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Raeden (Rae) Seiko

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  1. “Day off or subtly working today?” Brow barely lifted at the man. Exposing a cop that wasn’t dressed in their blues was something that could get people locked up these days. Fortunately for the Bakkhos Champion, the detective wasn’t a blue…. and she had made her presence known in the city so many times it wasn’t like her occupation was a secret anymore. She was good at what she did… and she had a reputation. Just here for the caffeine…. Hint of a smirk played at her lips as she waited for her cup, acutely aware of the exchange between the two men. Bakkhos Champion seemed to peg the man as a potential issue as he leaned in close to whisper, ears focusing as vision blurred slightly, catching the end of the inquiry. Well that was interesting. "Depends on how good your coffee is," ….as was the response. The auditory focus was released and her cup came back into focus. "Is there something I can do for you? I'm about to take care of something." Hmm? The hazel flicked towards the man as she cupped the ceramic. That your best pick up line? The chuckle came easily from her chest as the hot brew came to her lips. She had to admit…. coffee was pretty damn good. Far better than she could afford. Palms cupped the sides of the ceramic as she shook her head. Just grabbing something hot before I head out into the cold front that came through while the festivities have been underway. Forecast had called for it to get down below freezing for the night. Winters seemed to get harsher and last longer every year. This was the fucked up world they lived in now. It was half the truth. The man was the other reason she had wandered into the bar for the coffee. Her instincts still said he was up to something. But with the Bakkhos highbrows here she doubted he would get away with much.
  2. The faint look of disinterest softened as he apologized. "No, my apologies. Seems like this place has enough money to pay someone to build it properly. Maybe with doors that open inward away from crowds." Head tilted slightly to glance into the room just as the door was closing, much as she expected it to be except for the fact that it was vacant. Had he bought the box for just himself? Hazel returned to meet the softened gaze, a light shrug lifting the well worn Bean jacket. Outward is safer for those inside the box. Physics of kicking in a door 101…. it was much harder against the frame. If something went down it helped to prevent those in the hallway from entering. The weight of the door clearly betraying thick steel even though the hinges let its weight swing open and closed like butter. Bakkhos was ensuring security for those that paid for it. Made sense to be honest, but probably should have pushed the wall forward and recessed the door a couple feet, avoiding the potential for a Wiley Coyote door smack. "Apparently they were more concerned with making sure patrons had a three sixty HD view. Sorry about the door, have a good night." There was something very focused with this one, the way he touched and smoothed his coat, the way his voice remained soft and yet penetratingly sharp, clearly not here to enjoy the match, going so far as to trash talk the place… and leaving an empty box early. It was beginning to itch the back of her neck as senses went on alert. She nodded back as he moved away, hazel eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she caught the pause. Something in the bar caught his attention and drew him in. Secure in the knowledge of his location she moved to the door, hand lightly on the handle to test. Locked. Vacant box let a person do what they wanted in there. Breathing slowed as focus began to shut out the world, nostrils flared, even through the steel she would be able to detect explosive chemicals. She doubted she would find any, a bomb would only be an effective killer if it went off in the thick of the fight and the fight was likely to end soon. So either there was none, or the guy was looking to perish with his handiwork. He didn’t seem the type… but then types were corrupted in this new world. Scents grasped on her senses before wafting away once more, sounds becoming more distant as olfactory receptors widened and drank in the microscopic particles, focusing beyond the door. Metal saturated the receptors before she pushed past it. It didn’t take long to confirm there were no explosives in the room. But hyperosmia was not disengaged because something else was saturating her senses. Deep, dark pheromones…. lycan?..... could be shifter….not magus…. outworlder wasn’t out of the question either…. but shit he was permeating her senses. Head shook as she disengaged, disoriented several heartbeats before the pupils shrunk once more and hazel sought the bar. Strides were long considering her petite stature. The presence so much greater than it seemed it should be as she passed the threshold and instantly found him. Fingers touched the slightly frayed bill to push it higher, undulating lights catching her features as she planted her feet squarely beside the man, seemingly oblivious of his presence as his order was almost instantly followed by her own. Double espresso…… She hadn't missed the fact that the man behind the bar was the Bakkhos champ, nor the fact that her stranger ordered his coffee with a direct eye contact that continued to electrify the hairs on the back of her neck. This could be nothing more than machismo, a hotshot wanting to challenge the Bakkhos champion. But to cop instincts….it felt like……. more.
  3. Fingers pulled the weathered baseball cap a little further down over her forehead as she wandered the light traffic of the second rotunda. The fight was heating up to an inevitable crescendo so people were in the stadium and gathering close to the large displays in the bar and club... not in the rotundas. It looked like the higher levels had even more security, likely because the club was up here and it was the first floor of private suites. She suspected the floor above with the really expensive boxes had even more guards and cameras. Bakkhos didn’t mess around. Again… something oddly reassuring in that. She was still on the fence if this was a "healthy" outlet in the city. She appreciated the fighting was off the streets and in a secure location, but at the same time this place was run by the modern day mob. The "business" dealings likely taking place here were going to be shady. Boots stuck to the concrete with that faint sickening squinch of too much beer and sugary drinks spilled in people's excitement. She had done the reconnaissance she had wanted to. To be honest, she didn’t revel in the thought of lingering to the end and fighting the crowd to get out. Hands slid into her jean pockets as she headed for the stairs, a hot shower and her bed were calling. Besides she had an early meeting with the chief to debrief the event. Hazel caught the door opening on one of the suites just in time to step aside. Brow quirked at the well dressed man as he came out, the coat over his arm a dead giveaway he was leaving. Not there for the bloodfest either it seemed, his slightly scowled expression said he wasn’t enjoying himself at all. Excuse me…. She apologized for nearly being hit by his door.
  4. Gun and badge were hidden at the back of her jeans. The worn black ball cap pulled down over the raven hair that was left to wildly cascade over her shoulders. She was invisible in this crowd. Tan weathered LL Bean jacket hardly smelled of cop as she leaned on the rail of the first tier rotunda to watch the crowd more than the fight. She wasn’t interested in the upper decks and the elite boxes. She wanted to watch the "working man". Most thought this venue was a powder keg waiting to happen. She still was on the fence. Truth was, people were testing their powers against eachother all the time, usually to the detriment of the public. Satyr gave them a place to do it that was off the streets, monitored, less guarantee of a victor and a corpse at the end which was what was happening down the back alleys of New York nearly nightly. If this kept the machismo and blood out of the streets… it was hard to condemn it. Still…. Pushing off the rail she wandered the rotunda, watching the highly charged audience erupt out of their seats with every aggressive strike. She suspected this level of bloodlust was not much different from the roman coliseum fights… or more recently the cage fighting that was becoming more popular than boxing in the years leading up to the Resonance. The scale here was more that of the coliseum which was what itched her senses. A rumor had made it to the precinct. A disturbing one involving a mass scale outworlder attack on the venue. Which was absolutely asinine considering that most outworlders didn’t seem to thrill in the competitive bloodlust that humans of earth did. This venue was packed to the rafters with altered… not outworlders. An attack here would be killing their own kind, not outworlders. Then again… terrorism rarely held much logic. Satyr security was impressive. She had needed three levels of clearance to come in with her weapon. Then between the amount of cameras she spotted and assumed could not be seen, the non-descript muscle walking around, the clearly marked security walking around… this place was being monitored by a damn army. Bakkhos wasn’t taking any chances it seemed. There was something oddly reassuring in that. A less organized outfit might take the security needs lightly and then this place would be more rabid thunderdome than rowdy sporting event. Hazel caught the motion just in time to sidestep the beer that flew up out of the blue plastic cup as the excited cheer for the explosion below sent the idiot's drink into the air just moments after purchasing it. Place must be pulling in big dough. Between the tickets, food sales, drink sales and memorabilia, it was operating like a damn Beatles concert. Ya…. she was still on the fence.
