[Stranger]

Chicago, Illinois. 2017.

Upon the lakefront stood the Chicago Spire, a winding, beautiful building some six hundred meters tall. Built in 2010, it was a great achievement in modern architecture, a whopping one hundred fifty floors, and up until 2012, it was mainly residential suites and corporate offices. However, in late 2012, the Spire "lost" floors ninety to ninety-nine. No longer open to the public, the United States Government and Illinois government stated that those floors would be reserved for political VIP's, both local and foreign. Originally public opinion was negative towards the statement, but in time, they moved onto other issues, other distractions. Besides, no one in their right mind would be able to fathom, much less believe exactly what branch of the government called floors ninety to ninety-nine its base, or even believe such a thing existed, much less in such a landmark as the Chicago Spire. It is here, on floors ninety to ninety-nine, the agents of Spookhouse called home.

The private elevator reached its destination, and two men stepped out, nearly complete oppisites in body proportion. Side by side, the seemed like a almost comical duo. One stood over six feet tall, lean but well built, with a handsome but rugged, unshaven look about him. His hair short and gelled back in such a fashion that it seemed the man disliked spending too much time to truly style it, accentuated by his morning shadow of a beard and moustache. He wore a brown, leather trenchcoat, its lining a glistening brown silk. The coat itself seemed to clash with the style of the day, but it made the wearer less out-of-place and more unique. Noticable, but not offensive.

The man's partner, seemed his oppisite. Barely standing over five feet, the older gentlemen was a rotund man, of his late forties. Despite his rather robust girth, he wore a mantle of dignity. His balding head was neatly trimmed and combed, showing only a few signs of grew hairs. His manner of dress matched his gait, neatly pressed and lined it was a buisness suit imported from Italy. His chubby face was stern, wearing a wireless set of glasses.

The two entered a large room more suited to be a lobby on the ground floor than on the ninetieth. At the far end of the reflective black tile layed a long platinum desk. Behind the station, was a set of double doors, which in fact was yet another elevetor. Beyond the desk and two sets of elevators the room was barren save for a pair of camera's that covered the entirety of the room with their electronic eyes.

A lone secratary sat cross legged behind the station, barely trying to make herself look busy. The taller of the two men, stepped to the counter first, placing his elbow on it. The glare he gave the young woman gave no doubt of the lack of love loss between them. The secratary continued to file away at her fingers, seeming not to notice. The older man stepped along side the other and began to say something only to be cut off by the younger.

"What is the point of this code anyway?" The younger man asked frustrated. The elder gentleman looked at him peculiurly.

"Its just another security measure, Marcus. Nothing new," the man explained as if Marcus didn't already know.

"Well why? I mean we passed through at least a dozen electronic, visual, and ...." Marcus struggled to find the right word, "... 'other' security and protocols, all of which performed without us even noticing." Marcus looked back at the secratary, who still didn't even acknowledge their presence. He pointed at her "What is her point?"

The robust man sighed helplessly. "The world is a dark place."

Not looking up from her nail file, the woman asked apathetically, "Who will save us from the darkness?"

"We will." The gentleman proclaimed. The young secratary prodded a button on the terminal in front of her, and the double doors behind her slid open to reveal the other elevator.

Marcus shook his head helplessly and followed the other man into the elevator. "Its b*llsh*t. ." He cursed as the doors slid close.

The older man pressed two buttons, for different floors, and the elevator ascended. "You should really be more patient. As a field agent you need to keep your wits about you."

Marcus shrugged. "Yeah, I know, Greg. Its just that lady gets to me. Besides, anyone that didn't belong here and would pose a threat would have been detected long before they got within sight of the Spire"

Greg, or Gregory as he was called by most, nodded and changed the subject. "By the way, I hear you have another assignment, though I don't know the details, it seems you are to be partnered with a couple of the more... unique agents. Beyond that I don't know."

Marcus considered the words. Its not that he didn't like working with agents that were not quite human or those humans with unique powers, its just that any reasoning being would have some trepidation working with someone who could cause instant brain death with a thought or something a few notches higher on the food chain. But whatever happens, happens, was Marcus' favered approach to things. "Thanks, Greg," the field agent bid farewell to his friend as the doors opened to his level.

