Deep below sea level, habitats of the Pacific ocean scattered in all directions in a frenzied rush. The moistened dirt on the oceans’ floors began to stir like dry dust on a deserts plains. The grounds trembled as whales, sharks, miniature seahorses, and other underwater sea creatures darted to escape whatever invaded their home.

A faded light appeared from above slowly brighter as it approached a landing dock now barely visible on the oceans floor. A ship appeared through the dusty haze with it's aqua blue strobe lights illuminating the darkness around the landing pad. The dark metallic covered surface of the ship known as the Phoebe gracefully landed on the dock. If a man were standing in front of the Phoebe, the comparison would be similar to a 747 Boeing plane.

Also if one were looking hard enough from the front of the ship they would notice the small basketball size bubble quickly expanding. It grew as if it were on the beat with a human pulse. With every beat, it doubled in size.

The bubble quickly enveloped the ship and continued to grow into the wall 30 feet behind the ship. Dirt, green shrubs, weeds, and other underwater growth fell limp, unaccustomed dry air that had suddenly struck, revealing a 30-foot metallic wall.

No more than a few minutes later a couple of hundred feet of land was cleared of all water as high a hundred and fifty feet. The bubble stopped growing as Phoebe’s freight doors lowered from underneath. A platform supported by cables lowered until it touches the moist dirt.

The wall parted in the middle revealing light from the inside. Sliding one left and the other right. Opening until it could no longer be seen. Locked in place a loud snapping noise echoed throughout the massive bubble. The pressure being released from the hydraulics and pressure tanks, relieving a light mist as two doors settled. A blinding bright white cascaded out from the inside.

Seven figures stood on the inside patiently waiting for the process to complete. Four men and three women, all in business suits with the exception of one who wore a device on his left wrist no bigger than a cell phone. He stood in front of the group tapping his foot lightly, looking at the doors as they came to a halt.

“Isn't she beautiful?” Bane said to no one in particular.

The rest of the group stayed silent, waiting for him to proceed down the ramp. He raised the arm with the device attached to it and spoke. “Okay send the cargo.” Smiling he heard engines from the Phoebe ships freight area startup revving.

The group started down the ramps and into the massive bubble. Standing by the ramps they watched as the first eighteen wheelers drove by. As they started passing, drivers of the trucks saluted to one individual in the standing group.

A woman who has military power and connections in the east. General Norvik nodded to each driver as they passed in the trucks. She stood the tallest of the three women, with black hair and green eyes. She wore a black blazer over a white blouse and matching slacks. Her facial features showed that she'd been through more rough times than good. Makeup tried to hide her true age as she stood with a grim face watching as the trucks passed.

The rest of the group proceeded forward as she stayed to supervise the cargo move. They adjusted their eyes as they stepped into the open bubble.

“Bane,” one of the other men said as they walked. “This move was unnecessary,” he started. “You could've waited until a more appropriate time,” he stated without yelling.

Bane stopped, turned to face the richest man on the committee, Frank Ward. Frank and Bane were the same age. Bane had him by a couple of months, but Frank looked a decade older. He shook his head, not in shame, but in pity. Frank worried about everything. His gray hair and fine lines under his eyes worsened as days passed because of what-ifs.

Bane motioned for the other three individuals to moved on as planned. They nodded and proceeded. He didn't put himself on top or felt he was more privileged than anyone on the committee. They all agreed because of his efficient ruthless background history. There were heist that bane had pulled that the committee couldn't believe Bane had done in the past. But when he explained detail to precise detail information that the news didn't broadcast, certain members made calls to the higher-ups and found what he said to be true. But that wasn't the real reason he was in charge.

Bane was the founder of the committee. He was the reason they were where they are now with the organization. This committee existed all because of a dream he had thirty years ago. Everyone knew he was a genius. He could manipulate any manipulator with ease. To this day no one knows his real name. They’ve tried to get his fingerprints off things he’s touch, but he was nowhere in the system. He was a ghost.

Bane stood at an intimidating six foot three inches, with the darkest brown hair that a Hispanic could be born with. His eyes were the drawback. Anyone looking at him from a distance would say he's a businessman with an agenda. One look into his eyes would show pure evil. No ordinary evil, but the clever, cold-blooded type of evil.

The committee knew this about him, Bane wanted power. Complete control. “World Domination,” was his exact words.

The committee was concerned in the beginning, but after demonstrations and several tests were completed, everyone saw the possibility.

