Multiple Settings C.R.S.E roleplay thread (18+)

[Foster]

“Agent Graves! I was beginning to think I had mistaken the time for this briefing.”



William looked down at the bespectacled woman who was beaming expectantly up at him, the quizzical look plastered across his face concealed by a menacing visor. A glance at the clock on his HUD informed him that he was barely 30 seconds late to this emergency meeting. Agent Fillimore was a curious woman and was infamous amongst C.R.S.E staff here at Galahad for her anal personality and somewhat nervous disposition.

“Morning Fillimore. The old man not with you today?” He replied warmly, taking pity on the young agent. Playing assistant to Galahad’s most prestigious field agent was no easy task after all.

“Agent Timur is preoccupied this morning I’m afraid. I’ve been sent in his place whilst he attends a review of his last anomaly acquisition.”

Fillimore’s green eyes were cast downwards as she spoke, her hands clinging to the back of the chair she was standing behind. Will knew that if he didn’t know any better he might make the mistake of thinking her weak, but Timur didn’t just take on anyone and Fillimore’s record spoke for itself. This short, slightly dumpy woman was one of the best C.R.S.E had at it’s disposal.

“So the he’s getting chewed out by the Round Table again then? I don’t envy those poor bastards.” Smirked Will, a soft laugh feeding through the voice emitter built into his helmet. It was tainted with a metallic tinge.

He’d crossed the length of meeting room 037 as he conversed with Fillimore, circling the empty conference table in the middle of the room till he could sit down at the seat farthest from the entrance and directly across from his fellow agent. She looked like she was about to reply to his remark but was cut off by a familiar voice appearing out of thin air.

“Now, now Agent Graves. You know the Round Table don’t do anything without a good reason, I was hoping to see a little more C.R.S.E pride from our staff.”

The upper-class English accent belonged to Churchill, the omnipresent A.I who oversaw every aspect of life here on Galahad. Although he had taken the time to make his presence known to the room he wasn’t really there, or at least not entirely. This was just one of thousands of his offshoots, a semi-independent entity that the A.I was comprised of. Even a fraction of the great machine was more than enough for attending a briefing like this, it was simply a drop in the ocean of his processing power.

“Lighten up Churchill, a little boss bashing is good for employee morale. I’m just brimming with C.R.S.E pride.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in your monthly assessment.” A disembodied huff sounded around the room as the A.I simulated letting out a weary breath. “I’m tracking the rest of the S.F.A assigned to this case now, they should be here shortly. Agent Fillinore if you need any assistance with this briefing then you know where to find me. Best of luck.”

And just like that Churchill was gone. Or as gone as he ever truly could be when his very being ran though every wire in this facility.

William had perked up at the mention of a case, sitting up straight in the office chair. That was what he was here for after all. A case meant a chance to get off Galahad and out into the real world and a duty to uphold for the people who lived there. He’d always enjoyed his job but ever since the incident that took his body from him it was all he really had left. Beneath the tidy suit he was wearing his robotic body ran autonomously, performing countless actions to keep his biological components alive and simulate the functionality of a normal human body. He didn’t understand it, nobody really did. But he did understand that he’d been given a second chance at life that others hadn’t been lucky enough to receive. If he didn’t put that opportunity to good use it was like spitting in the face of those who hadn’t made it.

He plucked a ballpoint pen from the table and began rhythmically twirling it between his fingers as the two agents patiently awaited the arrival of the other S.F.A.

 

[GrieveWriter]

AO - 228
Interaction/Mention: Foster
Location: ==> Meeting Room​

"Professor Hargrove!"

The old gentleman stopped upon hearing that name called out to him, pausing before the elevator doors. The security escort looked back as well, their visors displaying nothing as they watched the young Researcher jog over. His eyes were fixed on the old man, a hopeful smile on his face as he drew closer. He came to a stop as Hargrove reached forwards and tapped a button the keypad beside the elevator doors. The Young Researcher didn't make note of that, too overcome with joy was he to take note of the action. Instead he tightened his grip on the clipboard on his hand and spoke exuberantly.

"I can't believe you're back!" he said before reaching up and wiping at his eyes "After the Round Table called you up, everyone downstairs was saying that you weren't coming back. But I knew that once you explained things you'd come back!"