Altogether, Spookhouse ecompassed ten floors. Floors ninety to ninety-nine, plus the deepest basement level referred to as The Vault. The top nine floors had a unique set of elevators that linked the floors together. For security purposes, some floors and parts of floors could only be reached by particular elevetors or stairs, othewise those rooms are sealed off. The basic and general outline though, was floor ninety held the entrance lobby, but surrounding the room on all sides were the monitor and communications hub only reachable through floors ninety-eight and ninety-nine. Floors ninety- one to ninety-three held the agents offices. Floors ninety-four through ninety-five served as the residential area for those agents who would either pose a threat to themselves or to society if they were to regularly interact with them. Each section was especially customized to best suit the agents needs. Floor ninety-six held the armoury, shooting range, dojo, gym, among other training arenas. Floor ninety-seven was home to several labs including the genetics lab, weapons lab (and testing area), crime lab, etc. along with Dr. Gregory Peck's office. Floor ninety-eight held the briefing room, lounge, a small eating area, and two building security rooms. At last, room ninety-nine held the Commander's office, a secondary computer hub, a secondary armoury, and security room. A hundred floors down, even below the parking garage, was the Vault. The Vault, is just that, a vault, but its contents include artifacts that are too dangerous to put into the wrong and/or mortal hands yet Spookhouse have yet been unable to determine a way to destroy them, or artifacts that may serve to help mankind out in the future, but shouldn't be released at the moment at hand.

All togther, their are fifteen thousand people or more that work, live, or visit the Chicago Spire a day. Of those twenty thousand, some one hundred fifty to two-hundred-fifty occupy floors ninety to ninety-nine on any given day. The strong traffic served Spookhouse and her agents well, taking the concept of "hiding in plain sight" to a new extreme.

Back in the day, Marcus Czarnecki couldn't decide what was more shocking, the concept of the supernatural existing, or the sheer audacity of Spookhouse and their landmark HQ. Now, it was just another day the office, however. Making his way through the tight traffic of agents, and to his office, he plopped down at his desk, and began to review his caseload. It was just busy work, as he was aware "upstairs" would be calling him soon.

This post has been edited by Stranger: 27 April 2007 - 11:54 AM

[Sydra]

Ariana leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed as she mentally tried to cleanse her mind of her last case. The computer in front of her flickered as it sent the case report to her superiors. The image of disembodied hand in flames crawling along a floor appeared in her mind's eye. She gave a delicate shudder.

"Working hard I see." The young woman opened her eyes and found herself peering into the comely face of Agent Hartwell, who was looming over her. Agent Hartwell was still in her prime at 39 years old. She was tall, athletic, and possessed a certain sensuous beauty, that Ariana, short, slender and rather flat, had always been slightly envious of. The woman had been Ariana's mentor during her training and still periodically looked in on her.

"Just a short break, besides I haven't been briefed on my next case yet." She shuddered again. "I can not get the image of those flaming body parts out of my mind. I hope I never get paired up with that pyromaniac again. There was no reason he had to explode the damned things. I had pieces of zombie brain trying to burrow into my flesh. Disgusting. It took a while to get the smell out of my hair." Hartwell laughed warmly and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.

"You'll get used to the gore." Ariana made a face at her then sighed.

"The live gore doesn't bother me, it is just the decaying ones. The stench is horrible too. Honestly first whiff I got nearly made me vomit. By the way, when do I stop getting referred to as 'green'," she said, her tone wistful.

"Once you have a couple more cases under your belt and when you look over 17 years old. You have only been out in the field for 6 months, give it some more time." She sighed again, some of the agents had been rather condescending. Though she had been expecting some of that, she hadn't expected it to bother her as much as it had. The computer pinged at her, breaking her thoughts. She opened the e-mail, Agent Hartwell was looking pointedly away from the computer. She read the brief e-mail and smiled.

"Looks like I'm going to be briefed on my next case. Hopefully no zombies involved," she said, rising from her chair. She pulled a small hand mirror from one of the drawers, checking her hair. A few wayward strands stuck up, she soothed them down. Ariana wore a pair jeans, a bright red shirt that fit in current teen fashion, and a pair of athletic shoes. She would fit in with most teenagers within the United States. With her youthful appearance, she was not left with many options.

"I don't know when the next time we'll both be in town, but stop by my office every now and then. Good luck, Ari." The older woman smiled, suppressed the desire to mess up the girl's hair, affectionately.

"I will. Thanks Sarah," she said, returning the smile. The two women walked to the door together, then parted.


OOC: Haven't quite gotten into this character yet.

[SharkFinn]

Natalie McClellan sighed.

"No, James, they do not make circular treadmills. Would you please just get on the flat one and start running?"

James nodded, and eagerly half-bounced onto the treadmill. He started to run and crashed headlong into the console. Agent McClellan sighed louder.

