Futuristic Aegis 508: The Augean Stables

[welian]

Aegis: Error 508

S1E1B: The Augean Stables

Mission: Clean the office.

A new Commonwealth director has been selected. As is tradition, the director will be visiting the branch offices after he settles into DC. In the meantime, in anticipation of his visit, the Baltimore agents have been voluntold to spend the weekend (paid overtime) to clean up their office.

Tasks include:

• Repainting the lobby
• Testing the safety systems
• Armory inventory
• Repairing the leaking roof over the northwest offices
• Capturing and relocating Miss Squiggles, a local feline that is hiding inside the building after someone's motorcycle backfired.

The DC office has promised the Baltimore office that if the agents complete their cleanup tasks and pass inspection before their fellow agents return from a top secret mission, then there will be a pizza party.

 

[Hydra]

0500. Shit.

Oliver had wanted to be done with the delivery run by now. Night shifts were his least favourite of all the things on the staff rota, by simple virtue of meaning he couldn't stay up all night reading. But, he supposed, shelves wouldn't stack themselves, paint would go unmixed, and orders would go unfilled. He sighed deeply. Two more drops left.

He reached forward to the centre console and grabbed the clipboard, leafing through for the paperwork; his boss was Old-school with a capital O, and insisted on paper; "It's easier to mark stuff off", he'd reason. Oliver had no desire to contradict him. It did make things easier. The old-school mentality extended to the van, too. It was a beaten-up pile of shit, but it ran alright and was cheap to fuel. Whatever. The paintwork on it was a rusted mess, the logo almost entirely gone, the contact details scrubbed away by the march of time.

There. Commonwealth Baltimore Office. Of course it was pigs. Paint, plasterboard, sealant... these guys were clearly doing a full revamp of the place. Good for them. Make the pens a bit nicer, sure.

Checking the address one last time, Oliver pulled up the handbrake and set off in the direction of the office.


***


0528. Not terrible timing.

Traffic was non-existent at this time in the morning, the sun hadn't even bothered to rise, and clouds hung overhead like grey cliffs rising on forever.

Unfolding a cart on the opposite side of the road wouldn't be an issue this early. Crossing with a full load of supplies during the day would have been a pain, but right now, with nobody around, it was a piece of piss.

"And away we go..."


***


The office was dead. There wasn't even a security guard, as far as he could tell. Maybe they were doing their rounds, he supposed. It didn't really matter. Neatly stacking all the supplies in the lobby was the nicest and fastest way to get it all sorted. Oliver hoped whoever did it would be grateful. It wasn't exactly like the Commonwealth would be getting actual staffers to do the grunt work that was repairs. Oliver chortled to himself, thinking of a superhero whose sole power was sealing leaky roofing.

Once he'd unloaded all of the various items, he ran a quick checklist of all the items. Yep, all there. Perfect. Scribbling a quick "no signer" on the paperwork, he turned and walked away without a backward glance. Reaching the kerb, he hopped the cart down. Metal groaned and screeched, loud against the silence of a city still gripped by sleep. As it trundled across the street, Oliver fumbled, and the clipboard slipped from his grasp.

"Shit! Oh, for... Never mind. Don't go anywhere," he grunted, mostly at the clipboard, and shoved the cart the rest of the way. Quickly stowing it in the van, he turned heel to retrieve the errant office-ware. At that moment, a great fat raindrop landed on the back of his neck, and he shuddered involuntarily. And then another struck him right in his face. The air seemed to come alive with rain in seconds, and now those great grey cliffs above him wept.

He never heard or saw the car coming until it was almost on top of him. It was the headlights that gave it away; the gloom of the still-dark sky, thudding rain, and dull streetlights giving way to sudden white light. Oliver span on the spot, and his mind flashed.


Broken bodies

Blood everywhere

Glass shards and twisted metal


And, with nothing else he could do as the car bore down on him, Oliver screamed.


***


Electronics flared and shorted. Air shimmered and distorted. Glass shattered.

The car struck something invisible only a few inches away from Oliver, and wrapped around it as surely as if it had struck stone.

Every glass surface within a hundred metres shattered like it had been struck with a hammer. Alarms screamed out, rain dulling the noise to a background wail. Electronics burned out or shorted as the rampant energies corruscated across them.

Oliver staggered, breath ragged and sharp, as blood trickled from his nose, eyes, and ears. Lips trembling, he reached a hand out, forlornly, as he tried to process what had happened, and failed utterly.

"Wha... What the fuck... What the... Oh SHIT," he stuttered, panic setting in. Frantic, adrenaline spiking through him, he reverted back to the oldest instinct he had - and throwing himself bodily into the van, he fled.

 

[welian]

Time: ~5:30pm
Location: Commonwealth, downtown Baltimore branch office
Weather: Dreary rain

Twelve hours ago...

Kit had been down this road before - metaphorically, but literally too. She wasn't a morning person, so when she had trouble sleeping she would lay down in the back seat of her car and close her eyes. Without fail, she'd be cruising down the streets of Baltimore, enjoying the grungy industrial scenery. This was one of those morning drives, on her usual path.

