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Year of the Spy

OOC
Here

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
June 1985
Santa Monica


You fly in plainclothes, split across the plane, and meet up at the office.
An old building, barely maintained, sandwiched between a pawnshop and a tenement. Offices on the ground floor, modest apartments on the two floors above.
You have two company vehicles, a Ford sedan and Volvo van.

You know your mission - find The Play before it's too late.

The Bureau has given you some leads to start with.
Mr. Feng (not his real name) serves as a Bureau informant and runs a curio shop near Chinatown.
Officer Evan Johnson serves as a reliable source of intel, although he never knows he's dealing wIth the Bureau.

It's also not a bad idea to check admissions at mental hospitals for possible victims.

Santa Monica, like Compton, gave up on the police long ago. If there are cultists abroad in neighbourhoods like that, you'd need to find informants.

But's late evening; you have some time to settle in. Check the wards. Review case notes. Chat.
 
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If she'd ever been here before, it wasn't the 'here' it was now.

Weaver stood outside the office building and lit up a Virginia Slims Luxury Light 120. The brand was familiar but this particular cigarette was new. She took a deep drag and sighed out the smoke as her eyes took in their surroundings. A pawnshop, tenement housing and this nondescript building set in the most nondescript neighborhood imaginable. It strained the imagination that anyone would come looking for them here. Not that there was anyone to be looking for them, just yet. Indeed, they were the ones doing the looking for now.

She was dressed in a woman's suit of charcoal pinstripe with a matching knee-length skirt, jacket worn over a cream silk blouse and her blonde hair was styled in wavy ringlets. With a cigarette in one hand and a black briefcase in the other, Weaver was well aware she looked too classy for the area. Shouldn't matter too much, though. No doubt one of her colleagues would be dressed down enough for that demographic. Weaver had grown up well-to-do and playing to that could be an asset depending on exactly where their investigation took them.

With a resigned sigh, she finally bent her head slightly and walked into the office. Weaver had seen enough such offices to be familiar with the usual layout and she promptly claimed a desk that gave her a good view of the street with a low risk of someone higher in status fighting her for it. Settling in, she slid her briefcase onto the desktop and placed her hands on either side as she bent her head again.

Concentrating. Feeling. Yes, someone had done work here. How good the work was remained to be seen.

Raising her head once more, Weaver began to slowly circle the interior of the office, seeking her way towards the traditional cardinal points of protection. In a place like this, doors and windows mostly and probably something something up high and low. She'd investigate the those in a minute. For now, a frown occupied her face as she realized something felt off. Weaver didn't like it.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she occupied her other hand by drawing her Bureau-issued Smith & Wesson 459. The handgun wasn't everything but it could give anything that surprised her something to think about.

WlfSamurai WlfSamurai Teh Frixz Teh Frixz Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed
 
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Jacqueline steps into the room behind Agent Weaver as Weaver draws her weapon. As Field Director, it is Jacqueline’s responsibility to get this office setup and operational. Part of that is trusting her people.

Dropping her own brief case, Jacqueline reachers behind her women’s suit jacket and draws her standard issue Glock 22 .40 S&W.

“Call it out,” she says to Weaver as she places her hand on her agent’s shoulder, giving the woman tactical control and awareness of where she is.
 
Dr. Sauers

He used to adore Summer. Particularly the slow, long, dog days. Growing up, his family would throw open the windows in their old home and put down cotton sheets on all the furniture. The sweet summer smell would mingle with the scent of freshly laundered cotton and he would just sit shirtless reading on the porch. It was a good memory, one he could go to at any time to calm himself, to relax.

Now a days, Summer was torture. It was as if he could feel the heat playing havoc on his body. His cell walls being burned to ash. Having requested to be assigned to a 'cold weather' location like Alaska, Antarctica, or even upstate New York would have been just keen but no, Southern California. He knew for a fact that there were several other researchers who had requested California as their installment but those were the guys the Bureau wanted in the cold. Young men that could handle it. What did they know.

Too much likely.