"James, stop this silliness or I shall have to hurt you severely. Would you please just turn the treadmill on before you start running?"

"But how do I do that?" James asked, perfectly innocently.

A devious light flashed into Agent McClellan's eyes. "Here, you just press this... and this... and this... There!" The treadmill was now running at top speed, ten miles an hour.

James ran on and continued running as fast as he could for twenty minutes. Then the treadmill motor burned out and he crashed into the console, this time creating a sizable crack down the keypad. Agent McClellan nearly screamed, but kept it to an exasperated grunt. "Enough for today... Let's just get you settled down. We'll try to get you a wheel as fast as we can, James, but please do try to keep things down in the future, will you?"

"Sure thing, boss. Hey, wanna come to my room? I have all sorts of neat stuff that I'm sure you'd love." The words rattled out of James' mouth like bullets from an Uzi; McClellan could barely understand what he said, but eventually she agreed.



"Cold pizza?"

"Yeah, isn't it great? Now I'll never go hungry when winter comes! I almost have enough food for next year's winter too."

"...James, they're all spoiled. You can't eat this without getting sick. And besides, it's mid-January in Chicago. It's hard to get much more wintry."

"Yeah, well, I can take it. Here, watch." Agent McClellan did watch, horrified, as James Frisby consumed three entire large pizzas in the space of five minutes.

"You know what, James? I think we're REALLY done for a while... Come back and see me later." And Agent McClellan literally bolted out of James' room and for her own. Thus, James Winston Frisby lost another mentor and companion, and would be hard pressed to find another.

[Shion]

Floor Ninety-Nine

-

The woman, dressed in an expensive-looking black Italian business suit, seated comfortably on a couch in the commander of Spookhouse's office, seemed to exude an aura of calm. At least, that is what Daniel Stern, the Illuminati agent who escorted her from Jerusalem to Chicago, percieved it as.

She's incredibly beautiful, there's no question of that. Her skin has a deep tanned tone, and her hair is as black as a raven's feathers. Her eyes were easily her most enchanting feature. The color of bronze, they seemed to be staring straight through you if you made eye contact. The thing is, she hadn't spoken the whole time, so Daniel had no idea what her voice sounded like. They had been waiting for almost two hours as well, but ever since she sat down, she hasn't budged an inch. Her hands remained in her lap, her eyes closed, her features completely blank.

At long last, her eyes slide open, the golden orbs gazing over at Daniel, "You.. are worried about what is keeping Spookhouse's commander..?"

Her voice was like nothing he'd ever heard. There was a definite tinge of an arabian accent there, but her english was fluent and completely comprehensible. She spoke no louder than she needed to, her voice hovering just above a whisper.

"Yeah.. a bit."

A faint smile spreads over her thin lips, "Worry not.. we are guests, after all.. they will not keep us waiting for long."

Daniel nods, "I suppose you're right."

She nods, "Of course."

He looks over at her again, "What was your name again? I'm afraid I can't pronounce it correctly.."

She smiles again, showing some of her pearl white teeth this time, "Bar-quee-jal. That is how you say it." She shivers after, "My, so cold in this place.."

"There's heating in here, you know.."

"I know. But it is still cold, for me."

--

April 10th, 1943
Somewhere in the Morrocan Sahara

"Nein, Herr Oberst. We're right on schedule. We swept north from the port of Casablanca, destroyed a couple of Mosques, and collected some artifacts, as ordered. We'll meet with you in Lybia in three weeks as we planned. Yes sir."

The well dressed SS captain clicks the radio off.

"Schisse, that idiot! Asking us to take tanks through this sand all the way across three countries!? Who the hell does Rommel think he is, Attilla the Hun!?"

Another SS soldier, a sargeant, walks over to him, "Herr Gregor, there's a sandstorm on the horizon. I think we should set down and cover the equipment. Might want to have a couple of people out to dig out the treads, too."

The captain nods, "Very well. Let's bed down here for now and wait out the storm." He looks up at the setting sun, "It's almost night, so why are you getting hotter, damn you!"

The reason would not be apparent until sunrise the following morning. After the storm had passed, the SS troops saw what looked like a woman, walking towards them from the direction the storm had come from. The soldies all aimed their rifles and machine guns at her.

"HALTEN SIE! WIE HEISST DU?!"

The woman stops atop a dune, only a few feet away from the men. "I am.. your punishment.. from Allah. Begone, defilers of the desert! I shall purify this land of your taint with my flame of judgement!"