The Old man didn't move at first, the tilted his head as he released a thoughtful hum. The Young Researcher's brow furrowed as Professor Hargrove lifted his cane and tapped it against the floor, "Well, I suppose you're assumption turned out truthful in a manner of speaking, though with far more caveats than even you're aware of."

"Professor?" the Researcher's expression turned to one of confusion at the odd way Hargrove was speaking, it wasn't like he usually did. Seeking answers, he looked to the Security Escort he had, only for their visors to reveal nothing. But just as he was about to ask what had happened, Hargrove turned around. The Researcher only grew more confused by the uncharacteristic smirk her wore, only for his eyes to go wide at the sight of an extremely familiar necklace hanging around his neck.

"...no..."

"I suppose someone flubbed the memos again." AO-228 mused as he settled against his cane and leaned to the side "Really shouldn't be setting me up for drama such as this, but let's just say that the dear Professor is 'Under Review' at the moment, until the ramifications of his actions have been fully evaluated."

"But he didn't-!"

"Up up up." 228 wagged a finger whilst shaking his head before gesturing to himself "Until such time as to consider otherwise, the good Professor has so graciously volunteered to aid the S.F.A. Surely his expertise will prove invaluable on the efforts to come."

The Young Researcher's expression shifted into a glare as the Elevator doors slid open, prompting 228 to wave farewell as his escort ushered him inside.

"Oh, and by the by, I'm considering Heinrich for this go around!" he noted as the doors began closing, looking over his body "It certainly fits the appearance, wouldn't you say?"

Of course, the Young man had no time to offer a response, as the elevator doors closed almost immediately after.

Heinrich smirked as they began their ascent, having honestly not expecting to be hailed in the middle of transit like that. It was the little things one learned to appreciate over their lives, and being able to see such an A-Class reaction like that young fellow's had been quite the pleasant surprise. He'd only recently been granted his new host yesterday, but even then it seemed like an oversight not to have everyone made aware of it immediately. The chipper Security lads who followed him while on site had been perfectly prepared, and didn't even bat an eye at his new appearance. Why couldn't the Researchers be like that?

Then again, he remembered how caught in their research the brainiacs around here could get. Hargrove himself had only gotten into this situation because he wouldn't think past his research. If only he put more thought into a more helpful hobby like his clarinet playing, then maybe he wouldn't be stuck in this unfortunate scenario. Oh well, it wasn't as though Heinrich was complaining. It wasn't as if his new frame would hamper his effectiveness, as he had never really been much of a physical aid to the C.R.S.E beforehand.

Speaking of which, once the Elevator came to a stop Heinrich found himself being led to a meeting room where the SFA were to be briefed on a new assignment. Heinrich just wondered about which exciting locale they'd get to explore this time around. Once his escort reached the meeting chamber, Heinrich gave them both a friendly nod before being ushered inside. They didn't enter with him, and the door closed behind Heinrich as he gave a stretch. Upon looking around, he zeroed in on the realization that he hadn't been the first Member to arrive.

"Ah, seems the Gravy Train beat me here." he noted before making his way over the side of the Meeting Room, giving a wave to Fillimore as he did so "Good Morning, Darling. It would seem some staff haven't been informed of my new look yet, just a head's up."

As he spoke, he gestured towards himself. Taking a spot behind one of the center chairs, he remained standing as he casually tapped his cane on the ground.

 

[Shagranoz]

It had been a long day for Rebecca. It always was. Since the undead didn't have any need for all the messy biological processes of the living like eating and sleeping, they put her through a workload that would kill any normal human. She didn't mind, though. It was always nice to lend a hand to friendly people, and she often got to refine her magical talents as well.

The necromancer was dressed in a long red cloak, an affectation that had become a sort of signature since her reanimation. Perched on her shoulder was her pet and familiar, an undead black cat she'd named Schrodinger in a fit of black humor. As she stroked his fur, she looked around at the rest of the group, still filing their way in. It's a motley bunch, but at least they're talented, from what I've been able to gather from their dossiers. "So, what have we got this time? A murder in Atlantis? Some fairy playing with the laws of nature in Omaha?" She shrugged. "Whatever it is, count me in. I've been cooped up in here for far too long, need to get back in the field."