This time, it was different. It was raining, she skidded a little - no big deal! She had this under control. There was a person there, but they were moving out of the way, right? They saw her, right? A white sports car with pink racing stripes, how could you not see her? Why were they stopping, did they want to die?

Kit did not remember the impact. There was a terrible sensation of suddenly losing control, floating through a void as her consciousness was ejected from the car, but lagged in returning to her body.

In hindsight, she should have worn a seatbelt, but how was she supposed to know this would happen?

"If you're not dead now..." the blonde wheezed and groaned, struggling to climb out of the back of her car. The van gone by the time she figured out whether she was supposed to be spinning wheels or articulating hands. "I'm going to fucking kill you myself."

Now...

"Pleeeeaaase don't fire me! I swear I was sober this time!" Patched up after rough wake-up call, Kit was clinging to the revolving door of the Baltimore branch's front entrance. Inside the lobby, one of the janitors was watching from behind the elevator, laughing quietly, as one of the many nameless suits was trying to close up the office for the day.

"Miss Wells, we're not - look, it's late, go HOME."

"... Can I have a ride?"

"GET OUT."

OOC

I know 12 hours is a bit of a jump, but that does make the thread almost exactly concurrent with... *waves hands* whatever the hell is going on with that funky little island in the other thread.

 

[ManicMuse]

Izzy

A

NAME:

Isabella Chase (Izzy)

GENDER:

Female

AGE:

20

HOBBIES:

Climbing, Lockpicking, Hacking security systems

DETAILS:

@: N/A Nearby: ---Mood: Crafty

POST:

Silence enveloped the space.

Draped in the pleasant company of darkness.

A large plastic mixing bowl with books stacked up on either side sat ten feet from a slumbering Isabella Chase. There she lay on the cold thin sheet metal with nothing but a light blanket and pillow for comfort. The screen on her phone lit up, reflecting the time of almost 5:30 PM.

Further down the duct, a soft hum started. Then vibration as the fan on the condenser kicked on. A mighty cool wind ripped away Izzy's blanket as she groaned and rolled over quickly, grabbing her phone. Flicking the phone unlocked, she tapped open the smart app and selected the bubble, 'Daddy's Office.' The air system shutting down was a welcome sound as the howling winds stopped.

This time the silence did not return. Further down the metal boxy maze was the soft pattering of tiny paws. Isabella's pupils dilated wide in the darkness as she slowly rolled from her back onto her belly. The little rustling of life moved closer. Isabella nearly quivered with excitement.

'Could it be?'

-Ping Bing Bong- -Ping Bing Bong- Startled, Izzy dropped her phone. The phone vibrated across the thin metal, causing it to only echo louder.

'Shiiiit'

Slapping both hands over the phone, she fumbled with the buttons and managed to answer.

"Iiiiiizzy, why are you still at my office? You said this would be a simple job," Richard Chase sounded a bit concerned, if not annoyed.

"Dad now is not a great time. I'll call you back. Byeee." Izzy smashed the END button just as something at the corner of the corridor caught her eye. There in the dark, she could just make out a tiny set of whiskers.

Watching the small nose twitch, she leaned toward the plastic bowl, still eight feet away, and blew softly. The set of whiskers and pink nose twitched faster. Then a paw came into view. Izzy turned into a statue, except for her ears that honed in on the sound of the tiny creature emerging.

The plastic bowl was lubed with vegetable oil along the side and a prize-winning scoop of peanut butter in the middle.

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.

'YES.' -Ping Bing Bong- 'NO.'

Izzy smashed her phone into the pillow she had brought up with her. Folding it in half, she pressed down hoping that the cell would make its last beep. Then the chubby teddy bear hamster turned to inspect the noise with one paw in the air as if already ready to flee.

"Bee Hawww don't you dare run."

The plump little rodent was off, darting back the way it came. Izzy had waited all day for this little brat. He was not getting away, AGAIN. Crawling like a mad woman, Izzy pursued.

"Bee Hawww, get back here!"

The hamster was fast, which would have been surprising for how fat he looked, though 90% of him was long cream fur. It looked as though he was going to get away and disappear down the maze of commercial venting until he made a sudden right, heading for the air return. The air return that Izzy had pulled the filter out of earlier that day. This was an issue because tiny hamsters did not do rather well with twelve-foot falls.

Out of desperation, Izzy dove toward the hamster with arms outstretched, sliding across the thin, warping metal. Hearing a loud crash of metal sheets popping from behind, the hamster's butt began to shake faster as it tried to run from the booming noises.

The cell phone echoed in the duct from where it had been left behind slightly muted by the crackling of metal. -Ping Bing Bong- It was only then that Izzy remembered the laws of gravity. Outstretched fingers plucked at a ball of fluff as the sound of snapping plastic joined in on the smashing metal. Down they went, tumbling like Alice down the hole. Only unlike Alice, Izzy had a self-righting reflex. Plastic bits of the industrial air return crashed down as Isabella swung around and landed crouching on her feet, tail erect and flickering at the tip. Carefully unfurling her hands, a tiny little fuzzy head with rounded ears popped up.

A light fixture, the air return, and part of the ceiling tiles hung precariously above her. The dust settled as a now almost ominous sound continued from the opened ceiling.

