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 Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 6:35 pm
Plot
The early morning sunlight broke the horizon and bathed the city in its early autumn light. The city is quiet but not safe even in the glow of day. Traveling through the still empty streets is both calming and haunting. The buildings begin to change, no longer towering or well-maintained. In the heart of this abandoned community stood an anomaly.
A tall black iron fence surrounds a building sitting on an undistinguishable corner. Unlike those around it, this abandoned apartment building looks to be well-maintained. It stands out from the rest as the brick face looks to be in perfect condition, if not brand new. The windows are large, but thick and well tinted. There is a card reader beside the heavy black metal door keeping everyone but a select few out.
Across the street sits a small lonely bar, which seems open at all hours of the day and night. The brick face is broken by three large windows that line the front of the one story building. Hanging to the right of the door sitting at an angle on the corner is a small sign that reads, Sandies in etched black letters. Once inside there is a narrow hallway that leads around a corner and into a large open room. A bar takes up the back wall, hiding a kitchen on the other side. The entire front is full of small round tables, surrounded by two to four cushioned wooden chairs. The front and side walls are lined with booths that seat up to four, except in the corner where a wrap around booth can easily seat six. How it survives with so little business is a mystery. Some speculate the strange little bar and mysterious building are connected.
High on the top floor, far to the back an older man sat in a thick leather chair. The large office around him is quiet and practically empty. The desk before him where a computer rests on the corner, a leather couch, and two padded plastic chairs are the only things to be found. The man sits back in the supporting chair, his frame fitting perfectly. He scowls at the single open file sitting on the desk in front of him, his obsidian eyes hard as stone. A burly hand reaches out and flips the folder closed. The chair turns and obsidian eyes stare out the large floor to ceiling, wall encompassing window.
His rowdy kids had been reckless last night, something that doesn’t happen often. Not only did the target escape but it had nearly cost him one of his kids. That was unacceptable, he wouldn’t lose another one. Yes, Ezekial Fitheal has always thought of them all as his kids. Kids he normally trusted to send after these supernatural threats. Yet, when events like last night happen, he isn’t so sure about sending them anywhere. All of them would regret their carelessness and had better learn from this.
He turns back toward the desk and turns on the computer. He quickly types up a memo for each department, informing them of a meeting that would happen the moment every member of the Black Thirteen was in the building.
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Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 5:53 pm
A young woman appears from Sandies as the early morning light climbs up the street. She glances down the empty street her hands clutching a lidded cup. After a moment she focuses her pale blue eyes on the building across the street. An early autumn wind kicks up ruffling her deep red overcoat and long black dress. A near silent sigh escapes her lips as she steps off the curb, her boots crunching on the cement, and walks across the vacant street.
When she approaches the black door she slides the straps of her small leather backpack purse from her right shoulder allowing her to unsnap the front pouch and retrieve the access card tucked inside. She holds the credit card size id up to the reader, hearing a click a few moments later. She pushes the door open and slips quietly inside.
She hands her bag to the security guy who is standing there waiting, before stepping through the metal detector. Like every other morning for the past year it goes off. “Miss Trinity, did you ever think of waiting until after admittance to put on your jewelry?” The young man asks not for the first time.
“No can do, Alec,” Vivian’s soft as velvet voice answers. “Make it a rule to never leave the flat naked.”
Alec shakes his head but hands her bag back. She gives him a smile and wink before moving toward the now opening gate. She slips through when it is just wide enough for her frame. Her boots thud against the marble floors as she walks slowly toward the elevator.
Vivian knows this morning will not be pleasant. All thanks to the debauchery of last night assignment. Not only did the Level 3 demon escape but it had nearly taken her head with it. Everything would have been fine had her gun not decided to jam at that exact moment. If not for Viktor’s quick reaction she probably wouldn’t be here dreading reporting for duty. She’d have to remember to thank him that is if he showed. Knowing Viktor he just might skip out. She’d thought a moment about doing the same, but didn’t have the guts to follow through. She could handle a Level 5 anything, but an angry Amon was like ten Level 5 demons. Of course given the nature of their screw up last night, she has little doubt that Ezekial doesn’t know about it. This of course meant this was probably going to be a debriefing from hell.