As she begins to walk towards the men again, her form fades and warps, like a mirage. Gone is the woman, replaced instead by a huge black shadow with bowed legs and wings, terrible claws and huge horns jutting from the side of her head. The shadow speaks again, "Begone..!"

"SCHEISSEN!"

Bullets fly from the soldiers' rifles, the projectiles melting the moment they touch the shadow. Flames erupt from the creature's body as it stands to it's full height. Grabbing a handful of sand, the beast melts it, hurling the large glob of molten glass at one of the tanks. The steel warps and roasts the men inside it like marshmallows. One of the other tanks fires a shell at the creature's head and..

-

Barquijal closes her eyes again with a sigh. Daniel takes note and inquires, "What is it?"

"Nothing.. just.. a memory.."

[Kyrsanth]

--------------------
Dariya,

I know not what you are, but what I do know is that you are not human. That alone got me to thinking, and I am sending you to Spookhouse. You would not have heard of it, but it is part of the world Shadow government and it monitors supernatural activity and deals with any... issues that may arise.

This is in no way an imprisonment of any kind, but I think that you may be more comfortable if you are able to get out more, though in the beginning they may be suspicious of you. Something about your eyes when I saw you, so feral and desperate... I knew you were going to snap if something wasn't done. I can see auras and have mild empathy myself, and that was the only reason that I was able to know that you weren't human. I was the one who had to stay behind all the time, manning the radios and that. To be honest I envy the front line sometimes, except for the constant risk of death anyway.

I hope that you do well in your knew home child, and hope to see you again when we can speak more frankly and in more detail.

Sincerely,
Major Adams (MIB)

P.S. Yes you are right in thinking what MIB stands for. The movies did have some things right
---------------------

As soon as she finished reading it, the paper dissolved in her hand and she gave a startled oath, drawing a few odd looks from others as she walked down the street towards where she was directed to go. As it stands now she is just stepping off the elevator on the ninetieth floor, feeling as if a thousand eyes are on her, which, she admitted, there probably are. Approaching the front desk, the secretary not even looking up from her nails made Dariya mildly irritated.

"Lieutenant Akhatova reporting."

It was all she said, and then she stood there, her lean form exuding confidence and patience. She would wait as long as she had to for this woman to respond or for someone to come out and get her. She was expected wasn't she? Also... she had no intention of giving up what she was. Secrecy had been pounded into her head from the time she was little, and even if the Major was right and this was based on the supernatural, she still needed to be cautious. Besides, her mistrust was a hard habit to break and right now she knew no reason to even try. Still.... she did remember the man, he had been kind to everyone, always having an amusing word to brighten up the day. And... oddly enough she did believe him, even about the MIB part. Why was it so far-fetched? If you acknowledged that the supernatural were real (and she had to considering she was one), then it stood to reason that there were government organizations of a sort to monitor them....

Besides.... there were many strange scents in this building, half of them she could not identify except to think with certainty that they weren't human, or not quite anyway.

Standing at attention, especially considering that the receptionist hadn't moved a muscle not even to pick up a phone, well, it irritated her quite alot, and if she had been in either of her other forms her tail would have twitched. As it was, she could not help the hiss that escaped her lips, and at that the secretary finally did look up.

"Can I help you?"

She stared for several seconds before biting back,

"Well, you could have almost ten minutes ago, but I guess better late than never. I am here to see the Commander, and considering I had a transfer put through ages ago, and I was told by my own superiors that I was expected I really don't see the reason why you have ignored me this long. Now put down your bloody nail file and do something!"

The secretary barely even blinked,

"Who will save us from the darkness?"

Dariya's face went blank as she thought of how much she wanted to throttle the woman at this point, but she didn't act on the impulse despite the vividness of the image in her mind. Still, she couldn't help but speak, and it was obvious that she was becoming very irritated, not that the woman seemed to care. In fact... if she didn't know any better that looked like a smile quirking the corner of her mouth, and was that.... amusement she smelled?

"I have no bloody clue woman! It's not like I know your little codes!"

The lean lycanthrope was jet-lagged, annoyed and frustrated beyond all reason now. Not only had she had no sleep on the plane, now she had to deal with someone who seemed to get their jollies by messing with people's minds and pissing them off, knowing that nothing would happen to her, even if she did piss someone off.

"No admittance then."

She snarled, and nearly did leap over the desk and strangle the smug little grin oiff the woman's face, but a familiar face came into view as an elevator opened opposite the one she had come from. It was the Major! A bright smile greeted him, and he came around the desk with a glare at the secretary.

"You were supposed to send her through. You knew that."

