Spirit Operations Unit Leviathan (L3 | Open | SF/Fantasy)

[SirBayer]

Eamon might have recognized the clean-up for what it really was: A power-play. He might've realized that, purposefully or not, she was displaying dominance, a greater degree of control in social situations, and in a not-so-subtle way observing that he had very little control of his own. Were he more aware of his circumstances, he might have allowed her to do it simply to let her feel more in charge, since that would mean more congenial relationships. A smarter mind would've known that it was easier to manipulate from below than from above.

Eamon, however, was drunk, and simply allowed it because his reaction times did not allow him to do anything else.

"Well, I suppose I should be there ta meet 'em, aye?" Eamon grunted, adjusting his jacket. "I assume ye'll be wantin' to do the same?"  

[umbraja]

Though there had also been a subtle hint of almost maternal amusement as the woman straightened the drunk up so it may not have been entirely a power play, not completely at least. She gave another bemused smile and slight nod of her head at the questions then stepped aside to lead him back to the elevator, up several floors, and effortlessly down the winding halls to the main lobby where Eamon had come in. She obviously knew the layout of the place well and must have worked here some time before this. The polite little greetings she gave to various staff as they passed only made that more obvious but at the same time there was a slight chill to every interaction. The woman was cold, professional, very guarded. It would be difficult indeed to win this one's trust.

She stopped at the back of the lobby to smile wryly across the room at a young man leaned against the far wall and trying to blend into the gun rack beside him as he fidgeted with the chords of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist - a rosary. "There's one of them now," the doctor purred with a nod at the man. "Nikoli Bedier, a sort of scout. Niko for short if you prefer informality" She gave Eamon an almost challenging grin, "See how much of that you can get him to tell you."  

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Mr. Uso. Who the ******** were they kidding? Mr. Uso knew they didn't respect him- probably wouldn't have respected him even if he were still a med school student. Whatever. These suits didn't know s**t. They hadn't lived a life surrounded by gangs, the impoverished self-important, and the various wannabes. They hadn't been forced to fight for what they loved- what they needed.

And books? On this a**-raping roller coaster? What a joke. "You think your stooge at the wheel could learn to drive?" he asked one of the suits with unmasked disdain. He didn't get an answer. Back to silence then.

Then they came to a stop, and the doors opened. Jake looked away, rather than try to shield his eyes. When the doors slammed shut again, he finally gave his 'colleague' a look-see.

He was easy to peg: gay; flamboyant party-boy; or both. Maybe bisexual. In any case, Jake's interest in the character was minimal. The flamer had to know a thing or two to be here- to be a member of SOUL- but couldn't possibly know anything that interested Jake Uso beyond his own, "Name?"  

[SirBayer]

Eamon shrugged, collected himself, and trundled across the lobby, stopping a meter or so from Niko and folding his arms, managing to prevent his eyes from having different levels of squint.

"Yer Nikolai Bedier, eh?" Eamon asked, rhetorically mostly. "Eamon O'Byrne. I'm evidently tha Team Seven leader." Eamon extended his hand, double checking he wasn't twitching or swaying. Lord only knew his vision was a touch unfocused, giving him the vague impression of dog ears on Bedier's head, which was pretty self-evidently just a stupid illusion. "Getting to know my team. I haven't read yer file yet, so I'll let ye speak for yerself first."  

[Ivaylo_Sai]

The illusionary ears flicked forward briefly at the name but laid back just as quickly to half hide in shaggy black hair as the man stared warily at the extended hand. There was a long pause before he looked up to Eamon's face then gave a slight nod and stood straighter with a muttered "Sir" once informed of the rank. Eamon could swear the man's eyes were yellow as he looked at him - wolf's eyes. Must be seeing things again though the color didn't go away as they continued to stare.

Also the man simply didn't take Eamon's hand, instead just continuing to fidget with the rosary beads though behind his back now. He looked a little high strung with the haunted appearance most heavy addicts wore: dark circles under the eyes, somewhat sallow skin, thinness to the features, general sloppiness, a suggestion he might go off at any moment.

It didn't seem like the man was going to answer at first but he did eventually with a half shrug and simply stated, "Niko. Tracker, scout, sniper. Usually go ahead of the team," he sort of trailed off watching for a reaction as if he were waiting for something.  

[Venom3001]

Subject: Strings Frederickson Power/3D
"Sorry for the delay, Mr. Frederickson. We've been asked to pick up a couple others to free up their transport for maintenance." The driver seemed reasonably sincere. Perhaps he pitied his passenger, or perhaps he just had pride in his work. Who could say? Either way, the back of the truck opened and the glare of daylight streamed in, followed shortly by two Illuminated individuals.

Jake Uso and Cress Farrar had barely traveled what felt like all of five meters (give or take ten meters of vertical motion from the car's violent bucking) before the back opened up. "This car's being brought in for some work. You two have fun in your new truck and play nice!" A couple of suits shuffled them both into a new vehicle, alongside a man who was aged far beyond his years, and the back of the armored vehicle slammed shut again, leaving them in the dim, gentle fluorescent lighting.  

[SirBayer]

Eamon nodded, dropping his hand. Perhaps the ears were not an illusion. Eh, he'd find out when he could at least see straight. "Arright. What's yer Illumination like?" It made no sense to determine someone's role and then allow them to just perform that role exclusively, Eamon had learned; people always chased for the jobs they wanted, not the jobs they were good at (though those weren't mutually exclusive), and often reassigning people, while making them unhappy in the short term, resulted in significantly better performance. Also, in this line of work, the long term never came around, so unhappiness in the short term was acceptable on several levels.  

