| See You Later (Not Good-Bye) |
[05 Jul 2009|11:34pm] |
Though her conversation with Connor had been frustrating in some ways, at least Faith left with the knowledge that he cared about her. It was a good feeling to have, considering she once thought she'd completely ruined whatever bond they'd formed several months prior. Knowing that also made the Slayer more determined to return after she was finished helping Giles with his current crisis. She'd taken Connor for granted in a lot of ways, and even though she wasn't really sure how, Faith wanted to make sure she never did that again. Considering their shared experiences -- not just in Chicago and Nevada, but in the past in L.A. as well -- she really owed him more than she'd given.
But that would probably have to wait a while. In two days' time, Faith would be on a plane bound for England. From there, she wasn't sure where she'd wind up. Rupert didn't give many details, though he did tell Faith she'd be dealing with a young Slayer out of Belarus who had accidentally killed a couple people. Faith had been momentarily annoyed at the reality of having to deal with something like this, but the more she thought about it, the more the Slayer felt a little privileged that Giles asked her to help.
If Faith's experience could keep someone else from going down the same road, any personal inconvenience would be worth it.
First thing was first, though; Faith needed to make sure she said her see you laters before leaving. She wouldn't call them goodbyes, because the brunette had every intention of coming back to Chicago once she'd done her bit to help. Between Connor, Avery, Rhiannon and especially Hayden, Faith had a lot of reasons to think of Chicago as home, and she wasn't going to let this diversion keep her from keeping her personal relationships and finding that balance in life.
( Housekeeping! )
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| Faster |
[17 Jun 2009|08:46pm] |
Electronic Correspondence to Inquisitors
Subject: Security Breach
Sent by: H. Maragos
Priority: One
Requesting: Immediate Preparations for Signal
A fugitive (ID: Sonya Ramius, hybrid species) was seen gathering intelligence at our headquarters. The inquisitor on watch shot and wounded the demon, but she escaped before a fatality could be confirmed. We must assume she brought word of our location and signal back to the fugitives. Beginning immediately, we will increase our numbers of inquisitors on watch at headquarters (4) and move up our timeline on construction of the beacon. We anticipate sending the signal on Friday. While not on watch, continue patrols in search of any fugitive hideouts.
-HM
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| Casualties (AU Hayden) |
[10 Jun 2009|11:51pm] |
Hayden went down on one knee and pushed his fingers into his eyes.
Kathleen Guevara. A second Inquisitor dead under his command. By now, Harrison's body would've been located and brought home. There'd be a flag over his coffin, a medal in his sister's hand, a name carved into brass.
It wasn't easy to lead. It wasn't something he sought when he joined the Royal Inquisition, but neither was combat. He was a scholar, recruited out of University as an interpreter, having mastered four of the modern languages. During his first year of service, before he met Victoria, he accompanied a squad on a mission out of England. A town had become a haven of sorts for demons; he was there translate for a member of the Inquisition, who didn't speak the native tongue. Word of their delegation's arrival spread quickly. When the raid happened, he picked up arms alongside the others and was one of nine survivors in a squad of twenty.
Afterwards, his career picked up momentum. He was a natural pick for leadership; he was intelligent, steadfast, loyal to a fault, and most importantly, he bought into the doctrine. Bit by bit, he drifted from academia, until there was little left except strategy, directives, targets and ammunition. He was intended to check his questions at the door and simply fire.
( Right, But Unjust )
( Issuing Orders )
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[07 Jun 2009|10:38pm] |
Electronic Correspondence to Inquisitors
Subject: Information and Primary Objectives
Sent by: H. Maragos
Priority: One
Requesting: Reply With Information From Reconnaissance
( Updates )
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| The One Where Victoria's Heterosexual (Inquisitors Maragos & Maragos) |
[06 Jun 2009|12:41am] |
The Inquisitors set up a base in a long, narrow warehouse near a railyard, just to the southwest of the community called Lincoln Park. A highway separated the industrial area from the renovated neighborhood where, unknown to the Inquisitors, their prey went into hiding. Since the warehouse once served as a distribution center for paint, some boxes and gallon-sized cans remained, along with a few tables and chairs, but not much else. It was lit naturally by a row of windows near the ceiling. At night, they used their equipment to illuminate the space enough to move around. Decency compelled them to separate the area into respectable quarters. They hung old canvas material from the rafters, creating makeshift compartments. Other areas contained stockpiled food and gear.