The woman inspected her nails, not even looking up,

"Oops."

Dariya looked over at Adams and asked quietly,

"Would anyone miss her do you think?"

She was half-serious.

The Major obviously took it as a joke (or wished to) and a chuckle was the only response she got.

"Follow me Dariya, and just so you know.... be honest with the Commander."

This post has been edited by Kyrsanth: 04 May 2007 - 02:19 PM

[Seluna]

The soft voice was apologetic, remorseful and timid all at once. "I didn't mean to, Raphael."

"I know, Beth. Don't worry about it."

Despite the calm reassurance, the first speaker felt like elaborating. "I panicked when it moved in my hand on its own. I didn't know it'll do that, so it caught me off-guard. And I forgot about my strength..."

"Like I said, I understand. It's not your fault, Elizabeth." Raphael repeated in a more firm tone of voice, and then sighed as he lifted his eyes from the thoroughly crushed device on his table. Peering past the silver frame of his rectangular spectacle lenses, those grayish turquoise eyes were tired, though not entirely from dealing with her. "I'll get you a new one and teach you how to use it properly? Would you prefer that?"

Elizabeth fidgeted, her pale hands troubling the edges of her long sleeves. Her theme of the day seemed to be challenging the amount of skin she could cover, as her choice of clothing for the day, or rather, night, was a long toes-touching sandy brown dress of slight resemblance to a Victorian era's riding habit. "Do I really need to have to use that thing? I've just gotten used to the ear-piece and mico... micoro..."

"Microphone."

"Yes, that. I learned to use them because of missions... but this mobile phone thing..."

"Will definitely be useful. During missions or out of them." Raphael rubbed at his temples, wishing for either medicated oil or aspirin. Trying to get the three hundred years old (in name, not in substance) vampire to just accept using electronics was like trying to plug one's own teeth out. Very difficult. But after being her mentor in all things regarding daily life for four years now, he knew just which buttons to push. "Trust me, Beth. I haven't and will not hurt you, am I not right?"

True enough, Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, you are right. I'll learn."

"Good." Raphael finally let out a smile that softened all the stern lines on his face caused by work and stress, looking more like the twenty plus years old that he really was. He could have sworn that working with Elizabeth made him age more than he really should, not that she was particularly difficult. Except when working with electronics and slightly more difficult machines. Speaking of which... "Beth, there's an email for you."


[OOC: This damn post wouldn't come after two full days of brainstorming, and I'm writing it while feeling the sweet beckoning of sleep, so if it has missing words or lousy grammar structure, please please forgive me. I'm also aware that this is written mainly from Raphael's perspective but he is still just an NPC. Sorry if it's confusing.]

[Stranger]

Simultaneously, messages flooded the offices of Spookhouse to several key agents. Each message was simply a letter, signifying the briefing room they were to attend.

The practice of simultaneously briefing a dozen or so agents at the same time then sending them off to different corners of the globe was standard protocol. The way cases were taken by Spookhouse followed a cycle of events. News reports, police reports, rumours, etc. of strange going on's that filtered through the world were all documented and brought before the Illumanti's information analysts. Those reports pertaining to the supernatural, or possible supernatural, were sent to Spookhouse. From there, the reports were investigated by "secondary" agents, many of whom do not even know they are working for Spookhouse. After a brief summary of events, Spookhouse Analysts, often referred to as SA's, determine first if the supernatural is a factor or not in the events. Then the SA's determine if further investiagation would be warrented or, if the situation poses no threat and attracts little media attention, should be tagged as harmless. If further investigation is warranted, Spookhouse's "special" agents were called in to investigate and/or eliminate the supernatural threat.

The briefing room waited for Agent's Czarnecki, Arianna, and Bishop. As soon as Marcus recieved his message via his phone, he stood up from his desk, still fully unaware of what waited him on his next mission. Leaving the mountain of debris that covered his desk, he slipped on his faverite fedora, and walked to the elevator. Entering in the elevator, he went up to floor ninety-eight. He quickly made his way past the lounge, which at this time was full of agents conversing on all matter of subjects, and made it to the briefing room. Agent Andrew Pei, who was effectively second-in-command, stood at ease on the far side of the briefing hall and nodded at Marcus as he entered. Marcus returned the silent greeting and took a seat in front of him. Knowing that asking about mission details before the others arrived would be futile, he crossed his arms.