-Ping Bing Bong-

"This is going to be a long night, Bee Hawww."

--

Coded by: Ambiloquous

EXTRA:

N/A

 

[Zahzi]

B U L L T R U E
Anderson Moore
Location: A very pissed off Jarid Caymen
Disposition: "SAFETY CHEEEECK CHECKIN' OFF STAFETY STUFF!"
​

To whomever thought that no matter how complex a problem can be that great intentions can win the day for all involved.
We just want you to know.
We at the Commonwealth Baltimore Branch.
Sincerely hope your breaks don't work when you next need them.

"ANDERSON GODDAMN MOORE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN' NOW!?" An angry southern rasp echoed through the building as it continued being.....Checked for safety.....By the nine-foot-four behemoth that was currently stress testing a load-bearing wall near the entrance.
"CHECKING FOR SAFETY OF COURSE. WE HAVE TO MOVE FAST IF WE ALL WANT THAT PIZZA."

"Anderson, I SWEAR TO WHATEVER FUCKIN' COC-
"LANGUAGE, MISTER FIXIT!" Anderson spun around to the mechanic that had been pestering him during his noble duties he had placed himself into doing before the new Director could come and visit the Baltimore Branch. He finally stopped whatever he was attempting with the wall, causing the entire structure to groan in what could only be described as a thankful cry it could exist another day.

"There are NO CHILDREN PRESENT, MOORE. FUCK OFF WITH THAT SHIT." The mechanic in question, a ragged-looking man sporting disheveled blond hair, welding goggles, a mechanical left arm, and, most noticeable of all an absolutely livid expression for the neanderthall in front of him that had spent the last four hours 'CHECKING SAFETY' by BREAKING EVERYTHING IN HIS WAKE, leaving him as the only one capable of fixing or replacing everything.
'MISTER FIXIT', as Anderson called him, did in fact have a name. It was even on his stained jumpsuit. Big, bold letters saying 'Jarid Caymen'. But that probably didn't help.
BECAUSE HE WAS ENTIRELY CONVINCED THIS MOTHERFUCKER COULDN'T READ.

"EVEN IF THERE ARE NO KIDS HERE, YOU SHOULD NOT USE SUCH WORDS. IT MAKES YOU LOOK NOT SMART."
"....You're fuckin' with me."
"I AM MOST CERTAINLY AM NOT."
"I am going to find a way to skin you, Anderson. Mark my FUCKING WORDS."
"I CANNOT MARK YOUR WORDS MISTER FIXIT AS THEY ARE IN THE AIR AND CANNOT BE MARKED. NOW THEN! I MUST GO OFF TO FIND THE NEXT SAFETY THING TO CHECK."
And with that, Anderson moved further into the building, much to the bemusement of Jarid and everyone else within.

"GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU GIANT MISTAKE!" Jarid chased after him, already knowing the direction he was going.

The Armory.

 

[Gus]

Gerald Marinos
​

Location: Baltimore?
Nearby: Mr. Moore, Ms. Wells
Condition: Unwell.
Tags: welian Hydra Zahzi​

Baltimore before dawn was glorious.



Everything about being away from family and on your own in the city was glorious. The University was like being gifted with a sip from the firehose of knowledge: both terrifying and exhilarating. Prep school, by contrast, had been dull beyond belief, apart from the bullying. And that was utterly absent now. Nobody cared if you were a freak at university. It was almost like camp had been; freaks were the rule here, not the exception. Nobody bothered you, or even noticed you. Which was almost the story of Gerald's life except for one key detail. Anonymity among genuinely disinterested strangers was comfortable and soothing. Affected disinterest from parents and siblings, on the other hand, came with baggage. Expectations. Keeping a low profile at home took mental and emotional effort, and it was incredibly liberating to finally set down that burden.



But predawn walks were the best.



The air was bracingly cold on his skin, and he hadn't seen another soul in nearly an hour. Those few he had seen had not seen him. This part of the city didn't really get lively until mid morning. Too many college students, professors, and support staff for same.



So he had walked aimlessly, enjoying the splendid isolation. He could almost imagine himself the last denizen of a dead city. As if something quiet and clean and very nearly thorough had happened to reduce the human population by some 8 or 9 orders of magnitude, leaving all the buildings as puzzles for future archaeologists, if there were any.



Museum pieces dotted with actual museums.



It made for a pleasant, if juvenile, sense of paranoia when he saw other people out and about living their lives. In his reverie, fellow scavengers picking at the carcass of civilization were to be approached with caution, if at all. That guy crossing the street with the cart from the beat up van for instance. What was he up to? Storing his looted artifacts in his base of operations maybe? Gerald crept closer, and ducked behind the corner of the bank, taking on the color and texture of brick for good measure. Part of him felt silly for doing this, but hell, its not like anyone was watching. Another part of him gruffly rebuffed the first part: "This is how we survive in this world, idiot! The old rules are dead!"



He chuckled to himself, and continued watching, the boring scene filled with intrigue by his fantasy.



On reflection... wasn't that the Headquarters building for commonwealth? Maybe he should actually take a closer look.



