─ birds are silent for the night ─ closed

[slaughter beach, dog]

─ BSA SUPERVISORY AGENT ────
────────────── 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 ─ ❞𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗❞ ─ 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐍 ─── ⚙ ─── ─ ─

LOCATION; the meeting room ─ TAGGING; team Epsilon ─ MENTIONED; Jake, Duncan ─ WC; 1,913

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The hallways remained quiet. Not a single footstep or creak of a hinge betrayed the illusion that Alex stood alone in the mansion, but she didn't question herself; there was a supernatural in there with her, but they were either the shy or then the defiant type, because a registered nonhuman should have no quarrels with talking to an agent of the bureau. Unless the agents in the facility beneath the floorboards of this house had done a terrible job and had unregistered vagrants living right under their noses. Alex allowed herself a sigh and let her arms drop to her sides. Was that a migraine she felt coming? However, this supernatural had gotten lucky, because unlike she had threatened earlier, she did not in fact have time to search each room and possibly run around in circles trying to catch something that very much did not wish to be caught. She would merely make herself late to the meeting she had ordered moments ago, and she would rather be known as the punctual supervisory agent than the one who couldn't follow her own orders. It would be better to establish by example the fact that she would not tolerate tardiness from this team.
indentindentA flick of Alex's wrist brought up her watch, which told her it was nearly a quarter past seven. At that exact moment, the personal phone in the pocket of her jacket begun ringing from where she had left it on the railing by the stairs. It was unexpected enough to earn a split second of puzzlement from her, before she was striding back down the hallway and descending the stairs in military rhythm until reaching the landing at the midpoint of the two flights. BSA required its agents to file forms for any devices, but they tended to respect the facade of the agents' personal lives being private by not calling their personal phones, and there should have been no reason for headquarters to be calling her personal phone in favour of the one she had slipped into her duffel bag. The list of other potential callers was short enough to be nonexistent. Frankly, she would have set the thing on silent had she known anyone with the guts to call even possessed the number.
indentindentDigging into the pockets of her ruined jacket produced an equally soaked phone, and fortunately, she had had the foresight to invest in the water-proof kind. The number on the screen was unfamiliar, but it was coming from Washington. It couldn't have been headquarters, so who the hell was calling her at seven in the morning? Alex raised the phone to her ear before clicking the 'accept call' -button. A male voice erupted from the line, and its measured tone was familiar and recognizable as belonging to a fellow agent, but the calm was layered atop a distress that poked through on certain words. She took note of them until a pattern arose.
indent"Agent Iversen, ma'am? This is agent Benjamin Crawford from surveillance team Gamma. I received this number from headquarters, their operators are tangled in some class one case," the man rambled. Alex frowned, but she kept the displeasure from her voice, opting instead for the restrained tone of a superior officer, who hadn't been accosted by a malefactor escaping due to her own agents' incompetence and assaulted with hot coffee that very same morning.
indent"Get to the point, agent Crawford," she reprimanded, briefly propping the phone against her shoulder to inspect the damage on her jacket before draping it over her free arm. It still reeked of coffee beans far too expensive to have come out of the necessities budget.
indent"I have reported a suspected hellhound in your district, ma'am. Bellamy Crawford." His voice strained at the name, which could not have been a coincidence. They must have been related, likely closely. "The data must have been dropped into your facility's machines by now. She— the suspect was last seen fleeing north-bound from the marked coordinates, but the satellites have been mapping a wildfire around the nearby lake. The burn pattern shows a high chance of it being related." A sigh crackled through the speaker. "Ma'am, the suspect is already showing severe, seemingly uncontrollable symptoms. Headquarters recommended dispatching a recon team to track before elimination, but if I may, I'm asking—," he cut himself off with another sigh, this time coming from a distance, as if he had pulled the phone from his face to try and mask it.
indent"All suspected hellhounds are considered to be under an active kill order, but if you have something to say, then speak up, agent Crawford," Alex prompted. Reporting one's own relative in spite of the inevitable consequences showed devotion, and regardless of whatever chaos the headquarters had momentarily devolved into, she imagined some superior officer must have already been considering him for a promotion, but attempting to weasel out of it now might have been the end of his career.
indent"That's what I'm asking, ma'am. More than one body has been recovered from the burn site. Please take her out before there are more casualties." Alex's brows raised slightly. It wasn't what she had been expecting from the man, but it was certainly the kind of resolve the BSA expected from its agents.
indent"Understood. Should headquarters contact you, let them know that a team will be dispatched to eliminate the suspect." She ended the call and made sure to set her phone on silent before slipping it into her pants' pocket. It seemed Washington wasn't as quiet as her assignment there had made it out to be.
indentindentAlex rolled the sleeves of her previously white turtleneck into neater cuffs right above her elbows — one and the semblance of another — as she made her way down the second flight of stairs and back into the entryway of the house, where she had left her duffel bag. Which was nowhere to be seen. Which explained why she had received the call in her personal phone, because her other one had also been in said bag.
indentindentWhat she did find were splatters running down the hallway walls and yet another puddle of coffee soaking into the wooden floor. If this was the way agent Serrano wished to take out his childish anger, so be it, but actions had consequences, and unless he hoped to find himself unemployed by the end of the day, he would also be cleaning up after himself. And returning the contents of her bag. Alex's grip on her jacket tightened enough to crease. Instead of digging a grave for his career, Serrano could go directly to digging himself a six-foot-deep hole if he had managed to destroy the pictures she had tucked into the folds of the clothes in that bag. She really didn't hold on to many personal possessions, but those were the only pictures she had of her sister.

