progress in our attempts to apprehend and house any of the so-called newcomers that Brand has developed some sort of rage issue and has become all but impossible to deal with...except when it comes to me. I'm just an agent, it isn't my job to appease her every whim, but for some unholy reason she likes me. She'll talk to me, and in the eyes of the other agents, that's reason enough to keep me in her lap. And I suppose it could be worse. I could be forcing myself to fawn over some disgusting old man, or a HYDRA goon or something. In comparison, being entangled with Abigail is paradise.
As a result of my position as the boss's confidante, I've come to some conclusions that the other agents haven't yet reached, the main conclusion being, we're all royally fucked.
We're grossly undermanned, underfunded, and in general ineffective in our missions. S.W.O.R.D. definitely got the short end of the budgeting stick, that's for damn sure. All the public cares about is results, and we're basically incapable of delivering unless some sort of agreement can be reached with S.H.I.E.L.D. Either a trade of manpower and agents, or a trade of information and prisoners is necessary for our investigation to be successful, and at this rate, neither seems likely. Brand doesn't want to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. She doesn't want to bend, or bargain, or admit to them that we lack the ability to deal with this sufficiently on our own. I see no other alternative, but I'm just an agent, what do I know? We're being invaded. Earth is being invaded, and all we've been doing is secluding the invaders and locking them away and hoping for the best. If we survive this in one piece, it'll be by a fucking act of God.
We're in grave danger of becoming just another failed government program. Or worse. We're in danger of actually getting everyone killed.
The scale on which we are operating is unlike anything Brand had imagined. Initial intelligence suggested we may be dealing with hundreds of displaced newcomers. Instead, worldwide, we're dealing with thousands. And more are arriving daily. Refugee camps for intercepted newcomers have been set up in Transia, of all places. Apparently the Transian government is happy to loan some of their land to S.W.O.R.D. in exchange for God only knows what sort of favor someday down the line. This has left me with a bad taste in my mouth, though it could just be the uranium.
We'll run out of room in the Transian camps by next Wednesday. Another suitable location will be needed. Brand is currently in negotiations to open a second camp, with whom she won't tell even me. A third camp will be needed by August if the capture rate is continually this steady.
The results from the tests run on Tony's first little guest were quite interesting. Further testing is being performed on various volunteer subjects from the camps, apparently confirming the initial findings from Tony's subject. Brand is quite pleased by that little snippet of good news at least.
-J.D.