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Buona Notte, Mio Caro [11 Feb 2008|08:23pm]
A Letter To Joseph )
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Rhymes with Witch [11 Feb 2008|09:52pm]
Protect yourself, protect your friends if you had any. The only rule Grace ever really unlived by. And the government fucks knew who Deanna was. How they knew was anyone's guess, but the Council had always had long arms. Look at her, forty years dead, and they could still reach out and touch her. Maybe she should look into that.

She took the elevator up to the redhead's floor, the card Agent Rimes had given her burning a hole in her shirt pocket. Not good, not good, not good, this feeling like she was being followed, even if she wasn't. Made her itch.

Her knuckles made sharp contact with the wooden surface of the closed door, and she tried not to think about surveillance cameras and wire-taps while she waited. She'd walked into fucking Watergate, apparently. Hopefully she could walk out unscathed.

Where Grace was fueled with paranoia, Deanna was dead calm. A certainty had overtaken her sometime in the last three days, a conviction she adopted every several decades. It came with the introduction of the steam engine; the first flight by two brothers from Kittyhawk; a computer that could beat its maker from chess.

Change.

The redhead stayed one step ahead by sensing which way the wind blew and learning to adapt. Someone brought a knife to a fight, you brought a gun. (They just didn't make great films like The Untouchables any longer. It was all Miley Cyrus concerts and loosely-based 'ideas' from countless reality shows.)

So when the government decided they were interested in you, you took interest as well. Not that the vampire wasn't wary of the meaning behind the business card, but this Purvis person was a recruiter. If the government wanted her in a cage, they would've sent a platoon of Navy Seals without advanced word.

The knock against wood caught her attention and she casually strolled to the hotel room door, fully expecting a sweaty fat man in black.

Not exactly the Man from G.L.A.D., are you? )
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Making Plans [11 Feb 2008|10:34pm]
"'Course I haven't heard shit about government agents and such. I've been... busy."

Whistler turned up the collar on his jacket with one hand while the other held the cell phone close to his ear. He surpressed a sneeze. A week on the roof of the Rock 'N Bowl took its toll on his health, but he didn't care. His word was his bond.

"If you know anything, Rupert... yeah, yeah. Rumors and gossip. Maybe if you actually did something proactive... What? No, that's not what this call is about." The Agent grabbed his soft pack from the ledge, stuck it between lips and fired up his zippo. "Remember some months back you wanted me to look in on that Samantha? Whoa, hey! It's not MY fault she went walk-about before I got there! Christ!"

A large exhale, accompanied by a short cough. "The chip was offered and I'm callin' it in. What? No, this is personal. Get out your pad and quill."
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Abort! Abort! [11 Feb 2008|11:41pm]
“You want me to what?!”

Wendell Jenkins was not a happy man right now. Not that a retired Navy SEAL who spent his 20s in Iraq pretty much killing anything that moved with a semiautomatic could ever be considered a happy guy, but right now Jenkins was decidedly less so. And it was all because of a phone call he’d just received.

“With all due respect, sir,” Jenkins spoke into his cell phone, trying desperately to control his temper, “why send me all the way out to the middle of nowhere, out in this Godforsaken desert to recruit a Slayer for our little operation, only to call me up at the 11th Hour and tell me to abort?

“Quite frankly, it makes no sense.”

You may not )

“I’ll be in my office first thing in the morning,” Wendell said before hanging up, tossing his cell phone on the mattress and heaving a frustrated sigh. So close, and yet the plug was pulled just as he was about to make his move.

Then again, maybe this was for the best; who was to say if Jenkins approached the Slayer, she wouldn’t have snapped his wrist in three before doing the same to his neck?

Wendell might’ve once been a SEAL, but he was no Slayer.



[NPC Agent Jenkins was written by Jeff.]
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