#myersbprd

There's a pinprick hole in the universe. It burns with an impossible light, searing and stretching across existence for a brief, shining moment, before vomiting forth a torrent of blood.

In some dirty back alley crimson pools on the concrete, trickling away from the battered form of a man absolutely drenched in it.

Earth standard gravity. Fucking COI again.

It takes all the energy left in his body to move, bracing himself on his intact arm and coughing out what feels like several gallons of blood before shifting so he collapses on his back this time, panting desperately in the cold air.

I did my time. I'm free. I'm free God damnit.

One reason he liked living in Torrance was the more temperate weather; even winters were pretty mild, just cooler temperatures and longer nights. So of course, some bitch-ass freak snowstorm had to fuck up his schedule. Instead of relaxing in the breakroom with Alice or Bruno or even Herman, he barely had time to report back to headquarters between dispatches. Had he any less practice controlling his fire, it probably would've burst out by now and singed a cat's tail off or something. His severed two fingers ached a bit, despite trying to massage them between jobs. So who could blame him for grumbling and snipping at Robert?

Just when Zahir had gotten himself out of the biting wind and sat down, of course there Robert was again in his earpiece. Some out-of-towner from the East fucking Coast had decided to make all this snow and ice worse, specifically around one apartment building to target someone inside. The call had been interrupted by the building's power cutting out, so Zahir had to admit it was actually time-sensitive. "Da khar bachey..." he muttered, then stood again with a quiet groan. "Alright, alright, I'm going. Should get a fucking vacation for this." Donning his polarized color shades yet again, he took off into the air with another jet of flame.

At least it wasn't too far; even if it was, it'd be pretty fucking obvious from the air. A column of cloud surrounded the apartments, gusts whipping up the sleet around it as well. Okay, either weather or ice powers, both usually long-distance. He'd stand his best chance up close. As he approached, a small cluster of dark cars parked near the anomaly caught his attention. What the fuck? On a longer look, even with the people there all bundled up, they seemed pretty official.

Though he only had a guess, he checked in with Robert. "Hey Robbo, I think we've got fucking Feds here. Might know about the guy behind this."

"Who says it's a guy?" Robert replied; a deflection to buy time for thought.

Zahir answered anyway. "Because it's always fucking straight guys pulling this kind of shit. His ex-girlfriend's probably in this apartment or something."

"Okay, you might have a point there." A sigh through the little speaker in his ear. "Alright, just... try not to piss 'em off, but you're still here to do a job and you're better-equipped for this than they are."

"Obviously, bitch." His smirk carried clear in his tone.

Tapping out, Zahir descended to the street - and immediately had to raise his hands when the nearest agent pointed a gun at him. If he got shot over this, he might break his streak of 'days without committing arson'. For now, he looked around the others and found his gaze drawn to one in particular. Not the tallest, or most muscular, but the other man had that sort of easy confidence and alertness in a crisis that Zahir privately admired about Robert. Had the same kind of vibe as his favorite dispatcher too, though maybe with less depression.

"Hey you," he called to the dark-haired man. "Looks like you're in charge here?"

"What makes you say that?" the agent aiming the gun cut in.

If someone had told him even five years ago that he'd be not only free of Miranda, but walking into a small auditorium to attend a Schubertiade beside an American guy he was friends with (and attracted to, even crushing on)... Well, presuming Karl wouldn't have ejected or killed them for trespassing in his factory, he would've laughed in their face.

He didn't feel like laughing now. Not out of disbelief, anyway.

Karl fidgeted a little with the collar of his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, bought only the other day after John had actually managed to find and buy these tickets. His prosthetic arm sat with its hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans; casualness was an expected aspect of this sort of concert. Besides, Karl wasn't fond of the feel of slacks. Still present also were his dark boots, though he had at least properly laced them all the way up. He then removed his dark spectacles to hook them on his shirt pocket. The house lights were soft enough not to give him a headache - plus, wearing them over an eyepatch was something else new.

It was starting to become a bad habit.