Her boots clang on the metal steps as she heads up to the second floor. Elevators aren’t her thing but thankfully that has remained her secret. Upon reaching the second floor she walks down the hall then takes a left and heads down a shorter hall. She slowly pushes open the metal door and peeks inside to see the room is empty. Heading in she plops down in one of the large overstuffed chairs. Vivian drops her bag on the floor beside her leg and sets her drink down next to it. She shrugs out of her overcoat, her shoulder still sore from where Viktor pushed her into a wall during his rescue, not that she was complaining. Collecting her cup she sits back in the chair taking a sip of the still warm coffee inside.
“Sorry.” The word whispers through her ear and she can’t help but smile. This last mission probably wouldn’t have been so bad had her DW been there with her. But she had disappeared suddenly a week ago. Of course where she went and why was as much a mystery as why the DW appeared before the Hunters in the first place. She says nothing allowing her emotions to do the talking for her. “I will not disappear again.”
It might be a little strange; Vivian was rattled at first by the whole idea. Unlike many of the DW she’d heard about from Hunters before her. They described them as distant; only stepping in when force or their purpose demanded it. Her DW has always been very protective. Always taking the heat from her, always there even when she wasn’t really need it. After a while, Vivian got used to the idea of this overprotective shadow and has learned to battle with her.
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2007 8:43 am
We're just kids hangin' out back,
S h o o t i n' cans and cuttin' some slack
For curious onlookers peering out their windows, they would've seen a very strange sight. There was a kid (surely, he was a kid?) lazily strolling down the street, arms folded over the back of his head. But that wasn't the strange part. He had something on a chain and was wearing it on his wrist; it glinted sharply in the dusky sun light. A sharp observer would've noticed that it was actually an identification card, plain white with a little black strip running along the back (like one of those outdated hotel cards). So thus, the question remained as this...
Who was the curious youth and what was he doing with an I.D. card?
Scott hated getting up in the mornings, he supposed that it had to deal with his inner body clock or whatever. End point was that he wasn't awake (well, yes, he was walking and had his eyes open, but he was not mentally awake). Which led to some problems, because Creators were supposed to be awake at all times to fix things for Hunters and various other personnel.
Contemplating this idea in his head, the twenty-three year old strolled into the building where he worked everyday, from before dawn to oftentimes after dusk. Without bothering to really unclasp the bracelet (it was fashioned from his favorite metal, steel), Scott slid the card easily through the fancy black device that had worked here longer than he had (which wasn't saying much, since he hadn't worked here for very long). It gave a mechanical click to announce the card's authenticity and shoving open the door, "the Kid" walked in.
Only to set off a rather obnoxious alarm.
"Mr. Turner, please do not tell me that you are following in Miss Trinity's footsteps and have taken to wearing jewelry." The poor guard's tone was deflated, as if he'd given up on the workers and their odd habits that never failed to set the metal detector off.
Scott laughed cheerily, an odd sound in such dismal place. "Me? Nah. I just didn't want to cart around a bunch of bags, so I decided to fasten a cool bracelet to hold my ID card. Sweet idea, huh? It's a lot less hassle than having you dig around my carrier bag."
Alec groaned mentally and couldn't help himself from asking just one more question. "And exactly what did you use to make this ID bracelet?"
The Creator beamed brightly in response. "Steel, man. You have got to love the steel." With that somewhat unsatisfying answer, he then stepped through the gate with a casual gait that spoke of confidence and youth (such a contrast to Miss Turner's smooth and stealthy walk). Rounding the corner (he preferred using the stairs, elevators were simply too... odd to properly use), Scott was hit with a sudden realization that rivaled the force of a Hunter's gun crashing down upon his head.
"Oh, s**t." He sighed out softly, all perkiness evaporating from his normally eager face.
And 'oh, s**t' was right. He'd forgotten about the job last night, the job. As in, the one that went horribly wrong and almost ended up killing Miss Turner. Bossman, as Scott liked to call him, wasn't going to be pleased. Actually, he was probably going to be downright furious. Considering that it was a gun that malfunctioned (Creators usually are given two details of a mission, one is the outcome, and the other is the status of their weapon creations), he was going to bear a decent amount of Bossman's anger.
Scott just hoped it wasn't a gun that he'd designed.
Ironic, because as "the Kid" would find out very soon, it was really his gun that had nearly cost Vivian her life.
It's nice in the p r i s o n cell, lookin' like freaks,
'Cuz to the outside w o r l d, we're the outcast creeps
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2007 6:09 pm
 K i S s ME where the petals ::FALL:: like snow Janie slowed to a stop as the morning light peaked over the horizon. Sweat dripped from her brown and her heavy panting could be heard a good distance away. She took a deep breath, straining her lungs, as she bent over putting her hands on her knees. Her dark, earthy brown hair fell over her shoulders gently, but she pushed it aside. Wiping her brown she stood and let out a few huffs of air, then taking a large gulp of water, she continued on her run.