Taking as much precaution as he could in plainclothes, he had gone through roughly twenty ice packs so far. Each one spaced out to maximize the amount of time the cubes had before the painfully hot weather got to them. As soon as the plane landed, he disembarked, having played up his age at ticketing. Foregoing waiting for his luggage, he hurried into a waiting van that he'd chartered. The van doors opened to a rolling fog of icy cold, making him smile as he hopped in the back without hesitation. His things would be delivered later on.

For the first time in the journey, he was able to relax and think on the assignment given to him. If his superiors were willing to risk him in the heat it must have been important. As was all they did. He loses himself in thought while being trafficked to his destination, only opening his eyes when the Van slowed and came to a stop outside what must have been the new installation. He frowned at the state of the surrounding area before hurrying inside to avoid the sun. Several men starting to unload the van and move equipment inside.

After freshening up and changing into shorts and a pale pink polo, he hurried to the first meet and greet of the assignment. Entering with little flourish, he raises a bone white eyebrow at the guns in the hands of the women.

"Did I miss the shootout? Apologies for being late, I had to get setup to deal with this heat. If either of you have problems with the cold or air conditioning, I advise not choosing rooms near mine. Dr. Sauers by the way. Research and analysis."
 
If there was one thing to be grateful about in a situation like this, it would be the heat. She was quite used to blistering hot weather, so this was nothing for her. As reluctant as she was to step onto the aircraft, she was even more hesitant to step off of it. Stepping off signalled her mission actually starting.

She is the last to step into the office, she’d rather just be looking around outside but throughout her internal combat, she never seemed to be the patient type. She steps into the office, arms crossed and looking pissed off. If she is able to intimidate, she hopes they won’t have to bother her all that much. But inside, she knows better. She is in plain clothes, a simple tan tank top, slightly ripped jeans, and worn out sneakers. She didn’t like putting in much effort into useless things. Since she kept her hair short, all she needed to do was brush it out. It lay a bit of a disheveled mess atop her head. She couldn’t care less. She stands by the doorway, looking at everyone pointedly.
 
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The feel of Jacqueline's hand on her shoulder almost makes her jump but the reassuring tones of their field director relax her. Well, a little. "Director. Appreciate your presence. Something's happened to the wards, I think. They're still there but not as they should be. I'm going to proceed with an inspection. If you could see your way towards handling anything that tries to surprise us while I'm concentrating, ma'am, I'd be obliged."

Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
By the time Dr. Sauers , Weaver appears to be halfway done with her inspection. So far, it's involved some slow walking, careful searching around door and window frames and the occasional "Hmmmm" as she traced faint patterns painted or carved along key points of entry. The arrival of the white-haired man in...a polo shirt and shorts? Really? What kind of an office did he think this was?

"No shoot out, Doctor. Not yet anyway. Something's been done to the wards around this building and I'm assessing the damage." She gave him a pointed top-to-bottom-back-to-top sweep of her eyes and the pinstripe-suited blonde with the immaculately styled hair simply exhales a sharp sigh of disapproval before her lips pressed together in a plainly unconvincing smile. "A pleasure to have you here with us. Pick any office that doesn't have a briefcase on it. Until I've confirmed our location is secure, though, you might keep an eye out...maybe keep an eye on your movers over there, make sure we're not letting in something that shouldn't be here."

Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed
When Jun Koto arrives, Weaver's up on a ladder inspecting a sigil inked around a ceiling fan. With a glance down, she spots the latest agent and this time her smile's a bit more sincere. "Ms. Koto. It's been a while." Then her brow furrows in concentration as she peers at the woman before she finally dismisses her scrutiny with a shrug. "Time's been good to you, I see. You look years younger. Have you met our director, Ms. Wright?"

Weaver descends the ladder and promptly lights another cigarette with her thumb before silently offering the other woman one.
 