She leaned against the headboard of a hotel bed. Propped up by a pillow as she spun a lovely large diamond engagement ring, around her ring finger. Memories of how the ring came to be playing back in her head. She was out eating at a cafe, enjoying a muffin and a coffee when she noticed the scene outside. The large window was like a television, a couple arguing out front, like some artsy-indie flick before her. It was pretty bad, others strolled by looking at them as they passed. No one got involved, it wasn't violent—physically. Verbally it was brutal. In its finale, the woman took off her engagement ring and tossed it away from them. She supposed it was supposed to hit him. The woman had poor aim and missed. Lorelai looked around. Others were watching like a video on the internet, clearly entertained by the scene. She looked side to side, got up, and headed to the hall, towards the bathroom before disappearing out of site.

Safely invisible to the naked eye. Lorelai teleported out. The woman walked away, turning down the corner, mostly storming off from the scene. The man lingered a bit, took a quick look around before heading to his expensive car. He slammed the door and drove off, wheels squealing in his wake. Lorelai searched for the ring. It took her a while, it was on the edge of the curb by the street, covered in oil and water. She pulled it out and examined her prize. Lovely ring, white gold, large diamond, other small diamonds. Then the woman came back. Teary-eyed and distraught she began searching, then it became evident she was searching for the ring. The ring's energy was still connected to the woman. They longed to be back together.

Guilt flooded Lorelai as she watched as the woman searched and searched. She was tempted to drop it, and let the woman have it back. Though she tossed it, foolishly in a fit of rage. Soon the woman gave up and Lorelai kept it.

She stared at the ring, tempted to keep it herself. It felt nice to pretend to be engaged. Though she wasn't. She didn't belong to anyone. She outlived everyone and it hurt. She sighed and left it on her finger for one more night, figuring she'd pawn it in the morning.

She lay in bed for a few minutes, she had amassed quite a bit of money to live luxuriously. Securly with 300 grand still left in her account. She can finally make a few hideouts, and own a property or two, throughout the states. She smiled, pushing out the devious things she did to get the funds to do so.

_ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * __ * _ * _

An agent from the BPRD made her way to Agent Myers and placed a relatively thin file on his desk. "Next assignment," she said curtly. She waited for his reaction before releasing a quick smile. "Red got a look first. Browsed through it for a couple of minutes then chuckled. Said to hand it to you," she finished about to turn. She began walking away. "He left a note...and yes I read it!" she informed with a smile-like scoff. She continued walking away out of site. Inside the folder were only a few pieces of paper. An access code to the online version of the file. For him to update along the case. There was a crudely written sticky note.

Here's your Unicorn Beyond it, were a few police reports. Three separate cases where Lorelai let herself get caught. Each mugshot was similar, the only difference was the dates. The large timegaps, the middle name, she picked on a whim. Her features were the same, large blueish-green eyes, and dark hair. Two other files held photos of an Asylum pictures 1962, the other 1983.

Spiritual Entity - Wardens. Records of existence on file. 4.

Lorelai Lee- astray, theft, larceny, grand larceny. Last known location New Orleans, Lousiana. Stollen property from the BPRD. Attained Blueprints and other occult writings from Grigori Rasputin and the Third Reich. Must apprehend immediately.

@myersbprd

The bar venue was small, as so many of them always were for Siren, but Jun was relieved it at least had a high enough ceiling that he wouldn't be knocking his head against anything while performing on the raised stage. He was just redoing his mic check - after snorting in the middle of his first attempt at a joke Asim had made - when he noticed a clean-cut guy meandering closer to the stage. An early arrival for the concert, or so he hoped.

-

tuesday, july 25, 2006 4:45am (stateside local) mild rain, gray morning skies, humid

the screen is eerily blank for multiple seconds, the sounds of clattering items all that's emitted above the gentle static. muttering comes next, a woman's frustration coming through with no visual to accompany it until a silhouette appears, out of focus.

