joestar
New Member
-Downtown Central Business District-
-Walking to Lucky Sun Ent.-
Phillip Montgomery
To know defeat one’s enemy, is to know one’s enemy.
Opening the door to his office, Phillip’s gaze landed on an otherwise unassuming beige two-drawer file cabinet pushed against the back wall of his wood-paneled office. He reached just beneath the lip of his desk, fingers finding a hidden panel that slid out with practiced ease. Contained within the concealed compartment lay a set of keys on a keyring. Fitting the smallest key into the lock of the file cabinet, he opened the top drawer with a click and began sorting through his meticulously organized manila folders.
Phillip wasn’t famous, nor had he ever desired to be. He preferred his privacy - strangers had no business knowing his name, address, or any details of his life. As a result, he’d created more identities than you could count on both hands. A select few had been issued by the powers that be, crafted for missions that required bulletproof cover. These identities came with a digital footprint, verifiable history, and layers of plausible deniability. The government wasn’t exactly handing these out like candy, so he used these sparingly.
The majority of his identities were not ‘government-approved’ so to speak. They were of his own creation- cobbled together from half-truths and, well, half-lies. They were convincing enough to hold up under casual scrutiny, but flimsy enough that they would not survive any dedicated investigation. Each folder contained a complete profile: fake IDs, credit cards, birth certificates, and even wallet stuffers designed to fool any casual peruser.
Phillip was certain that his acting skills would be more than enough to carry him through this mission. Years of practice had taught him that the visible proof of identity was much less important than the confidence with which he presented it.
He picked a folder out of the drawer and scanned through it. This was one of his less-than-complete identities, but he didn’t think he’d need more than a driver’s license and a social security card anyway. Phillip set the folder down, opened a drawer on the left side of his desk, and fished out a cheap, empty, black faux-leather wallet. He shoved the driver’s license and a few cards into the wallet before locking everything back up.
Adam McGuire, 46 years old, born in a small, unremarkable town in Arkansas, just outside a major city. This would have to do.
Phillip stepped outside, the mid-morning sun burning his eyes, and the smell of burning rubber and trash stinging his nostrils. As he rejoined his little ragtag team and they began trekking further into the city, the amount of pigeon shit and mysterious liquids spilling onto the street increased in frequency. Oh, how Phillip loved the big city, but it wasn’t like he would ever leave- as much as he complained, he was a city slicker through and through.
He pulled his phone out and began browsing the Lucky Sun job boards as they walked and talked, hoping to gain reconnaissance as Phillip could not simply go in blind.
“So, uh- I’ve worked with both of you separately before, but not together. It’s kinda like I’m in the Twilight Zone right now.”
“Twilight Zone, I know that one.” Phillip responds to Andrei, eyes still locked on his phone. Honestly, he couldn’t disagree more, he’d had his fair share of Twilight Zone moments, and working with a new team was definitely not on his list. He doubted Andrei meant it anyway, Andrei was more the type to prefer the sound of his own voice to lingering silences- Phillip couldn’t relate less.
Phillip found a potential job and began repeating job duties and Lucky Sun mission statements in his head.
“What do you guys think of the AIU so far? It’s kinda’ blown my mind just how many crimes involve arcana. I don’t know how the Order of Divine Judges managed all this before we came along, I can barely keep up.”
Andrei was clearly just making polite conversation to avoid thinking about what was to come. Working closely alongside Andrei, Phillip recognized the pattern; the more on edge Andrei became, the chattier he was. This case must’ve been wearing on him, which Phillip couldn’t blame him for. No leads, no information, and very little support- Phillip would’ve been nervous too if he were less seasoned and taking the reigns on a case of this magnitude.
Julian had the same idealized thoughts as Phillip did when he was younger. ‘If we had more money’, ‘if we had more training’, but Phillip knew better than to expect change within a government system and had learned to rely on no one but himself when it came to the big things. The only way the system could change was if humans became more invested in magic and the arcane, and unfortunately, from birth, humans were taught to separate themselves from the arcane and told they shouldn’t wish to engage with those wielding inhuman powers.