 

[symphonia]

The Security Forces training had taken its toll on a good chunk of the guards, which meant that the brunt of the injuries had fallen on Roxanne. She'd been working all morning in the medical wing, filling in for one of the doctors who'd come down with a rash. While she was busy tending the scrapes and grazes with traditional medical means, she'd taken on some of the worse injuries, including several black eyes and two broken noses. Resetting the nose had been easy, but the bruises blossoming over her eyes and cheeks would still take a few hours to heal. She cursed her reflection in the elevator as she made her way up, pulling a compact from her purse and dabbing some concealer over the purple skin. Of course, it was somewhat futile.

Checking her watch as the elevator opened on the right floor, she stepped out and began walking towards room 037, her heels echoing through the sparse hallway. She was a little late, but considering she'd been healing the C.R.S.E's soldiers all morning, they could excuse a little bit of tardiness. Taking one last look at her blackened face in her compact, she snapped it shut and dropped it into her bag before striding into the room.

“Good afternoon, Agent Fillimore,” she greeted the woman, her voice still a soft, lifting Parisian accent. She offered a tight, reserved smile at the other members as she took a seat next to Agent Graves.

 

[Printer]

In spite of the fact that Ion was a fresh new recruit to the SFA, the testing on AE-466-1 still persisted. She has been filling out surveys for the majority of her time, which furthered the notion of her ever-lasting boredom. Time flowed like cement. She checked the clock for the time. A minute has passed since she last checked an hour ago, or so it seemed. Sitting there with nothing to stare at but a bunch of questions was excruciatingly dull and there was no telling when she would be called for a briefing. She glanced at the security guard, beginning to drift into an unpleasant daydream... or was it a paranoid fantasy? It was so hard to tell that she didn't particularly care. It helped to pass the time, at least.

"Keep writing." The cautioning voice disrupted her thoughts, as she noticed the security guard staring back at her now.

"I authentically don't understand the cogency of this, sir. I already did 16 different personality surveys with all drastically varying results. I don't believe these tests are even reliable. I swear you lot are looking into this like zodiac fanatics." The female figure bitterly replied, telepathically, with a pout, "I am a component of the SFA now, I should be aiding and peregrinating! Not... this."

"You will be under surveillance for the next two weeks in case you have ulterior motives. The surveys are meant to help us assess you better and solve your co-operation skills despite your condition. Besides that, you will be notified whenever you have to g-" As soon as the words escaped his mouth, the notification of the briefing came through. Ion neatly, yet slyly, stacked the papers over the desk as she got up. Even with the mask on, the male could imagine the sort of smug expression that would be crawling over her face in response.

"Well, that must be me. Looks like I'll have to culminate these at a later date."

The security guard remained silent, simply standing up before gesturing Ion to follow him. He accompanied her, helping her navigate through the facility in order to get to the right room. Upon their destination, the guard departed, leaving Ion to enter on her own. She didn't particularly know who the other characters in the room were, except for the anxious woman whose face seemed slightly familiar. Ion simply nodded her head in greeting, shortly taking a seat.

 

[Blemmigan]

[CS]

Gary was late. He had left early, from the temporary rooms he'd been allocated in Dr. Wells' department, eager to be on time for the briefing for his first real case as an SFA.

Then someone had flagged him down for an errand ("Gary, could you go fetch Head Researcher von Harbou for me?") and it had taken him five minutes to do that, and then one of the engineers had wanted a coffee, and then he'd run into Dr. Verne, who had looked him over and frowned at his nonstandard uniform.

"Are you 0132?" she asked, pencil hovering over a clipboard. In the room behind her, something rumbled with menace.

"No," Gary answered. "I'm 0166." Then he added, helpfully: "I'm Special Field Agent Gary."

He had hoped that the suit jacket, which had bought with his own money and didn't quite fit over the regular Gary clothes, would have made that obvious. After all, secret agents wore a full suit, and they were basically the same thing as special agents.

By now Dr. Verne just looked concerned, so he excused himself. Luckily it took only a few moments for him to find the correct room, and the security guard who had just left it barely spared him a glance.

"Hello!" Gary announced as he walked in. Beaming, he started trying to shake the hands of whoever was closest. "Good to meet you, ma'am... and you, sir... and... ma'am... uh, colleague."