The leaden sky, heavy with the threat of rain all morning, chose this moment to suddenly burst. Leaning out a bit further past the corner of the bank, he saw the guy backlit by headlights. Gerald was much too far to shout a warning through the downpour, and he flinched back in horror at what was about to...



The guy exploded.



It was incredibly fortunate that Gerald was mostly behind the building when the shockwave hit. As it was, he was knocked flat on his back, skin rippling in the backwash of the the overpressure wrapping around the building. He heard glass shards cascading to the ground along with the rain all up and down the block. The bank's rear lot security camera shorted out and fell off the building, barely missing him. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he pulled out his cell from a pocket of flesh, shielding it from the rain with his body. The screen was cracked, but it lit up, still functional. Time to call for help.



The phone wouldn't recognize him.



His face felt funny. He tried to shape it properly for the recognition software by effort of will, but it just felt sort of... slack. He thumbed "emergency" and stumbled out onto the sidewalk for a better look at the aftermath of the explosion as the emergency services line began to ring. Impossibly the guy was still standing. Running, actually, to his van and then peeling up the street right Past Gerald! Gaping incredulously at this turn of events, he still had the presence of mind to check the plate number as the van flashed past, but only got the first three letters: WWX. The rest was lost in the rain. Distantly, he heard the phone connection go through.



"911, what is your emergency?"



Gerald blinked back rain and tears, wobbling on his feet.



"I'll call you back. Need a doctor..."



"Sir, please stay on the line. Can you tell me your location?"



Gerald shook his head, dropped the phone into the gutter and stumbled off into the rain.

***​

Having spent most of the day at UMMC midtown being treated for possible nonstandard concussion, Gerald trudged back to the commonwealth building to see if he could find his cell. He was dressed now in sweatpants and a UM hoodie. His skin was acting weird. Weirder than usual. The doc hadn't had much useful to say except that he didn't seem to have any of the usual symptoms of TBI. That his skin seemed unresponsive to environmental changes, and even sluggish to conscious control was definitely not a good sign, but as UMMC had no specialist in alternative physiologies they had no better option than 'wait and see.' Brain rest was supposed to be the standard treatment, so he supposed giving his skin a rest would have to do.



Street cleanup was ongoing and, of course, there was no sign of his cellphone.



What a day. He'd missed all his classes, missed his evening internship, possibly lost his powers. Kept his freakish skin, though! Small blessings. He sighed. Should probably check in with somebody at CW while he was here. Maybe they'd let him check his email too, see what he missed in class today.



As he approached the building, a lady he didn't know was having some kind of a losing argument with two CW agents. From deeper in the building, he could hear shouting. Feel it, actually as a slight tremor through the sidewalk. That could only be Mr. Moore. He nearly walked on. His dorm bed was calling to him, but he really liked the idea of this internship, and wanted to keep it more than he wanted to rest. 'What would Mr. McNabb do?' he thought to himself. Honestly, probably something pretty nutty. Instead, he put one foot on the bottom step leading to the entrance and cleared his throat.



"Erm... Hi. Gerald. New here? Been at UMMC all day, but I saw the guy who blew up the street take off in a van after, this morning? I have a partial plate...Is there someone I should talk to?"

 

[Zahzi]

B U L L T R U E
Anderson Moore
Location: Commonwealth HQ: Baltimore Branch
Nearby: Gerald Gus
Kit welian
A very angry Jarid Caymen
Disposition: "THINGS ARE GETTING FISHY"
​

Anderson had a special power. Well, BESIDES the obvious one. He had the ability to create dread by just being in proximity to others and particular items of interest. In this case, it was the Baltmore branch's Armory. Filled to the absolute brim with confiscated weaponry, technical gadgets, experimental explosives, and at least three items that could be considered weapons of mass destruction. How mild. Were Andrson to reach the armory, no doubt there was a nearly limitless level of destruction he could cause with just a minute alone in there. Sure, Jarid was doing what he could to stop him from getting too close to the doors, but he was just a human. He would reach those doors, and all hell would soon break loose...

And yet, nothing happened. No shaking of the ground, no loud noise, no earth-shattering kaboom.
Instead, Anderson walked back down the hall from the opposite walkway, having wandered through the corridor to the other side.
Anderson had yet another special power. He could get lost without fail if everything looked the same. And boy, did Commonwealth love its grays and blues...
He looked around, confused, his hand rubbing the back of his head.
"UHHHH...." He would not recover his train of thought as he saw in the lobby the most wondrous sight. No, no, not the woman being shooed away, no that was Kit, or, as he would commonly refer to her as the FLASHY CAR LADY. Probably crashed another car. That might explain the wreck he saw earlier in the day. He took the time to remove most of the mess before it was in the way. Though if anyone were to ask where it went, well, he may or may not have just chucked the totaled vehicle into an adjacent alley.

No, today's wondrous view was near her. The absolute godlike visage laid out before him.
"SQUID MAN!"
As if the Armory had all been forgotten by him, he made a b-line through the lobby, causing a fair number of agents and custodians a slight panic as they had to scurry out of his way.