“We’re not going to be able to accomplish our goals if they keep saddling us with idiots like D’Aprile and letting guys like that be on the task force is just making the problem worse.”
Julian was completely correct in everything he said, but again, humans are taught not to meddle in arcane affairs, so the number of humans willing to even associate with the arcane was sparse. D’Aprile wasn’t the worst he’d worked with anyway, sure he was an asshole, and an incompetent fool, but as far as he could tell, D’Aprile attempted to do his job which was far more than some of the agents he’d ‘worked with’.
Philip wasn’t sure Julian had ever worked outside of Los Noctis- he was so young that Phillip couldn’t imagine he had. The AIU was a blessing that both Julian and Andrei didn’t realize they had. Many countries didn’t have an agency like the AIU dedicated to the protection and conviction of the arcane. Without the Order of Divine Judges’ watchful eye, many countries had medieval practices regarding arcane life. Lack of resources was just a given with any government agency, including the average human policing force.
“As backward as the Order is, and as terrible of a detective that D’Aprile is, we could be doing much worse.” Phillip pocketed his phone and pulled out a metal tin containing cigarettes and a lighter. “You should see Europe, they still believe in burning arcane offenders at the stake as an acceptable punishment. Petty nonsense too, steal a soda from a convenience store? Burned at the stake.” Phillip lit the cigarette in his mouth- unintentionally punctuating his statement with the flick of his lighter.
Phillip couldn’t clearly recall the circumstances, but he remembered the smell- the smell of burnt flesh is one that even the most hardened of men could never forget- and he remembered the sight. A small village outside of Lyon, a smoldering body-shaped figure, blackened and bone, hogtied and strung up in a tree, body too burnt to identify.
Phillip shook his head and looked down at the metal cigarette tin in his hand, trying to forget what he’d remembered. This tin had been passed down from his grandfather- it was a bit on the nose that his family heirloom was an addiction to something that may end up killing him one day, but that was his family. His pappy had taught both him and his father how to roll cigarettes from tobacco that his pappy grew himself. His grandfather had taught him to roll in the early mornings before a day of hard farming began. Pappy liked to watch the sunrise and sunset with a cigarette in his mouth- a ritual of sorts, one that Phillip carried with him once he reached adulthood.
As they continued down the street, tall buildings on either side blocking the morning sun, Phillip’s hand drifted into his pants pocket, where he could aggressively itch the eczema patch on his thigh within his pocket. It was getting worse- his doctor had prescribed the strongest poultice on the market, coupled with a sprinkle of arcana magic and the rash still wouldn’t budge. It kept him up at night and he swore it was driving him insane.
They soon reached the large polished stone steps of Lucky Sun Entertainment, which towered far above the surrounding buildings. Visible from the street was the Lucky Sun logo painted onto a sign as an art piece- a yellow sun, smiling from the center of a four-leaf clover. Just up the steps, the path split into two cement walkways, between them, a strip of green and what looked to be very expensive flowers planted in a rainbow color scheme. At the center of the arrangement lay a fountain statue of a very muscular man wearing an ornate gold-plated necklace and pouring water from a vase crafted from purple, green, and red stained glass tiles into a swirling pool, lined in the the same tiles in various shades of blue.
Andrei stops just at the edge of the fountain pool and stares down at a gold placard.
Obatala’s words are like a mirror
Andrei mutters something under his breath, Phillip makes a mental note to ask him about it later. Now wasn’t the time to pry, they were headed into the belly of the beast with no leads, plans, or backup. Luckily, Captain Ramirez had placed Phillip on this team for a reason; his ability to slip through locations undetected was one of his few God-given talents.
“You two make a fuss up front, flash some badges, be difficult, be distracting. I’m going to pass through security.” Phillip pulls out his wallet opening it to reveal the fake identity inside. “I’m Adam McGuire, and you don’t know me.”
