The balding man hurried out of the elevator, a briefcase clutched under one fat armpit and a thick stack of printing paper under the other. Sweat stained the back of his pale pink shirt and he kept looking around.

It was really a pitiful indication of how miserable office workers were when nobody thought the man as suspicious. He hurried his middle-age bulk out of the sparkling glass doors and jumped into the first taxi he saw. The driver peered suspiciously at the sweating man in his taxi and decided he was too tired to care.

"The House, please," the man gasped, clutching his briefcase like it was the secret to life.

"Aw, man, that's way out," the driver complained, but starting the engine nonetheless. He opened his mouth to complain, but got sidetracked by the thick wad of bills the man threw over the seat with the words, 'keep the change'. The driver pocketed the cash before he could change his mind and drove off, whistling under his breath.

One hour later, the man lifted himself out of the cab and walked to the little cabin-like lodge called The House, looking much more composed though the sweat stains hadn't completely vanished. He shook a disappoving fist at the leaving taxi, blasting The Fray at top volume, and stomped up to the main building. The door opened before he could knock or let himself in.

"Welcome back, Mr Rames," the girl said warmly, not looking taken aback at all by his tall but stocky frame. He appreciated that. He smiled back at Gina, who was dressed in a pink shirt so pale it appeared white, and jeans. Nice.

"Mr Rames," the elderly woman at the counter greeted. "Back already?"

He nodded. "Yes, I just need to have a quick peek around the files. You know, procedure and all." He punctuated the last remark with a flippant wave, and flashed his fake government card with a quick smile that said, I'm just going with customs here so the government won't get on my fucking back for not showing you my nice card.

"Of course, come right in."

Mr Rames, as he was affectionally called when he wasn't on the job, was from Forks. He was currently residing in a cheap motel in Seattle on a shoestring budget, using the free breakfast coupons of the motel to give him nourishment. He desperately longed to return to his stately home in Forks, but until his job was done he had to make do with a measly breakfast of one runny egg and two pieces of toast.

The woman unlocked the door to the storeroom and let Mr Rames in, watching him for a moment before turning to return to her counter. He locked the door and rattled the knob to check if the lock was strong before shrugging and turning to the room.

The air stank of dust and books. Somewhere far above him a ventilator whirred. The orphanage was very well taken care of except for this little room full of papers and files neatly organized. Mr Rames strode over to one of the closets and yanked it open. A pile of papers tumbled down, cascading none too gently into him and knocking him flat onto his butt.

"Fuck the papers," he muttered angrily and pulled open multiple drawers. He finally located the drawer he wanted.

P, Q, R...S.

He glared down at the source of all his problems. "You are so going down," he threatened the file, flipping it open.

Swan, Isabella Marie

Born 13 September 1992

Born to Charlie and Renee Swan

"All crap," he muttered, flipping the page, his beady eyes searching for more worthy nuggets of information on Isabella. "Came to orpahanage when she was sixteen, blah blah blah...aha."

He triumphantly found the little sheet of paper that he had taken four months to hunt down. He pulled out a black pen that he had stolen and forged a signature with a delicacy surprising for such a bulky man. A few more signatures and well-chosen words, and he closed the file and slipped it back into the fireproof drawer.

Mr Rames strode out of the room and out of the building, nodding curtly to the elderly receptionist who raised her eyebrow at his abrupt departure. He couldn't care less. Standing at the side of the road he pulled out his cell phone and dialed two numbers.

The first call was to a taxi company with a request for a cab to be sent to The Seattle Orphanage House pronto. The second call was to one Mr Mallory with the information that Isabella Swan was now a member of the Cullen family.