indentindentAlex located the staircase leading into the Facility beneath the mansion. She arrived into an entryway, where the wall facing the foot of the stairs carried a noticeboard cluttered with papers and nonsensical markings made with mismatching pens. The entryway branched into two hallways, and based on the layout map she had studied earlier, she took the first. Brisk steps carried her down the passage, which opened up to various rooms. As she passed the canteen, she barely spared the three agents inside a glance, and instead went for the alarm switch on the wall of their common room. However, pulling said alarm did not start the shrill noise she had been expecting, but a pop beat that blared out of each and every speaker scattered around the Facility. Alex's blood was beginning to reach a boiling point and the switch complained in her tightening grip, but she chose not to tear it out of the wall and continued into the meeting room.
indentindentA long table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by walls plastered with screens and maps. Alex laid her jacket over the back of a chair before rolling it out of the way to access the keyboard. As both the operator and agent Crawford had promised, two sets of data had been dropped into the Epsilon computers: the one she considered their primary mission, target Bravo, and the unexpected hellhound. As her agents did her the courtesy of finding their seats along the table or picking a spot to stand by the wall, she pulled up two pictures framed by personal information. The first a man in his mid-twenties with brown, short-cropped hair and tired eyes wearing a police uniform, and the other a young woman of similar age with vivid green eyes and black hair barely past her chin in a photograph that must have been cropped from the family album.
indentindentAlex turned her back to the screens at the front of the room and regarded the team with stern blue eyes.
indent"I am supervisory agent Iversen and I have been assigned to be the head of team Epsilon in the wake of your previous team leader's death. Before I assign you to your missions, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear: I understand that your previous team leader may have followed a more lenient set of rules, but I will not tolerate any breaches in protocol," Alex gestured at the speaker in the corner of the meeting room, "that may deteriorate the effectiveness of this team." Her gaze riveted onto agent Serrano. "Agents Serrano and McCan will be tracking down the malefactor that escaped from this Facility between six and seven am today." She grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and tossed it at Domingo. "Both the entryway of the cover house and that jacket should be scrubbed clean, and my possessions should be returned to my quarters by the end of the day, or you may find your position in this team under severe jeopardy."
indentindentWith her personal grudge out of the way, she turned to gesture at the picture of Target Bravo.
indent"As of this morning, Team Epsilon has been tasked with locating and containing the newborn known as Target Bravo. This is officer Jake Wood of the Washington police force, who disappeared from the scene of a murder investigation approximately two weeks ago." Alex brought up one of the maps, and a bright dot blinked in the location of their latest potential sighting. It wasn't far from the Facility. "I will be leading the team to capture Target Bravo. Agents Dumont and Lewis, unless you have further questions, gear up and ready the Jeep. Galloway, stand by and wait for us to radio in once we have the newborn in containment. As for the rest of you," she gestured at the picture of the young woman. "This is Bellamy Crawford, a suspected hellhound reported by agent Benjamin Crawford of team Gamma. I hope the reminder is unnecessary, but BSA has an active kill order regarding all suspected hellhounds, and according to agent Crawford, the suspect is exhibiting severe symptoms and should be eliminated immediately." She turned to the map again. "The suspect is most likely moving north-bound, but she was last seen at her family's lake house at these coordinates. Lieutenant Rhee will be leading the team to eliminate the threat. Donahue, Nielson, and Briarsmith, gear up. Agent Elcott will be acting as your tracker. Unless you have questions, you should already be out the door."

[panorama,]

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━xx𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈 ⭑ 𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓!xx━━━━━━━━━━━
tags ( joel ) location ( the meeting room ) mentions ( cyrus, alex, jake, bellamy ) rank ( the trailsman ) word count ( 2416 )