  5. She couldn’t help a faint smirk as the man snapped his fingers back in mockery of the Pharos agent. Perhaps it really was time to work with the Order instead of Pharos for a while. "I'm the fucking Order." She was liking him more and more. Hazel keenly watched the flicker of blue flame. Magus. Not exactly unexpected from the Order. Though when she had crossed his path at the coffee shop she would have first guessed a lycan from the brooding demeanor. “Projectile changes the direction, explosive is probably not hot enough to impact its speed like I just did.” Head shook with the launcher still perched on her shoulder like some petite mad-max warrior. No… doesn’t alter the speed and only deviates it about 10 degrees from its original path. “If Kayne has the “kinetic vacuum” he mentioned, we could most likely stop it. It would take all three of us to get it where we can "catch" it… unless one of you screws up and gets me killed, then it’ll probably kill both of you… or the building collapses first. I think I can stop it, but only for a few seconds if Kayne has what he thinks he has. We can shut it down long enough to contain it.... It also had to be in something before it started flopping around out here. A box maybe that kept it bound... maybe? That'd be a start?” Frown clearly expressed a displeasure at relying on the Pharos screw-up. But at this point they didn’t have much choice. She did get where the Order magus was going with that though. Whatever contained it was probably somewhere near that shop. She suspected there was another dead body…. one that had been too curious and opened it to begin with. It’s fast, it’s strong, and it’s brutal. Thing is, it doesn’t stop that easily, so it keeps smashing around. Lucky for us, Pharos has something for that. Snap had a lethal edge. And you don’t think whipping that nugget out would have been advisable BEFORE it killed another officer. He was now on a shit list that meant he had better watch his every step. She would arrest his ass the next time he damn well jaywalked and toss away the key. "Badge knocks it into me with that...thing. I stop it, Kayne binds it, Badge stuffs it back in the box. Kayne takes it home. If you can find the box." Lips opened only to snap shut again as nitwit again proved his ignorance. You heard him, people! I want that box in my hands pronto. Go! There was a quiet undercurrent in her tone that made Lance step out of the line of fire. He knew the tone well. Didn’t come in a box….. chased an officer into this building after they tried to save a shop owner around the corner from it. Killed both. Narrow gaze slid to the screw up, the tone accusatory. Of course Pharos is SUPPOSED to have those kinds of things handy…. containments of all kinds….. Grumble came under her breath as eyes fixed on the artifact, adding.. …only reason to call Pharos in the first place. She didn’t miss the reverence paid her fallen blue brothers as the Order magus made his rounds of the vacant warehouse. It went a long way to earning her respect. Launcher shifted as she took aim. Pharos idiot better move fast to get his vacuum and a containment unit or he was going to get blown away in the aftershock about to come. She wasn’t waiting for him to take the hint.
  6. While her partner made the call to the Order, under her breath the array of languages continued to growl nasty expletives at the Pharos inept who stormed back to his people like a sulking child. If he knew what was good for him, he would walk out and not look back. Next time she got a hold of Gale he was going to get an earful. If this was their service, she was done calling Pharos. MRO-A rocket was slammed into the barrel of the small shoulder launcher as the hammer made another devastating impact half demolishing another pillar. Soon the concrete second floor was going to come crashing down and containment would no longer be her problem. She listened as the Pharos inept tried to grow a set of balls with his own people. She was unimpressed. She slid forward onto a knee, launcher perching on her shoulder, sighting the moving object with a frightening accuracy as she let the world begin to fall away, site enhancing, zooming in and tracking. It was then hazel caught the motion almost the instant the form joined them. Brow quirked upward as her eye came off the site to look at him. ….you? He was Order? Well that was….. unexpected. Their brief encounter had not left her with any data that said "Order", her gift normally picked up on the slightest details of people. Everyone was a crime scene, a glint of a pin, shadow of a ring, mud on shoes, it was a bit of a curse but useful in her line of work. He… had been a bit of an enigma. An enigma that suddenly billowed heat throughout the floor, a heat that as she focused, she could see push air back against the oncoming artifact. She watched the feet slide as he let heat shield him from the attack. It was all in a split second but the slowed motion let her focus and get a good look at the carved metal head. Markings were unique….. celtic but not really. “Who am I talking to? What have you tried?" Lips parted as the launcher remained perched on her shoulder, but before sound was released the Pharos snapped fingers at the man like he was beckoning a dog. Hey! You! Yeah, you! Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here? The name’s Kayne, and it’s awfully suspicious of you, just popping up out of nowhere on a crime scene. You’d better have some answers for me right now. He's your replacement…. The snarl was dangerously under her breath. While she had perhaps not picked up that the man was Order at the time, she had definitely picked up he was not someone to fuck with. The display of power was, she suspected, minor compared to what he could really do. This Pharos guy was going to get his ass handed to him by someone for sure today. You're talking to me. There was an authority in the tone that dared the Pharos baulker to contradict her. Movement up from her knee was fluid even with the small launcher on her shoulder. Well… skulls don’t do much to stop it, concrete just traps it momentarily and only when its embedded from its own momentum. Small projectile explosive…. Hand pushed the launcher slightly up to indicate its presence. … only cause a deviation in direction but have no perceivable impact on the artifact itself…. not so much as a scratch…. Short swear whispered from her chest as the hammer freed itself once more, spinning away as it whizzed by her head and send the Pharos team diving for cover.
  7. The guy was green, that much was clear to her as he didn’t hold his ground when she stepped closer. Where the fuck was Gale? Her agreement to call Pharos first was with him, not the actual Pharos organization. Come to think of it, she wondered if Gale didn’t keep some of those for himself rather than share with his company higher ups. As the greenhorn started to speak the artifact was again whipping around dangerously close to skulls. It shattered concrete when it embedded itself just behind the old steam pipes. You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady, begging Pharos for help, then talking all that smack at me when I show up. Lance visibly cringed and stepped away from his partner, fully aware this yahoo had just stepped so far over the line it would not be recoverable. He could feel her gaze narrow at the agent. That thing isn’t gonna hold for long, and you know it. I agreed to contain the artifact, not babysit your incompetent cops. Maybe I can help you out as an added bonus, but you’ve gotta learn some decent respect first and tell me those goddamn details so I can do my fucking job here. Don’t underestimate me, Detective Seiko. Especially not when you need my help. The smug smile that broke over his expression nailed the coffin. He didn’t get a chance to make his peace offering. Get…. the fuck…… out of my crime scene. The low growl held an ominous vibrato that made her partner step another long stride away, expression to the agent simply shrugging as though to say "you asked for it". You fuck ups wanted first calls for these damn things. THAT’S why you got called. No one fuckin' begging for your ass to be here. My "incompetent" cops DIED containing that thing from being unleashed on the city and its citizens. So you can go fuck yourself and get the hell out of MY crime scene. Pharos was not a law enforcement organization and therefore had no rights to any crime scene. She had full jurisdiction here. Spinning she glared at the steam beginning to leak from the pipe, it was breaking loose again. Eyes flicked to Lance as the order barked at him. Get the Order on the phone…. let them come get this damn thing. There was more than one faction in the city desperate to get their hands on these enhanced artifacts. She had loyalties to neither and was content to pit them against each other. With her regular Pharos contact AWOL, perhaps it was time that the Order was her go-to for a while. Lance merely shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts for the Order. As if on cue the hammer found its freedom again, ricocheting off a wall before seeking once more anything that moved. Dropping to the ground she pressed her spine against a fractured concrete pillar to rummage in the swat bag for another explosive to load in the cannon, under her breath a bevy of swears in several languages growled from her chest.