She always ran early in the morning, always to keep up her speed. It was really the best way she had to think about things. You can't really talk when you're running after all. This run had been especially mind-wiping. When Vivian's gun had jammed the night before, she wasn't sure what to do. She had been extremely relieved when Viktor had stepped in, but it was a major scare. She was used to the high intensity and adrenaline levels, but it was always a bit tense when a team member was in trouble. It didn't happen that often, since all three of them were extremely skilled in what they did, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.
She stopped before the black gates and once again wiped the sweat from her brow. Taking one more sip of water she pulled the card from around her neck. She always kept it tucked under her shirt, nice and close...She swiped the simple white card and headed in. "G'morning Alec!" She said with what breath she had. Passing through the metal detector, she was clear.
"'Morning JD. Feels like a nice day, huh?"
"Yea, It's great for a run." She smiled and waved to him walking through the gate. She headed straight for the elevator. Her legs felt like they were literally on fire, and she didn't much like the stairs after a run. Pushing up the sleeves of her sweater, she arrived at the second floor, and spotting Vivian she sighed.
"Hey Vivian...how ya feeling today? Your shoulder alright?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 6:21 am
Somewhere on the third floor, and alarm began beeping. It was a soft sound, but its incessant noise would likely grow rather irritating to anyone in the room. A soft grumbling sound came from the same place as the beeping sound, and the sounds of someone moving about could be heard. A loud thud, followed by a soft grown, rang clearly through the room and one of the chairs with wheels went rolling across the floor. A loud curse slipped from a woman's lips as she stood up, rubbing both her head and her right thigh. She looked rather shaggy, standing there in her plain black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Her hair was rather messy, the elastic holding it together had slipped from its tight grip. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head, then relaxed once more. The beeping continued until the woman brought her right wrist towards her face, blinking a few times as she stared at the watch that was strapped there. She pressed a button and the sound ceased.
Amber had spent yet another night at work. she knew she wasn't supposed to, but she had been delving deeper into her research, trying to find out new bits of information that might help the organization. She had stayed up most of the night, searching through the databases for anything of interest. She had also been surfing the web, a more reliable source than one might originally think. She had found a few interesting things, but nothing of overly great interest. The sound of static crackled through the room, coming from a police scanner on one of the tables. She always listened to the police scanners, trying to pick up any suspicious activity. Most sasid she was far too into her job and that she needed a hobby, but most didn't realize how important this job was.
She bent down to her bag, which held her laptop in it, and pulled out a mirror. She wasn't vain, simply carried it around for instances like this when she would falls asleep at work. She pulled out the elastic and retied her hair in a simple ponytail. There were small black circles beginning to form beneath her eyes from too many night up. She merely rubbed the area a bit, deciding that a coffee would help rid her of the fatigue she still felt. She smoothed out her t-shirt and picked up her bag. She then headed out of the room and down the small hall to where the elevators sat. She pressed the button and waited patiently for the elevator to reach her floor.
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 2:11 pm
"Such a sad night! But O, woe is to such hunters, yet glory always resides in..." A yawn broke through the room, long and loud. Sheila Cronenberg was at her computer desk, as usual, typing through whatever thing she thought was necessary. Needing some information? Maybe just wanting to go through extra stuff just in case? That was Sheila for you. Never sleeping, always working; because it's what she enjoyed doing best. And once hearing about the accident the night before, she was a little more than dissapointed. If she were a creator her gun wouldn't have gone bad. Scott Turner was a creator, after all. he almost cost poor Vivian her life. She shrugged then, rubbing her eyes for a moment, and yawning again. Wow. She could barely see anything right now, even with her glasses on. Oh no, wait. Her glasses weren't on all the way. She sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. And yes. She could see now. She looked at the advanced compute screen, somewhat up closed, narrowing her eyes out of curiosity. What was this? She didn't remember looking up anything on supernatural monkeys. Of course, it could happen, right?
"Whaaaat? Pshycotic birds now? Sheila, get yourself together!" She rapped her fingers along her chin, quickly exiting the documents on the birds, that she so happened to make up. Odd. Birds? Monkeys were understandable. But not birds. She sat back in her chair, reading over the monkey thing.