xxxxxxNaturally, her request to be allotted one singular cup of coffee was met with a resounding no by both Mr. Medic Joel and Master Chef Cyrus. She shook her head dramatically, feigning shock and solemn disappointment. It was probably for the best, anyway, as anyone on the team can testify against the absolute monster that Andi becomes when caffeine enters her system. It's worth noting that, similar to a sugar rush, everything goes really fast and then absolutely dead silent in a shockingly brief period of time. A post-caffeine episode usually leaves an ache in her muscles and random bruises on her body from literally bouncing off the walls and various pieces of furniture. Andi physically shuddered at the very thought and, upon reflection, came to the conclusion that the new team leader probably didn't need to see that just yet.
xxxxxxNo, this transition to a new leader was an opportunity for Andi Elcott to start off on the right foot. Having a new leader meant that she was, more or less, starting with a clean slate. Andi's record was actually squeaky clean, but it was the very well known reputation of Andi Elcott that usually did her in before she even had a chance. The previous leader, as relaxed and forgiving as he was, certainly noticed Andi's tendency to get sidetracked and instead of opting to work with her and allow her to train and improve herself, she'd often be saddled with low stakes, menial tasks. Just because it took a little more effort for her to zone in on a task didn't mean she was completely incapable of doing it! When Andi can get herself going in the right direction, there's little chance for anyone to evade her! She can do her job, when given the chance to do so. And yes, maybe she could be a tad bit child-like from time to time, but when the boss points that out in front of her coworkers in the middle of a briefing on a mission? Not cool. Andi didn't have a great working relationship with the last supervisory agent, which made her all the more determined to forge a good foundation with this one.
xxxxxxThe trailsman hadn't been with the BSA very long, but that didn't mean she was incapable of remembering names. Something that helps Andi settle herself from time to time is reading various books or articles whilst walking around the mansion, in the halls of the facility, or back and forth in her living quarters. "Agent Iverson" sounded vaguely familiar, meaning that she had likely read it on one of her walks, although the trailsman couldn't confidently place it in her memory. Her natural inclination was that there was an Agent Iverson that belonged to one of the other BSA teams that had recently been mentioned in the Agency wide memos, although there was also the feeling that maybe she was thinking of an Agent Iverson from one of the sister international branches. Andi settled on making a mental note to revisit the towering stacks of memos that lay ever-present on her desk in her living quarters in an effort to connect the pieces.
xxxxxxAndi Elcott felt more comfortable having information to fall back on when it came to interactions with people around her, and it's actually one of the reasons that she asks so many questions. Inquiring a person about, for example, what animal they'd like to be and why? seems frivolous and trivial to some. But to Andi? An answer relating to any sort of bird usually applies to people that prefer to have a clear and firm grasp on their situation, and who value the ability to be able to move freely from place to place. Offering a predatory animal as an answer is usually applicable to those who feel most comfortable when they can defend themselves, or who like to have the upper hand. Every answer, from favorite color to least desirable season of the year, are all the key to peeling back the layers of a person and what they're thinking up there. Doing so allows her to be more capable of predicting moves, mimicking behaviors, and inevitably landing on doorsteps (if she were ordered to do so). The trailsman keeps scribbled notes on people she meets, places she's gone, stories she's heard. Every piece of information that she can summon from her head and force to interconnect with other pieces allows her to effectively profile and subsequently know a person's move before they even make it.
xxxxxxAnd the best part? They usually don't realize they're revealing their cards.
xxxxxxOnce she registered that she was now thinking about various animals and playing cards with invisible opponents, Andi came to the realization that she had lost her focus. She blinked rapidly, returning to reality just in time to see a stern, compact woman move past the kitchen without the slightest hint of acknowledging any presence that resided in the room. She moved with purpose, and the tension in her upper extremities was a clear indication that she was nearing the end of her patience. The trailsman noted, besides the prosthetic arm, that there was signs of trauma on this woman's body. Faint white streaks in her fair skin, fists fixed in steady fists at her sides, and subtly darker skin under her piercing blue eyes. Andi's head tilted in curiosity as she caught the scent of vetiver, bergamot, and coffee. The trailsman concluded that this must be Agent Iverson, and boy is she already on a mission. Before Andi could utter a word, she watched as the woman moved for the alarm that sat innocently on the wall of the common room. A cheshire grin spread across the trailsman's features as she leaned back in her chair once more, serenely closed her eyes and drew a deep, full bodied breath. "I really do love this song." she said to no one in particular, just as the familiar upbeat melodies began to simultaneously erupt from every single speaker in the building.
xxxxxx
xxxxxxAndi was torn between taking her usual spot in the back wall and sitting at the table. The meeting room was always a cause for anxiety to burst from every nerve ending in the trailsman because meetings implied standing still and paying attention, neither of which she was very capable in doing for an extended period of time. Both the standing and sitting options would likely end poorly for the energetic trailsman, as any sort of situation in which she had to remain relatively motionless was historically unsuccessful. She hesitated at the threshold of the room as she weighed her options. If she were to sit at the table, her knees would surely bounce in the chair and her fingers, with a mind of their own, would strum steadily against any surface they come in contact with. She'd probably have to reach her hands up and over her head to relieve the tension from her muscles and she'd have to clench her jaw to avoid any verbal outbursts. Sitting during a meeting would basically mean that she'd spend about seventy five percent of her brain power begging her body to just sit still. Standing, however, was honestly not much better of a predicament, but it was her usual choice purely because everyone was facing forward and therefore less likely to be distracted by her constant movement and fidgeting. Andi was twenty four years old and her body has yet to listen to her desperate pleas to just sit still.