Dr. Sauers

"They've all been vetted. A service chosen by the Bureau to move my vital equipment. I'll have them install in one of the corners on the first floor. But, in any case the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. This entire locale is quite exotic compared to my previous installation. " Casually brushing aside her concerns and with more effort being put into fanning himself down, the Doctor continued. " Sweltering in here." He withdraws a pill, grinding it to dust between his teeth while watching what he assumed to be Weaver puttering around the office inspecting seals and wards.

It made sense from a security standpoint but to his generally negatively received opinion, all the wards in the world meant nothing to the things one truly had to fear. Just like the weapons being issued to the agents, a security blanket. Still, he wasn't enough of a fool to bother voicing this right now. The poor girl seemed anxious enough. He remembered when Agents had more moxy. Fearless and self sacrificing. All dead now.

He'd fix that eventually.

"Seems to me you have a handle on things. Are we reconvening later to begin or shall I wait here?"
 
“Weaver,” Jacqueline says with a sigh. “I thought you had seen or heard a something.” She holsters her weapon and adjusts her jacket. The pit in her gut tells her this isn’t the best first impression and not the best way to establish the order of things from the get-go. She ignores her growing frustration takes a deep breath.

“Yes, as mentioned, I am Field Director Wright. Nice to meet you all. Pick a place to make your office and setup. I’d like to sweep the whole building as soon as we can, as well. Weaver, as soon as you have your stuff down, you and I can move through the building and secure it.” She looks between the rest of her team. “Glad to have you all here. From what I understand we have a bit of work to do, so let’s move.”

The weight and stakes of the assignment have not been lost on Jacqueline. In fact, she thrives being steeped in them. This is her assignment. Her team. She will do what it takes to move the mission forward. Spooky buildings be damned.
 
Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
Weaver simply stares at a bit incredulously at the Doctor's comment about the heat but she doesn't otherwise seem concerned with the way he dismisses her recommendation for scrutiny. Instead, she gives a slight half-shrug as if this is the latest in a string of similar such experiences.

"I'll be done in a few minutes but I expect we'll reconvene at the Director's pleasure, naturally."

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The exasperation in Wright's voice is also something Weaver's very used to hearing. She listens intently to the Field Director's set of priorities and nods agreeably, even smiling with faint approval. Then she moves upon the other woman's instruction.

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After completing a thorough search of the offices, Weaver at last circles back to the gathering of agents. Assuming there is a gathering of agents. Otherwise, she simply clears her throat and raises her voice to say, "Inspection complete. A bit of good news there. One of the wards upstairs is breaking down because whoever placed it did so over paint that's begun to peel. Given this place looks infrequently used, it's a good thing it was noticed. I'll see to repairing it in the morning, if you're willing to wait Director, or we can call in whatever Bureau resource normally sees to these things. It's unlikely to be dangerous in the short-term and will probably take some time to patch so, given our mission is time sensitive, we may want to just get on with it."

"For now, this worksite appears to be secure. The five of us shouldn't have any trouble." Weaver blinks a moment, then silently points at Director Wright, Dr. Sauers, Ms. Koto and finally at herself. "...Didn't we have someone else-"

With a shake of her head, she ends her sentence before it's finished and just takes a seat in an office chair, folding her hands primly in her lap. "Where shall we start? Our informant in Chinatown? Officer Johnson? The mental hospital?"
 
She debates it a moment in her head, her arms crossed. She hesitates before raising her hand.
“Wouldn’t it be better to go to the informant first? More information means less time to waste.” She crosses her arms again and straightens her back.

(Sorry for not posting before)
 
Dr. Sauers

"While it may prove a dead end, I don't think it would hurt to visit the mental hospital. Even if it's simply run of the mill, we could establish contact and build a net that might get something in the future. As the saying goes, it all flows downhill." Sauers chimes in before taking a seat with the soft groan of age. He was starting to ache, too much heat on the joints. He'd have to chill himself down tonight. The heat was getting to his core, making him rot. "We can drop by the hospital on our way to the informant in any case. Two birds and all that."
 