Okay. This was ridiculous. She really needed to sleep; that wasn't a monkey on the screen. It was a sloth. No, a butterfly? "Waaah, this is insane!" She shook her head, and quickly closed off everything. Yeah, some nice research she was doing, or seeking out for the hunters. Animals? No. These were supernatural beings, of levels, of power. She was makign a fool of herself to herself. But she couldn't go to sleep yet; everyone seemed to be discussing something over last night. Or, the creators and boss man. And Hunters. Always leaving the info hunters out! "Hmph. One of these days I'll be the greatest Creator the world has ever seen." She mumbled in a singsong voice to herself while dancing her head to the side.
Her head fell forward then, onto the keyboard. At first she could feel herself slipping off, way away off into dreamland and snores, but then it started yelling at her. Yes, yelling at her. With beeping noises, and warning signs. She jumped up then, and quickly cancelled it all. Well, that was how she ruined her last computer up in the offices of The Black Thirteen's building. And sadly, it had to be replaced. because she pulled all nighters looking up worthless information of supernatural monkeys and crazy birds. Weren't birds already crazy? She preferred cats. But that didn't matter right now. With a squealng groan, she scooted her chair back from the nice, hi-tech computer, and stood up, stretching her arms high above her head. She brought them back down with an exasperated sigh, moving her glasses to the side quickly as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. Wow. She was soooo tired.
"Ugh. Now for them darn lectures. And I didn't even do anything!" she whined again, as she quickly left the database room, still somewhat dazed with it all. Outside the hall, there was an elevator just with her name on it. because she refused to take the stairs in this tired mess. She'd probably fall down, and after breaking an arm, go to sleep right then and there. Yes, she could see that happening, very clearly. But so what? She didn't care what people thought about her. Sheila left behind her beautiful computer, one fo sixteen among the 3rd floor, and pressed he button on the elevator. Ugh. It was so slow!
But as soon as it opened, she sighed heavily as she stepped in. Poor Vivian. Poor them because of Vivian. No, because fo Scott! "Ohh, I don't want to be lectured." She sighed to herself as the doors closed around her, and to the conference she went.
[Last two paragraphs editted. ^_^]
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Romeo for Tay Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 9:35 pm
:: Samantha Riley ::
Samantha Riley sat huddled in her comfortable office chair. The early morning sunlight streams through the window of her living room on the other side of the open door behind her. Her fleece pajamas hang off her frame loosely as she pushes the email icon on the touch screen of her personal computer. She sighs as the expected words appear before her. Of course Ezekial is going to be angry about nearly losing one of his Hunters.
It really had been a nightmare last night. After sending the Hunters out, none of her children could find the blueprints for that abandoned building. It was like they had been erased off the face of the planet, leaving them with little more than to offer information about that demon. Last night really had been a mess in practically every way it could have possibly been.
This of course meant along with the Hunters and Creators, her children would get dressed down. It wasn’t like they didn’t try to find the needed information. Yet what was the point in trying to slide the blame onto technology, it did its job on their end.
Sam closes the email and pushes her chair back allowing her to stand up. She stretches and heads for the shower knowing she needed to get to the office. After a good twenty minutes she steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her not so slender frame. She works on towel drying her shoulder length red hair as she heads over to her walk-in closet. She quickly gets dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, a plain black tee-shirt, white fluffy socks, and a pair of well-worn black sneakers. Sam stands in front of her mirror and combs through her naturally curly hair, her green eyes staring back at her.
She grabs her purse on the way out of her apartment, making sure to lock the door. Once outside her apartment building she hails a cab, her less than average height making it more difficult as usual. Finally one stops and she climbs in giving the driver the address to the Black Thirteen.
The cab rolls to a stop in front of the curb. Sam quickly pays the fare before climbing out and heading toward her home way from home. She pulls her id card from her purse and waves it briefly in front of the reader, hearing a click a moment later. She pushes the door open and heads inside.
“Morning Alec,” she greets warmly before he can say a word.
“Good morning, Miss Riley,” he answers giving her bag a quick once over as she passes through the metal detector. “I’m sure glad some people around here don’t make it a habit to set that annoying thing off.”
She smiles taking back her purse. “I do try,” she offers before disappearing through the opening gate. As she heads for the elevator she notices it open, one of her children inside. “Sheila,” she calls out hoping to gain the woman’s attention, not always an easy task.