xxxxxxAfter wringing the bottom of her shirt in her hands, andi chose seat herself towards the middle of the long, narrow table. The trailsman didn't know if she was trying to prove something to herself, or to the new leader, but a delighted smile was etched on her face as she settled into her shiny, new, clean slate. She was absolutely determined to start off on the right foot. She was going to prove herself.
xxxxxxAndi didn't know if it was the natural authority that flooded the room when Supervisory Agent Iverson spoke, or maybe it was her high, defined cheekbones? Either way, the woman knew how to hold peoples' attention, to the point where even Andi found herself being able to stay engaged and on task. Her knee was motionless, fingers resting casually in her lap.
xxxxxxThe trailsman sat, completely absorbed in each and every brief, factual statement that came from the agent's mouth. She didn't even speak as Iverson warned them about their modified alarm system and threw her soiled, coffee scented jacket at Dom as others bit their tongues as not to laugh. Andi wasn't all too surprised by the speech or the jacket, though. She couldn't be sure if it was the authoritative bark or intimidatingly straight posture that gave Agent Iverson away. Her new leader struck her as the type who would assert dominance quickly, and was definitely the type to make changes immediately as to exercise control and make herself more comfortable in the new space. Andi noted that a need to control and overly exercise power over one's environment was usually an indication of a damaged self confidence. It didn't quite add up for Andi, though, as Iverson had no problem making her presence and intentions clear to this room of strangers. No, her confidence must have been shaken by a miscalculation of some sort. The trailsman tucked this in the back of her mind for safe keeping.
xxxxxxIt was only as Iverson gestured to the screen behind her that Andi's honey brown irises landed on the young man that was later addressed as Target Bravo. Jake Wood. Andi Elcott subconsciously moved to sit forward in her chair. Wide eyes rested on chestnut brown hair kept in that unmistakably clean cut most commonly found in the police community. Then her eyes flickered to his: mahogany, exuding fatigue. His facial expression in this particular picture was hardened, his gaze determined to remain impassive as it was captured by the camera lens. It wasn't a half-bad effort, but half-bad efforts were no way to fool the trailsman. Andi could see it in those amber orbs. She knew that look as if she was staring at her own reflection in a mirror. There was loss in those eyes. Loss, and vehement determination. A lethal combo when directed at the wrong target.
xxxxxxAndi snapped back into focus as the screen jolted from Jake Wood to a map of some terrain (she immediately recognized the general area). The trailsman would be lying if there wasn't a pang of, what was that feeling? In her stomach as her the absence of her name from group that would set out to capture the young police officer echoed in her ears. She couldn't tell if it was because she wouldn't be able to show off some of her abilities in front of Agent Iverson, or the fact that she wouldn't get to see target bravo in person. She'd have to wait her turn to get into his head.
xxxxxxThe trailsman returned her critical gaze at the screen, blinking as she soaked in the feminine features of the suspected hellhound, Bellamy Crawford. Andi slowly drank her in. Raven hair, porcelain skin, hazel eyes, pink lips fixed in a steadfast pout. Andi moved back to the eyes, lingering as she searched for any prominent emotion. But she couldn't focus on reading this face. She just stared. Her eyes were engaging, almost bewitchingly so. The young trailsman pursed her lips and squirmed slightly in her seat, shifting her gaze back to Iverson in an attempt to shake the image of Crawford's inanimate eyes. She barely registered that Iverson was creating the team that would pursue Bellamy Crawford before she snapped to attention at the mentioning of her name. An instantaneous surge of adrenaline overtook her body as she realized that the time had come. They were at the hour in which Andi would have to focus. She looked back at those hazel irises and felt odd, as if she were looking into the eyes of a familiar friend. Maybe focusing on this target wouldn't be so hard, after all.
xxxxxxAndi knew that it was at this point where she probably needed to locate Cyrus and wait for instructions, before preparing herself to disembark and begin her hunt. She would also probably take this time to ask for any sort of file that the BSA might already have in the works for Bellamy Crawford so that the trailsman could familiarize herself with her new focus. She knew all of these things were probably moderate-to-high priority and naturally chose to locate Joel Nielson in the dispersing flurry of movement instead. Call it nerves or maybe just apprehension at pursuing such a volatile supernatural, but having a lighthearted conversation with Joel would likely prove to be enough to put her in a better headspace to do her work effectively. Finding the older man amidst the sea of bright shiny young agents wasn't a particularly difficult task, and within moments, she found herself effortlessly settling in the space besides the medic as he moved through the threshold and into the hallway. "So," she started, holding her hands behind her back as she exaggeratedly lifted every step to an obnoxiously tall height, keeping up with his strides. "The new guy's in charge for what, five minutes, and already knows to put accident-prone Andi with the medical professional? Do you think she's done her homework? Or maybe she just knows that we are-" she paused now, reaching her hands out in front of her and making a jazz hands gesture- "an unstoppable duo?" The trailsman let her hands fall to her sides, offering a half smile as she momentarily looked to the ground and then back at Joel. "I really want to try to be good today. I understand that you have a job to do as well but," she paused, chewing on her bottom lip before emitting a nervous laugh. "I was wondering if you could just, keep an eye on me out there? Make sure I'm staying on task? Just because I don't want to screw up and have Iverson putting me on desk duty like the last one." The words, laced with apprehension, spilled from her mouth. "That, and I think I already gave Cyrus a headache at breakfast today... and I'm not really interested in getting hit over the head with a frying pan."