The trip to the office was long, hot and exhausting but he made it. Unlike the others in his new unit, John had to take a separate route. Since he was living within the state at the time he had to walk all the way (while taking the occasional hitchhike) instead of taking the plane to make it to Santa Monica. Finding the correct address took a while, he took a map of the city and had to wander about for hours, but now he was almost certain this was the correct building (after making more than a few mistakes). Most of his military equipment was already stored within the weapons locker, so he only had to lug his personal belongings in a stroller (saving him a lot of trouble).

Outside, John observed two men unloading a bunch of things from a van and haul inside the office. When they asked him why he was here, John told them he had business here, specifically he had to meet someone. He didn't tell them her name, it was Director Jacqueline Wright. And so, he proceeds up the stairs (while carrying his stroller) and enters a room where people are talking, he asks them a question, "Excuse me, but do you know where I can find Director Wright?" he slowly looks at each person. There was a middle-aged man that looked like he meant business, John gave him a respectful nod, he seemed so important despite wearing casual clothes. There were three women in the room, the first one looked like a mess, the second looked like a socialite and the last one looked she worked corporate.

“Weaver,” Jacqueline says with a sigh. “I thought you had seen or heard a something.” She holsters her weapon and adjusts her jacket. The pit in her gut tells her this isn’t the best first impression and not the best way to establish the order of things from the get-go. She ignores her growing frustration takes a deep breath.

“Yes, as mentioned, I am Field Director Wright. Nice to meet you all. Pick a place to make your office and setup. I’d like to sweep the whole building as soon as we can, as well. Weaver, as soon as you have your stuff down, you and I can move through the building and secure it.” She looks between the rest of her team. “Glad to have you all here. From what I understand we have a bit of work to do, so let’s move.”

The weight and stakes of the assignment have not been lost on Jacqueline. In fact, she thrives being steeped in them. This is her assignment. Her team. She will do what it takes to move the mission forward. Spooky buildings be damned.

John turned to the corporate lady and asked, "Hello, missus, are you by chance Director Jacqueline Wright?"
 
Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
Weaver listens intently to the suggestions, nodding slowly as if agreeing. Which she probably was. The superposition of states (agreement, disagreement) collapsed into a single state when she finally opens her mouth and says "Good suggestions, all around. We should probably allow time for traffic and the probability of improbable complication, though. So let's do this. Can we be ready to go, promptly, at 8am tomorrow? First order of business will be a call to the mental hospital to schedule an inspection at 1pm. In my experience, there's much less fuss when we have an appointment than when we show up flashing our badges."

"As for the informant, I would expect Mr. Feng's store will open around 10am, if it's like most stores in Chinatown. If we leave at 8am, allowing an hour for transit gets us there at 9am, which is when he'll likely arrive seeing as most store owners like to have an hour for setup, bookwork and the like. And that will give us an uninterrupted hour once we present our credentials as..."

The Agent frowns for a moment, then looks down at her charcoal pinstripe suitcoat and produces a badge. Inspecting it, she says, "FBI Agents, it seems. If we can wrap up our interview by 10, that will give us a few hours to, again, allow for transit and potentially follow up on any leads Mr. Feng provides us with before our inspection at the hospital."

"Depending on how that visit goes, we might see about a conversation with Officer Johnson, who is likely used to keeping odd hours and unlikely to mind drop-ins."

"What do you all s-"

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At which point the soldier turns up. At which point Agent Weaver glances about the office, notices the weapons locker that had been delivered with the Doctor's supplies and nods once in satisfaction. Then she rises from her casual recline against a desk and steps forward a few paces to briskly shake his hand.

"It's Agent Doe, isn't it? John Doe? I think we crossed paths on the Missouri matter six months ago." Her eyes narrow briefly, analytically, before she adds "Well, if it wasn't Missouri, it was something like Missouri, anyway. Be a dear?"

She produces a silver cigarette tin from another pocket and withdraws a Virginia Slims Luxury Light 120. Holding it with the practiced hand of a serial smoker, Agent Weaver rises it up in a plain unspoken invitation for him to light it for her.