"HELLO SQUID MAN. DO YOU KNOW THE AVATAR OF FISHY VENGEANCE? SHE IS CURRENTLY ON A TOP SECRET MISSION, OH WAIT I SHOULDN'T SAY THAT. UH FORGET I SAID THAT BUT DO YOU KNOW THE AVATAR OF FISHY VENGEANCE? SHE OWES ME FOUR DOLLARS AND SEVENTEEN CENTS."

"ANDERSON SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Jarid yelled from the other side of the lobby, storming over to the giant neanderthal. He glanced at Kit for a moment before returning all his ire toward Bulltrue. He was about to continue cussing him out before he saw Gerald.
"Oh great, more headaches. What? What's broken NOW!?"

"NOT NOW MISTER FIXIT. THE SQUID MAN IS ABOUT TO REGALE US WITH A MAGICAL TALE."

"........I need to pick up drinking again at this rate."

​

 

[Hydra]

0800 - Nine hours ago.


The dry, retching heaves Oliver had been doing for about two hours could be heard from the hallway of the apartment block a good three floors below. His stomach roiled and twisted, long since empty of everything but acidic bile. The headache had started to dissipate now, finally, but his vision swam as he sat back on his haunches and stared at his still-shaking hands.

He had done what he could to cover his tracks - the paperwork had been shredded at the office, a note scribbed explaining vandals had attacked the van whilst he made a delivery, and the van left locked into the paddock. Practically running home, vomit climbing his throat the whole way for all twenty minutes, he'd stumbled up the stairs and face-first into the toilet.

The car had come from nowhere. Oliver hadn’t had even half a second to react; and then it had just exploded in front of him as though his scream had taken a tangible form, and swept out to save him. Oliver shuddered as a wave of nausea overtook him again, weaker this time. Shakily climbing to his feet, he lurched to the sink and gripped it like it was a lifeline in a raging sea. He brought his head up slowly and gazed into his own eyes; a bloodshot mess greeted him in the whites, and reached even into the blue, just a touch. No wonder he felt so shitty. Faint gritty trails of dried blood stained his pale skin under his nose, whilst similar trails ran from his ears and down his neck a couple of inches. Oliver sighed, and a new feeling bubbled up in him - from a place far deeper than his stomach.

Fear.

Why now? Why at all? He'd tested positive all those years ago but nothing the Commonwealth could do made his powers manifest. They'd called him a dud. Kids at school had laughed at him, called him a squib, a failure. Perhaps somewhere inside, deep down, Oliver had known the reality that he did have something, long-repressed and concealed - but it'd been like a dream he could not recall upon waking. Had it saved him before?

Could that be why he'd walked away unharmed from the twisted metal masquerading as a car all those years ago? Had it reached from him to protect him?

Perhaps that was why it hadn't resurfaced; called forth too early, before it really should have even been manifested, and supressed afterwards in the guilt and fear of the aftermath... His powers hadn't been needed since and had remained in their buried state until now. Oliver coughed, and hawked up a wad of spit and phlegm that had been stuck in his throat. He hated throwing up, and now his throat and nose felt as raw as his face from the tears that had streamed down it.

Focusing again on his face, he called out internally to the pit of fear he felt deep within.

In the bedroom across the hall, his TV flickered between channels. Lights began to flash and shimmer in every room in the apartment, and the hallway outside too. The hairs on the back of Oliver's neck stood to attention as energy filled the air.

The mirror cracked like it had been struck.

Oliver was suddenly deeply aware his feet weren't touching the floor. The moment of panic broke the concentration, and he thudded back to the floor.

"Oh no no no no..."



***
1300 - Four hours ago.


Oliver's fear had shed its skin, moulted, evolved; its form was now tinged and coloured with panic.

Open in front of him were the old paper copies of his documentation, from when he'd been tested all those years ago. They were largely open on diagnostic test examples and charts. One thing in particular had caught his eye.


"Psychokinesis, more commonly known as Telekinesis, is a dangerous power that can often result in harm to both its bearer and those around them. Many possessing this power have been known to cause significant damage to themselves and others, even causing permanent injury or death in some cases. These powers can range in efficacy from more 'common' levels, such as those who can bend spoons and perform other low-level feats (commonly D-class ranked), up to and surpassing those who can lift cars, project barriers of sheer force, and even greater acts. These telekines are rarer as they are more likely to be involved in accidents involving their powers, and can be dangerous, often holding a rank of B-class or higher."


Sweat beaded his brow. Turning his face slowly to the kitchen, hand outstretched, he raised his index and middle finger in unison.

The fridge creaked as it lifted smoothly into the air. Lights flickered and electronics crackled in the vicinity.

Slowly dropping his hand, the fridge glid back down smoothly to the floor. Oliver's heart drummed in his chest, a staccato two-beat that made him feel as though his heart wanted to burst from him like a vintage horror film's creature. He could do more than just lift kitchenware, he was sure; he'd barely strained that time now he knew what he needed to do to call his powers forth. What were the limits? Where did they lie? More importantly, how could he keep this secret, and as far from the prying eyes of others?

Oliver sighed again. That was becoming a habit.



***
1745 - Current time.


His head was swimming again. He'd pushed a little too far again - hovering off the ground precisely on the spot seemed to take more concentration than lifting heavier objects did - and he'd felt something in his nose pop. The familiar taste of blood filled his mouth and he spat it into the sink.

