"You bitch, I will end you if you walk out that fucking door," my boss, David, yells as he sits up from his desk.

I cross my arms and smirk at him, satisfied.  "No, I will end you," I state calmly.  "As soon as I tell the media about your poor attempt to take advantage of me, this company will go down in flames, and your reputation will be ruined." This bitch was caught harassing me all night at our company event and slipping a drug into my drink on surveillance footage. Luckily for me, I notice everything, so I caught him in the act. 

"Nobody will believe you," he snarls, attempting to intimidate me.

"Bitch please, I'm not stupid.  I already went to the police and filed a report, and my lawyers are currently filing the lawsuit.  By the end of the day, you'll be out of a job."

"I am the CEO of this fucking company.  I have more money than all the Kardashians combined.  My lawyers will easily turn this case over."

I roll my eyes, then stalk over to his desk and lean down over him.  With my heels on, I am a few inches taller than him.  "You fucked with the wrong bitch, and now you're about to pay the price," I spit.

"I will-"

I backhand him before he can finish his statement.  The metal in my heavy rings collides with his cheekbones.  He holds his hand to his face and stares at me in shock.

"I'm not interested in whatever bullshit threat you have.  I'll see you in court, asshole."  I stride out of his office, holding my middle finger behind my back.  My lawyer recommended that I don't talk to him, but that felt good as hell.

I enter the elevator and wait for it to close before pulling out my phone. As I open it, an alarm begins blaring. "What the hell?" I mutter.  I quickly read through the phone alert.  Ballistic missile threat inbound to Los Angeles.  Seek immediate shelter.  This is not a drill.  There's no way that this is real. 

I step out of the elevator and realize that this is very real.  Everyone in the lobby is in mass pandemonium.  "Well shit," I mutter. 

A man and a woman dressed in all black approach me out of nowhere.  "Valentina Callistra?" the woman asks.

"Who the hell is asking?" I reply.

"We need you to come with us," the man says as they both step towards me.

"Who are you and where do you plan on taking me?" I ask, refusing to budge.

"We work for the Cooperative and we're taking you somewhere where you can survive the nuclear blast.  No more questions until we get into the transport vehicle," the woman replies shortly. She takes my arm, and I realize they're planning on taking me whether I want to or not.

I nod, not needing much convincing since my only other option is to get blown up by nuclear bombs. I follow them to a black SUV parked in front of the office building.  We're in the middle of downtown LA, so I have no clue how they're planning to get me somewhere where I can survive the nuclear blast.

After we're settled in and on our way, I try asking a few of my questions.  "Why me out of all people?" I ask as we sit.

"You have an exceptional genetic makeup," the man answers.

"You mean for repopulating purposes?" I scoff.

"For whatever reason the Cooperative sees fit," the woman responds curtly.

I roll my eyes, knowing that I'm not going to get much out of them.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, we roll to a stop.  "Get out and follow us," the woman commands.  I hurriedly climb out of the car and see that we're on a small airport's tarmac.  She swiftly walks up to a private jet that has a blonde woman standing out front.

"Who the hell are you?" she asks, clearly annoyed.

"A member of the Cooperative.  I have a designated survivor with me who needs to get on your plane," she says, grabbing my arm to pull me towards the stairs to get on the plane.

"Wait, I still have my boyfriend coming!" she protests as a black car pulls up beside the plane.  A man with short blonde hair steps out with a few suitcases.  "Gallant?" she yells.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You said you have four tickets," he says as an older woman gets out of the car.  "Room for all of us!  This is my Nana, Evie." He quickly motions over to the woman next to him.

"No, I don't!  What are you doing? Brock is going to be here!" she yells. 

"If he's not here yet, he's not going to make it in time," the woman holding my arm says as she shoves me into the plane while the two are still arguing.  I look inside to see a quiet brunette standing in the middle of the cabin.

"Who are you?" she asks me.

"Valentina Callistra.  Who are you?" I ask.

"Mallory.  I'm Coco's assistant," she says quietly.  I assume that Coco was the blonde outside.

The man - I think his name was Gallant - enters the plane with his Nana.  "Who are you?" he asks me as he throws his suitcase down.