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 10:17 pm
Sheila was buzzing about in her head, thinking of the few minutes before with odd presumption. Why was she looking up supernatural monkeys and psycho birds that don't even exist? She wanted to know! Was it some weird stage of half asleep, half awakness? Yes, that had to be it. She grinned to herself, pounding her fist in her free palm. Why, that could only be explained by one thing. Hallucinations. "My god! Hallucinations?" that was horrible knews. She wans't going scenial, was she? It was all because of the lack of sleep. Yes, that was it. She shuddered at the thought, and when someone actually called her name out, she jumped.
Homigod, she was going crazy! First the crazy monkeys, the birds, and computer, the elevator; sleep was the devil. She would never sleep again. It was a pledge. "I'll never sleep again, I'll never sleep again!" She squealed to herself, turning then to look at a sudden movement out of the elevator.
Well. That wasn't some mindless thought calling her name. It was Sam.
Sheila looked a bit confused for a moment, then grinned widely, holding her arms out as if to dance, "Sam!! I can't believe you're here! You so just saved me form going crazy!" She said quickly---a bit too quick--- as she reached out and grabbed the woman roughly, pulling her into the elevator. She wanted in the elevator, right? That's why she called her name, isn't it? of course! Sheila sighed with content, as she almost unhumanly pressed the buttons for the desginated area. Er, her desginated area. Because she had to be there, at the lectures. For anything she may need to do.
She sighed with content then, as if ready to burst into her horrible singing again, "You know, before you went and came up to me, I thought I was going crazy. You know what? I was working on a blind mind earier. As soon as I realized I was looking up stuff without my glasses on---and I can't believed this!---all on the computer screen were supernatural monkey art and psychotic bird attacks! I thought they were butterflies!" She groaned on the last word, dropping her arms to her side and hanging her head. She was up in a second though, grinning at Sam, "I feel better though. All excited. I think it's my.." she paused again, with a curious look on her face. "My 23-wind. Yes. If it's possible." She cringed, not wanting to get into it.
"Okay. I'm done now. So how was your morning, Sam?" She felt much better now that she got all of her craziness out. yes, she felt much less crazy now. And although lectures awaited, she was almost ready for it all now. Almost.
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Romeo for Tay Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 5:11 pm
Ah another day rolled in, and Ashley was wide awake on a trail. Sure the hunters were the ones who always hunted down the creatures, but she was the one who help get a whiff of it. With what happened the other night, with Vivian almost dying, and the creature escaping, she decided to dedicate herself on following any trails that could lead towards the wherabouts of it.
First place stop, was always the occult tabloids, they were quite nifty with their tricks of finding out things that should be better left unsaid. Sometimes their stuff really were hocus pocus when they couldn't produce anything eye worthy, but sometimes they were right on the dollar. So she made her first call in the morning to one of the journalists in the joint. Of course, with her little seductive voice, and alluring words, she was able to flay him with all the information she wanted, he knew nothing about any demon sightings. However, he did seem to have a lead on to a different matter. After jotting it down, she decided she would hold on to it for a later case, and let him go with a soft, "I'll see you around sometime."
With her notepad jotted down with all the information, she decided she would go to her second source, perhaps find something even better. It was the old police station that her brother worked at. He always helped her out, especialy since he knew she was somehow (never knowing that she was part of Black Thirteen) helping getting unsolved caxes taken care of. So when she greeted him in the grits of the morning he welcomed her into his office.
"Please, come, sit down." He said with his thick brooklyn accent. She nodded and sat down in a rather hard metal chair that was used for interogation, although ironically enough it was her intorogatting him.
After she got situated, she looked back up to him, "So have you heard of any more mur-"
"Let me stop you right there," his eyes glanced around through the glass to make sure no one was trying to eavesdrop into their conversation. "I just got word that that there's been some killings up on main street." He paused slightly, with a grimaced look plastered against him, his hand drifting up to his face, "They're very brutal, and CSI can't place their finger on it. I know there's something fishy about it, and so I think it might just be up your alley."
"Mainstreet you say? Where at, specifically?" Her notebook flapped open, it was actually the one he bought her, and she started to jot down the information on it.
"Yeah, over by the old fishing pier, seems like quite the commotion started up last night, lots of growls and snarling reported, and some shootings as well." A small grin, "Perhaps you can hit me up with the details?"
"Jack'l, what makes you think I was part of that?"
"Well, seeing as how you're asking me about all of this, I know you're at least part of it, even if you weren't the-" an argument started to errput outside the room, apparently a criminal was trying to catch the early bird worm, but cops never catch a lick of sleep, these cats always made sure the city was safe be it night or morning. So with that, Ashley knew she had to get up and out of the interogation room, that way the real criminal could come in have a proper speakin to.