"Your timing is just lovely, Mr. Doe. I think tomorrow's work will call for the..." She looks back down at the FBI badge that's still in her hand and looks plainly surprised with the result, despite having just looked at it a minute ago. "...Will call for the FBI Agent approach so let's dress appropriately at least. Although you're welcome to bring along all the armament you wish as long as you at least pretend it's inconspicuous." She winks coyly as she adds, "It won't hurt either investigation if our contacts are aware that at least one of us could make a great deal of trouble for them, need be."

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Turning back to the broader group, Agent Weaver arches an eyebrow. "If someone has a better idea, I'm all ears. Otherwise, if the Director's agreeable, we should probably call it a night and get what sleep we can while we can. I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be busy."

"Thoughts?"
 
Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed Teh Frixz Teh Frixz

At which point the soldier turns up. At which point Agent Weaver glances about the office, notices the weapons locker that had been delivered with the Doctor's supplies and nods once in satisfaction. Then she rises from her casual recline against a desk and steps forward a few paces to briskly shake his hand.

John took the woman's hand and gave it a firm shake. He gave the woman one good look, he narrowed his eyes, scratched the side of his cheek and said, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed Teh Frixz Teh Frixz

"It's Agent Doe, isn't it? John Doe? I think we crossed paths on the Missouri matter six months ago."

John raised his eyebrows, his mouth was slightly open.

Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed Teh Frixz Teh Frixz

Her eyes narrow briefly, analytically, before she adds "Well, if it wasn't Missouri, it was something like Missouri, anyway. Be a dear?"

She produces a silver cigarette tin from another pocket and withdraws a Virginia Slims Luxury Light 120. Holding it with the practiced hand of a serial smoker, Agent Weaver rises it up in a plain unspoken invitation for him to light it for her.

"Sure." John quickly reached into chest pocket and took out a lighter. He deftly flicked it open, ignited the device and held the flames just under the lady's cigarette. When it started burning off, he closed the lighter, killing off the flames, and he put it back as fast as he took it out. "Can't remember what exactly happened in Missouri, miss. I usually keep a low profile, this is the first mission I've had with my mask off." He smiled a little, "Honestly, I feel like I'm a little too... exposed without it."

Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed Teh Frixz Teh Frixz

"Your timing is just lovely, Mr. Doe. I think tomorrow's work will call for the..." She looks back down at the FBI badge that's still in her hand and looks plainly surprised with the result, despite having just looked at it a minute ago. "...Will call for the FBI Agent approach so let's dress appropriately at least. Although you're welcome to bring along all the armament you wish as long as you at least pretend it's inconspicuous." She winks coyly as she adds, "It won't hurt either investigation if our contacts are aware that at least one of us could make a great deal of trouble for them, need be."

"I'll do whatever's necessary, ma'am."

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Turning back to the broader group, Agent Weaver arches an eyebrow. "If someone has a better idea, I'm all ears. Otherwise, if the Director's agreeable, we should probably call it a night and get what sleep we can while we can. I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be busy."

"Thoughts?"

John raised his hand, "I have two concerns."

He looked at each and every one of his new team, "For one, I haven't been introduced to the lot of you. I'd need to know your names, at least, so I can call you out. My name's John Doe and I work security detail here in the Bureau. I'm one of the better shots in the country."

He looked down on the floor and paced back and forth across the office, "Secondly, what do you think of this Mr. Feng fellow? He's a snake, that one, Feng isn't even his real name. What do we know about him? How long has he worked for the Bureau? As for Officer Johnson, I think we can trust law enforcement. Cops are sturdy types, a bit noble, like knights of old. They go forth to do good deeds."
 
Junko tilts her head at the mention of proper clothing. A scowl graces her lips. “....If I have to.”

. . .

She clenches her jaw slightly, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Right, of course. I’m Junko Koto. But I’d rather be called Jun.. If you don’t mind.” She says with slight mockery of respect in her voice.

. . .

She scoffs. “ Law enforcement? They are nothing but little lap dogs for the higher power.” She would’ve said more, but she bit her tongue. If she was forced to work here she might just have to try getting along... for a while. She runs her hand through her messy hair and tilts her chin to the ground.
 