'come on, come on, yes! it worked!'

emits the voice, hushed but triumphant as what can be assumed is keys of what might be an old keyboard by the heavy sounds of it are pressed in the audio. the picture is grainy, as if there's some kind of interference yet it does finally come into focus to display a woman looking at the camera and addressing an agent with a name hunnigan hasn't come across before. the name is typed into a second monitor upon her station though a voice on the phone she's balancing on her shoulder halts her. tells her to wait and watch. the woman on the screen looks a bit worse for wear. there's a small gash on her forehead that looks as if it's scabbed over and the scrubs she wears look wrinkled and disheveled as if they've been worked in a while. it's not what's shocking about the video. hunnigan has seen a lot both in her own field experiences before she'd taken a desk job and in the displays from messages from various agents she aids who are in the field.

she's seen kennedy a hell of a lot worse for example.

what's shocking comes from the words which emit from the woman's lips. she speaks quickly, to the point, an attempt to relay as much information as possible in an efficient manner. hunnigan appreciates it. a final stage of a virus is synthesized and will have enough produced for the final stage of an attack within forty-eight hours. possibly less, most likely less. she's only piecing together what she's been able to hear and catch glimpses of. she's being monitored constantly but one of the other scientists speaks to her as they work, whenever they get the chance to, and he seems to be an ally. the process appears to be faster because of the nature of vampiric materials.

vampiric?!

the camera is shifted, loses focus for a moment when it's lifted and redirected over a blurry file that hunnigan already knows is going to have to get sent for enhancement. she can just barely see the name claire red.field on it though ingrid isn't sure if she actually saw the name clearly or if it's her brain piecing it together by virtue of the fact the woman voices the name a moment later. the camera pans too quickly over a separate video feed, camera on camera distorting the picture with lines-- yet, some can be made out. maybe the worse of it is the sound.

there's screaming. wild, scared, pained.

there's frenzied movement on the screen of the screen. there's what ingrid thinks is a woman attacking a man in scrubs and then her being forced back down and injected with something and she thinks the woman cries something to the effect of 'not again' after some profound swearing in-between. maybe that's really the most shocking part because ingrid has never met redfield but she's seen agent kennedy's file and seen claire's picture in it because the girl and leon had escaped raccoon together and as distorted as the picture may be, ingrid understands in the pit of her stomach what she's seeing is the same woman.

the camera pans back once more to the woman sending it with her rattling off something about redfield having been the key to the virus and a location. about something being wrong. she shouldn't have been able to get to this terminal let alone send this video she's not sure where the guards are but she's uploading the communication now and praying they get it. to please send the bprd or anyone they can. there's a sound, a groan really, which emits somewhere in the room the woman is in and she looks away before turning back and starting to say to 'tell leon...' something... but it's cut off with the transmission going dark and somehow, that's when something else connects in ingrid's mind and she chastises herself for not having realized it sooner. she's seen this woman's picture in leon's file too. it's his cousin that survived the attack on their family when agent kennedy was a child.

okay. ingrid thinks. okay. okay.

the voice on the phone begins speaking again, giving ingrid little time to recover even as she begins opening various windows at her computer station. it reveals more information to her. information about the bureau of paranormal research and defense. of an outbreak in a polish village the year before, about redfield being part of the bprd-- which doesn't exist on paper except as the fbi's special operations division. it tells her mara a kennedy was an informant in a company run by fucking vampires. vampires! it tells her a select few members of the bsaa, valentine and the other redfield have been contacted and are deploying with bprd on route to prismya where there's been some strange reports of attacks in the last twenty-four hours. they'll meet agent kennedy there and she needs to relay all this information to him and get him on a military flight leaving in two hours. it's a lot. it's chaos. but it's a chaos she can handle. she has to. first, however, she needs to finish dialing agent kennedy's number.

she does and takes an unusual step further, tells him he needs to get to headquarters immediately, with no delays. she needs to meet with him in person. and someone needs to meet with him, a bprd agent myers who'd be going on a mission with him, reinforcements already on-route to meet them there. she doesn't tell him why but her vocal pattern shows the seriousness of it. she greets the bprd agent in a room off the corridor of the building where the light always flickers and the work order for it has gone into the abyss of low priorities. when agent kennedy gets there she tells him all she knows, she shows him the video, and she lets the bprd agent tell him the rest of the pertinent information as she goes to gather more information for herself to aid them in the field.

