| Not Backing Out |
[04 Jul 2009|04:03pm] |
It was a good thing Logan wasn't a very messy person.
Though he honestly had no idea what to expect when Janine called him back to accept his invitation to a date, Logan couldn't have imagined they'd wind up back at his apartment after the typical dinner-and-movie fare. An admittedly trite date for this point in the 21st century, but it apparently worked. The former Watcher cringed as he unlocked the door to his apartment and it swung open, revealing a stack of folded-up papers and three leather-bound tomes on the coffee table.
At this point, Logan couldn't even remember what he was researching. He crossed the threshold after his date, closing the door behind him before heading straight for the coffee table. Trying to arrange the stack of papers neatly, Logan folded up a few of the less cooperative pieces before placing them inside the front cover of the top book, setting the stack aside to the floor.
"Sorry about the mess," he said sheepishly. "Though I guess ... better books than crumpled-up beer cans."
( I think I'd rather ... (Adult Content: Mild Sexuality) )
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| Alleged Mistress Was Vampire |
[02 Jul 2009|02:40pm] |
By Jonathan Kingsman, Sun-Times Staff Writer
JOLIET -- The woman with whom the late Sen. George Roberson was accused to having an affair has been identified on Wednesday as a vampire, according to an anonymous source within Roberson's office.
Roberson, a three-term Democrat from Springfield, was found dead in a Joliet motel room on June 26. The police report told of two tiny holes in the right side of Roberson's neck, and a puddle of what coroners discovered was his own blood on the carpet beneath him.
"Sen. Roberson was clearly the victim of a vampire feeding," the report read in part. "Cook County Coroner is suggesting Roberson's body be incinerated to prevent potential rising."
( See MISTRESS, page 4 )
[Submitted by Jeff.]
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| On the Phone |
[01 Jul 2009|09:07pm] |
"You'll forgive me for not being scared."
Days like this made Jill wish she hadn't quit smoking. She remembered how a long drag of nicotine would calm her nerves and give her a momentary reprieve from the daily stresses of her job. Granted, that was a different job, but the longer Jill called the halls of the FBI Chicago Division on West Roosevelt home away from home, the more she realized being an agent was almost as stressful as being a lawyer.
Perhaps more so.
"I know exactly how they operate, Your Honor," she spoke into the black receiver, swiveling back and forth in her black leather chair. "Probably better than you realize. Trust me when I say you're gonna want to protect your grand jury -- mystically."
( Time for herself )
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| Struck Dumb |
[30 Jun 2009|04:10pm] |
The apartment was silent but for the tick of a solitary clock. Each strike of the second hand thundered. Each space between, as soundless as the vacuum of space. Two figures squared off against one another. The man stood by the window, his spine as rigid as a pole, his back to the sun. The woman, who had paused her pacing to examine a fingernail, began once again. Her heels clicked as rhythmically as the time.
Perhaps it was Darian's imagination, but the wall-mounted clock seemed to move at a crawl. He checked his watch, in case the batteries had gone bad. No such luck. He made an abrupt departure to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He thought about offering her one, but didn't.
After the last heated argument, the Dealmaker didn't know what to say to her. He found himself at a loss. Each time he opened his mouth, an unwise sentence leaped onto his tongue. Sooner or later, he'd provoke Bethany into a knock-down, drag-out, physical fight, if he didn't reign in his temper. He rubbed his mouth to keep it shut.
She pivoted and a tiny fleck of dirt ground against the floor. His body tensed. It felt like a two-hundred pound person was standing on each of his shoulders. Darian pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to swallow the complaint, but it boiled up anyway. "Bethany? The only thing worse than the sound of that clock... is the pacing. Could you stand still for two minutes?"
( Placing Blame )
( Pinch Them, They're Dreaming )
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| Last Stand |
[30 Jun 2009|06:46pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 angry |
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OOC: Takes place during the big AU plot and totally backdated to then.
The final showdown was something to behold, but in all the motion and movement, two of the women became separated from the rest, the sound of heavy boots on the ground after them as they found a corner to hide in.
Neither Jennifer or Kris were particularly physically strong, and Jennifer's mind was still trying to recover from having used her powers, so the trembles were wracking her body and she needed as much support as any injured person.
"Stop!" Tobias shouted, his weapon drawn and raised as he chased them, shooting two electric bullets after the women. Against his other leg rested his pistol that fired brass stakes with a silver tip, effective on the human and were enemies they had. He flicked his wrist to recharge his gun and pulled the other. "Submit and be purged or I will shoot!"