  8. As Pharos nearly got their heads sliced off, her eyes rolled, huffed frown betraying she wasn’t impressed. Wonderful… more "civilians" to save….. Murmur was under her breath but elicited a chuckle out of Lance who had used the Pharos diversion to get back to her side, blood trickling down his cheek from his temple. NPC:…we got a plan..? Ya…. Let the hammer kill them for a while and see if any of the team…... Voice trailed off as the head of this farce was suddenly there and yapping at them. “Agent Kayne, Pharos. I need the who, what, when, and why on this hammer, now. And if you know anything about how it’s doing this, even better. Speak!” Lance took a slow visible step away from the line of fire as her brow lifted at the man. If Gail wasn’t dead yet…. he would be for leaving her to the inept of the Pharos leftovers. IF we knew what was powering it do you think we would have even called YOU?..... IF you are Pharos… shouldn’t you know those things?…. There was a menacing staccato to her words as she stepped closer to the man. IF you were worth anything as an agent, don’t you think that YOU should be telling me the facts?… Step to the right was sudden as out of the corner of her eye she had been tracking the hammer, gliding out of its path at the last minute as she continued. ……IF artifacts are your specialty don’t you think that YOU should be confining that thing already? Arm snapped out in the direction of the hammer as it exploded into the wall just beyond them, shards of concrete ricocheting through the air like small bullets. Huff through her nostrils dismissed the man as she dodged, the hammer coming back for the two of them. Hand snatched Lance by the shoulder to ensure he moved out of her way while not moving into the path of the hammer. This was an absolute fiasco.
  9. Anger was fueling action as she sprinted across rubble covered floors, scowling as she leapt over a blue clad arm sticking out from under a chunk of second floor concrete twitching. Dead blue. Fuck. Knee dropped and skidded along the floor as body momentum let her pivot the slide, back against the wall as her hand snatched the large duffle one of the cops had walked in with. Zipper was yanked open as she slammed her hands into it searching. Where…..where… Muttering to herself she sought the small shoulder MRO-A rocket launchers. It was usually used to blow down steel doors when they were after bad guys but in this case, she was willing to improvise. Weapon perched on her shoulder as she pushed her knee hard into the ground for balance, tracking the hammer through the scope on top of the barrel. She wasn’t expecting miracles, but it would hopefully slow the damn thing down. Ears itched at the scrape of the door opening up front. Either they had more bad guys coming through, or Pharos had finally gotten off their damn asses and had arrived. Either way she didn’t have time to find out. Tracking continued until she got the clear shot, which she only got because it was coming straight for her. Breath was slow then held in her chest s the head of the hammer was targeted. 3…..2…….1 Eruption of the missile was violent, pushing her back on the floor despite her braced position. Projectile hit the front of the hammer with enough force to blow steel doors apart. Basic metal would have been shredded, but as expected the hammer was not basic metal. Hammer was blown backwards with the force, spinning end over end before it slammed into the far wall. Lance!.... still alive…. NPC: Ya….'ey Seiko…. am officially putting in my week off starting now…. She couldn’t help the smirk at his humor. Eyes flicked from the hammer still vibrating embedded in the wall to the scene around her. They had one dead for sure, likely more. As the large doors pushed open her gaze snapped to the agents, their embroidered badges giving them away. About damn time…… Words barely got out before the hammer freed itself from the wall across the warehouse and targeted the fresh blood. Here they went again…………….
  10. It seemed an eternity. Where the FUCK was the Pharos agent? The thought zipped through her head as she dodged behind a concrete pillar for the hundredth time. The party was down to her, Lance and two in blue. The other two had gone down with their counterparts, one was bleeding profusely from his temple and was going to need medical attention soon. Pharos didn’t get here soon, she was going to be heading over there to threaten their asses. She had no qualms pitting them against ARMA and the Order who all wanted first dibs on new artifacts. She didn’t give a shit who came so long as they were reliable. With Gale that had become Pharos hands down. But something odd was going on there, this was the second time Gale was "not available" which meant perhaps they were not the preferred partner in this anymore. HEADS UP Her call came barely in time for the blue to drop to the ground a split second before the mallet struck the wall he had been standing against, concrete block exploding in shards around him. With fewer targets it meant they were all forced to dodge much more frequently. They were getting tired. NPC: We cant keep this up….. Lance's breath was coming in labored heaves as he sat on the floor behind an old metal sewing table. Well I am open to suggestions…… Shooting it hadnt had any effect and there wasn’t anything in the abandoned warehouse strong enough to trap it in…. at least not while it had that ridiculous momentum. Likely the way to get it under control was to halt its movement. So who exactly was going to try and catch it? Hammer hit another pillar and this time the entire concrete column exploded, shuddering the ground even outside the building. As the debris flew she could hear the echo of something far more ominous. Another "heads up" was inhaled for a strong shout but she never had the chance as suddenly half the second floor gave way, the concrete ground dropping in massive chunks all around them, forcing a mass scramble from all those still on their feet. Those who had already been rendered unconscious would need to be found after. She wasn’t certain they were all clear of the rubble. They might have lost a blue. Fuck……. just another day at the office…..
  11. She was evading. That much was becoming very apparent and that began a seed of doubt about the whole story she was being fed. “As I said before, I am not well acquainted with the man. I could not presume anything about his views regarding outworlders. And the only time I observed him being aggressive is when he is aggressively losing his money at the casino.” Impassive expression watched nostrils flar, lips draw to a thin line. The woman had crossed into a high level of discomfort. “I wonder what would you like to ask me next, his political alignment, perhaps? Would you want to know if I knew how he voted last election, as well?” She was unraveling. It was a common occurrence when the skilled detective interrogated, but typically it occurred with the guilty… could this woman be…….? “Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me. Time is gold, and that is literally true in my case. I would love to stay and chat, but then I would have to bill you … and your department could not afford my rates.” So Kleski's whore. She had thought Bakkhos was more…. upper class… than that. Perhaps she was wrong. Other possibility was they didn’t know and the woman was working their clientele on the side. Brow lifted at the attempt to intimidate the detective with her "icy" review. There had been a harsh comment on the detectives lips to inform the woman that her "Mikhail" was dead but she held her tongue based on that reaction. Instead the detective remained impassive, hands still neatly slid away in her pockets. The abrupt exit was a nail in the coffin. The woman was now a suspect which meant the detective no longer wanted to talk to her anyway, she wanted to talk to her superiors. It wasn’t like Bakkhos to leave a mangled corpse out in the open, not like them at all. Which left that this was a rogue act and they would need to be made aware of it. Walking out of the room the gaze followed the woman, catching her going straight for the exit elevators. Typical behavior for the guilty… to attempt an escape. Suspect….definitely. The guard came up with a smile and nodded to her. NPC: got your answers? No actually…. I did not. Lucky around? It was a statement more than a question and the security guard frowned, instantly glancing after the other woman who was leaving, clearly wondering what had transpired behind closed doors. NPC: …ya….. think he is. Will see for ya… With that the man walked away to make a phone call. She followed at a distance, going over the conversation in her head once more, as well as the gory crime scene. She would prefer to talk to Gaspari, but she knew Cavalli ran the casino and it was all about hierarchy in Bakkhos.