Bane stared at Frank. He saw no shavings of fear in them. That's what he liked about this group. None of them feared anything. Not even death as it is. Anyone that did pose a threat against them. Nobody wanted to be around anyone that was scared to voice their opinion for the fear that another would disagree. It's the main reason the committee has lasted this long.

“You know I'm right,” Ward said keeping his unwavering eyes on Bane.

“It's not that bad,” he said calmly.

“Yes, this is. Phoebe was spotted on the radars. You heard the Navy’s transmissions,” he stated matter of factly.

“Yes, I heard them,” Bane replied. “And I also heard them say that they thought Phoebe was a Russian submarine but wasn't sure because of its size.”

Frank shook his head and watch as the last three trucks drove down the ramp and into the station built just inside the wall of the ocean.

“Think about the situation Frank,” Bane said trying to ease comfort into the man. “If you didn't see it for yourself, Would you believe most of what you have witnessed?” Frank shook his head defeated.

“We all know it would be hard to be caught. And of course, we don't need unwanted attention. The Timing was just right for this mission, and our window was too small to wait. There were no second chances.”

Bane threw his head back and laughed as he waved an arm around motioning to everything around them.

“We're a ghost, Frank.” He pointed up to the water holding its position above them, “We need the money. None of this cheap and you know this. To have the power of a god is priceless,” he said turning and continuing into the facility.

Frank kept a steady pace beside bane, staying silent for a moment. He Turned to Bane as they reached the censored doors.

“Don't have the world searching the ocean floors for us Bane.” With that said Frank walked through the doors onto the ships Main deck.

Phoebe was fully equipped with every high tech piece of equipment known to man. Radars, tracking equipment, code hacking supercomputers, and everything a naval carrier would process. Bane liked to say that it came fully loaded. The was no other ship built like it is known to man.

Phoebe is an air to water battleship. The committee had gathered hundreds of classified plans, dealing with air to water ships from agencies across the world to create Phoebe.

This last mission was the first time Phoebe had been spotted on radar. Nobody on the committee liked it. There were a lot of money six countries were looking for at the moment.

There was a total crew of eleven on the ships main deck. All were manning equipment that kept the ship functional. Two members were talking to the captain as Bane and Ward walked up.

Christopher Watts was also on the committee. He handled missions and knew the ship better than the people that drafted it together. He was there throughout the entire building process giving his input. Took two years to knock out all the kinks, but he stood like a proud father over the end result.

He once said that if Phoebe went down he’d go down with her. He had the look of a captain that commandeered pirate ships back in prehistoric days. The trimmed long thick white beard and pouchy stomach gave him the appearance of a professional.

“Bane, Frank,” Watts' voice thundered when he spoke, hiding his true age of fifty-eight. He stuck his hand out greeting them.

“Captain,” they both replied shaking his hand.

“Wheres Sam?” Frank said noticing a member that was supposed to be on the ship was missing.

“Med station,” one of the two men that were talking to the captain answered.

Mike Toronto and Bailey Wilcox were x-cons. They both were drifters who were discovered by Banes scouts. Bane Paid a total two million to have them released from the prisons that confined them. They were the only other drifters on the committee besides Bane. No more was needed. And their only job was security over the members.

Toronto was discovered while drifting. He could've easily escaped prison but knew that he’d never be able to walk the streets without someone trying to blow his head off for previous crimes he'd committed in his past. His wild black hair and prison build couldn't be seen anywhere in public without roaming eyes.

Bane had observed him for a week before he made contact. He studied him in his cell, reading his mail from over his shoulder, watching his daily habits and how he socialized with others. Once Bane felt comfortable with the way Toronto drifted he pushed for conversation.

The last thing Bane needed was a lunatic or stalker as he had witnessed in other situations with other drifters. He gave Toronto credit. He thinks before he speaks or acts. Whenever this 43-year-old Mexican spoke most listened. It took a month to get him out of prison. He was locked up in maximum prison in Mexico.

Bane studied the prison system for a week until he found the person that would free Toronto legally. He wrote a simple letter on the administrator's desk.

“Inmate Mike Toronto, #380243 needs to be released. One million, US currency in cash guaranteed.”

Bane knew he had the administrators confused attention as he stood with his back against the wall two days later watching as Toronto's release papers were drawn up. The administrator had asked everyone outside of his office if anyone had been in there, and all replies were a simple no. Two weeks from that day Toronto was free and the administrator had one million dollars sitting on his doorstep when he arrived home.