He was one of the best marksmen in this unit. Not the best, but one of them.
( Run! )
( Suffering )
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| His and Hers |
[29 Jun 2009|02:20pm] |
The rain came down in buckets. Now and then, the wind splattered it against the pane, and she had the impression of being in a gigantic car wash. Rose perched on the arm of her couch and watched. It was half past nine. She was onto her third cocktail, which was when the liquor began to seep into her limbs, making her languid and loose as a goose. A worn recording of Dean Martin's 'Ain't That a Kick in the Head?' circled the turntable. The night waited outside. All she had to do was open an umbrella and make a dash through the sidewalk puddles. She could get a cab downtown and take refuge in a bar. She could drink on someone else's tab. Later, she could hook a guy into escorting her outside, presumably to wait for a ride home, and then munch. That was how the cookie crumbled. Pretty vampires were one reason why nice guys finished last.
Three or four hours' worth of storyline played out in her imagination. Yes, she could do those things. But she wasn't in the mood.
Lately, Rose was a sourpuss. It had little to do with stormy weather, and a lot to do with her boyfriend's pack. In speaking after the encounter with Wyatt, the couple had decided to play it safe. No longer would Rose go to his house. No longer would they secretly meet on the fringe of his neighborhood. No longer would they entertain the idea of dirtying up his restaurant kitchen after hours. Gavin couldn't even see his girlfriend and his pack in the same day. The other werewolf knew her scent now. After the freedom of Texas, the restrictions fit Rose as poorly as an itchy sweater.
She set her glass on the kidney-shaped table. She felt like a social pariah. Well... even more of one than usual.
( Sacrifices )
( Shacking Up for the Night )
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| Owning the Neighborhood |
[29 Jun 2009|02:17pm] |
"Wait, hang on a sec." Rhiannon braced her shoe on the seat of a bench. The nylon laces of her newest boots tended to untie themselves. Not wanting her footwear to fly off during a kick, she double-knotted them and tucked the ends. "I should've just glued the soles on the old ones." She tugged her cargo pants down and caught up to her friend. Because of conflicting schedules, they didn't patrol together -- or beat one another up for fun -- as much as in Las Vegas. She missed it. Tonight was a chance to catch up and see if they could get into any trouble.
At his side again, Rhiannon stuck her hands in her pockets. Only two blocks from her apartment, not much had happened in the way of conversation yet. "So hey." Her elbows swayed forward and back. "You gonna entertain me with stories of Connor's New Social Life while we look for things to kill? I could like that. Especially if it's tragic." She smiled.
"When isn't it tragic?" the Destroyer cracked, his tone only half facetious. "The last woman that came near me turned out to be a damned succubus. It wasn't exactly romantic. I'm starting to think all women need to have warning signs around their necks, different ones for different situations. It'd save me a lot of time."
The night was clear and warm, and for once there was actually little troubling his mind. "I don't know, I guess things are looking up, griping aside. I took Clemence to dinner and we had a good time. It takes some of the pressure off to not be constantly worried about what she thinks of me. It gets tiring after a while."
( A Monkey On His Back )
( Fangirls )
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| Kathleen's Diary |
[21 Jun 2009|11:07am] |
It was only a short walk to the Japanese sushi restaurant from the building that housed bio-defense laboratory. Dr. Forbes decided to grab some take away sushi for dinner on her way back to her apartment building after work. She wore a dark blouse, and flowery knee high skirt with sensible high heels and carried a massager bag that held her new Mac book inside.
The sidewalk was full of pedestrians, mostly white collar workers on their way home in the late afternoon. It was a diverse crowd of people walking on the city sidewalks, so she would not have noticed the man had been following her.
( Another life )
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| On the way home |
[19 Jun 2009|11:51pm] |
She extended and locked the handle of her suit case in place shortly after taking it off the luggage carousel in the lower level of the domestic flights terminal. The lower floor was crowded with travelers waiting for luggage, meeting friends or love ones who had come to pick them up. Kathleen’s flight had arrived from San Francisco thirty minutes late because of early morning fog in the bay caused a slow down in take off for safety reasons.
While her suitcase’s hidden wheels rolled as she pulled it behind her with one hand, she tried to scroll through her contact list on her iPhone with the other hand. It was a little difficult, but she had learned to so with her thumb. Once the name appeared on the screen, she stopped long enough in the middle of the walkway that lead out of the terminal and to the line of waiting taxis, and pressed the call button. Once the number began to dial she lifted the phone to her ear and then continued toward the taxi stand.