Junko tilts her head at the mention of proper clothing. A scowl graces her lips. “....If I have to.”

John turned his head to face the woman speaking.

She clenches her jaw slightly, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Right, of course. I’m Junko Koto. But I’d rather be called Jun.. If you don’t mind.” She says with slight mockery of respect in her voice.

"Oh," John raised his hands, palms out and waved them back and forth, "Don't mind at all, ma'am."


She scoffs. “ Law enforcement? They are nothing but little lap dogs for the higher power.” She would’ve said more, but she bit her tongue. If she was forced to work here she might just have to try getting along... for a while. She runs her hand through her messy hair and tilts her chin to the ground.

"An interesting opinion."
 
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Agent Weaver ignores John's seeming confusion and leans in close for a light. Taking a relaxing drag, she exhales a sigh of satisfaction and waves off his comment about not remembering Missouri. "You're in good company, Mr. Doe. I can't remember exactly what happened in this Missouri so I'm familiar with your kind of predicament."

An eyebrow quirks upwards at his discomfiture to be seen without a mask. "Men all wear masks, Mr. Doe, and most don't cover their face to do it. I'm sure you'll do fine tomorrow. As long as you bring yours with you, and as long as you're discreet if you see a need to, I doubt any witnesses will be the wiser for it."

When John mentions being one of the better shots in the country, Agent Weaver smirks, looks him up and down and says demurely, "Aren't you just." As others introduce themselves, she volunteers herself as, "Most address me as Agent Weaver in private, like we are now. Or Ms. Weaver in public. I've learned offering my first name usually causes more confusion than it solves, particularly to those who've read my file."

And when John mentions their contacts, Weaver's smirk fades and she instead nods thoughtfully. "I don't think any of us are natives to this particular part of the country, Mr. Doe. What we know of Mr. Feng is what we've read. I expect we'll have to exercise discretion when we deal with him." John's praise of cops brings back the smile, though. "And when it's time for us to speak with Officer Johnson, you seem like just the man for the job."

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"Now, if we've no further business, we might as well turn in for the night. It's been a long travel day for most of us and God knows what horrors we'll see tomorrow so we might as well get a head start on our nightmares, shall we?"

With a decorous yawn, Agent Weaver fetches her personal luggage and makes her way upstairs to the apartments that come with the office.
 
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An eyebrow quirks upwards at his discomfiture to be seen without a mask. "Men all wear masks, Mr. Doe, and most don't cover their face to do it."

"You're so philosophical."

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When John mentions being one of the better shots in the country, Agent Weaver smirks, looks him up and down and says demurely, "Aren't you just."

John stared at her for a few seconds, turned his face away and smiled to himself.

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As others introduce themselves, she volunteers herself as, "Most address me as Agent Weaver in private, like we are now. Or Ms. Weaver in public. I've learned offering my first name usually causes more confusion than it solves, particularly to those who've read my file."

"Got it, Ms. Weaver."

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And when John mentions their contacts, Weaver's smirk fades and she instead nods thoughtfully. "I don't think any of us are natives to this particular part of the country, Mr. Doe. What we know of Mr. Feng is what we've read. I expect we'll have to exercise discretion when we deal with him."

John nods.

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John's praise of cops brings back the smile, though. "And when it's time for us to speak with Officer Johnson, you seem like just the man for the job."

"Hah, I'll do my best! Cops wear blue, soldiers wear green but we bleed red all the same. I bet we'll be brothers, me and him. John and Johnson."

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"Now, if we've no further business, we might as well turn in for the night. It's been a long travel day for most of us and God knows what horrors we'll see tomorrow so we might as well get a head start on our nightmares, shall we?"

With a decorous yawn, Agent Weaver fetches her personal luggage and makes her way upstairs to the apartments that come with the office.

"Goodnight, Ms. Weaver."

John turns to the rest of the group, "I'll swing by the armory to inspect my equipment. I can teach you how to use them. Interested?"