  12. Answers were slower to come. The woman was thinking before she spoke now. It was always easier to get information when people didn’t think first. Didn’t mean one couldn’t figure out the truths, just meant they were sometimes more hidden. Keen eyes watched lips press more tightly together. The woman was deciding what to say and more importantly… what not to say. Seemed she might have known Mr Kleski well. “There was an incident… two days back, at the strip club. Mikhail got a little rough with one of the veil-crosser temping for Penthouse, and her bouncer boyfriend went ballistic. Broke Mikhail’s nose, I think. But it was one of those things that could happen at any given night at any given club, and last I heard, no charges were pressed.” Expression remained impassive as she drank in the information. There was a clear dodge at the end as she attempted to dismiss the importance of the incident even after sharing it. Sounded like there might be some latent hostility for outworlders there. His interest in the female outworlders was not that unique for one that might hate the strangers that had been dropped on their world. A boy who was fascinated with butterflies often had urges to rip their wings off. He was starting to take shape much in line with her original thoughts based on the crime scene. Hazel watched the flex of tendons along her fingers as the grip on her glass tightened. There was a tenseness in her vocals as well. The woman had grown uncomfortable. “If that would be all? My apologies, but I have somewhere else to be. ” Interesting. Looking for an escape. The detective remained impassively standing, hands still casually in her pockets. Kleski have a general beef against outworlders? Or was that the first time you saw him get aggressive? Head tilted slightly at the woman. Clearly not ready for the conversation to end.
  13. Being a really good detective was a strange amalgam of skills. One had to be part scientist, part street fighter, part psychologist, part patient parent, part chameleon and too often part cold blooded killer. On interviews it was parent and psychologist that had to be tapped into the most. The woman seemed to realize the mistake quickly. The tinge of crimson shading along the tips of alabaster pale ears was evidence of that as the guard escorted the second man beyond prying eyes. Hands slid casually into the pockets of her slacks as she followed when the woman beckoned. From behind, the hazel studied the way she moved. There was a grace there that was more natural to the outworlders than the earthborn. Not always, but often. The detective didn’t say a word as they found a private lounge and the woman took the opportunity to pour herself a drink. A move that seemed to betray nerves. An assessment reinforced by the fact that without so much as a "hi" from the detective, the woman began to talk, spilling information on the man without any prompting. Brow lifted as the woman continued to talk about his loss last week and nouveau riche status. The deluge of information abruptly came to a halt as quickly as it started. Another sign there was anxiety at play here. The flush once more painted the white skin of the woman's ears. Clearly what she rattled off was not all she knew. The fact that the detective was directed to this woman and not to a dealer, or a guard, or management was a bit telling about the man. It was also telling about the woman. Escort…. confidant……companion…. girlfriend perhaps? Of all the options the last seemed least likely. The body had been pretty mangled but enough was there to know Kleski hadnt exactly been a supermodel. “If I may ask, is he in some kind of trouble, Ms -? Seemed she finally realized she had been running her mouth as that flush stained her ears. Seiko….Detective Seiko. Quiet words were calm as the hazel met the woman's. Does Mr Kleski have any enemies that you know of? Maybe racked up some big debts he hasn’t paid back? Head tilted waiting to see the response before deciding where to take the interview.
  14. Hands slid into her jeans, cold still biting through to her bones despite the casino bathing her in heated air as she waited patiently for someone to talk to. Hazel eyes slid around the floor. The swanky of New York seemed to have all congregated here to get out of the cold. The casino had rooms above so likely they were camping out here until the ice age passed, stuck as vehicles literally froze into their parking spots. If Lance was smart he stayed in the car and kept it running so the damn thing didn’t freeze. Eyes slid up to the woman as she was addressed by the security guard when she approached. “Ah, here she is. Miss Vasiliev, these two officers are looking for information on one Michael Kleski?” Brow lifted wondering who the second "officer" was. A man standing nearby grinning at her like she was part of the female entertainment. Hazel rolled as she turned back to the Bakkhos security. He is not with me… and you might want to check him because the jacket is pulling on the left side. Firearm under there. The security guards frowned and instantly moved to handle the leering "gentleman" behind her. A brief scuffle leading the guy away to a backroom. What idiot wandered into Bakkhos trying to sneak in a gun? Hers had been briefly flashed to the guard with her badge so there was complete awareness despite it being hidden under her jacket. Hazel slid instead to the woman they had brought down to talk to her. She wasn’t that surprised. What was left of the guy showed a high end suit and some custom jewelry. “I would be more than happy to help you with your inquiries, officers. One small request, though. Can we discuss this matter in one of the private rooms? While we are grateful for the service you provide this city, police presence is not exactly conducive for the type of business we are in. I hope you understand.” As a plain clothed detective she might have been offended by the assumption that she was "recognized" as law enforcement, however she was also making a name for herself in New York as one of the few that really did their job and did it equally for an earthborn or outworlder. A fact that wasn’t winning her a lot of friends and making her face more known. She also had a reputation for not being bribable which had her on several hit lists. Fortunately for the moment Bakkhos was not one of those. Indifferent shrug came with a nod as she followed the woman to a private lounge. It wasn’t the first time she had been to one. Several visits had resulted in a personal conversation with Angelo Gaspari in the past.
  15. February 7, 2021 - 3pm @Darius Kayne She dropped to the floor for the third time, swearing in several languages under her breath as she watched one burly man in blue get knocked on his ass, thrown completely across the old Manhattan clothing warehouse. This was getting ridiculous. Pushing into a seated position she pulled out her phone, hazel carefully tracking the blunt force object jetting around their crime scene. The minute it was answered she didn’t wait for a hello. Detective Seiko… put me through to Atticus Gale. Eyes kept tracking, a sharp "LANCE" catching her partner's attention causing him to dodge just in time for it to go whizzing past his head. A grumbled thanks was her reward as she listened to the woman on the other end of the line. I understand he isn't there at the moment but I need to be patched through…… Scowl was instant as the high pitched answering dingdong on the other end kept talking. What do you mean you are not authorized?! This is Detective Seiko, we call in Gale when there are artifacts located at crime scenes that need to be secured. This is an arrangement we have had for nearly two years now! She was losing her patience with the woman. Something was going on at Pharos, or had happened to Gale personally. Either answer didn’t leave her thrilled but she still needed this damn thing under control. The woman was sharply cut off. Listen… I could care less about your protocols. Just send over an agent that can deal with a hostile artifact. We got a carved metal mallet with a head the size of a German shepherd flying around my crime scene like its Thor's hammer on steroids. I got a body that seems to have been killed by it and two cops down as it targets every living things in general. Breath paused as she suddenly dropped to her back and rolled quickly, the enormous head of the mallet striking where she had been sitting, shattering the concrete floor into dust and fragments of stone. The old Ferrara Manufacturing warehouse on 39th….. get someone over here now! The sharp tones never shouted and yet the woman on the other end barked a quick "yes M'aam" back at her. She had that effect on people. Phone snapped shut as she scrambled back to her feet as the two foot wide head of the hammer blasted through the side of a concrete pillar, sending shards in all directions like a wild spray of water. Fuck this was just getting better and better. Pharos on its way… just need to keep it from escaping now…. There were groans from the four men still on their feet. They all made a silent prayer that Pharos got their asses there quick.