Meanwhile, at the top floor of Spookhouse's offices, a woman in subtle buisness attire opened the doors to her own office. Jeanine Houston was her name, her role, CEO of Spookhouse. Nearing seventy, her appearance put her closer to her fifties. Once beautiful, age and stress had taken its toll, and to see her unclothed body was to see dozens of scars from battles but a few people in the world knew of. Still, despite her slender frame and age, she gave off an aura of command and calm, and the fact she was the third best pistol marksman in Spookhouse afforded her much respect even among the inhuman members of the agency. She passed by Barquijal without a word. It was not out of rudeness or aloofness, it was just that Commander Houston was not one to waste words. She simply took her seat, and folded her hands in front of her waiting patiently for more to arrive.

It didn't take long for the newest addition to Spookhouse to arrive. Dariya and the Major stepped into the room. The office itself was magnificent. Clean, orderly, of modern (if somewhat dard) design, with a breathtaking view of Chicago. No light fixtures were on, the sun provided light through the window that ecompassed the entire back wall.

For several moments, there was silence. Jeanine said not a word, her blue eyes slid up and down Dariya, sizing her up. Finally she nodded, a nod that meant neither approavel or disapproval. She stood up from her seat. "Welcome Ms. Akhatova. Please have a seat." Her request was polite, yet it still carried the weight of a command.

She waited a few moments for Dariya to take a seat, a few feet from but adjacent to Barquijal. "You are aware of most of what Spookhouse does. We monitor, record, and at times combat with the otherworldly and the supernatural. While you have just arrived here, there are still some matters of residence that need to be attended to. That being said, let me state that this agency, and the agent's it employ's, greatest asset is adaptability... to learn and accomplish by doing. In other words, for you to learn of us, and us of you, we intend to use your talents immediately."

She looked back and forth between Barquijal and Dariya, "You two will be partners, along with Agent Frisby, on your next investigation." Commander Houston waited a moment for the women to respond at her statement, or to each other before she briefed them on the mission.

(OOC: I don't mind short convo posts, in fact I'm looking for them. Just getting things underway anyway ^^)

[Shion]

"As you wish."

As before, Barquijal's voice was only loud enough for everyone to hear. She glances over at Dariya, giving her a slight nod in greeting, her expression still not changing. She turns to the Illuminati agent, Daniel, who had escorted her and whispers to him something in Arabic. He nods, stands, and takes his leave. Then, again, she goes back to remaining motionless, her golden eyes sliding closed once more in concentration.

She simply waits, patiently, to be dismissed by her new employer.

[Kyrsanth]

Dariya's gaze slid over to the woman, just as the other woman gave her a slight nod in greeting. The lean wereleopard nodded back in respect, then turned to the commander.

"Yes Commander Houston."

This was.... interesting. For some reason her sensitive nose was picking up.... heat from the woman beside her. Not smothering heat but she had the feeling it could get that way. That put her on edge, and her eyes briefly flashed to their kitty cat form before she quickly surpressed it. So they were not going to outright ask her, but instead send her on a mission right away? Thinking about it, she thought it likely that it would be difficult enough that she would be forced to use her abilities, and she cringed. Dariya was still not entirely certain that... wait.... the way the Commander treated the woman beside her indicated that the two were known to each other, and that meant that.... She frowned slightly. Bloody hell.... The woman who smelled of heat and sand would likely tell them of anything she did.... lovely.

A sympathetic look from the Major caught her eye, and though she didn't turn towards him, the corner of her mouth quirked in a smile.

She did wonder who the other Agent was that she would be working with though...

This post has been edited by Kyrsanth: 10 May 2007 - 01:15 AM

[SharkFinn]

"Wow, this will be fun! Yeah, sure, I'm okay with that."

Frisby was almost literally bouncing off the walls, and nobody seemed to care. Finally he had a chance to be useful! Nobody really had the courage to send him on a mission before.

Beneath all the excitement, however, Frisby really was serious. He was eager to prove his worth, and find someone who would look after him. He'd see what would happen in due time. Death was not at all on his mind. Only self-worth and approval.

[Nani?]

"The Greatest threat to the freedom of Vampires is not the Vampire Hunters, but the Nosferatu and the other lowly Vampires who walk in our Shadow."

- Gabriel

-------------

"I want a new weapon."

The attendant to the Spookhouse armory looked a bit nervous, but it was her first time seeing a Vampire before. Gabriel tried to keep a calming expression on his face, but all he could come up with neutral. Oh well, he thought, I'll settle for neutral.

The attendant pulled up a large box of assorted handguns, but was unable to keep her grip on the box quite right. It slipped, and caused a few of the plastic guns to crack. Gabriel ignored it, not having wanted the new plastic guns in the first place. He enjoyed metal a great deal more, and never noticed it's weight. He pulled both his revolvers from their holsters.