[Ivaylo_Sai]

Niko twitched slightly at the question and his wary stare turned a little curious for the lack of an expected reaction. But then this man was obviously illuminated and wasted so maybe he'd not noticed or simply didn't care. There was another long pause as if he might not answer the question, a scratch of irritation at having been asked. Shouldn't the team leader have access to personnel files, why's he asking? A test a paranoid little voice purred in the back of his head but Niko ignored it. Still he hesitated to answer, shifting slightly and giving the room a quick glance for any that might be watching, listening. He frowned subtly to find the Doctor leaning against the reception desk with that coy little grin of hers and not even pretending not to watch.

"Witchcraft mostly," he answered in a tight mutter turning golden eyes back to Eamon. A truer answer would have been 'slow starvation' but he had a feeling that wasn't what the man had been looking for so he told the team leader of his magic. "Some Augmentation. Basics and sensory enhancement. . ." he trailed off again gripping the rosary tightly and shifting his weight to the other foot before continuing, "And some Demoncraft. A. . . sort of Witchcraft. . ." those wolfish ears flicked again and laid back, "Transformation. Lupine."  

[SiberDrac]

"Mm," Strings grunted softly, without any particular articulation. He simply picked up his instrument's case and leaned it against his shoulder to make room, his hands unconsciously adopting the same positions they would have had had he been actually playing. His left hand, even, began fingering chords in a fumbling, unfocused sort of way while he looked up to regard the two newcomers.

A pink fairy and a teenager. Well. There had been duos that screamed "Goth punk" more loudly, but Strings did not know many of them, and had never been a fan of Kiss. He chose to give them each a gentle nod, and his gravelly voice, rusted from disuse, rumbled, "Strings." His eyes blinked slowly as he took in as many details as he cared to notice, which was not too many. It was easier to read the obituaries if he recognized fewer of the pictures there.  

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jake was miffed with the constant shuffling, and would have voiced his opinion very brazenly- would have, except that he found himself clambering into an armored car and sitting across from what his old pal Ken would have called, "Heavy Metal:" someone who had witnessed and survived the darker side of things. The fellow was scarred, aged, dressed like an English cowboy, and toting a... Well it had to be a cello by the size of it.

Young Mr. Uso was surprisingly speechless. Instead of glaring at suits, he was scrutinizing Strings. The man immediately garnered a lot of respect from the street fighter. The musician was weathered by time and conflict, but had manners enough to introduce himself without the slightest prodding. Jake also had a high opinion of classical musicians, and Strings clearly meant business with that cello: he was, after all, Illuminated and lugging it around in the back of an armored car. The instrument was henceforth an object of curiosity, but Jake could glean little while it was still encased; he ignored it for the time being.

After those few moments of silent study, Jake finally answered in kind. "Uso."  

[SiberDrac]

The strange tapping on the faded, cheap leather of the case continued idly and sporadically. "Mm," Strings articulated again, with another polite nod. He wondered if food would be provided at their next location. These were lazy thoughts, and generally empty ones. They eventually led him back to Uso.

The boy was the age Strings sometimes imagined his son would be. Maybe his son was alive... eh, unlikely, but it didn't hurt to hope. Not for Strings, anyway. Hopefully his son hadn't turned out this way, too. He didn't know much about the little tit-sucker he had left behind to start his new life, so he could've become anything by now, but Strings wanted him to be someone... clean.

He gave out a great sigh, wondering if the fairy was going to introduce himself. He thought the word without even stumbling over it. It was a label, not an insult, to his mind. It could easily become an insult, he knew, as well as his grandparents had turned "little colored boy" from a sweet identifier to a damning condemnation, but for the moment, it was just the truth.  

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

A nonplus response; Jake had expected as much given Strings's gruff and aloof countenance. Even so, the man had something on his mind- something that involved Jake in some way. He watched the musician watch him, trying to Sherlock the answer by body language alone.

It didn't work. Jake did learn that the man could play music and contemplate the meaning of life simultaneously, something easily divined by how gracefully those old fingers pattered on the cello's case. This discovery turned his mind back to a prior inquiry, which he vocalized.

"Is it a weapon too?"  

[SiberDrac]

There was nearly thirty seconds of silence while the man decided how best to answer. Well, as silent as the ride could be. "Not always." It was a good question, at least. Reasonable. The boy was showing far better manners than his appearance would suggest. Of course, now Strings felt a little awkward, because he felt like a lot of people would have started a real conversation by now.  

[SirBayer]

Eamon nodded through the list. Witchcraft, mmhm. Augmentation, the normal package, handled it better than Eamon himself, mmhm. Witchcraft, transformation, lupine, right. Right, uh... right. That was a new one and Eamon raised an eyebrow for a moment, but he'd seen weird magic before, and this one was particularly useful. So he would be pretty good at the scouting job. And he wasn't seeing things entirely, so he wasn't as drunk as he thought he was.

"Alright then. Good t'meet ya. I'll be servin' mostly as a commander, but I'll be in the field with ye. Dunno if ye know anythin' about me, though I'm guessing not? Hardly a big name around here," he added thoughtfully. Probably for the best.  

[Ivaylo_Sai]

There was another long pause in which Niko just stared at his new commander. Not really a studying stare, not even all that curious or contemplative, just a stare - flat, even, somewhat empty. It was hard to tell if he was thinking, waiting for Eamon to say more, or simply spacing out. Then Niko's ears twitched again and he shook his head slowly with a mutter that may have just been grumbling sounds for all Eamon could understand of them. It didn't seem as though he was meant to anyway because Niko gave a slow shake of his head and slight shrug then looked away again. He didn't seem comfortable standing there just waiting to meet new people and looked more than a little irritated with the situation. He'd never worked well with others, even before the soul addiction made him worse. At least the man hadn't made a dog joke. Yet.