  16. “Victim is male, Caucasian, around 250 pounds. Liver temperature is 23 degrees Celsius and estimated time of death around – shit … 8 hours? With this godforsaken weather I might have to adjust calculations, not sure if it’s still 1.5 per hour in this frozen hell.” The hazel eyes flicked towards the tech, long lashes bearing a white haze of frost on their tips. Incorrect. Killed two hours ago at most….. She quietly corrected him, causing him to pause the recorder which was starting to freeze in the unnatural ice age. The kid was called out by the fifth precinct and therefore not accustomed to working with the detective that was a walking forensic lab on her own. She worked with Lance. He had the good sense to stay out of her way until she finished her assessments. The kid was carelessly traipsing over her crime scene, disturbing the evidence in the snow of the alleyway, footsteps marred by his own as he conducted his spell to discover what she had already spotted with magnified pupils. Normally she would have crucified the kid but truth was she had already studied the scene and didn’t need to hang out in the arctic abomination any longer than necessary. “Boss, have something over here!” She frowned at the loud term of authority. One didn’t go throwing out who was in charge in potentially hostile territory, not unless you were a naïve idiot or trying to get your boss killed. She dropped the kid squarely into the first category. She had already turned away, glancing up into a dark window of the second story as she shifted the balaclava back over her lower features to protect against the wind. Hazel studying the iridescent eyes that studied her from above. Empire Casino chip….. high roller one to be precise. He glanced up at her back wondering how she knew that from across the alley. She had spotted it early in her investigation, the glitter of it harsh against the blood stained white snow. So her perp, who was now her victim, was a high roller at the Bakkhos property. That didn’t bode well for them. For the most part she left Bakkhos alone so long as they didn’t pull stupid shit with civilians. They wanted to kill off other mob and gangs she said let them at it. Less criminal activity she had to deal with. She was there to protect the innocent and those didn’t usually get caught up in Bakkhos affairs. But if the "family" was suddenly taking out Outworlders in some twisted form of bigotry…. that was her business. Turning she focused on the bag with the wallet, the license slid into the front window betraying her victims name. Get the body back to the station and start the paperwork. With that she headed back to the car and a shivering Lance trying to keep it running and heated. Door cracked as she opened it, the sheet of ice on the exterior shattering. Fuck they shouldn’t be out here. Slamming it shut she nodded to him as hands pushed towards the vents trying to melt the ice on her outter clothing. Empire casino….. NPC: huh? Hazel looked at him with a quirked brow. NPC:…. ya ok ok… the casino By the time they pulled up to the casino she was almost thawed out, the outter layer of several left in the car when she strode rapidly into the casino leaving Lance to park the car. Hand swiped her coat from her hip, detective badge flashing to the security at the door with a nod. They tended to be pretty respectful the security at Bakkhos properties. I am looking for information on Michael Kleski. As a diamond chip high roller am assuming someone would be available to answer some questions?
  17. December 15, 2020 2pm - still under the ice age of fae fury event White curled from her lips in thick smoke rings as blue lips pursed staring at the crimson spattered snow. Omenwich was known as a haven for Outworlders and it seems the Outworlder violence had found its way here. Thick boots carefully picked over the snow as eyes magnified the ground to ensure she stayed out of the actual crime scene. Satisfied she wasn't intruding on evidence she released the magnification in time to hear the faint scratch at a window. Hazel lifted in time to see the eyes before the curtain fell away in the window. Residents were skittish. Likely as much by her presence as the crime scene she was investigating. Cops were usually the last any magus helped, so like her precinct family, she didn't have the "fortune" of wearing enhanced clothing against the cold. Instead she had done it the old fashioned way, merino wool long underwear wicked the moisture away from her skin and gave her a warm base layer. On top she had loose moleskin pants to trap the heat inside and a wool sweater on top to do the same. Last layer was a military polar parka that came well down on her thighs, fur lined hood snapped up and tied under her chin which was nestled inside a fleece balaclava that went over her head. She was dressed for the arctic. Yet all that didn't stop the crystals of ice from forming on her lashes as she focused on the crime scene. Fingers flexed in the double layer of gloves as she listened to her partners teeth chatter, they were the only crazies out in the weather. Fingers lifted to pull the balaclava back over her mouth and nose before speaking. Lance... back to your car before I have another body out here. NPC:... am fine.....rrrreally... The unconvincing reply came as she watched his lips flush deeper blue. uh huh...... get going. You need about another two layers before you can survive out here for more than fifteen minutes. Go. Her tone made it evident she wasn't playing. Four officers had died in the last month from exposure. New York couldn't afford to lose any more. As he finally gave up and headed back to the vehicle that struggled to keep running as it was, she went back to the crime scene and the blood spattering as high as fifteen feet on the alley walls. Two victims. She was sure of it. But she only had one body. Something told her there was an Outworlder crime first... but that anyone stupid enough to attack in Omenwich had found themselves on the receiving end of revenge. She suspected her first perpetrator was the body she had now.... not the victim. That body was the one that had been dragged away from the tracks in the snow... winged perhaps based on the drag marks? Again she was acutely aware of eyes on her. Seemed she was the center of attention here.