"I want you to hold onto these. They're very old, and very special. If you lose them, then I might break my rules and turn you into a Nosferatu."

The clerk tried to manage a smile, but she was clearly wishing that Gabriel was not here. Gabriel himself wished that he had a competent clerk to work with, one that actually knew about guns, like his Father had, or the the HK clerk who had helped him with his original revolvers. He had realized since he joined the agency that a new weapon was required. He searched methodically through the bin, while the clerk silently slipped away, only to be replaced by what appeared to be a scientist. He picked up both revolvers, studied them for a minute, and then fired a bullet into the ceiling, startiling Gabriel.

"I don't think that you'll find anything quite like these guns in there."

Gabriel controlled his anger.

"Please stop firing my gun into the ceiling."

The scientist let the revolver hang at his side.

"Why not? It's not like you care about the ceiling."

Gabriel squeezed his hand tight.

"It's a bit difficult to find shells for a 15mm revolver anymore. They tend to be a great deal smaller, and even though I can make my own shells if I had too, it's troublesome to make the charges."

"Well, we can fix that. I've been assigned to arming the new recruits. Follow me."

Gabriel was a bit annoyed by his British accent, but what could he have expected from a scientist who specialized in weapons? He had watched enough pop-culture flicks after he woke up to have expected this. He almost vomited at the notion that this man might very well have the codename of "Q".

"Here we are now old boy. Go ahead and look."

Looking around, Gabriel was in what appeared to be enough weapons to arm a small army. From the ancient, yet durable AK-74s, to the more modern M8 U.S. Assault Rifles, to an ancient World War I anti-tank rifle, there was every single species of firearms represented. Gabriel opened each case, pulled out each weapon, and tried to find one that satisfied him.

"These are all weapons for Humans, not a Vampire. I can't kill my enemies with normal bullets. Give me something with a bit more power behind it."

The scientist raised his eyebrow, and motioned for Gabriel to follow. They entered a pristine white room, round like a cylinder. The scientist pointed towards the pillar in the center, which held up a glass case holding two pistols.

"These are my personal favorites, but so far none of the new recruits have chosen them. I don't really understand why, but maybe they'll fit you, as you seem to like handguns."

Gabriel picked one up, and was able to feel the balance in the gun.

"It's certainly high quality. But why exactly, should I think this is anything more than a very nice pistol?"

The scientist picked up it's twin.

"20 millimeter round, eight shots per clip. Not very large, but it packs a punch."

Gabriel noticed a bit of sweat on the mans head, but dismissed it, until he aimed the gun. It was so heavy, he had to rest it on his arm.

"The sights automatically readjust to the wind, so you never have to both with that. And these are special bullets too. Allow me to show you."

He aimed at a wall away from Gabriel and the doorway, and fired. The wall suddenly had a large hole in it, going for about three feet, until the bullet had stopped in concrete. A foot wide hole had been made in the wall.

"Shockwave technology is excellent for killing the Undead. As the bullet hits, it spins in a special way, causing it to expand and contract rapidly. This causes a large shockwave upon impact, seperating skin, bone, and muscle from each other. It should even kill a Vympire in a full clip, if you hit them in all the right spots."

Gabriel was starting to feel excited about his new weapons, but stayed calm. He pulled the cartridge out, and selected the top bullet. He examined the tip, which was a glass vial filled with Mercury.

"Quicksilver? I'm beginning to like these weapons more and more."

"Good. Then maybe I can finish this up. Each gun weighs about 50 pounds, and is covered in Silver. Underneath the main barrel is one pure silver bullet, which should be excellent if you come up against a werewolf. Just....don't...waste it on the wall please. They're a hassle to make, and we have to bless each one."

Gabriel grinned, and took the other gun from the Scientist. He found the holsters underneath the case, and put it in the place of his former holsters. Both guns fitted in perfectly.

"I think I'll take them."

Gabriel showed all his teeth, including his fangs. He left the room with the smile on his face, turned towards the original clerk when he saw her. She hid under the desk. He turned to her, and became serious again.

"Don't lose my other guns. They're part of my history, and if they have so much as one more scratch on them, you will know what I can do to my enemies."

He placed his hat on his head, and pulled the long trenchcoat from the rack. He suppressed his happiness, and lowered his face enough so that his unnaturally white hair would cover his eyes. Reassuring himself, he placed his hand on his new guns.

"In the name of God....Revenge will be mine!"