[ajax.]

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𝐂𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡!!!
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'the underworld aristocrat'
i. 173 y/o ii. demiboy
iii. asexual
iv. team epsilon
v. awkward, curious, uhhh
vi. (men. Alex, andi, Joel, cy)
vii. 1,113 words

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geez, what was all that racket?? It was still so early, how many people were still sleeping? Well none now, that was for sure.

Surely, people weren’t getting into yelling matches this early?

Cohen was perched on their bed, knees brought up to their chest as they contemplated joining the rest of team epsilon. His unglamoured appearance making it slightly too small for him, but they didn’t mind. If their ankles hung off the bed a little bit, it wasn’t the end of the world. Though he had already been awake for several hours, sitting in the dark rather than go socialize.

They knew that the new leader was coming today... and they truly didn’t want to have the awkward conversation about their terms and conditions yet... But it had to be done.

The fairy stood, stretching up to their full height, and flicked on the little lamp on their bedside table. The room was quickly illuminated with soft orange light, and he was able to see himself in the mirror across from him. Horns, ears, and tail in their glory. They quickly changed, pulling on a deep maroon turtleneck; that would bring out their eyes if they didn’t have to glamour themselves, as well as a pair of simple khakis. Finally, they slipped on their shoes and looked around their room in case they were forgetting something.

Small pots and jars filled with plants surrounded his quarters, from things as simple to aloe and basil to distinct herbs like mugwort and chamomile. They took a deep breath, rendering for just a moment in the amount of life the little guys brought to their otherwise dingy room. Some wouldn’t even be able to grow without their plant magic.

Nonetheless they were wasting time, they were hoping to get to the kitchen before everyone else to get themselves a glass of tea... but they were probably too late.

One last look in the mirror at their normal appearance reminded them to cast their magic. A soft wave of their hand and they shrunk down, the horns retracted from their head, and the tail flicked into nothingness. The last thing to change was their eyes, the deep red iris darkening further to a soft chocolate brown. It made them look human, and even if their ears were still a little too pointy... they didn’t notice, and no one else would either. They’d been here a few weeks now, and despite most people being frighteningly cautious around them... they liked it here. Even if their contract wasn’t theirs to make.

Now that everything about them was in order, they unlocked their door and stepped out, but not without taking their lucky acorn and slipping it into their pocket. Their steps were silent and methodical as they made their way to the kitchen... only to hear voices. Guess his tea would have to wait...

They peered around the corner, seeing a woman wearing the standard uniform of a bsa agent, the medical official Joel, the lieutenant, the trailsman Andi, whom he was most excited to see as she was the only one who trusted him to make eyecontact.

She was a friend yes, he couldn’t deny that, and the fact that she was one of his friends made him happy. He let a small smile cross the features of his face. Then, a quick, awkward wave with their left hand, and they slipped into the kitchen, standing off towards the back as their supposed new leader spoke of their assignments.

“A hellhound?” They blurted, unable to stop themselves. They’d never come across a hellhound before, only ever read about them in their studies. They fascinated him, and the fact that they were on the team hunting one down sent a jolt of excitement rushing through them.

They ducked their head in embarrassment, feeling eyes from their fellow coworkers on them. Their face heated, they knew they could stay quiet, but they got so excited sometimes they’d just blurt things out. Was their glamour dropping? They looked up and around behind themselves, seeing the shift in matter where their tail was, they knew it was there—but it was hard to catch for an untrained eye. Still glamoured, good. What an introduction, ‘hi! I’m the resident supernatural who can make humans do my bidding!’

If they could disappear into their sweater they would, they even considered glamouring themself to go invisible, but now that their presence was known, slipping away was next to impossible.

Okay, okay... focus. Cohen took a deep breath, they wouldn’t get a chance to talk to the new leader yet, which was sort of good considering they had no idea how to go about that conversation. Did this lady read everyone’s files? Did she know he was a fairy? The only way they would find out is through conversation, but the strict nature of her made Cohen fear actually going up to her. They absentmindedly scratched their head, twirling the hair for a brief moment before their eyes found the lieutenant.

Will they even get their tea? They had no clue, but from the sounds of it, they were heading out to eliminate a hellhound. Cohen frowned, they were never for killing dangerous supernaturals, they still had feelings even if they were doing harm... it was a conflicted notion either way, he had to admit.

Their hands found their pockets, glancing around for orders, since they were probably there for the knowledge portion, they never carried a weapon anyway at least, just glamoured to look like he had one. He would use his magic if he had to.

So they would be with the lieutenant, Eli, Joel and andi... okay, that wasn’t that bad. They blinked, looking over each agent in order of their thoughts. They were... nice, they didnt know any of them well though. Which... well it wasn’t a bad thing but Joel never seemed to look them in the eye. They didn’t blame him but the fact that everyone thought they would glamour them hurt... like they would go back on their own promise.