  18. She wasn’t sure if the other detective was going to make it. She looked a little green. Of course, so did most of the force now out trying to hold back the curious public. To her credit though, Wynn was coming on board the ship behind her, a feat most of the blues below were not willing to do once they heard what was on the ship. There was a faint annoyance in the thought because she knew that while for some it was the horror and stench that kept them away, for others, it was their bigotry against outworlders. World had been turned upside down, come face to face with the future… and yet they hadn't evolved a single iota. Boots hit the rusted metal of the belly, walking the perimeter slowly, feet placed meticulously so that no evidence was disturbed while the eyes began to assess. The frowns from the coroners team were ignored. They never understood how she was so calm in the face of such horrors. There was time to be upset and disgusted later, right now the dead needed her forensic skills. Head tilted as with the lights on she could see things she had missed before, dark lashes flicking up and to the side, clearly tracking some unspoken train of thought. "They must have been in here for weeks, even months." Freighter this size take about five weeks to cross…. saw some rotor damage outside so likely she runnin' slow…. six maybe seven weeks…. The murmur was almost to herself as she crouched near a pile of older bodies, the fester of decomposing flesh showing bones protruding through. “There's no way the guy would casually hang around the dock for someone. Even if we get a good description, who's to say that he isn't wearing a disguise? Regardless, that is the best option. Talking to the dock master, get something, anything out of that guy.” Stepping over a small decomposed body, presumably a child she crouched closer, head tilting the other way as the pupils flushed and contracted, zooming in on what had caught her eye before the left hand went out beside her and fingers snapped. A suited forensic expert came over instantly, they were familiar with Seiko and the fact that if she spotted something, it was worth paying attention. These two were shot. NPC: huh? They were always dumbfounded how she could see these things without autopsies, especially with the severe decomposition of the bodies. Shot… there are at least two slugs in this tanker and I want them. Standing she glanced back to the doorway then to where the two were. Farthest point. Against the wall, likely went first. Likely shot as they were being closed in, probably figured out they were in trouble as they were being locked in. Again the murmur seemed to be mostly to herself. Glancing to the white suit the authoritative tone returned and left no room for arguing. I want the make and model of the weapon before tomorrow noon. NPC:… we don’t even have the slugs you cant…. Well you better start focusing on finding them. Trail would go cold if they didn’t get moving. “Maybe we can get in contact with the Vanguard. They might know something.” Brow quirked at the woman. Was she kidding? Go to the organization that touted "human first"? For all she knew they were behind this death cruise. What better way to start purging the world than set up a false underground railroad and kill the outworlders in droves as they fled persecution. Doubt it. It was all she was saying on the matter as she moved through the carnage once more. With the beginning removals it was apparent they were right around seventy bodies in various states of decomposition. I want to know if any others were shot by the end of the night. Her demand was met with grumbling but she didn’t stick around, moving back up the stairs and taking a deep breath once on the deck again. Being submerged in the festering "coffin" below, the stench on deck seemed almost refreshing in comparison. Hands rested on her hips as she paced the deck looking over the rusted metal looking for more clues. Not the first event like this we seen in New York….. first one of this size though…..
  19. Sense of smell was dulled purposefully as she let her ears and eyes take the lead. Partially to continue her observations, partially to protect herself from the gag reflex that nearly every cop on the dock was now suffering from. Since no one really knew or understood her gifts she was simply seen as indifferently cold to such horrors. She noted the coroners had all put on gas masks…. half a brain at least between them. "Cheese and rice" Brow quirked upward at the woman. That was….different. She watched the woman fight the same battle as the others, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the horror that was wafting on the air. "I'd like to do what I can to assist with this case." She blinked at the woman as the team of white suits made past her to head up the plank. Despite what some said of her, the Asian was not arrogant nor elitist. Good hands were hard to come by in the new world and she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Head tilted towards the plank inviting the detective to follow as she herself turned and already started up the rusted support back up to the deck of the freighter. "Where do we begin? Do we have a lead?" Nod was faint as she leaned a hip against the rusted rail to let the forensic teams all head down into the hull. Human cargo, all appear to be outworlders. If I were to bet I would say the ship originated in Ireland and they were promised some sort of freedom. Hand rubbed under her chin as the eyes watched the last team descend into the black abyss, light beginning to glow up the stairs as the white suited city servants set up flood lights inside the container. She had been waiting for that as she pushed from the rail and headed towards the steps, the detective welcome to follow if she could stomach it. Trotting down the metal steps she kept talking. Door was locked from the outside with no windows or access to basics. Looks like they started dying on the way. Survivors tried to pile the dead on one end and from the little I could see, I would say they started cannibalizing the dead in an effort to survive. Head nodded as she hit the doorway and her assumption was confirmed. The flashlight had already highlighted it for her but now with the flood lights in the massive container the bite marks on bones and flesh were apparent. Eyes zoomed in several times looking over details and forcing her sense of smell into dormancy, at least as far as it could go, the stench of death, urine and feces still permeating. The claw marks on the metal walls told the story of their desperation to escape. This was not what they had signed up for. Dock master took cash from a man to dock but the guy never came back. My partner is getting all the details he can from the dock master now. The pile was thicker than she had seen in the dark. Their body count was likely closer to sixty five or seventy. Fuck… Soft swear of near defeat escaped her lips even as eyes didn’t seem to betray any emotions. The world was getting worse by the day and she wasn’t sure there was a way to reverse the rapid decline anymore.
  20. NPC: Play Nice….. The soft whisper near her as Lance passed behind her shoulders was met with a grunt soft in her chest as she signed the coroners release to start removing bodies. She had spotted the detective already as she made her way through the crowd. I always play nice…… They crossed paths often. The former FBI Special agent was now the Detective for special crimes, homicides and narcotics, she often found herself at the same crime scene as the violent crimes Detective. Mostly amicable. Truth be told, the Asian had stepped on more than a few toes from the other divisions when she promptly told them how they were wrong in their assessment of a crime scene. Her forensic gifts made her nearly never wrong and while others respected this, she had a tendency of being a little less than politically correct in her sharing of her corrections of the observations of others. You don’t have enough trucks by the way. The coroner representative blinked at her and glanced back at the four big white trucks. NPC: Really? …….really. His soft fuck came with a sigh as he nodded and flipped open his phone to make a call. Hand ran over the top of her head, pulling back the stray ebony strands that had escaped. Nostrils flared as the winds shifted. Frown etched her brow. Fuck. The breeze was going to carry the stench into the city now, a fact made clear as several on the dock began gagging and covering their mouth and noses. They would have the site-seers in no time now. So much for trying to keep the whole fiasco quiet. As Wynn approached the coroner rep that had just flipped his phone shut the detective listened to the question on her lips. "How many are in there?" Before the guy could shrug her own voice carried over. More than fifty. She watched the man spin around to gape at her before flipping his phone open again and calling in even more reinforcements as he marched back to his truck to gear up for a very long night. Nod was faint but acknowledging. Detective Wynn.
  21. She had started walking even as she made the invitation to join her. Either he did… or he took his chances with CDC. At this point she didn’t care, she had done her good deed for the day and was fighting her own exhaustion, not to mention she had a few more hours of forensics on her crime scene before she had the luxury of going home like the other exhausted blues. She was vaguely aware of his steps as he caught up and of a booted set… Lance… and from the sound of their cadence he was still walking on very unsteady limbs. He tolerated the antivirals better than the other blues since like her, he had been forced to take them more often. But he still hadn't built up the tolerance she had. CDC tries to set foot on my crime scene… shoot them… Despite the strain in the sound, she could hear Lance chuckle. The murmur was half under her breath…. Wasn’t really kidding…… Bare feet stepped over the first pieces of debris as she approached the old maritime building. NPC:…hey….. HEY…. Rae! He stumbled to catch up with her, hand snatching her arm as they both nearly lost balance. NPC:…shit Rae…can't go wandering in a bomb site without any shoes… She blinked at him before glancing down at her faintly orange feet. He had a point. Sighing she headed for her jeep instead. Pair of sneakers should be in her gym bag. Hip rested against the door of her jeep as she pulled blue and white sneakers over the stained toes, not bothering with any socks. ”Anytin’ else ah need’a do on yer end right now, or am ah jus’ good to fuck off an’ scrub tis fuckin’ orange shit off?” Hazel lifted to the ARMA soldier, pausing a moment before giving a shake of her head, second heel pulling onto the gunked heel. No…. get your men taken care of…. be sick few days but if they have half a dick they can be workin' by tomorrow already. Banging her feet on the ground as though to fix the sneakers on her appendages but more to feel the earth beneath herself and ensure she wasn’t going to keel over. I have a crime scene still need to finish forensics on.. Head was shaking as she turned away from him, words to herself not to him. Need to get ahead of this damn war….