At the end of the row, Hayden ducked into a stall and let the canvas close. He sat down. A little bleary eyed, he stretched out his legs one at a time. His right knee was swollen. He could feel the brace grow tighter on his last surveillance. There would be fluid around the joint. He turned the pins in sequence and released the pressure incrementally. Sometimes, taking the damned contraption off hurt worse than walking around without it. It was also hot in the building. A drop of sweat rolled down his face. He hunched his shoulder and mopped it with his sleeve. The uniforms were ill-suited to the humidity and heat of the city. On his earlier hunt, he caught a glimpse of the inland sea and only gentility kept him stripping down and diving into it. Others did, men and women in clothes not suitable for underthings.
Pain radiated around his kneecap. Hayden left the brace alone for a moment and took off his boots.
A familiar hand was felt to slide around his back, then over opposing shoulder; the owner joining him with as much of an affectionate embrace as could be managed from one side. A kiss finding itself bestowed to his cheek, respectful, yet loving. "Let me," spoke a female voice, lowering hand to soothe where inflammation troubled the lead Inquisitor most. "I know you're not an invalid, but you know how seeing to this thing frustrates you, darling."
( Of Like Mind )
( Marital Matters )
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| Reality Check |
[29 May 2009|05:11pm] |
Kris,
I know you have a hard time talking about how you feel. I know you also have a hard time listening to a bunch of mush or inspirational bullshit. I'm going to respond on paper, too. That way, when you get to parts that make you sick, you can put it down. :) It works out for me, too. I don't have to worry about getting bitch-slapped for being corny.
I'm going to do this line by line from your letter.
( It's Not Rationalization, It's Reason )
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| Bomb Squad |
[19 May 2009|08:11pm] |
Apprehension sat in the pit of Kris' stomach, it felt like somebody had released a swarm full of carnivorous butterflies and they were trying to eat her alive with nerves. Katherine had entrusted her with picking up the money and she'd done as much, managing to get through the meeting with Bethany without punching the other Slayer in the mouth.
With the bag in hand, Kris left the club and settled in the nearby alleyway, worrying about her appearance of all things. She hadn't been worrying about that the whole time she'd been kidnapped, but now she was faced with seeing people she knew it was suddenly her utmost concern.
Her eyes dropped to her watch and she took a slow breath, coaching herself to forget about the threat that Katherine might detonate the collar anyways if she was late back. She really hoped Hayden could help, or God help her she was going to let the vampire detonate it.
She drew her hair over one shoulder and tried not to pace, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of Hayden.
( Is That Her? )
( Hold Still )
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| Having a Pow-Wow |
[13 May 2009|09:28pm] |
Coming into the house, Hayden pulled a windbreaker over his head. Fat drops of rainwater ran along the slick sleeves. "Hey Izzy, are you here?" His muffled voice bounced off the walls. He only bothered to take off his muddy boots because he just had the carpet shampooed, washing out the beer and ash stain from the day he kicked the coffee table. He tossed his coat on the rack and his shoes on a mat.
Tonight, they were supposed to sit down and talk about progress on the electronic collar. He just hoped to hell there was progress, news that didn't give him nightmares about accidental detonation. He needed to call Toby, too, once he had the update. Wandering through the house in socks that felt damp, he flipped on a hall light and looked for signs of either roommate.
"In my room!" Izzy called out, not taking her eyes off her laptop display. Books both magical and mundane littered her desk along with printouts from technical websites, a testament to the research she'd been conducting ever since Hayden told her about Kris's dire situation.