They furrowed their brows, waiting by the door for their team to head out. They crossed their arms over their chest and leaned against the wall in an attempt to look relaxed... though they appeared stiffer than a metal pole in Antarctica. It wasn’t their fault for their lack of humanness... they were homeschooled. They fiddled with their sleeve, looking around again, their expression was a strange mix of a cringe and thinking, they had way too many thoughts in their head to not let them cross their features... they just had to act natural.

Whatever that meant...

[䏠xote]

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────────── [ 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 ] ───────────────────────────────────────────────
────────────────────── • the emt • kitchen > meeting room • tagged: dom, andi, the team • ──────────

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textjoel was just picking up the boiling pot of water and starting to pour it over freshly ground beans into a mug when andi barreled in, as lively as ever and immediately hopping toward the table. a smile tugged at the edges of the man’s lips, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched her barely shovel food onto a plate before switching to shoveling it into her mouth. he waited, patiently, for her to sit down and finish her barrage of greetings, the pool of water sitting atop richly fragrant grounds of expensive coffee slowly sinking down. pour, lean back, listen. he repeated it a few times by the time the trailsman paused long enough to allow for a response, and at that point decided that his mug was sufficiently full. the kettle went back where it belonged, grounds and paper discarded, before the doctor lifted the steaming morning drink to his lips. he paused just long enough to draw in the distinct earthy smell of it, closing his eyes, and then took a deep, long drink.

text“...can’t be everywhere at once, andi,” he hummed as soon as he swallowed, easy and slow. “some of us can’t sleep without a goodnight, and some of us can’t sleep until we’ve gotten all our work done for the day. besides, you know where the medbay is. no excuse for not dropping by on your way to count some sheep.”

textjoel winked, unable to keep the mischief out of his gaze as he teased her.

text“and some of us have things to go do all the time. but, all we will get to do if you have coffee is scrape bits of you off of the walls and ceiling when you spontaneously combust from all the energy. so that’s a no, sport. try some water instead, get yourself nice and hydrated. better for you, for us, and for all life as we know it in washington.”

texthe took another drink from his mug, and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. eli should have been getting back any minute, and he found himself wondering how her run had been. maybe she’d seen duncan out on the trail… if he’d woken up earlier, maybe he could have gone with her. he didn’t like the idea of her out on a run all by herself, even as capable as she was, and he could use to stretch his legs every once in a while. joel was sure that if he didn’t get out at least a little bit, his joints would just lock up and he’d turn into an arthritis-ridden statue. and, while he was certain andi would take good care of him and not let him ever long for company, he much liked having use of his limbs.

texta figure swept through the hallway, pulling the emt from his thoughts, and he blinked as he watched the newcomer stalk by and out of view. “oh dear…” he murmured, mostly to himself, but the words had hardly left him before fergalicious came pouring from the facility speakers. he offered a glance to the trailsman, blinking wide eyed, and scooped up his mug to follow after her into the meeting room. he kept by the door, as he usually did, leaning back against the wall and finishing off his coffee as the team trickled in and the newcomer began to speak.

textalex iverson.

textit struck some sense of humor in joel that she looked a lot like he’d imagined her. keen, tired blue eyes focused both directly at them and far away all at once, he was sure that she had a lot of information to keep tabs on. recalling their names and files to the forefront of her mind, trying to piece them apart and identify them as she spoke, maybe? maybe, but she had a look of annoyance that spoke to something else lingering there, and he couldn’t help but follow her gaze to dom as she spoke. one graying brow rose as dark eyes caught his own, just briefly, and he couldn’t help mouthing his concern. the hell did you do, pepper?

textpushing aside his worry over the fact that dom looked ready to explode and the guilt of realizing that duncan had ducked out just in time to run into their new supervisor, joel turned his attention back to the screens. jake wood… already, he felt a pang of empathy in his chest, reverberating through his ribs like an old ache. the doctor had been an agent of the bureau for a whole decade and a half, and it never really got any easier. police uniform, young and determined (as they often are) with tired eyes. it must have been a rough past couple of weeks for the man, and likely ones that would become a dark mark in his memory. how many lives could a newborn vampire burn through in two weeks?

texttoo many.

textthe next target came as more of a surprise. a hellhound? in their sector? he’d never gotten to meet one himself, much less take aim at one, and joel decided that this woman had definitely not done her research. it was odd, having someone else here standing in the spot that their leader used to be. she was different, alright. she was different, and new, and he could already tell that it was going to be a difficult period of transition. maybe where she came from, they did things a certain way… hell, joel had issues with the entirety of the bsa and all their protocols and orders and hierarchies.

textglittering crystal eyes, bleeding anger and hurt and fear. glittering ivory fangs, bared and wet and stained with pink. glittering claws, long and sharp and sinking into wood. pain like dying, working its way into muscle and bone, vice locked into flesh. crying, high, awful, painful sobs of grief and despair. the cool, soothing light of a full an heavy moon, slowing down time until it stopped. a bath of blood, warm and washing away the seconds as life drew to a close, metal pressed against fur as the entire world froze over, silent and still.