( Voice Message )
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| Seen in the window at a Barnes and Noble |
[19 Jun 2009|10:48pm] |
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| Final Confrontation Between Factions |
[19 Jun 2009|11:35pm] |
"Halt."
As Victoria's familiar identity came into view, her fellow Inquisitor stopped short of telling the woman to approach no further. The nod of head she gave inferred it was time for Victoria to take over the watch shift.
"Right," came the corresponding reply. The guard's weapon lowered as they turned in readiness to retire for the rest of the evening. The need for passwords became obsolete when your own team leader's spouse showed up.
And fortunate, indeed, that she was not required to speak...
Gesturing over those who were hidden in the nearby shadows, the Victoria whose surname remained 'Foxworth' made sure to hurry several of the fugitives through the door. So long as they kept up the element of surprise, it was a good sign that they might just make it to what had to be destroyed.
Contact with the vampiress had been made shortly before Sonya's death. There had been consternation, of course; some of them had seen, even known of, Victoria's human and ruthless Inquisitor counterpart's face. But this Victoria always did have a weakness for helping out her own kind. Once the facts of the matter had been revealed, she cautiously agreed to act as their personal Trojan horse. She still had costumes from her time of owning Fang Noir. In the early evening's gloom, one of her catsuits held at least a similarity to the leather armour of her mortal self's attire.
But it would only be a matter of time before the English-accented version of Victoria showed up and their ruse was discovered... Ushering the last of the fugitives through the door, or up to the windows, the vampiress only hoped they evaded detection for long enough to make this a success.
[Thread: Open to AU Characters & Participating Others]
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| Welcomed Guest |
[18 Jun 2009|11:00pm] |
(Before the AU plot)
She grabbed two crystal wine glasses out of the cupboard above the breakfast bar in her kitchen, and then placed them on the granite top of the bar. "It's very nice of you to bring a housewarming gift." She said to the brunette who was preparing to open the bottle of wine. "I'm glad you called earlier." Kathleen's face brighten with a smile. Her mood having greatly improved since the weeks after redecorating her apartment.
Gripping the cork screw, the witch tugged roughly and the cork was free with a pop, the fruity fragrance of the wine wafted up to meet her. "I have my good qualities." Lips curled, an almost wry grin worked its way over her features. Yes, she had her good qualities, buried under many of her bad ones. Moving forward, Purity poured liberal amounts of the red liquid into each glass before setting the bottle down. Her hand found its way onto the granite surface. Smooth and cool as her palm brushed over it. "I'm glad you picked up." The witch fired back, her words teasing as she lifted an eyebrow. "Should we toast to anything?"
Kathleen was glad as well that she answered the call. She held up her glass by the stem, "Mmm yes," she nodded. "To warm days and beautiful clear skies," she toasted. Some how the mention of her promotion to a major did not seem appropriate on that moment. She lean forward with her glass and clinked it against Purity's glass.
With her eyes focused on Purity dark green eyes as she brought her glass to her lips and slowly sipped her wine. She allowed herself to enjoy the taste of the fruity softness of the drink. It must have been more pricey than the average wine on the market, but Kathleen was not an expert on wines. "This is wonderful," she said after removing the glass from her lips.
( A glass of wine with a little magic )
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| Burdens |
[18 Jun 2009|10:12pm] |
Kevin Parkinson suppressed a sigh as he pulled away from his ex-wife's house, where his seventeen-year-old daughter was home fresh from a three-day stay in the hospital, after getting beaten half to death by a vampire of all things. It was bad enough that Denise had sole custody of Jennie, but letting a child go off and try and kill all sorts of evil and brutish creatures in the night for years was grossly negligent, as far as he was concerned.
If Denise's bloodsucking lawyer weren't so damn good, he might have been able to do something about that. Paying Child Support and Alimony on a construction worker's wages in San Francisco meant he barely had enough money left over for living expenses, let alone another court fight that would have cost thousands he didn't have. No, despite how angry he'd been when he'd first found out about Jennie's 'calling', Kevin had little choice but to simmer in silence and try not to show how worried he was for his daughter's safety.
The past two days had been his worst fears confirmed. He hadn't even been sure Jennie would survive at first when the doctors had told them the extent of her injuries. Fortunately she healed fast, and the damage didn't seem to be as bad as they'd first feared, so they'd been able to bring her home today.