He took his stroller by the handle and walked all the way to the weapons locker (located beside the office). Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and said, "Excuse me, but do any of you have the keys to the locker? It's locked."
 
"You're so philosophical."



John stared at her for a few seconds, turned his face away and smiled to himself.



"Got it, Ms. Weaver."



John nods.



"Hah, I'll do my best! Cops wear blue, soldiers wear green but we bleed red all the same. I bet we'll be brothers, me and him. John and Johnson."



"Goodnight, Ms. Weaver."


John turns to the rest of the group, "I'll swing by the armory to inspect my equipment. I can teach you how to use them. Interested?"

He took his stroller by the handle and walked all the way to the weapons locker (located beside the office). Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and said, "Excuse me, but do any of you have the keys to the locker? It's locked."

Junko glances at John and shrugs. “I’m not sure, might want to ask Weaver.” She didn’t bring much belongings with her to the office. She always thought it best to carry light… but given the time restriction she had to get her things- it wouldn’t really matter if she did want more. She brought a single backpack and begrudgingly sets it on an empty desk.

“I… hope I didn’t come off too” She grimaces. “...rude for a first impression. It might be obvious but I don’t have the best relationship with those dog-... law enforcement… people. I would like to join you… if you will accept me?..” She looks through her bag. The corner of her mouth twitches slightly into a scowl, but she holds back. “I didn’t bring much weaponry with me, but I would be happy to just watch.”
 
Junko glances at John and shrugs. “I’m not sure, might want to ask Weaver.” She didn’t bring much belongings with her to the office. She always thought it best to carry light… but given the time restriction she had to get her things- it wouldn’t really matter if she did want more. She brought a single backpack and begrudgingly sets it on an empty desk.

“I… hope I didn’t come off too” She grimaces. “...rude for a first impression. It might be obvious but I don’t have the best relationship with those dog-... law enforcement… people. I would like to join you… if you will accept me?..” She looks through her bag. The corner of her mouth twitches slightly into a scowl, but she holds back. “I didn’t bring much weaponry with me, but I would be happy to just watch.”

John sucked his lips inside his mouth, "Hmmm. . . tsk. . ." He shut his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, "All right, just stand by the door though, miss. It's bad manners to stay in a room alone with a woman. That kind of behavior tends to raise eyebrows."

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"Now, if we've no further business, we might as well turn in for the night. It's been a long travel day for most of us and God knows what horrors we'll see tomorrow so we might as well get a head start on our nightmares, shall we?"

With a decorous yawn, Agent Weaver fetches her personal luggage and makes her way upstairs to the apartments that come with the office.

John turned to face Weaver, "Ms. Weaver, do you have the keys for the weapons locker?"
 
Wright tosses Doe a ring of keys - with only two keys on it.
"The locker is a closet in the back there," she gestures, "and your names are on the doors to your rooms."
She raises a brow archly at John before leaving the room; "you strike me as a man who keep his head down and his mouth shut when duty calls, John - we have to go into Oakland or Watts, you keep that in mind."


The next morning, the languid sunlight of a California summer slipping past the blinds, Wright gives you your marching orders.
"I'm splitting you up, for time efficiency. Agents Doe and Sauer, I want you to talk to Johnson. I'll arrange a meet. Agents Koto and Weaver, I trust you to handle Feng appropriately - some, ah, sensitive material passes through his shop, so stay sharp."

She leaves car keys on her desk for each of the vehicles at your disposal.
"I received a message from HQ and as much as I'd like to join you, they've given me a different assignment for the day. Need-to-know."
She doesn't say 'I can take care of myself'. Anyone who's seen her service record knows that as well as scripture.
 
Before the sun came up John woke up early, he got out of bed without too much difficulty. To get ready for the day, he took his morning dump, he showered up and cooked his own breakfast (which consisted of rice, egg, hashbrowns and hotdogs) and he silently cursed the fact he didn't have coffee to go along with it. Finishing his meal, he washed his cooking pot, canteen and spoon and headed downstairs to the office, he saw Director Wright already waiting there, and none of the other agents were present at the time. "Morning, Director."