textjoel didn’t realize that he was gripping his jacket, fingers fisting in the place over his shoulder as it burned down into the bone, crushing the breath out of his lungs. his throat was painfully dry, and he swallowed as andi’s voice finally brought him back to reality. he glanced over at her, hazel gaze searching, before he registered that she was speaking to him, animated and bounding all over the place in the way that only an andi really could.

text“...mm... no, i don’t think she has,” he admitted with a strained chuckle. “if she did, she wouldn’t have put an unstoppable duo on the kill team.” the man reached out, catching her under the chin with his free hand before patting her firmly on the shoulder, offering a sly wink. “she should know better. you and me? the dynamic duo is gonna do just fine, kiddo. we’re gonna do our job, and we’re gonna do it the right way.” he squeezed her arm, just barely, in a gesture of reassuring affection. his hand dropped away, and he finished the last sip of his morning caffeine.

textalex was about to learn something valuable about her new assets. and one of those lessons?

textjoel nielson never gives up.

textnot on anyone.

[mtuan,]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄-𝐔𝐏 "𝐂𝐘𝐑𝐔𝐒" 𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄
❝ 𝘛𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴 ❞
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tagged, Duncan, Domingo, Lawrence, Joel, Andi |oc, sorry for the slight post! Trynna ease back in here [squishes in], 1,237 words

Heavy footsteps rounding the corner and rushing past the kitchen is all Cyrus has the privilege of hearing as he spoons in some food for himself, a pair of chopsticks set neatly by the bowl on the table top. He doesn't bother to look up, aware that it's probably one of the other men... boys in the house, already getting themselves into trouble before the sun's even risen high enough into the sky. Typical day... of course. The male only grunts in vague acknowledgement even when he's brushed off (-and so is food, odd for someone who complained an awful lot about eating simple foods on a daily) and takes a bite from his bowl without a moment of hesitation.

Something akin to a crash and a bang soon brings more commotion into the slowly awakening house, however, when Cyrus distinctly makes out Domingo emerging from his quarters for the first time today- probably for some stupidly overpriced bean water once again and the lieutenant couldn't even help but frown and roll his eyes to himself. Ah yes- more trouble, incoming. It's not that the two didn't get along. It's not even all that utterly terrible if they'd buttheads from time to time. No. It was that, truly like two opposites (that didn't attract, mind you), on some days, Cyrus really found himself curbing the urge to simply end Domingo... Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But still!

Before Cyrus is able to get a word out about the noise currently hurrying themselves upstairs- mouth opening and then shutting, Domingo's out the dining area (-would it be too formal to call this place a cafeteria?) and down the corridors already on his own accord; a scream of 'Walker'- uh, Duncan, trailing not far behind him. Again. Cyrus sighs in (mock) agony. Noise, noise, noise so early in the morning by the very people who already provide him with a hefty one on a regular was causing an oncoming headache for the poor man; if Duncan wasn't about to be murdered by Domingo today, surely Cyrus was gonna murder Domingo himself-. Someone was gonna take the blame for this.

Another heavy thud. A slight draft in the air (-did someone leave the nonexistent windows open somewhere?) and some more clamor and-

Taking a deep breath, Cyrus tries to keep the near-sulking at bay, his left index finger and thumb pressing against the bridge of his nose. Maybe today just wasn't meant to be his day. Maybe today was meant to be another stressful one at work- not to mention the news of a new commanding voice in the office brought both expectations and nerves to the forefront of Cyrus' emotions. Maybe today was meant to be one of those days where he shuts it all off... welcoming the silent blankness that takes over his mind with the loss of simply feeling. When he turns off, Cyrus feels as if things flow more efficiently anyway, the burdens of emotional value lost to the abyss- compartmentalized in some recess of his mind as he goes about the rest of his day. And only when the man's returned back to the safety of quarters does he return to his usual self- things normally seemed to be alright when his less-than-powers power was used so methodically. Less feeling for things. Less irritation... less burdens?

Contemplating to himself, Cyrus decides- no, he couldn't seem like a robot today. Not on the first day with the captain anyway. Just as sometimes (-like when capturing... creatures- on missions) his ability made life easier, when times came for socialization, the same ability made life that much more difficult as well.

Standing up, Cyrus is just about to set his dirtied dishes in the sink as Lawrence walks in and then slides out in haste, muttering something to the both of them ad then he's out quicker than anyone can blink. The lieutenant mutely shakes his head and ends it at that, setting his utensils down with a soft clatter and a "Yeah, yeah good morning to you too."

Again, Cyrus is met with stark silence and then another man in his space- uh how many was that now? Three? Four? Did the first two count? Only two? Though the young man wasn't really one to fuss with the technicalities of the situation, the ins and outs, the careful steps (though albeit merely consequential as a result of his stingy personality in the kitchen)- all the general movement around the house in the morning never failed to irritate the poor lieutenant.