Before I can respond, Coco stumbles into the plane. "Shit!" Coco gasps as the stairs close behind her.  The plane starts up, and we all look out the windows to see the men and woman that brought us here shooting down crazed people running for the plane.

"You may want to sit down," I tell Coco, realizing that the plane is about to take off.

"Who the hell even are you?" she asks as she takes a seat next to Mallory and across from me. 

"Valentina Callistra."

"Why did those people say you were a 'designated survivor' or whatever?" she asks.

"Apparently, they picked me because of my exceptional genetic makeup or something," I scoff. I almost tell them about how the people in the car mentioned the Cooperative, but it dawns on me that I've heard that name before. I know that it was the name of some secret society that David was a member of. He was bragging about it before his lousy attempt to drug me.

Everyone quiets down as the plane reaches cruising altitude. After a few minutes, the reality of the situation begins setting in. "Holy shit," Coco gasps, holding her head between her hands.  "My family's dead."

Mallory wraps an arm around her to console her. "It's okay, Coco."

"What about your family?" I ask Mallory.

She looks down.  "They're not dead yet.  They're going to die in the blast though."

"I'm so sorry," I say.

"What about yours?" she asks, looking back up at me.

I shake my head.  "Mine are already dead.  I have no siblings or extended family either, so it's just me."

"That's depressing," Gallant remarks from his seat next to Evie.

"Mallory, go ask the pilot where we're going," Coco snaps from her seat, becoming impatient.

Mallory nods and gets up.  She walks over to the cockpit but seems to have trouble opening the door.  She finally shoves it open and gasps at what she sees.  We all stare at her expectantly as she turns back to us.  "Well?" Coco asks.

"There's nobody there."

"What the hell?" I stand up to see for myself while Evie is making a remark about there being no stewardess.  Sure enough, nobody is in there.  "Why is nobody driving this fucking plane?" I shout.

Coco is about to say something when a large impact hits the plane.  Everything shakes around us, and it feels like the plane is going to nosedive.  Everyone begins screaming and I gasp as I am thrown against the wall.  Everything in the plane begins beeping and making sporadic sounds.

"Holy shit, we're all going to die!" Gallant shouts.

"Don't be overdramatic," I roll my eyes as the plane stabilizes, rubbing my head from where it was thrown against the plane.  One of my vices is getting extremely sarcastic and/or bitchy when things start to go wrong.  I think it may be some sort of coping mechanism, but I don't really care.

"Oh shit," Mallory mutters as she looks out the window.

We all quickly join her to be met by the sight of a mushroom cloud forming above LA.

Everybody is dead.

"I am Wilhemina Venable. Welcome to Outpost 3."

I look up at the woman with red hair pulled back in a perfect updo glaring at us. Upon closer examination, I realize she is wearing a medieval dress and using a candle for light. She taps her cane at her side as a way to motion for us to follow her.

She turns and leads us down the hallway. She gives us a tour of the outpost, but my mind wanders elsewhere. What did David say about the Cooperative? I only remember him bragging about how it was a highly exclusive secret society in an attempt to sound impressive. I am torn from my thoughts as Ms. Venable's voice draws in my attention.

"The Cooperative has plans far beyond the temporary cleansing of the bomb. The Cooperative is not made up of nations or armies, it's a collection of the dozen greatest minds mankind has to offer. The visionaries."

I have to stifle a scoff. David was most definitely not one of the dozen greatest minds of mankind; he was a misogynistic ass-wipe who was too cowardly to even get a girlfriend.

We arrive at our rooms as Ms. Venable finishes explaining the concept of Purples and Grays. "Excuse me, Ms. Venable," I say. "Who here is a member of the Cooperative?"

She pauses and looks toward me, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flashing through her eyes before she puts on her cold exterior. "Most of the people here purchased their tickets through the Cooperative, but not many of them are actual members of the Cooperative. The actual members keep their identity a secret, and it is not to be shared with anyone."

"So they'll be hiding among us in plain sight?" I clarify.

I catch her smirk slightly before regaining her composure. I suppose that's my answer.