Turning on the spot, he glanced around again. There was a little dent on the ceiling where he'd flown right into it the first time he tried, and a metal bar bent into interesting shape laid on the floor in the corner. Seemingly his strength for now was mostly limited to strongman acts, but he had noticed a clear improvement since he'd started in the morning.

The panic had largely subsided for now, and for a moment Oliver revelled in his newfound strength. From the deepest pit of his stomach came a horrifyingly loud rumble, for the first time since the morning; Oliver was suddenly aware he'd not eaten in almost twelve hours. He'd have to chance it and head out. It was getting dark, hopefully a black hoodie would keep him unnoticed.

He gathered some cash, locked his door behind him before he could have second thoughts, and started down the stairs and out the front door - into the early evening air of Baltimore.

 

[Gus]

Gerald Marinos
​

Location: CW building entrance
Moooood: Amused and terrified
Nearby: Some agents and a bull moose
welian Zahzi ​

Gerald's head was absolutely pounding. His vision even trembled a little bit in time with the rhythmic thud, thud, thud, thudding....

Wait a second. He could feel that through his feet, not in his head. That could only mean one thing. He stumbled back two steps just in time to avoid a large slab of the gilded revolving door which came spinning out into the street. The two agents on the top step went sailing after it, as if to perhaps fetch it back. They did not, however, seem inclined to return.

Now wedged tightly between the twisted remains of the door and the badly bent doorframe was the terrifying Anderson Moore. Gerald had heard all the rumors. That he had torn people in half, thrown them over the horizon, knocked down entire buildings by accident and that his armor wasn't to protect him from the environment but completely the other way around. He was the most frightful being Gerald had ever met, and one of his teachers at 108 was a literal black hole. And he Was SHOUTING! SO.... VERY...... LOUD!!! Gerald took another step back and tried to protect his ears. Now, his head really was pounding.

Mr. Moore seemed to think he was a squid person and should know some fish person or other of his acquaintance. Mr. Cayman, the head of building maintenance was cursing Mr. Moore up one side and down the other, barely acknowledging the lady at the top of the stairs before, bizarrely asking Gerald what was broken? Gerald gaped at the three adults, utterly unable to process. His head was spinning. And somehow, perhaps by sheer centrifugal force, his anxieties were flung from his mind. And what remained was the pure unalloyed humor of the situation. A few chuckles rapidly gave way to full throated laughter, and the release of all the pent up tension of the day felt marvelous. Shaking and weeping he swept his arm over the general scene of chaos and detritus that was the street and the headquarters.

Gasping for breath, he managed: "I mean, as far as damage reports go, most recently, I'd guess, the front door here? Mr. Moore had urgent things to ask me about though, so, you know, omelettes and eggs as they say. Places to go, fish tails to tell out of.... school!" His feet went out from under him at this point, collapsing into gales of laughter. "You know its funny you should mention the fishy avatar of vengeance, I was just thinking about calling her up to see if she has heard from my cousin the kraken! You know what a notoriously small, tight knit community the OCEAN is, so of course we all know each other down 'dere under da sea! Mr. Moore, I'm from Wilmington!"

As his fit of laughter began to pass, his awareness of several pairs of eyes on him began to return. Still chuckling in spite of himself, he said aloud, "Boy oh boy, wouldn't now be a good time to disappear?" He tried half-heartedly to force flex his skin to match the color and texture of the brick sidewalk, but all he managed to do was turn a faint shade of green and grow spiky prickles on the backs of his hands.

Stupid concussions.

"Well, it's been fun folks, but I gotta go! Tip your waitresses!"

He rolled over onto his hands and knees and began to crawl away towards his dormitory.

 

[ManicMuse]

Art: Crisalys

A

NAME:

Isabella Chase (Izzy)

GENDER:

Female

AGE:

20

LOCATION:

Richard's Office Building > Parking Garage > Commonwealth Lobby

DETAILS:

@: Zahzi welian Gus (Did I miss anyone?) Nearby: Mr. Moore, The one chick with the boobs, Squishy, guy-maybe the other lover DUNDUN Mood: Stressed > Excited

POST:

What is it they say? When overwhelmed, sit down and make a list of everything you need to do.

Izzy walked out and down the hall to her father's office. Sitting in the ridiculously over-tufted and riveted faux leather wing-backed executive chair. Grabbing the gaudy gold pen that no one else was allowed to touch, shhh, she pulled out a pad of paper after setting Bee Haww down on the massive solid wooden desk.

Pitter-Patter. Bee Aww's creamy long fur caused the teddy bear hamster's butt to resemble a corgi butt, with even the nubby little tail to finish it off. Anytime the creature took off with any intent, it was simply adorable, but this time it was slightly less cute as tiny pellets lay in its wake.

1. Fix the ceiling.
2. Get phone
3. Put the hamster in the carrier
4. Call Dad, so he does not panic more
5. find a place with parts for fixing ceilings

Reviewing the list, a sharp chomping sound started up from the left side of the desk.

