My name is Michael Shepard. I'm an agent of the Strategic Homeland Division, otherwise known as The Division, empowered by Directive 51. Before that, I was just a Marine. A Raider, to be specific. We are to the Marines what SEALs are to the Navy. I was trained in every form of combat, from hand-to-hand CQC to long-range standoffs. I guess that's one of the reasons I was chosen. The machine wanted me, so it plucked me up like a claw-grabbing game at an arcade.

When I was approached about Directive 51- The Division, that is, I had just gotten back from my fifth combat tour in the Middle East. I was off-base at home when my doorbell rang. It was some ungodly hour in the morning and I still had jetlag. When I answered that door, my entire life changed. Two men in suits had come to my neck of the woods to extend an offer on behalf of the Government.

They asked me to come with them to hear them out. I didn't even have time to put on any real clothes before they ushered me out into their SUV. On the way, they didn't answer any of my questions. Over and over, they told me I would 'have all my questions answered shortly' and completely stonewalled me. I had dealt with some spooks before, and it was pretty clear to me these guys were either CIA or some other intelligence outfit that has been popping up like flies these days.

When the vehicle came to it's final destination, I realized they had lied. It wasn't a short wait. The drive was two hours long. My legs were sore, my throat was dry, and I hadn't had any coffee yet. We were in some underground garrage. I couldn't tell you what city we were in because the windows in the back of the SUV were completely blacked out from the inside-out. In addition, there was a wall between the back of the cab and the front of the cab, preventing me from seeing where we were going.

After riding an elevator, they lead me to a room that had no windows and only one exit. This was long after I realized that this entire situation wasn't exactly on the up-and-up. Inside that room was another suit- another spook. I didn't care about that however because this man had coffee. He could have been Osama Bin Laden and I wouldn't have cared.

He invited me to sit down, poured me a cup of coffee, and told me everything about why I was brought to that very room. Directive 51 is a Presidential power that, when enacted, activates a group of highly skilled people to do everything in their power to re-establish civility in an otherwise anarchy-ridden major city here in the United States of America.

The cause of that anarchy could be anything, from an invading force, to a major city-wide riot, to a viral outbreak. As it turns out, it was a mix of all three that caused me to get activated. More on that later.

The man then went over my entire history. Little details from High School that first put me on their radar. Apparently, in an aptitude test I had been asked to take way back then, I had scored in all the right areas. Then he went on to talk about my enlistment into the Marines. He told me that my superiors spoke very highly of me even when I was a shitstick E-3.

After inflating my ego, he told me what had been the deciding factor in approaching me. My selection for MARSOC. More specifically, what followed that. I won't lie to you, I'm not very humble when it comes to my prowess in fields I'm skilled in. I had broken records all up and down the board when I was selected to join. Where so many others had washed out, I kept on going and asked for more.

After my selection, I went on several operations almost immediately after passing and graduating. I was put with some of the best men I know in some of the worst situations imaginable to accomplish whatever the objective was. I was shot, stabbed, kicked, punched, beaten, and even tortured the time we were overrun.

After being rescued, my first words were "Put me back in, coach" to my C.O. Apparently, that dedication and determination had lead to what this man was now offering me. What he was offering was to be selected for The Division, to essentially be a sleeper agent. I would be allowed to continue on with my life as normal, but the second the little watch on my wrist lit up orange, I was to drop all that and go help a bunch of other sleeper agents take a major city back from whatever had hold of it.

When I asked if it was just Military personnel being selected, he laughed and told me that all kinds of people from all sorts of professions would be selected for this. He referred to us as the 'First Wave' and how there would be a total of three 'Waves' of agents descending upon the country when and if the time came.

We were to be put in groups of fours, never knowing who those other agents were until that time came. He wanted me to be the designated 'Team Leader' since that's the role I've taken in MARSOC. When the time came, we would be activated and given a location to get our gear as well as meet with our team. We would be assigned callsigns upon activation which fit our profile.

Before activation, we wouldn't meet other agents knowingly. With a twinkle in his eye, he said that my own team could be full of either strangers or people I know. When I asked about how that would work if I were out of the country or in the middle of an operation, he just smiled and told me that they had every possible scenario planned. After I had exhausted all of my questions and he had finished answering and explaining them, I was given as much time as I needed to decide. I couldn't leave the room, of course, but I could stay there until I gave my answer. In fact, I would stay there, as leaving wasn't an option until I answered. He left the room, telling me to knock on the door once I've decided.