  22. Hazel watched Lance talk to the harbor master as she rested a hip on the railing, continuing to breathe deep the fresh air. This cross the pond shit had been spilling to their shores for about a month now but nothing of this magnitude. New York tended to be a bit more of an accepting melting pot, but recently the tension that was floating from Europe had bled into the city. Dumb asses were starting to take sides, random violence was on the rise per the department but the reports looked a lot like targeted violence to her. The city was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Eyes had been focusing on the small marks on the metal deck… claw marks by the looks of them. The magnification was over thirty times and Lance's voice was missed the first time. Huh? NPC:…I said our harbor master's pretty shook up. Not planning on coming over here any time soon. Best he remembers was two guys from the ship. Overweight middle aged Caucasian, maybe five foot eight or nine and a tall lanky Asian in his late twenties. He was used to repeating himself when she was studying a crime scene. The kind that can just blend in and vanish in this city. NPC: Pretty much… This shit hits the news…. NPC: I know…. can expect some protests…even possibly riots… yeah….. Sigh was soft in her chest. Between the virus crimes she had been investigating and the growing divisiveness with this damn earthborn purists movement… sleep was a luxury the force was starting to severely lack in. Hazel flicked to the four white vans coming up to the dock… coroners were here. Hip pushed from the railing to head down the plank to meet them. Best they had a bit of a warning before walking into this mess. She was worried the powder keg was already sitting next to a lit match.
  23. "Not today." A tired smile played at the corner of her lips. She suspected what thoughts were dancing through his head. The feeling was mutual. She would blow up the whole damn block before she let the CDC take her out. Besides. There was a healthy fear of the woman in many of these street crawling scientist wannabes. They had had their share of run ins with the detective and most were pretty damn clear on whose criminal jurisdiction this was. Brow quirked as she pushed herself up from the bench and this time followed the soldier out the semi. Right into the damn spotlights of the drones. Frown darkened her brow as she watched him exit with his hands up, far too many guns leveled at the man. Fuckers were doing their job before… now they were pissing her off. As she reached the bottom of the stairs a guy was holding her cleaned weapons. She noticed the solider's were not "ready" yet. Now she was losing her cool. The still hot, cleaned metal was snatched away from the gloved patsy. Her badge clipped onto the waistband, its weight threatening to drop the slouched gray fabric off her cut hip as her knife was balanced a moment in her palm with a deep breath taken before being hurled. Several screams erupted as the blade rammed into the giant spotlight that was half blinding the soldier and herself. Now white suits were scrambling. The bulb exploded in a spray of orange sparks. Bodies were clamoring back as Francis charged her only to fall off his feet as the gun leveled at his face with a speed that didn’t seem hampered by the anti-virals. They wouldn’t have been so impressed if they had known she had been aiming for the cable not the light and that the speed of her aim had bile now percolating up in her throat. Fuck she felt like shit. Raise a gun on my man again and I will remind you who has criminal jurisdiction here… Frraancissss. His name was drawn out in a hiss that dared the man to push her. ….and give him his weapons before I lose my temper. Growl was half under her breath but already one of the lab-coats was skittering off to the chamber to get the metal things the soldier had left behind in the truck. All now hot to the touch having been sanitized. Confirming every gun had been lowered and the ARMA soldier was no longer being treated like a nazi-camp hostage, she finally lowered her own weapon. She waited only a moment for him to get his things then brushed past the shoulder of a stammering Francis towards the original crime scene and all her men and the ARMA crew who were all laid out still from the anti-virals. She let the CDC have the Z-body and the apartment blood bath below. The original crime scene was hers and she had her men to look after. Come on…. It was the only invitation he was getting to get back to their own as she moved past the line of stunned white coats into the dark of the alley beyond, heading back to the decimated pier.
  24. She wasn’t very clear headed but she suspected the ARMA soldier was even less so. Her investigations had exposed her several times in the last two years to the potential multi-viral so this wasn’t her first rodeo with the damn anti-viral cocktail. Didn’t make it feel like sunshine and rainbows either. The pauses the soldier took along the way told the detective much. He was fighting an instinct to lash out to the CDC. Considering the number of people beginning to show up with their badges patched on their shoulders, it would be a really bad idea. They were either scared to death by all the viral incidents over the last two years, or they were scared the number of events were going to expose them. She still wasn’t sure. Right now she needed ARMA boy to keep his cool. Even through her haze she picked up on the reluctance to ditch his clothes. Didn’t seem to be from some misplaced sense of modesty, more likely attachment to the belongings. The drop to the floor came alongside her own as they were doused in decon. Any illusions of some sexual allure evaporated as both war torn bodies fought to regain their feet and some dignity. As she fought to get back to her feet the shadows blew out to the sides of the truck forcing her to dodge back to the ground. HEY… watch it would you!.... She nearly lost her footing. Fuck… she had no desire to be split apart by the ARMA soldier. The only bright side was the speaker was damaged in the process. The swears that the CDC was trying to blast over the intercom at their truck being damaged was coming out as mere static. She permitted herself a faint grin despite the nausea building in her gut. ”I fuckin’ hate civvie pox.” On that…. we agree….. Her own soft grumble came as she waited for him to join her in the rinsebox. When both were past the doorway she slapped the red button and again they were struck by a million jets of liquid, only this time it was clear. Both hands planted on the wall, she allowed herself the crutch as she let the decon flush of her skin, one hand tentatively letting go the steel to squeeze the length of ebony hair, orange spurting from the dark locks like a bad dye job. Took her three days and six showers last time to get completely rid of the damn stuff, and that was when she had been strong enough to try and scrub her skin while in the rinse box. This go around… she would be lucky if her showers weren't orange for a week. As the pressure finally reduced she dared to let the wall go and lift her face to the falling streams, hands scrubbing to get some semblance of normal before the water died out completely. Feet padded slowly, fatigue finally sinking into every anti-viral soaked muscle. The wood bench beyond the door was sunk onto with a soft slap of wet bare skin as she leaned to the side wall to pull open the locker, the stack of gray sweatshirts and sweat pants pulled from. A set was dropped next to her for the soldier as she worked to get a leg into a pair of sweatpants of her own. One size fits all meant she was a bit lost in the fabric, the cuffs needing to be rolled up to avoid tripping and she had to tie the drawstring up hard over her hips and it still slouched down. As he made his way into the last chamber she nodded to the clothes on the bench next to her. Welcome to the Viral Wars… There was something very ominous in the seriousness with which she spoke the words. Wet hands opening up the sweatshirt to pull over her head, hem sliding down over her scarred ribs before she pushed her arms through the sleeves and slopped her wet hair out the back of the neck to soak down her back. Already there was trace orange showing up on the gray fabric. She hadn't lied. It would take forever to get rid of it all.
