Aim Like Poetry

TIME: 10th of May; Morning  LOCATION: The Eastern Woods CHARACTERS: @agentmarch, @connor-pritchard, @natereems

Avery got ready quickly and efficiency, only pausing in the shower for a brief moment. He told himself he would give himself thirty seconds of stillness, then he would have to get scrubbing. Just a couple seconds to wake and let the aches in his shoulders relax under the heat. When he lost count, he found himself dwelling longer than he should. Shutting his eyes, he savored the moment. Maybe for a minute, maybe longer. Only once he noticed his own stillness, a parasitic memory had him moving. A ghost of an old Sargent, a voice like a hound, more bark than thorough speech— what do you think this is March, a damn day spa? Cleaned, dressed and breakfast. Quick, quicker, quickest.  He felt a little more lively after he slammed down a bit of coffee, (or something close to coffee) and made his way to where his team would rendezvous before they embarked on their first mission. Despite the little time he had wasted at the beginning of the morning, he was among the first to arrive. He had said a curt hello to the team, then proceeded to stand quietly. He began checking and rechecking his gear, rather than partaking in small talk.  Nate was one of the last to show, arriving with banter in tow, which didn’t surprise Avery after the radio nonsense the other day. “You just missed the fanfare,” he said hollowly, face void of any humor.  He glanced around, mentally counting the heads of the team. Six. They were all here and accounted for. Heading towards the unknown, or some of It at least, had him feeling the subtle rush of danger. An old feeling. A mixture of excitement and fear. It resurfaced like seeing the face of an old friend. Familiar. Vaguely comforting. Their first mission was about to begin. “So,” he said, tipping his chin up, “that’s everyone.”  

Construction of the medical facility had completed earlier that week. The tent was one of the more substantial structures on the grounds, with the interior sectioned off into neat rooms. The process of transferring and calibrating equipment to the newly built examination, treatment and quarantine rooms had been more intensive than they anticipated— Vodin had sent top of the line technology. The mandated base medical assessments for the entire crew had been overwhelming, but the small medical team had managed. The questions and tests were standard, and a few samples were taken. Tom found himself slipping into an easy rhythm as he took temperatures and recorded blood pressure. This was a comfortable place to be— too busy to require any introspection.

One thing that Avery could be sure of here in Arcadia, was that he could keep busy. Something always needed to be moved, in the beginning stages, an extra set of hands was greatly appreciated.  He figured that it was much like a baby, demanding constant care and kept with watchful eyes. When it all came down to it, he knew that being useful was better than the alternative —being alone and listless. He had worked hard in these beginning days, a small ache had begun to settle at his shoulders and he welcomed that ache, seeing as it was a sign of his practicality. He had stopped at the mess hall for a quick snack between his odd jobs around the base. He could not wait until his job truly started, he was a soldier after all. For now,  he moved through time on autopilot; method without much prior thought.  The medical personnel didn’t spook him, but they did interrupt a moment of silent meditation as he chewed his way through an energy bar. “Gossip already?” He shoved the unfinished half of his bar into his pocket and stood up straighter. “You should know better than to listen to rumors,” he said hollowly.  “But,” he started, a dark brow raised as he nodded towards the man’s tablet. “If your tablet says I’ve gotta get poked and prodded, who am I to disagree? Lead the way, pal.”