Most people would probably say they'd jump at the chance to become some sort of secret agent or whatever. Those people have never been given the opportunity. This would be something I would have to hide from my friends and family. Nobody else could know until I was activated. It was a huge burden to bare.

However, I'm a patriot. I didn't join the Marines for free college. I did it because I wanted to serve this country in a way that I felt I was best suited for. After thinking it through, I decided that this was just another way I could serve. Two minutes after knocking on that door, he came back in and I told him I was in. He flashed me a smile and told me that he figured that was going to be my answer.

Then, he had me compile a list of gear I'd like to be put away for me in the location I'd be meeting with my team should everything suddenly go tits-up. Two 'primary' weapons and a sidearm. My choice? An M1A SOCOM with an ACOG optic, an M107 with the standard scope and Bipod, and an M45A1 with a laser sight and 10-round magazines.

He gave me a watch to wear on my person at all times when awake. It was a bit more bulky than my usual watch. Then, he explained how it worked. There was an advanced program called ISAC, pronouned Isaac, housed in the storage of the device. It was essentially a multi-purpose AI capable of scanning objects, hacking into vulnerable networks remotely, and acts as a comms relay between myself, my team, and the First Wave Division Commander.

He explained the functions that were chosen for me for my personal device, called 'Pulse' which in tandem with the backpack addition that we would have with our gear when and if the time came, would send out a 'pulse' wave, essentially acting as a personal SONAR and RADAR. The information would then be relayed to us via special contact lenses and ear piece. It has a 75 meter, 360 degree radius and can be used fairly often. It identifies weakpoints in people, infrastructure, and computers and allows everyone linked up through ISAC on my team to see everything I do.

This kind of technology was entirely new to me and completely over my head on how it works. I mean, AI? Computer contact lenses? Personal SONAR/RADAR? That's shit you see in video games and movies. The Sci-fi kind. Now I was being told it was real. I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise seeing as I was just made some kind of sleeper agent within my own government, but still.

Six months later I was back in the Middle East. It was December 7th I knew I was going to be activated. Me and my team were watching the news from back home. Several major cities descended into chaos. Some new kind of smallpox-type virus has overtaken not just our country, but also the UK, Canada, Mexico, Russia, China, France, and Germany. Reports were already coming from Spain, India, and several other countries stating that it was spreading so fast that closing borders was the only way to try to keep it in check.

People who were cleared free of the virus were evacuated to 'safe zones' that were set up just for an event like this. Even still, there were people dying in the streets. People were rioting, killing cops, looting, and even killing other civilains. It was a global free-for-all. Over 50% of the world's population has been reported to have been affected. There isn't enough time, money, or resources to sort things out. Violence has taken hold of nearly every major city on the planet.

Sure enough, just when I had gotten back from a patrol the ring around my watch glowed orange. It was so bright that it caught the attention of several other Marines. They asked what that was, but their attention was turned to a blackhawk coming in unannounced. It set down and two people stepped out. They were the suits from before. They told me it was time. I gave my friends a guilty look before climbing into the chopper. To them, that entire scene must have been terribly confusing. As we took off, I saw my CO step out of his tent and one of my friends run up to him, pointing at the chopper.

My CO looked up to me and looked me straight in the eyes. He gave me a sharp nod, a salute, and that was the last time I saw him. Even though I was going off to serve my country, I felt like I was abandoning my post. Everything about the situation screamed 'wrong' over and over in my head. I felt like a traitor.

After taking a jet back to the US, I suddenly felt better about leaving the Middle East. While we were coming in for a landing at JFK Airport in New York, I could see the smoke from all the fires. I knew things were bad, but seeing it in person put things in perspective. Things were this bad all around the globe. It was up to me and people like me to restore order by any means necessary. Just after we landed, a voice came from my watch. "Directive 51 enacted. Identity confirmed. Callsign: Reaper. Directive: Restore order to the city of New York. Current Primary Objective: Go to safehouse and link up with other agents. Division Team Echo activated."

I had a good laugh at that. Somehow, I had been assigned the very same callsign I had been using for years. Luckily, nobody was at the airport to question me about my weaponry and combat gear as I was leaving. After getting out onto the street, it became very clear to me that there was no way I was going to catch a cab. The streets were completely filled with crashed and abondoned cars, garbage, and bodies. ISAC's GPS activated and lead me to the safehouse on foot. Along the way, ISAC informed me of my team's assigned area of operation. Manhattan. The area most affected by this virus according to the media.