If he'd stayed at the house, he would have just gotten into a screaming match with Denise over how she was parenting their daughter, which would have led into all sorts of other baggage the two parents still carried with them. That wasn't what Jennie needed to see or hear, so instead of letting himself vent at his ex, he'd just made sure Jennie was resting comfortably before kissing her on the forehead and telling her he'd see her tomorrow.
( Laying Blame )
[NPC Kevin Parkinson was written by Tim]
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| Avenging Sonya and a Beautiful World |
[18 Jun 2009|07:11pm] |
Francess sat in a corner of the empty drug store. The sleeping pallette lay empty. At night time, most of the fugitives left the safety of the hideout, looking for food or just exploring. It was easier in the dark and there was less chance of getting caught. They blended in with other demons. Francess didn't feel like going out.
She held onto the small notepad Sonya left behind. Blood dotted its pages. The Russian alphabet meant little to Francess. It looked like backwards letters, a mixture of upper and lower case, with number symbols thrown in for good measure, like a keyboard threw up on the paper. But the hastily scribbled translations spelled disaster. The Inquisition hadn't given up. They were building a signal to bring reinforcements. They didn't just want to hunt and kill them. They wanted to make this whole world like theirs.
The brunette rested her chin on her knee. Tears burned her eyes. To her, this Earth was a beautiful place, where all kinds of people and creatures lived together, and women had honest-to-god rights, and food and clothes and shelter were everywhere. Soon, it would be just like their old world, and Francess knew they (not just the Inquisition) had brought it on these people. So many would be purged or killed, just because the fugitives had come and brought the backwards ways of an awful world with them.
Francess wasn't a fighter, but she knew she had to quit running and try to stop it. Even if they all got killed, it would be worth it, just to make a stand and try to protect this Earth. Tonight, she would close her eyes, leave her body, and follow Sonya's directions to the warehouse. She would spy and learn as much as she could about the Inquisitors. Then, she'd beg the others to come with her. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her face into her knees and counted backwards from one-hundred.
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| Faster |
[17 Jun 2009|08:46pm] |
Electronic Correspondence to Inquisitors
Subject: Security Breach
Sent by: H. Maragos
Priority: One
Requesting: Immediate Preparations for Signal
A fugitive (ID: Sonya Ramius, hybrid species) was seen gathering intelligence at our headquarters. The inquisitor on watch shot and wounded the demon, but she escaped before a fatality could be confirmed. We must assume she brought word of our location and signal back to the fugitives. Beginning immediately, we will increase our numbers of inquisitors on watch at headquarters (4) and move up our timeline on construction of the beacon. We anticipate sending the signal on Friday. While not on watch, continue patrols in search of any fugitive hideouts.
-HM
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| Dopplegangers |
[17 Jun 2009|06:04am] |
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There was an odd silence surrounding a particular individual the morning that Jenny Lowe had decided she was going to take a wander near Lincoln Park. She had yet to go out there, having been actively discouraged by strangers because of the news and the stories of monsters that lived behind the wall. She had been compelled there, an odd buzzing sound in her mind that had meant she was drawn towards it, if not just to find the source of it, but she was distracted by the silence and she'd walked towards it, helpless to fight as she came face to face with... herself.
A version of herself that was slimmer, had longer hair and was emitting silence.
( Lessons and Learnings )
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| Mismatched |
[16 Jun 2009|04:47pm] |
Bethany had a habit of going as deep into enemy territory as she could get away with, confident in her own abilities and quick thinking to keep her alive. They were one Inquisitor down, this she knew, but she was not as fragile as the rest of them, given the super strength and the super healing that came as part and parcel of her being a Slayer, the only Slayer in her world, but not in this world apparently.
She'd not really gone looking for her doppelganger, but it had sort of fallen into her lap when she'd happened across a business establishment in which women removed their clothing for money. It was a mind-boggling concept and she'd certainly caused something of a scene when she'd dragged a half-naked girl off the stage, only to be confronted by a man who called himself Ralphael and seemed to think she was her other self.
Bethany had allowed him to think of her that way, brushing off a few questions about her appearance and lack of scarring on her face, meaning she was able to gleam information about her other self's habits, which apparently included seeing on a regular basis a man of demonic nature.
How very... repulsive.
( The Disgusting Man With Whom Bethany Sleeps )
*****
( Text to Bethany )
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