John headed straight to the weapons locker, took his M16A1 rifle, Mossberg 500 shotgun and M1911 pistol respectively. He took the magazines out, racked the slides and inspected the chambers of each firearm. When a bullet flew out of the M16A1's ejection port, John managed to catch it mid-air, "Gotcha." He racked the slides of each firearm again, pointed them in a safe direction (away from the people inside the building) and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell.

He took the M16A1 rifle, pulled the charging handle back and released it, flicked the selector to SAFE and squeezed the trigger. The hammer didn't fall. "Good." He flicked the selector to SEMI and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. While still squeezing the trigger, he pulled the charging handle and released it then he released the trigger slowly. He squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. He flicked the selector to AUTO, he pulled the charging handle and released it. He squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. While still squeezing the trigger, he pulled the charging handle and released it and released the trigger slowly. He squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. "Done."

He took the Mossberg 500 shotgun, flicked the safety on, racked the slide and squeezed the trigger. It didn't go off. He flicked the safety off and squeezed the trigger. It went off. "Done."

He took the M1911 pistol, racked the slide, flicked the safety on and squeezed the trigger. The hammer didn't fall. He flicked the safety off and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. "Done."

He noticed Junko coming down from the stairs, "Morning, Ms. Junko. Did you remember what I taught you last night? I can repeat the lessons again."

When everybody gathered in the office, John took his M1911 and put it in his shoulder holster, he took three magazines carrying .45 ACP rounds in his pouch. He joined them and received his orders from Director Wright. After being briefed, John immediately turned to Sauer, the old man, and said, "I'm driving."
 
Jun wakes up groggy. It takes her a few minutes to bear her surroundings. She dresses casually as usual, but a little bit more professional. Aka a cuffed buttoned blouse, and light weight jeans. She wears the same shoes. She grabbed an energy drink (maybe mixed with a bit of whiskey) and an apple on the way out the door to the offices.

She glanced at the members and nods at John.

“If push comes to shove I won’t hesitate to knock this Feng prick on his ass.” Just in case she brought along a revolver on her hip holster. “As long as we get the info we need right? “ she slightly tilts her head as her arms cross.
 
original[1].gifWaking up was generally a dicey proposition for Weaver. Dreams usually bled into the real world for her, in varying but always surreal sorts of ways. Last week, she'd found a pair of glasses beside her nightstand and had needed them up until a few days ago. Now, the world slowly came into focus and the only difference that particularly stood out is that her curtains last night were blinds this morning.

Fine.

She went through her morning ablutions and dressed in a rather lovely green double-breasted blazer with a matching skirt and a white blouse. Naturally, her Smith & Wesson 459 went into a waist holster, her cigarettes and badge/fake IDs went into suit pockets and other sundry items needed for the day went into her black briefcase that she'd likely need to leave in the car.

Grey Grey Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed
Agent Weaver ended up being one of the later arrivals but, seeing there was no coffee on, she prioritized that while listening to the briefing. As Field Director Wright made assignments, Weaver went around placing cups and pouring coffee into them before settling into a seat by Jun Koto.

Then she fixed Jun with an intent look followed by a polite smile. The Agent's confrontational tendencies seemed obvious and Weaver reached into her purse to fetch a silver cigarette tin. Drawing forth a cigarette, she silently offered Jun one before drawing one for herself. As with the other night, she lit it with her thumb.

"Hopefully it won't come to push or shove, Ms. Koto. One catches more flies with honey than with vinegar, after all. But if vinegar is all Mr. Peng responds to, I'm confident you're just the woman for it. Would you care to drive?"
 
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She contemplated the option of not hurting someone. She huffs in defeat. “ Fine. We’ll try it your way first.” She accepts the cigarette.

“I’d better not. I put something extra in my drink. If you know what I mean.” She smiles and chuckles at her own joke. She straightens out her blouse as she gets ready to go.
 

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