"I guess I'll have to catch you at a later time," As she was about to leave the door she looked back, "Oh thanks for the tip Jack'l."
"No problems, I guess I'll catch up on what you and your team are upto in the old fish wrap, eh?"
"Yeah," she smiled, "just make sure to check the occult fish wrap," another of her great laughs, and she turned around walking out of the police station. Jack'l always put a smile on her face, he was everything that she aspired to be. He worked hard in the force and always fought tooth and nail to get the job done. Never once has he ever left the field without his man. She thrived to be like him, and today, she was going to find their demon. Sure, she would not fight it, she'd leave that up to the hunters, but she would track it down well enough for them, nothing was going to stop her... except, "crap."
Quickly she dug her phone out of her purse, and started to push some buttons. She knew dailing her bosses main line was probably not the best of ideas, and saying that she was going to skip out on the meeting was even a worse one at that, but.. hopefully telling her she was sniffing out the tail of the demon that escaped, she might be excused.
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Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 8:39 pm
Vivian sat back in the large chair her legs crossing as she rested her head back against the chair, trapping her long braid. She glances over to see Amon’s desk is empty of its usual black laptop, which meant he wasn’t in yet. That surprised her a bit given the fact that normally he would beat her here, except on these rare occasions when she actually got up early.
She sits up again, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. Her eyes focus on the lid as her free hand moves to gently rub her still tender shoulder. She should probably remind Viktor that they aren’t all made of steel, but that would sound like a complaint for saving her life and there were by no means any complaints for that. Just thinking about the whole thing still gave her chills a little bit. Watching that demon charge at her and not hearing the usual hum of her gun when it fires. It was almost like everything went into slow motion right in front of her eyes. The way Viktor had shoved her out of the way, falling with her against the wall, while the demon shot past them and out the door. After recovering and giving the chase the damn thing was out of sight and gone to who knows where.
At the sound of Janie’s voice she pulls her eyes from the cup and her mind from wandering. “Morning,” she says before hearing the woman’s question. “Ah, it still a tad sore but I’ll live. I’ve gotten worse bumps and bruises.” She was half joking and half serious, something she was very good at. She gives her a half smile trying to decide which this qualified as, a bump or a bruise. “I heard a rumor that we’re in for some trouble this morning for our little mistakes last night, although it surprises me that Amon isn’t in yet.”
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Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 10:25 pm
:: Samantha Riley ::
Samantha couldn’t help but smile as she was all but hauled into the elevator. Shelia was one of her more, spirited children. The woman was good at what she did; she just seemed a little high strung at times. Not that Sam minded any, she’d gotten used to working with the quirky woman. Listening to her go on about supernatural monkeys and birds made Sam wonder when was the last time Shelia got a good night’s rest. She reaches over and gently presses the button for the third floor seeing that Shelia had hit the first floor button again.
“We can go back upstairs for now, the meeting won’t start until everyone is here, Ezekial will give us a call when that is,” she says after Shelia stopped to take a breath. “And my morning was fine aside from the email I received from the boss. Who knew not being able to find one little map would get us in trouble? By the way have you seen either Amber or Ashley this morning?”
As the elevator doors closed and the small square death trap began to move upward Sam couldn’t help but ask. “What did those supernatural monkeys look like?” She gives her head a shake having no doubt the sort of answer she was going to receive for such a question. She leans against the rail that wraps around the middle of the car while the walls above it are practically open, given that they are just intricate weaved iron. Her purse dangles from her elbow as she waits for the joy ride to end.
Suddenly her phone began to purr at her, startling Sam. It wasn’t often she got a call on her cell phone. In fact the last person to call her was her deadbeat ex. She pulls it out her purse and glances over at Shelia. “Just a second,” she says apologetically before answering the still purring phone, bringing it to her ear.
“Hello, this is Samantha Riley,” she says waiting for a response from the person on the other end.
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Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 10:37 pm
:: Amon Reznor ::
Amon Reznor looked up from the papers he’d been reading when a beep from his laptop caught his attention. He moved just enough in his chair to reach and click on the blinking icon. His long legs stretched out under the marble kitchen table as he read the email. He runs a hand through his short jet black hair as he glances over the words on the papers he’d been reading. Viktor’s report had been thorough but it still left him with questions.
He slides his chair back and stands to his full six feet nine inches. The papers are tossed into the pile that sat beside the black laptop. He heads for his bedroom needing to get to the office. Amon reappears in the kitchen ten minutes later wearing a pair of black jeans and a plain white pocket tee-shirt. After slipping on a pair of black loafers he turns off his laptop and packs it away with the report into his bag. He grabs his keys from the table while shouldering the laptop bag, before leaving his apartment.