[Kyrsanth]

"Wow, this will be fun! Yeah, sure, I'm okay with that."

The little man bounced into the room, so full of energy and movement that her eyes widened slightly.

It engaged her predator's interest though, and despite the fact that she should be paying attention to the Commander her eyes were fixed on the excited individual as he ran around the room, her eyes glinting and intent on what to her beast seemed to be prey. It really was tempting to pounce and kill, but she had never let the urge get the better of her before, at least not over anything that was sentient.

Her intentness quickly became annoyance though, and she opened her fulllips to speak, the words spilling from them in agitated French, which was the language she tended to use when angry oddly enough.

"Arrêtez de courir autour de pareil ça! Autrement je peux finir par devenir vous mâcher."

You didn't need to understand the language to know what they meant, it was clear enough by her annoyance. Stop running around like that! Otherwise I may end up chewing on you. It was true. If he didn't stop bouncing around like that.... Sighing she simply looked down into her lap and took her eyes away from the little prey running around.

He even smelled like prey.... damn.

[Nani?]

"Men have said that they are all brothers, because they all bleed red. Vampires bleed red, and yet we remain in the shadow of Man."

- Gabriel

------------------------

Gabriel strolled calmly through the halls of the Spookhouse Headquarters. Despite the relatively hot day, he still wore his leather hat, and the same long black trench coat. Gabriel smiled inwardly at the fact that Vampires didn't feel heat nearly as much as humans did.

"I'm sorry sir, this is a restricted area. You'll have to leave."

Gabriel kept the brim of his hat low enough to shadow his eyes, keeping the perfect menacing look on his face. Lifting both his head and the hat, he showed all his teeth, but was careful to pronounce the large fangs used for feeding.

"Out of my way peasant. I'm very busy."

The guard quickly opened the door, and let Gabriel past, who went through the doorway with the same smile on his face. He had the necessary ID cards, since he was an official member of Spookhouse, but he never got tired of scaring the younger generation of humans.

"What to do today...."

Gabriel looked for the nearest coat-rack, one of the things which he had thought was lacking from the original Spookhouse. As one of the few residential Vampires, he had a great deal more influence than the common soldier, and being in control of vast wealth seemed to help. Gabriel sighed. He would never understand the humans incesant desire for money, despite the myriad of other, far more important things.

He finally found a coat rack, and looked around the hallway. Nobody was present. Perhaps they were at a meeting, hopefully getting a new assignment. Gabriel hadn't been given a mission in months, not since the first one where he was assigned to capture a lowly were-wolf stalking the London streets. Boring.

"I wonder if there's anything for me to do around here. The selection of woman seems to be a bit poor, and there's absolutely no place for a good hunt."

Gabriel shrugged, walking silently down the hallway towards what he hoped would be the firing range. Perhaps, he thought, he would at least be able to fire on a live target.

[Shion]

Barquijal opens her eyes again, speaking in that eerie, hushed tone of hers after the other woman was done spouting that coarse language of hers.

"Be silent.. it is difficult to align myself here with such noise.."

The other woman gives her a hard stare.

Barquijal interrupts her before she can say anything, "He has not spoken, dispite his erratic behavior. He is being respectful, as am I by ignoring his misgiving. You should learn to do the same."

With that Barquijal closes her eyes again, returning to her calm meditations. She sniffs lightly at the air, making sure the woman would notice.

"Lycanthrope? I see.. that would explain the temper and animalistic tendancy to pounce on the other. This should prove interesting.."

(OOC: I can't change it anymore than that without completely scrapping the post, which I'm not going to do. At least she's not talking now. Also, can I ask you guys to turn off your signatures for IC posts? It just makes it easier to read. Thanks.)

This post has been edited by Asuka: 12 May 2007 - 07:55 PM

[Nani?]

"Vampires are the Greatest Paradox of the Universe. Those who now fear us, Men, are the ones who created us, and continue to create us."

-Gabriel
--------------------

Gabriel stopped at the door to the firing range. His hand was already resting on the doorknob, ready to turn the handle and let him in. But he thought that he was forgetting something.....

"Idiot!"

Gabriel let go of the doorknob, and speed walked back down the aisle. On the way, he grabbed his trenchcoat and hat, putting the pair on as he moved. He walked as fast as he could while remaining dignified, heading with the certain manner of someone who knows exactly what they want to do.

As he came upon his destination, he fixed his hat and clothes, and opened the door quickly.

"My apologies for being so late to the briefing Commander."

He didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to. He simply found a corner, leaned back against the wall, and waited for the briefing to continue.