And so by the time Joel steps into the dining area, Cyrus very nearly fires back at him without waiting for a greeting. At the sight of the older man, his shoulders merely sag in defeat as he takes a leaning stance against the counter top. There's a brief and fleeting thought of hopping up and settling there, but Cyrus doesn't. "Hm? Yeah well... couldn't have the first newcomer in this house- a captain no less, come in and choke on a potato first thing in the morning, right?" he tries to banter back briefly, eyebrow arched in mild amusement. "But of course, you know how much I hate when the kitchen's a mess." A pause. "But you know, when you put it that way, I already think the lot of you can't survive without me, so what's your point?" Perhaps he comes off a little sharper then- but Cyrus surely doesn't mean to; he's quick to add on a noncommitted shrug as if that'd soften up his quip.

"BREAKFAST!" comes screeching through the halls and before anyone can react, Cyrus is already straightened his back, shoulders set and eyebrows furrowed in shock- oh. Andi. The man finds himself resisting a laugh at the sight of the quickly scrambling girl; he catches quick though, shutting off with a blank look settling upon his face as he nods along half-heartedly to her words before anything's accidentally exposed- a smile, perhaps. "Good morning to you too," he murmurs, eyeing the young woman blankly as she seems to wolf down her food, "Seems like you're enjoying yourself- slow down before you end up with indigestion or somethin', I'm not saving you then."

"Maybe you're too old for a-"

"Mhm... Actually I think there is a meeting later today, there's rumors of something like a new mission or something- who knows- What are you, five? Make yourself a cup." Words run together as the lieutenant, honestly, barely keeps up with Andi, only half-replying to her ten billion comments. "...Actually, on second thought- no coffee for you, where did your energy even come from?"

-

Oh boy, to say the meeting was a disaster (in Cyrus' opinion) would have been an understatement all on it's own. The new captain's brisk and to the point, splitting up the group in a team while she likely had no clue of their dynamics- given her decisions. "Unless you have questions, you should already be out the door." echoes through Cyrus' mind as he's seemingly dismissed like the others; half of him wants to argue bitterly, but he find simpler to shove it away- as he does with the rest of the nuisances.

Donahue, Nielson, and Briarsmith, and Elcott, huh? In other words- Aurelia, Joel, Cohen and Andi. Just great.

(Hey, the plus side- at least that's a chance to shove Eli into the dirt, right?)

[bailey.t136]

𝗷 . 𝗮 . 𝗸 . 𝗲 . ─
- target bravo. - woods, not too far from the epipen base.
- coming down from craze, scared, defensive, thirsty. - tags; duncan. - mentions; eli, duncan. - wc; 514
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indent "...so long as you do it well..."

indentthe tally marks of each of his victims surfaced in the newborn's mind. a crumpled list in his officer's notepad. had he done them well? he'd surely "sucked them dry," but his mind had been racing, his head pounding. he barely remembered their faces now, as all he could envision was how the soothing, warm relief would come when he finally caught up to that runner. he was swallowing cotton and his body remained fueled with craving. maybe he really did need help. he wasn't well. this thing had gone too far.

indentand so standing there, eyeing down one of the most relaxed people he'd met since waking in the ditch, jake considered briefly what the man was offering. the guy wasn't afraid of the blood on his vest, nor the ferality in his eyes. but more worrying than anything was the fact that he wasn't clueless. no, this guy knew exactly what had been going down deep in these washington woods. how he knew was another question - one perhaps jake would get answered if he agreed to follow - but was it worth the risk? the risk of walking into a trap. getting killed on sight. all they needed was a brave enough soul to lure him into the light. knock his knees in and put a bullet through his brain. it would be appropriate, but how he wrestled with right and wrong now. jake could feel his composure slowly slipping out of his grip. he wasn't invincible but maybe there was a chance this man could help him get back his footing.

indent"target..." jake's eyes finally focused on duncan, tearing from the woman who was now several dozen feet away and gaining. he was being tracked. his kills hadn't been clean. a glance back over his shoulder and she was gone. "look, i don't know you-- i have no reason to trust you..." he couldn't finish. reroute. "...but i think i'm really in over my head." his voice was had dropped to almost a whisper now, less of a growl rolling in his throat. those burning irises were cooling and his mind steadying. he rubbed the back of his neck. "dude, it's like..." how to even describe it. brochaco over there wouldn't understand... jake glanced over at him, with his steady stance and easy eyes. ...maybe he would. "...it's like i have this thing living inside of me. this... craving. and i really don't feel like myself anymore..."

indenthis stomach seemed to have heard the offer of coffee too, because though his voice was low, a substantial growl twisted out from his gut. the thought of that dark, succulent blend with a touch of creamer and sugar was enough to cause any simple man or beast to cave. paired with a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit and he'd have it made. it almost drew a scoff as he clutched his middle, "i can't promise i won't try to kill you, but if you're willing, a roast and some grub sounds awful appealing right now, mr. ...?"