#michael.txt

God, she's beautiful...

O-oh, uh, @elias-magnusnt @caraline-shelley @little-watcher @not-qualified-for-your-bull and anyone else who wants to join!

Somewhere deep within a barracks of an unknown location, the doors open with a bang as a masked woman makes her way through the enormous building. People scatter like roaches to get out of her way, her long white hair contained in a single messy French braid. Curled strands frame her face, but her beauty does nothing to hide the anger in her brown eyes.

She pushes a door in a small corridor open, to see a large table, surrounded by her coworkers. Other various leaders and generals of small and large projects alike.

"Ariel, so nice for you to finally join us," Michael says with a sneer, not even lifting his head to greet Charlotte. She rolls her eyes and looks over the others, taking in their weaknesses and strengths silently. She recites their memory and stations too easily. After all, these people were trying to kill her once upon a time.

She comes to the head of the table, which remains empty, and sits on the left, across from Michael. "Michael, so nice of you to not inform me of this meeting." She snips back, resting her shoulders against the cool wood of the chair. Michael pays no mind to her, as another general shakes his head. Charlotte doesn't need to look up to know it was Raphael, with his dark hair, bronze skin, and piercing brown eyes. A warm color that somehow was always cold.

"Enough," Raph says, his Arabic accent slipping out slightly, which speaks to his annoyance. The other four in the room are eerily silent. Azrael, a Jamaican woman with thick 4C curls and equally thick accent, just stares at Charlotte and Michael. She diverts her eyes, uncomfortable with the gaze of the other two Seraphim, Uriel and Gabriel. Twin boys from Ireland. They were 25, if she remembers correctly. The youngest ones that are a part of the Seraphim.

Not the youngest within the Venom Corps.

They had brown hair. One, Uriel, had long curly hair; he pulled it into a bun most of the time, and Gabriel had light mousey brown hair that he kept the sides shaved down with only some hair on the top of his head. Maybe an inch or two.

She didn't bother looking too hard at their faces, turning back to Michael, about to open her mouth to piss him off, as none other than Harper Garrison walks in. Everyone stands, waiting for him to sit at the head of the table. It was just a holograph, badly glitching. Charlotte hated being in this place. It freaked her out.

Harper gestures for them to sit, and they do.

"How are you progressing on Operation Daydream?" Harper asks, with one of the twins speaking up. "We're making incredible progress, sir. We've already activated two high-profile military assets. We're working on another, Special Forces Commander Phillip Douglas Graves. After him, we are going to focus on Agent Marusya Royeva, who goes by Ved'ma. We're going to work on the 141 afterwards, and then follow up with a few medics and Special Agent Russell Adler." Gabriel informs.

Harper hums, stroking his beard. "Do you think this will be sufficient, Ariel?" Charlotte runs the numbers through her head and sighs, carding a single hand into her messy white hair. "I don't know, sir. Ved'ma will only fight if Grave's is present, but she's been known to be... quite a hard ass even when awake. She's a part of the Venom Corps as the rest of us, but she may not be able to perform to the ability we need her to. Then the 141, they technically are Venom Corps, but they're mostly belonging to British Special Forces and SAS. There's no way to budge the laws in that area with the International court being... well.." She gestures to her neck, making a crude gesture.

"The only ones I trust doing a damn thing is Special Agent Russell Adler, Bell, and maybe Arian Smith, callsign Beaks. Maybe some of the Shadows, but other than that..." She shakes her head, looking up at Harper. "We're going to need even more than that. Most of these people don't even know we're within a simulation and have been for a few months. They've built entire lives within this. If we wake them up too quickly, they're as good as dead, Sir."

Harper seems to take in the information, and it doesn't seem to sit well with him. He sighs, turning to Michael. "I suppose you believe the same?" Michael nods slowly. "I believe the 141 is a better alternative, but each person here is attached to one of the groups within this fucked simulation, sir. We all have a degree of Bias. Ariel with her CIA and Black Ops operators, the twins with Kortac, Azrael with Shadow Company, and Raph and I with the 141. There's no way around that. We're all trying to wake up the ones we know will get the job done on our end without stepping on toes." He shoots a look at Charlotte, and she wants to badly to rip his throat out with her teeth. Maybe if he died he wouldn't be so fucking smug all the time.

"At least most of us are." He turns back to Harper, who seems to be equally annoyed at the banter between the two. He settles in his chair and stares at the desk in front of him for a moment before he looks back up, the holograph flickering. "Wake them up. We have three weeks before the Venom Corps is dismantled. We cannot allow that to happen, understood?" A chorus of yes, sir filled the room, and Harper seemed happy with it. The holograph pulsed before finally shutting off, and Charlotte let out a shaky breath.

"That isn't a whole lot of time," Uriel mutters, and a small mumble of agreements comes from everyone. Even Michael looks insanely stressed. Charlotte takes a deep breath and stands. "Graves is awake. Let's move forward with the next stage of the plan. Announce his death, and then pin down individual targets and strike based on the degree of their awakeness." Everyone seemed to agree, and Michael nodded. The barracks glitter, and then there's a bright white flash, and Charlotte stands just outside the Shadow Company's base. She pulls up a hood, changing the color of her hair with just a thought, and walks through the gates. Surely her target would be here with Beaks...