"Crap."​

Bee Haww was deep-throating Richard's Mini Zen Garden backhoe. Snatching the wooden handle, Izzy groaned, seeing the little nibble marks already at the end. "Fine, you can have it. I don't think he uses this thing anyways." He only kept it there because it was a gift from her. Handing Bee Haww back the little backhoe, the hamster went right back to trying to stuff the entire thing in its cheek pocket while Izzy took him and her list into the main lobby. There sat a bubble-windowed backpack with a little hamster haven within. Carefully she dropped the hamster back into the traveling home, ensuring he did not end up a Bee Haww on a stick. Zipping up the top, Izzy checks off her list.

1. Fix the ceiling.
2. Get phone
3. Put the hamster in the carrier
4. Call Dad, so he does not panic more
5. find a place with parts for fixing ceilings

'Okay, now. Well. Hmm.'

Izzy returned to the scene of the crime. The fluorescent light still flickered. Tipping back up the ladder she had used to get up there earlier in the day, crawling back down the metal ducts.

'I guess the hardware store should be open for a couple more hours. See, it's fine.'

Reaching the items left behind, she retrieved the blanket first and used it to pack up all the other items before daring to check her phone.

Recipient

Daddy

Izzy?

them

Are you okay

them

Is the office okay

them

Izzy? Should I send the security over to help?

them

I am getting worried.

Crawling out with all the items, Izzy carried the blanket sack back to the lobby before snapping a picture of Bee Haww and texting it to Richard.

Recipient

me

I GOT HIM! I will be home in a while. You were right; the peanut butter spilled. I'll clean it up.

The little white lie would protect him from the truth, hopefully. Richard tended to be a bit of a neat freak. The peanut butter alone would make him cringe. Yep, she could see the message switch to read with no little dots of a response. He was mad.

1. Fix the ceiling.
2. Get phone
3. Put the hamster in the carrier
4. Call Dad, so he does not panic more
5. find a place with parts for fixing ceilings

Opening maps on her phone, she searched hardware stores. The nearest one was eight miles away, and it closed at six. Izzy looked over at her stuff, weighing the idea of breaking into the hardware store. Then she had a brilliant idea. Flicking over to her work emails, she scanned through them. Her boss had sent out something...

Send New Email

New Email Received

A. Wallace

Re: Office Prep -OVERTIME-

New Commonwealth Director will be visiting the Baltimore branch. It is imperative that we come together to fix up the office this weekend. I expect you to be a team player and assist with the tasks, including but not limited to testing the safety systems, repairs to the roof, and repainting the lobby.

There will be a pizza party if this is completed promptly.

-Agent A. Wallace

Eyes locked on the words 'repairs to the roof.' "I bet they have the stuff to fix a ceiling." Isabella grabbed her wallet and the backpack containing Bee Haww.

It was time to go to the office for a little after-hours overtime.


Pulling into the parking garage a couple of blocks from the Commonwealth office, Izzy picked a spot on the ground level with her entire car still vibrating with vivid tunes until the car powered down. The black Nissan was one of the few cars in the lot, but not the only one. Many people from the office tended to park here, a positive sign that others might still be at the office and it would be open. Pulling down the visor mirror, both bat-winged-sized ears folded back. Grabbing an elastic, Izzy pressed her pale hair over both ears, being sure to keep it loose around the sides of her head where normal ears would be, then tied it off in a long loose ponytail.

"Let's do this, Bee Haww." The hamster's beady eyes emerged from a tunnel that now held a half-eaten hoe still nestled in the safety of the pet backpack. Grabbing the pack, Izzy popped out of the car and checked over her outfit before heading to the office. She had never been to work in her casual clothes before. They were a bit colorful compared to her regular business casual.

Reaching only a block away from the office front, Izzy's feline eyes flickered about, picking up on a few new things. Tons of glass was a big one. Granted, there was a clear sign most of what had been was cleared away, but the street lights glinted on the bits left behind. Rounding the corner, Izzy could tell that the source of whatever happened seemed to have come from near the Commonwealth. Hopefully, it was nothing severe enough to close early. The last three feet of Izzy's long thin furred tail flicked back and forth, occasionally smacking her ponytail as she closed in on the front door, swung open the first door on the left of the building, and stepped foot into the Commonwealth entrance lobby.

Whelp, she definitely did not expect that.

What's her name, was by the other doors. The one that clearly had no concept of natural beauty. Ugh, she was her Dad's type to a T. Gag.

'Whatever, she was pretty but to always dress... hmm she looks a little bit off, actually. Wait, did the big scary bolts, dude, mess her up? Fuuu-he is so massive.'

Mr. Moore was hard to miss. He had to be nearly ten feet tall. Everyone in the office hummed that old brick house song when he had left the area. Then there was that odd fellow crawling, rolling, laughing?... well he was on the ground.

"OooooOoo, maybe it's a lovers spat. This could be juicy." Isabella Chase loved reality TV. The tip of her tail no longer flicked and quivered with excitement at the idea of live entertainment. Izzy stood just inside the doorway, eyes unblinding as not to miss a moment of it. This was going to be gold around the water cooler. She had not even noticed Jarid on the far side of the lobby.


Not even two step into the Commonwealth Office and Izzy had forgotten her list.