She couldn't actually find tech specs on an explosive collar aside from details on Hollywood props, and had decided to focus her attention on Improvised Explosive Devices and how to defeat them. The amount of information on such devices was surprisingly extensive until she remembered that the wars fought over the last decade had seen insurgencies that made frequent use of them.
( Trying to Understand Bomb Parts )
( Sparks Or Trashiness )
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| Listening |
[08 May 2009|04:02pm] |
Earlier in the night, the bar was a zoo. A sporting event blasted from two plasma screens, getting the patrons rowdy. A fight broke out around 9pm, and some guy's shoulder busted up the front door. Now masking tape criss-crossed the glass pane, holding it together at the cracks. An employee sweupt ground-up peanut shells, napkins, checkered food wrappers, and beer caps into piles. Cigarette smoke, that much-maligned, illegal substance that was outlawed a few years back, hung in the air unchecked. Nobody cared.
A pair of shoes entered Hayden's field of vision. He lifted his head. When the bartender turned around, he released the death grip he kept on his neck and waved. "Hey... can I get another beer?"
The tender had a decidedly relieved look on his face as he completed the cleanup from the earlier WWE match that had broken out spontaneously over the outcome of some sporting event or another. A slow nod in response to the hail requesting a fresh beer before he made his way behind the bar to pour the requested beverage. A fresh glass was produced from the dishwasher and rinsed in cold water so it wouldn't warm the beer before the patron received it.
Beer in hand, the slightly weary but friendly looking barman returned to the quiet man's table and set the glass in place of the prior one, which he picked up and set aside for later washing. "That be all for you?" Typical question coming from someone who served others for a living.
( Lending His Ear )
[NPC Pete was written by Anne]
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| Message Delivered |
[26 Apr 2009|09:12am] |
"Shit!"
Needing to lash out, Hayden turned and kicked the coffee table. It landed upside down, its collection of ashtrays and beer bottles catapulting onto the floor. Warm, flat beer and ashes stained the rug. He walked through the kitchen and slammed through the screen door, which rebounded off the house. Outside in the yard, he covered his face and tried to walk it off, the short grass bending under his shoes.
He got halfway to the fence and crouched on his haunches.
Gods, what the fuck did he do now?
Katherine. He remembered hearing about the vamp in Nevada. Actually, he remembered seeing her when they attacked Beowawe, some kind of artillery-obsessed Rambo with long, brown hair. Kris used to fight her all the time. One time, she came home talking about a car chase. Now, the vampire had remote explosives locked around his girlfriend's neck.
Fury overtook him. This was when being a regular guy was hardest. When he was angry as hell and virtually helpless to take it out on the culprit. The slightest suspicious move and he put not only himself in serious danger, but more importantly, Kris. The only way out was to get that remote off the vampire and deactivate the collar, or somehow interrupt the signal from a distance.
"Think," he coached himself, hands steepled in front of his mouth.
After a minute, he stood up and pulled a cell phone out of his jeans, his pacing wearing a bald path into his yard.
( Voicemail for Izzy )
( Text for Connor, Rhiannon, Toby, Purity, Whistler, Juliet, Logan, Faith )
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| Putting Pieces Together |
[25 Apr 2009|10:02am] |
How Hayden looked was the last thing on his mind when Juliet called, saying she spotted Kris. He barely put on his shoes before leaving. Outside of Devil's Own, reality hit him like a ton of bricks. It said, 'Hey man, this isn't Hooters. You shouldn't have worn a t-shirt and jeans'. Trying to get past security like that? Iffy. At the very least, he'd draw attention. So he waited in his truck, near what looked like an employee entrance. As the long minutes ticked by, he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, strung out like he took a handful of pills.
Kris is alive. She's palling around with criminals, but she's alive.
