INTERPOL...

[Lyon, France]

The atmosphere was tense. The cold glow of the monitors reflected on the tense faces of the agents as data streamed across the screens like an unrelenting flood of information.

At the center of the room, a woman with black hair and blue eyes maintained a rigid posture, watching another figure seated in front of her.

"Director Natasha..." the woman began, her voice laced with caution. "Gods don't care about the human world. Don't waste your time trying to understand why Sun Wukong assassinated the Pope."

The red-haired woman behind the desk, appearing to be in her mid-thirties, closed a folder marked with a large red seal: INTERPOL – CONFIDENTIAL.

"Don't underestimate my ability to understand the gods, Sheron." Her green eyes gleamed with determination.

Before she could insist further, Natasha sprang to her feet and strode across the room with firm steps, forcing Sheron to rush to keep up.

Sheron sighed. "Here we go again."