'leon, be careful.'

she calls out to him as she watches him and the other agent leave for the military base (that transport would get them to europe faster than other means). ingrid, rarely calls him by his first name but this was uncharted territory. this was personal territory, at least for him. almost twelve hours later hunnigan has some communication with the bsaa, redfield and valentine, helps them navigate a nightmare on the ground that they'd flown into. she's not usually involved with the bsaa but this whole mission was.. well, there was a lot of players in the game at once and they all had the same ultimate goals. she had the feeling she'd be patching them all into each other the whole time.

fifteen, almost sixteen hours after leon leaves, when hunnigan gets word from that leon and the bprd agent have gotten separated after they'd gotten to one of the companies' facilities where he thinks the outbreak started (an outbreak that wasn't part of the main plot and shouldn't have happened) and that they'd found indications mara and claire had been moved to some location in the countryside but then leon and myers had gotten separated after a car crash outside a local village she's not surprised so she helps him navigate as far toward the castle facility as her access to sat feeds will allow. somehow, this feels a bit like spain all over again. she certainly thinks the stakes are just as high for her agent in the field. this wasn't the president's daughter but it was his family and his friend and a hell of a lot of innocent people's lives at stake.

wednesday, july 26, 2006 8:13am (prismya local) prismya countryside, mountain valley filled with small villages and an expansive castle complex which used to house the local ruler of the region. has held an increase in activity, construction equipment, and people to the area in recent years. also many disappearances. rainy and dark gray skies, foggy, cloudy, low visibility

she's cold. then she's hot. both make her hurt like a fucking train is chugging through her blood stream and making her want to tear into something but they've taken everything away she could possibly break after she'd managed to turn a part of the bed into something she could stab with. it'd been a blunt edge but she'd still managed with a spirt of strength to impale one of the people that'd come into the room to sedate her with it. her mind is scattered, hair messy and in all directions around her shoulder's when she awakens in a new place. mara's no where in sight but claire is sure she'd seen her. she's positive. she wasn't losing her mind. she wasn't. she'd seen her. she had! metal surfaces are around her, there's a camera too. she attacks it with her bare hands. they come into the room. she can't remember what happened after that. she thinks she drew blood. or they drew her blood? no, she'd hurt one of them. she's sure. the feel of a badge, a key.. she'd hurt him, the man injecting her, but he'd slipped her something. why? she doesn't understand. was he the one mara said was a friend? is she imagining it? but he hurt her. did he have a choice?

wait.. then.. now. then wasn't now. that already happened. key.. badge. her body hurts. she's thirsty but she's not supposed to be. she can't let herself be. remember. remember to fight it. mara had said the longer she does the slower the infection will move through her. she'd said that, back at the other place. where is mara? where is she? her body shifts, rolls over where it'd passed out before. flashes of memories playing at her mind. she tires to piece together her memories. her eyes aren't open but she sees....

there'd been a mission. she can remember that. but then.. so much death. she'd fought. injections.. experiments. she'd fought. she'd screamed. she'd attacked. it hurt. her mind scatters. she remembers a desert. no, that was a long time ago. she remembers a police station. no that was further away. blonde hair.. she remembers a dinner with a child laughing and the surprise on their faces when another person had shown up at their door with pizza from that hole in the wall place she'd taken sherry to and mentioned. it wasn't an every-day thing, the three of them getting to spend time together and so they'd held on to it at the time. a thread, it forms a thread into another string of flashes. a chip. anger... understanding.. an email.