At least he had that. Forcing himself to leave off staring at the door, he mashed the cigarette lighter in and cranked down the window. The weather was cool and dry, and the air smelled like food from a nearby restaurant. He heard music in Devil's Own, a fast number with a lot of bass. Just as well that Hayden wasn't in the strip club. He'd have a hard time blending in, even after the right clothes and a shaving razor. It the place didn't have a dart board and serve wings, he was a fish out of water.
From the moment Juliet re-entered the club she tried to concentrate on behaving normally, feeling Ralphael's eyes on her whenever the man was in eyesight. She knew it was probably just her paranoia kicking in, but she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The last hour had never taken so long to pass before, even when she'd had Eric waiting to meet her afterwards, though those times had been few and far between with her patrolling almost every night.
( Let's Take a Ride )
( Email to the White Hats )
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| Helpless Guys Standing Around in the Rain |
[21 Apr 2009|12:17pm] |
By the time Kris was missing for five days, Hayden's truck tires were almost bald from circling the neighborhood. The same old streets, the same places, over and over, until he looked like some kind of lurking sexual predator. He had a spiral notebook on his truck seat, a chewed pencil marking a place between the pages. He kept track of who he called, who he talked to, where he looked, and when. He jotted down ideas and scratched them out. He tore out newspaper articles about George Robinson. Being meticulous didn't get him answers, but it helped Hayden keep track of his racing thoughts.
He kept coming back to Aspire. He had this idea that he'd run into one of her Slayers at the gym, or somebody else Kris knew that he didn't. Hounding her neighbors just turned up loose ends. He wanted to avoid going to her family and upsetting them, unless he knew for sure it was time.
The truck brakes complained when Hayden pulled up to the curb and shifted into park. It was dark out, but he saw a figure huddled near the doors, like he was waiting on the gym to open. Keeping an eye on the guy, he picked up his notes and climbed out of the truck, giving the door a heavy slam. The weather was miserable, clammy and cold, like walking through a low-hanging cloud. Mist beaded on his hoody and short beard as he jogged up the steps and lifted a hand in greeting.
"Hey, man." Hayden pushed the hood off his hair and squinted in the bad light. His jeans were old and a little tan at the bottom, like clay stains from the construction sites had never washed out. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
( Talking to Toby )
( Kris Would Never Bludgeon! Wait... )
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| A Knock on the Door |
[15 Apr 2009|03:59pm] |
Her injuries from the fight with Grace almost nothing more than a distant memory, and a few other things taken care of, Faith could now focus her attention on informing those close to her that she was no longer incarcerated. The Slayer figured that would've been pretty big news, considering how the local media seemed to foam at the mouth when she was arrested. Then again, being released because she was innocent probably wasn't as juicy as being locked up for a series of grisly murders.
In the nights following her release, Faith had been tempted to hit the streets in search for the real killer, but thought better of it each time. Not only did that have a creepy O.J. vibe to it, the Slayer wasn't keen on putting herself in the way of the police again. She'd told Meg upon her release she wouldn't pry into the matter, and Faith was one to keep her word on that. Besides, she had more important things to do.
With a deep breath, Faith allowed herself a small, sideways grin. She was standing in front of the door to Hayden's apartment, thinking she probably should've done this sooner as her knuckles rapped against the surface. But between her run-in with Grace and a number of other things, the Slayer hadn't really had the chance. She wondered which emotion would prevail for the former Watcher -- relief that she was free, or annoyance that she didn't come see him sooner. Probably a bit of both.
The previous twenty-four hours were unpleasant for Hayden. After Kris didn't check in, he went out and looked for her. The apartment was quiet and dark, her gym the same, and there was no sign of her at her mother's house. So he drove his truck in circles around her neighborhood, slowing down whenever he passed a dark-haired woman, or a person about her size in a hoodie. When he was close to getting reported for suspicious behavior, he came home and crashed on the couch. He slept with the cell phone on his chest, so that if she called, he couldn't possibly miss it. As morning came and still no message, he called out sick from work and checked hospitals. That didn't turn up any leads. He didn't know if that was a relief or not.
( Kris, Prison, and Connor )
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