Amon knew he should have spoken with his squad last night and not just sent them home. Of course he hadn’t known the full extent of their mishap until after reading Viktor’s report this morning over breakfast. Upon reaching the garage under his apartment building Amon heads toward a black Vanquish. The several year old engine roars to life as if it had just rolled out of the factory. He pulls out of his spot and heads for the exit, his mind once again on his Hunters and just what he should say to them before the meeting.
The drive through the quiet city is a little too peaceful for Amon’s liking. He slows and pulls up to the curb in front of Sandies. He climbs out, grabbing his laptop bag before locking and setting the alarm. Heading across the empty street Amon pulls his id from its holder in the laptop bag, giving it a quick wave in front of the reader. As he pushes the door open while he slides it back in this bag, he nearly runs into the security guy. “Sorry about that Alec,” he says in a smooth baritone voice handing over his bag.
“Not a problem, Mr. Reznor,” the young man answers as Amon steps through the metal detector. Amon holds his wrist up, to show his watch as the device beeps incessantly. Alec hands back the laptop bag with a nod and sigh.
Amon steps through the opening gate seeing the elevator doors sliding shut. He trudges over to the stairs heading up them; he really needed to work on his timing. Upon reaching the second floor he heads down the hall, then turning the corner makes his way to the door where beyond it resides the sanctuary for his squad.
He pushes the door open, spotting Vivian and Janie talking. Well most of his Hunters showed that was a feat he wasn’t sure would happen. He makes his way over to his usually empty desk and sets his laptop bag down before turning to the two women. “Either of you like to tell me how this happened? Where were your doublewalkers?” He demands his voice growing hard. “I dislike the idea of one of you losing your head.”
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Posted: Sat Sep 01, 2007 9:42 am
It's coming for you, fast and furious,
What is this a n x i e t y, this fearlessness...?
He'd gone down the stairs instead, down to his half permanent residence in the basement where creations lay littered about, masses of wires and lasers, of colored bullets and blood stained broken toys. It had taken awhile to get used to the base of the Creators, there weren't any windows to let in light and it had disturbed him at first, this lack of sunlight. But the area was still brightly lit with powerful lamps and artificial lighting, Creators after all, needed light to see what they were doing. It was a dangerous job, dangerous as any Hunter's mission. Amidst the many wires, it was very possible to blow your head off just by touching the wrong ones together.
Scott smiled forlornly at his own pile of gadgets sitting on his work desk. He'd been working on a sort of grenade that could be thrown at Ghosts and make their shapes materialize. Well, not shapes, more like their outlines. Either way, he was sure it would be really useful to Hunters that went in there without being able to really see those phantoms. But so far, it hadn't been cooperating.
Turning back to the stairs, the young recruit proceeded onwards to the second level where a meeting was sure to be held. Maybe when Bossman was done yelling a them, he could go back and try to make the damn thing work. He mused over the various things he could try and troubleshoot even as his feet carried him up the flights of stairs. Hand absentmindedly grasping the rusty bronze knob, Scott opened the door and walked into what would soon be a very punishing lecture.
The shadow falls quietly (silently) on the wall,
A festering p a r a s i t e crawling in your skull
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Posted: Sat Sep 01, 2007 12:18 pm
Jason was out for his early morning run, his running shoes hitting the hard pavement, his image coming into view only as he passed under a street light. He was hidden completely by the darkness. Though, nearing the end of his hour long run, and with 5am rearing around the corner, the darkness was slowly beginning to fade away and give way to the suns rays.
That image always brought peace to Jason's mind, how there was always light in the morning, no matter what the darkness of night brought. He paused in front of his building and stared at the sky for a moment before heading through the double doors and running up the 13 flights to his landing and his door.
Once inside his apartment he started the coffee pot and put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster before taking a shower. When he appeared for the second time in the kitchen he was wearing a long sleeved navy shirt that hung over the light coloured jeans, a few tears on them, but not too bad. He was trying to look half decent today, he knew that he'd end up getting the brunt of whatever had happened, even if it wasn't his fault. That's the way things went, if a weapon problem happens, all the Creator's get blamed and needed to take extra caution about anything they make. Course, the specific creator... well he didn't want to go there.