  25. Back of her arm wiped over her lips as she let her eyes focus once more. Deep breath came with difficulty but she straightened up and was on the move once more. They needed to stop it. Shotgun was hoisted by the action, snapped up and down with surprising strength for her size, the gun snapping up and down to engage the shells. Pace was still unsteady but at least she was managing a fairly straight line as the creature came into view, feet spreading slightly as the gun snapped up and trigger was pulled in a fluid motion. Its shoulder snapped back. Shit…. missed its neck. A blast from her gun properly along the spine of the neck could decapitate but fucked if her aim was not as straight as it could be at the moment. A thunk of fabric against immovable wall caught her attention. The soldier…. she was mildly impressed he was upright. Glancing back to her prey the swear erupted from between her lips. She had taken her eyes off it and now it was missing. It was getting stronger while they were getting weaker. Where the fuck had it….. The shadow dropped from above and slammed into the soldier sending both tumbling down into the basement window of an old apartment complex. Too fast! She had tried to take aim but had run the risk of killing the guy as easily as damn Z infected. Shit… Foot hit the door to the right of the window, the metal stairs taken quicker as adrenaline began to burn at the effects of the triple antiviral. Jaw flinched as shots rang. She should have left him behind. Now she risked them both being contaminated. Small flashlight was pulled from her belt, flipped around to rest along the barrel of the shotgun as she flicked it on and moved down the corridor towards the room that now held the growls and swears of a life or death battle. It all happened so fast, the infected thrown back as shots were fired, her small light whipping around the corner, ebony blade making a haunting arc that seemed to interrupt when confronted by her small light. The fuck? Her own gun went off nearly beside the soldiers head as she blew a part of the neck clean away, blood spattering the entire basement, nothing was sacred, not even the saviors as she felt the moisture hit her cheek. The kick of the gun tossed the small light upwards and the gap in the blade solidified once more as her feet waivered, stumbling to the doorframe. Slop of a bloody body part smacked the concrete ground. Whatever she had seen in the shadows had taken the final bite out of the head and sent it flying. The basement became very quiet except for the labored breathing of the two "soldiers". Shotgun was lowered to hang from her left hand as the small light took a sweep of the place. Eyes drinking in the damage. Well….. that was a neat trick…. Hazel slid to the side to look at the ARMA man, her light going over him looking for the tell tale sign of bites, seeing only tears in the clothing. Seemed he had avoided a direct bite at least. Lips parted only to clamp shut as the buzz from her radio had Lance frantically trying to figure out where she had gone. Fingers pulled the small CB from her hip, clicking it on. Cease and desist…. target is neutralized but…. Glance to de Luc almost had an eyeroll with it. …but we have been contaminated. NPC: Fuck… that means… ya… I know….just be sure no one gets in here without a hazmat suit on. Small box was reset onto her hip as her head hit the doorframe, eyes taking a moment to rest. Luck… you ever been on the receiving end of a CDC rape? As if on cue those damn sirens could be heard. Fucking CDC. She always wondered if they actually made anything better, or if they were the sinister shadow behind all this. After all, who else had access to the nastiest chemical and viral shit the world had to offer than those that "cleaned" it up. She didn’t even have time to push off from the doorframe when the boots came tromping down the stairs, the headlights on their hoods blinding as their white suits haloed in the light. Squinting she yanked her arm away from the first one. Touch me again and will pop a hole in your pretty white suit. Instantly she was released. ARMA wasn’t the only group she had run-ins with. She had a reputation with the CDC as well. As two spilled into the room to begin "cleaning" up the infected she glanced back at de Luc and inclined her head to follow. Lance was frowning on the other side of the barricade the CDC had put up around the apartment complex. She shook her head slightly so he knew not to make a fuss. The semi was already there. Well shit… weren't they just efficient little beavers. NPC: Detective Seiko. The voice behind the white mask was recognized instantly. Captain Francis Calhoun. He went by Frank….she knew he went by Frank. She made a point of calling him Francis. Francis. She could almost hear his brain burn. Metal stairs were dropped at the back of the semi which she climbed with a bit of a wobble. Fuck that antiviral was killing her still. White gloved hands opened the metal door for her which she barely acknowledged as she vanished inside, the dim lights of the long container barely lighting the walls. Steel coated every inch. Hazel glanced over her shoulder at de Luc as she slipped her shield off her belt. I aint got all day to fuck with the CDC, Luck….get a move on. It was half said to get the guy moving, half to throw off the idiots in hazmats that were actually pointing guns at him. That was the CDC for you. Comply with their rules or they popped you for "the safety of the city". Bunch of shit. As the guy joined her the steel door was shut, the big bolt locking in place as she opened the steel door of a locker on the left, a matching one was on the right for him. Metal you wanna keep goes in the first locker, all yer clothes go in the second. Her gun was put into the first locker with her shield, the radio on her belt as well as a blade before the rest started coming off. Shirt was peeled off over her head and tossed into the second chamber, hand catching the locker door to steady herself as eyes closed a moment before the boots were slid off and tossed inside followed by her jeans. Black underwear and bra followed without hesitation, all chucked inside with a grumble about being her good jeans. As she closed the door and spun the handle horizontally to lock it, the flames licked up inside with a roar. It was an incinerator. This was a decontamination truck. Bare feet slapped on the metal floor that was covered in small holes as were the walls and ceiling. Dim light betrayed the woman was no desk jockey. She might be petite in stature but muscles carved into her limbs, she didn’t own a cop gym for no reason. Scars littered the leanly muscled form, knife wounds, gun shots, a nasty starburst on the front of her left shoulder where an explosion had burned her. She lived on New York's streets, not behind a desk. Hand rested on the wall near a large red steel button waiting for the soldier to catch up, feet slipping to shoulder width apart to help brace herself. Come on Luck… freezing my ass off and got a crime scene and report to get back to. The moment he crossed into the ten by ten metal chamber she hit the button. She probably should have warned him. He would get over it. Almost instantly the orange liquid shot out of every perforation of the metal at nearly the velocity of a fire hose. Like needles embedding in the flesh it hit from above and all sides, including up from the floor, dousing them in the decontaminate. Despite bracing her feet , the anti-virals coursing through her veins left her unstable and she dropped to a knee under the blasting streams. Over a speaker that damn voice came on. NPC:… stand please Detective Seiko so we can be sure you are completely….. Snarl cut him off. Suck my dick Francis. Instantly the click of the speaker being shut off gave her enough satisfaction for a smirk as she pushed back up to her feet against the onslaught of orange fluid. She was convinced he snapped pictures from whatever camera they had in here. Kept pictures of orange liquefied men and women up on his wall over his bed to masturbate to. Dick. Nearly two minutes. It felt like an eternity before the pressure softened and finally dissipated to dripping streams from the ceiling leaving the two slathered in orange liquid. Her normally ebony curtain of hair looked like she had been playing in clay mud. Aint you glad you came to see what was going on at the docks…. Hand slipped over her face to swipe away as much orange from her features as she could before bare feet walked over the metal plating, thick door sliding open to reveal another ten by ten metal room with the same holes piercing every corner and angle of the room. This one's just a rinse…. She waited for him, hand near the button on the wall as eyes closed a moment against another wave of nausea. Sad part is… you will need about four more showers at home before damn orange decon gets out of every damn crevice. Hand cupped the button, waiting to press until he passed through the door. Well this had been a "special" day.
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