--

--

EXTRA:

N/A

 

[Nifty]

L Y R E B I R D
Apple Rosewood
Location: Commonwealth’s Baltimore office branch.
Mentions: Gus welian Zahzi ManicMuse
Mood: Head empty. Just clean!​

Some may say watching the paint dry is the most boring thing a person can do. However, Apple begs to differ. Watching your hard work pay off is one of the most satisfying feelings. According to Apple, at least. Being the neat freak she is, she was more than glad to lend a hand for a renewed and tidier version of her workplace. Although, if she’s genuinely honest with herself, an alternative motive for her being there that day was her mistrust towards her co-workers getting the ‘right’ job done. And she was correct on that department as she felt a slight tremor from within the building, which she had mistaken for an earthquake earlier, but then she remembered seeing a giant, armour-cladded figure entering the building.

After five minutes of staring at the freshly painted lobby, she finally tidied up her painting area and got rid of any trash she might’ve accumulated. She was closing the lid of the paint bucket when she was spooked by a sudden voice, “SQUID MAN!” Her messy painted hands swiftly pressed down to prevent any paint from spilling, and she sighed a relief.
She must’ve been too busy and focused on her job to notice the ruckus around her earlier.

It was a dreary afternoon with the rain. Oh, how she wished she could take a nap. But the buckets of paint and primer ain’t going to put itself back.
Apple has always been the type to advocate tidiness and cleanliness; however, her orange hoodie painted with dried paint isn’t her usual attire. Her messy brown hair was tied in a messy bun. She had to take a quick break to fix herself up. She couldn’t stay that messy for that long. It would simply ruin her image. The image she had in mind, at least.

After tucking the paint and primer away, she took a bathroom break to fix her bun and wash the paint off her hands. She took off her hoodie and changed into a much cleaner attire. With an ironed baby blue shirt and white pants, she strutted off towards her office, hoping to ‘clean’ her desk again.

I hope the pizza party won’t be TOO messy, I’d hate to ruin this shirt, she thought with a sigh. A glimpse of this morning’s accident came to mind. She wondered who could’ve caused such a thing and if there were any fatalities. She wondered if it was the doing of the Knights of Raguel. Ever since their appearance, she has taken quite a mild interest in them.

Her thoughts were briefly interrupted as she arrived back at the lobby, where she was greeted by a sight she hadn’t noticed there before. A squid… man? Oh! I see what he means now!

"Well, it's been fun folks, but I gotta go! Tip your waitresses!" With that goodbye, Apple watched the man crawl away.

“And here I thought I saw everything.” She whispered to herself. With her bag in hand, she made her way towards her office; however, a familiar sight caught her eye. Or a familiar feline. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Miss Squiggles, the feline they were supposed to relocate. It was Commonwealth’s feline agent, Isabella Chase.

 

[mrkravs]

Iris
Mako Shimontia
Location: Commonwealth Armory
Mood: Tf is this?
​

It’s been quite the jump of careers. Last week, a police officer, patrolling through San Francisco, investigating rogue supers that slipped from her sister’s radar, writing the morning tickets, and working for that psychology degree she gave up four years ago. Now, her week now starts at nine in the morning, a somewhat welcomed change from the jumps from early morning to graveyard shifts with the SFPD. Though, instead of actively keeping busy, she was put into desk work, still keeping track of supers, some rogue, others just coming in to report their superness…if that was a thing.

Though, at least a welcomed task hit her on this weekend’s overtime fiasco, inventory. Mako wandered through the armory of the Commonwealth office, her head bobbing as she took a moment to gather a general idea of what was in store. It was just like any average month of inspecting police units, armory, and evidence lockups.

“Holy flip!” Mako paused, stopping as she landed on an interesting piece of tech. She leaned forward, her eyes squinting, occasionally flipping to the clipboard under her, trying to figure out what it was.

Though, this was the only issue at the moment, trying to piece together what every item was. Some of the equipment was easy to match on the list but then there was the high tech stuff, which seemed to be half the armory. At least it beat the labor and maintenance stuff that she was hardly qualified for. Definitely beat the hunt for Miss Squiggles.

“Pspsps,” Mako paused, glancing over her shoulder, scanning for any movement. A sigh was dragged out as she nodded, “Worth a shot I guess.” She dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone.

The screen lit up, a text popping up, What was that thing you ordered from here again? Opening up the phone, another text shortly followed, That latte you got me last week. A photo of a coffee shop popped up, her sister’s hand in the photo, pointing to it.

A smile creased her face. She replied, Seriously? A detective with almost ten years and you can’t remember?
Hurry up idiot.
Now I'm hurt
k
Pumpkin spice latte. Could get a spiked one. Whitechapel makes it.
Still working. Got a Disciple case on my desk this morning.

A sigh followed. She leaned on the table behind, the clipboard with the inventory sheet stuck to it. Well, be careful. She was sort of glad that she left that place behind. If it wasn't the basic traffic tickets, it was Combined MC, Brawns, Yokai, or Disciples. Though, that only left Kai to deal with it.

Holding the phone up, she took a quick picture, a peace sign being held up, behind the row of equipment up on display. Setting the phone down, she turned, her head nodding as she put on some music from back home, a band called Bacon Pancakes, “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”