It was a long trek. About 16 miles. Along the way, I was assaulted numerous times by common street thugs with bats and handguns. I still had my M4. All of my training kicked in before I could acknowledge that these were my fellow Americans and they were all dead. After the first encounter, I felt like a traitor once more. My job was to defend the people of this country, not kill them.

However, that was under normal circumstances. I reasoned with myself that these people were part of the problem, and if they couldn't be reasoned with, they had to go. Although I was empowered by Directive 51 which gave me the sole authority over every single other citizen of this country like every other SHD Agent, I didn't have to feel good about it.

I made my way through the city at the pace of a quick jog. It took me almost three hours to reach the designated 'safehouse' which, as ISAC informed me along the way, could only be accessed by Echo team. My team, that is. As it turns out, the safehouse was in a service tunnel connected to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, right before a massive barricade that blocked the way to and from Manhattan. ISAC was capable of unlocking the gate. There was a distinct lack of National Guard stationed at the barricade.

At the designated safehouse I noted that I was the first one there. I also noticed that from a layer of dust and tarps over the furniture, this was set up well in advance. The entryway was a hallway, leading to four doors, each door with a callsign on it. Mine was at the very end before what looked to be a kitchen. The doors leading up to mine were labled with the callsigns Blackout, Joker, and Lifeline. Behind my door was a medium sized bed, dresser, desk, and computer. On the bed was all of my gear under a layer of clear tarp.

Now, from what I described earlier you might think me insane with how much weight I was going to be carrying around. After all, the M107 is a heavy rifle. .50 BMG was a heavy round. The M1A and 7.62 weren't any slouches either, but one thing I learned in the Marines was that weight never bothered me. I had frequently carried heavier loadouts and it never hindered me.

I quickly outfitted myself in the gear provided. I still had my combat gear and clothing from before, not having time to change. However, a change of clothes were inside the backpack provided, along with other essential tools and such. There were also clothes in the dresser. I assumed that they got the right size. I contemplated changing, since usually Marines weren't supposed to wear their camies out in the city, but I decided against it. I felt it might do the civilians some good to see it, and it might ward off anyone thinking about attacking. After all, most people are smart enough to not engage heavily armed, well-trained people with Hi-Point garbage.

Having just gotten done putting in the special contact lenses, I was given the surprise of a lifetime. The door opened and in walked a woman. She was short, but not too short. Blonde hair. Very attractive. Beautiful blue eyes. However, the most surprising thing of all was that I knew this woman. We had dated a while back. It was serious. I was planning on proposing. But one day she came home late. She woke me up and told me that she had done something. She was quick to assure me she didn't cheat on me, but that she had decided on something and we couldn't be together anymore. When I asked her about why and what it was she decided on, she told me she couldn't tell me. She quickly moved out. She cried a lot. Truthfully, so did I.

Now I knew. A year ago she had been selected for The Division. It was no small wonder, really. She was a doctor. A damn good one. Before that, she was a combat medic in the Marines. You see, we had dated all through school, starting in the 6th grade. Before that we had been best friends since we were able to walk. We enlisted together. We were assigned to the same unit. I stayed in, she left after her 4 years and went to school to become a doctor. Even still, we stayed together. She had patched me up both on and off the battlefield.

Seeing her again completely froze my mind. I couldn't think. Neither could she. We just stood there, staring at each other. She was frozen mid-step. Her mouth was slightly ajar and her eyes were fully open. Her eyebrows were as high as they could go. She was just as surprised to see me as I was her, it seemed.

"Mallory?!"

A/N: Hello dear readers, welcome to the very first chapter of 'The Division: Ex Umbra in Solem' where I'll be whipping up a 'what if' story where I insert a squad of SHD Agents who all had some connection to each other before being selected for The Division. As you read above, these will indeed be First Wave agents. I'll do my best to stay true to the story in the game, but I make no promises to adhere to canon. The first four chapters will take place in a first person point of view (POV) and the chapters afterwards will take place in a third person POV.

For anyone interested in an update on my other stories, please check my profile page. Being an avid Fanfiction reader myself, I know the disappointment to see an E-Mail stating there's a new chapter to a story I'm interested in only for it to be an update. My updates will take place in my profile with dates to accompany them.

Thanks for reading the first chapter to my new story. I hope that it draws your attention enough for you to continue reading it.