He poured his coffee into a travel mug, ate the pieces of toast put on his boots and a leather jacket, grabbed his keys and headed out the door. If he was late today, well let's just say he didn't want to make the situation worse than it already was. He put on his sunglasses and was soon tearing down the road to get to work.
One of the nice things about leaving at 7am was that the road was virtually free from any other cars, making the drive peaceful and giving Jason time to think. On what? Well normally it would have been his latest invention, but now, all he could think about was what was going to happen to his department.
He knew Bran wouldn't be happy, but then again, he doubted that anyone would be. The possible loss of a hunter was never something to take lightly, and he never wanted to see any of the hunters die, especially at the hands of something he possibly created.
He pulled into Sandies next to Amon's car, careful not to touch it and walked over to the building. He pulled out his ID card from his back pocket, it's where he always kept it, and wiped it in front of the lock, waiting for the small click before he entered. The door closed heavily behind him as he walked towards the metal detector and Alec, this was always an interesting part of his day, and never failed to change. He took of his sunglasses and placed them on his head before stopping right in front of the guard.
"Morning Alec" he said with a coy smile, pulling his collar more open with his index finger, showing Alec both the metal cross on his neck as well as the ring on his finger.
"You know, one day, you could just take those off to save me the trouble of turning off the alarm after you set it off" the man said with a sigh and a shake of his head. Jason assumed it had been a rough day with the others setting the detector off.
"Now how many times do we go through this? I never take these off, and at least I let you know before I go through right?" he said, trying to justify his actions as he walked backwards through the detector, the sound of the alarm bouncing off the walls.
Alec just shook his head and turned it off "Have a good day Mr. Edge" he said before turning his attention back to the main door.
Jason grinned as he walked towards his desk, it was spotless, he kept his inventions and paperwork locked in drawers and cabinets, mostly for the protection of others. Many of his calculations were in his head and so he didn't write everything down. There had been a problem once though when another creator thought they'd test out his invention following the written schematics; it was a BAD mistake.
He took the sunglasses off his head and placed them on the desk, then he sat in his chair and leaned back, looking at the screen in front of him. Writing out notes had become... slightly passe in this day and age so now everything was typed up, and currently on the computer at his desk. Course, all these things were thanks to technology and the programs that were now available for designing and what not. Jason still preferred to write things out manually, the extra time it took normally allowed for him to think more and either come up with new additions or realize problems that could occur.
He flicked on the screen, powered up the computer and took a sip of his coffee. He hated waiting around, and at least this way he could be productive while he waited. He looked down at his wristband and after a few clicks had several documents and programs running, all showing different designs and notes on his latest creation.
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Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 1:34 am
:: Bran Jenkins ::
Bran Jenkins stared at the ceiling when the expected insistent beeping started. He rolled over and reaching out hit the alarm to shut it up. Why he had one he wasn’t sure. He always woke before it. Maybe it was for getting him out of the bed and not waking him up. Climbing from under the warm cover he heads for the bathroom. After about five minutes he steps out tugging a comb through his thick short blond hair, hair that always went wherever it wanted when dry. He pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans and a black sweater, his small frame being swallowed up. That was how he liked his clothes, big and baggy.
As he pulls on a pair of sandals another annoying beep gets his attention. He picks up his hand-held computer from his night stand brining up his email, an email he’d been expecting. Of course, since part of last nights incident had been caused by the gun jamming, the Creators world be called in with the rest of them. Then again if that woman had said it was acting up they could have looked at it and avoided the whole mess. It wasn’t like everything they made would remain perfect. He almost felt sorry for Scott, but knew they were still partially responsible. Scott should have checked up on the gun, as every Creator should do from time to time.
He closes the email sliding the computer into his pocket as he makes his way to the kitchen to have some breakfast. Once breakfast is consumed Bran heads for the garage, making sure to set the house security system on his way out. His camaro revs to life as the garage door rises.
Bran notices the city is beginning to wake up at he drives through the streets; until of course he reaches the abandoned neighborhood where the Black Thirteen resides. He parks in front of Amon’s car, noticing Jason’s car is also there. He makes his way across the street, pulling his id from his wallet. Once inside he hands his hand-held computer to Alec and steps through the metal detector.
“Good morning,” Alec offers as he hands back the personal computer.
“Not sure how good it is but thanks,” Bran answers in a soft voice before heading through the gate.
He heads for the stairs, for some reason he just didn’t trust that elevator. His sandals, though secure still clang on the metal steps. Bran pushes the basement door open to see Jason nose deep in one of his projects. “Seen Scott yet?” He asks not even waiting for the other man to notice him.
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