'stop being like that claire, just send the god damn fucking email.' she'd told herself.

the thread.. mission. facility. he'd slipped her something to escape. she'd gotten out. they'd chased her. a crash. something spilled. screams. zombies but.. different, she thinks. had to find a lift. had to find a way up. a way out. metal turned to stone. corridors. maze. castle? they'd found her. blood. she'd stabbed. she'd stabbed them, not bitten. she hadn't bitten. but they'd stabbed her too, she thinks. maybe? find somewhere to hide. hide first. figure out next step after. there'd been a room. supplies in it. boxes. she remembers boxes.. utah had boxes. rebecca had gotten shot. the boxes had fallen. circle the memories back. boxes in front of her. climb. hide on top. she wants to see her brother. she wants to see leon. to not have how they last saw each other be the last... claire passed out.

it's cold against her skin but her body feels hot. sweaty, clammy. dark veins creep along her arms. she's only wearing a thin tank top type shirt with pants, she should have tried to find something but there hadn't been time. it wasn't as much of a concern as escape. the blood across her top is crusty. how long as she been there? there's no wound... it healed. but she'd been stabbed.. she can't think about it. not yet. not yet. find mara. get a cure. escape. no she couldn't.. mara had said something about them releasing it.. hadn't she? or had she imagined it? claire's clearer now then she was, and yet not fully clear either. it's hard to keep a hold of her thoughts, takes effort. she can do this. she has to do this. there isn't a choice. one step at a time.

there's sound. a scuffle. a grunt. gun shots. something had spilled before.. she remembers it.. kind of, sort of. outbreak. shit. she thinks there'd been one before too. back wherever she'd been but now.. had she caused this one? in her attempt to escape? or had it come with them like it had antarctica from rockfort, along with the personnel? shit. shit. shit. another gun shot. wooden door splinter's below, figures move into the dark room, crash across it like godzilla to a city. someone hits the boxes, they all fall down with her with it. ouch. pain radiates and blood fills her senses. someone's bleeding. she knows it like she knows what air is. in a way that unsettles her. it makes her mind go fuzzy, the veins on her skin burn. there's fighting in the low light, another gun shot. one of them stops moving.

claire reacts.

she lifts herself from the tangle of boxes and launches herself at whoever still stands with a sudden fury and strength she shouldn't have. she feels like it's temporary. it's not going to last and some part of her seems to realize the more she exerts herself the more the infection is going to take root but she has to get away. and to do that she has to stop whoever else is there. so they can't take her away again. so they can't hurt her again. so they can't make her veins feel like they are on fire and her so thirsty. it's all nails and desperate punches when she lands as if she's a wild and wounded animal backed into a corner. hair blocking her face as she attacks. she remembers the feeling of the injections. she remembers the experiments. she's angry, it's taking hold. it's overwhelming her, clouding her mind. she can feel it. but whoever she's fighting is strong. they react too and her arms are suddenly being forced to halt, her struggling wildly until some of her hair that was blocking her vision shifts and she sees eyes. his eyes and now a war is happening within her. something inside wants to fight. wants to hurt. but she. claire. she sees his eyes. she sees them. she knows them. she's crying. it burns her eyes. it's his blood she smells. she wants it. no. no. fucking hell no! she's not lost yet. she won't let herself be. this fucking infection wasn't going to take her. she wouldn't let it. she wouldn't hurt him. why is he there? her mind starts to clear, a little. she stops fighting and fear laces her features.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Purple, blue, red, black

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Strawberry, chocolate

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: I'm listening to a lot of Heaven's Basement recently

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): This time of year, it would be Home Alone and Rise of the Guardians.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: I'm really enjoying some old horror series at the moment.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Fairytale of New York - The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: God of War 2018 playthrough

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Toy Story 2 with my nephew

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: Abominable by Dan Simmons

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: God of War Ragnarok playthroughs

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Drafts

tagged by : @redemptioninchaos (thank you :-) )

tagging : @breakbcnes @asoulunbound @wanderingarcherviola @canonfoddcr @myersbprd

there was a must to the air, the whole space she moves through aged in the way only an abandoned mansion in the heart of louisiana could be. it was quiet as well-- too quiet-- a contrast to the sounds which should be there. the echos of an old home.. the creaks, the wind through broken windows, the tick of an old clock on it’s last leg. not even a crow or cricket could be heard, as if.. everything had fled some kind of presence. but then! sudden footfalls down the hall! thumps on the upper level! damn it! ana moves quickly, hands moving in quick fashion as she aims an invisible force toward the stairwell.