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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 10, 2007 6:12:07 GMT -5
As they approached the main entrance of the FIB building, Michael pulled out the id badge he had conveniently forgotten to return after his last visit, and clipped it to his jacket pocket. The last time he had entered the FIB’s headquarters had been to supply information in the hopes that it would buy out his contract with the IS.
He hadn’t required their help or their money, but he didn’t think it advisable to let the IS know what he had in his coffers, especially as he had been planning to double cross them. His plan had worked surprisingly well with his contract torn up, and up to this point there had been no contract issued upon his head.
They walked through the doors and stood in the impressive foyer made up of high ceilings and dark gray marble floors. In front of them was a long desk that sat four receptionists all sitting next to walk throw metal detectors. More worryingly though were the security guards standing to one side with vicious looking Dobermans straining at their leads. In a futile attempt to increase security, the dogs had been employed to sniff out any Inderlanders that tried to enter the building on the quiet.
Upon reaching the desk, I gave the receptionist a beaming smile and flashed the id card in her direction as one of the razor blade fur coats began a low rumbling at the back of its throat as its head tilted to one side. The poor dogs were always confused by my presence. I didn’t have the scent of an Inderlander, but then with my unique heritage I didn’t quite smell completely human either. The woman eyed the two of us suspiciously for a few seconds while she examined my identification before nodding us through and into the main building.
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 10, 2007 11:40:12 GMT -5
Rhia smiles sweetly at the receptionist, ignoring the dogs to the left of her. The advantage of being near Michael at that point, other than the fact that she loves him, is that the dogs were completely enugulfed in trying to find out what in the hell he was, oblivious to her presence.
"Thank you," she says softly as the woman gestures for them to enter. She walks wit Michael, waiting for him to lead the way.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 12, 2007 12:01:30 GMT -5
Michael stood in the corridor looking left then right as he weighed up his choices. He’d visited the FIB’s offices before, but had always been escorted to some interview room or the basement lock-up (that had simply been a misunderstanding). This however was the first time that he had been given free reign of the place.
He was hoping to find agent Farrell somewhere in the maze of corridors and ficus plant filled offices. The last time they had met, Farrell had been in charge of a task force designed to target the drug dealers in the Hollows. Michael had helped them to orchestrate a large Brimestone bust early that year when he’d been buying his contract out with the information he was supplying to the FIB.
That wasn’t to say the Michael and Farrell got on with other. In fact Farrell had taken a distinct dislike to the wizard, claiming that any human that chose to work for the IS instead of his fellow humans was a traitor to his kind. Normally someone like Farrell would have been the last person Michael would have gone to for a favour, but the guy had proven himself to be a competent agent and had kept his word by paying off his IS contract as promised.
Some guy had once said ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’. Michael had always thought that it was a better idea to keep your enemies locked in a small concrete room with a thick steel door buried 50ft below the surface in the Antarctica, but he understood the concept of the idea.
Tossing an imaginary coin in his mind, Michael decided upon the corridor to his left. “Come on.” He said to Rhia, as he set of at pace where he was promptly stopped by stern looking woman dressed in a smart business suit.
“And where do you think you’re going.” She asked as she squinted at the id badge clipped to his jacket through the spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
“Agent Farrell’s office, so if you don’t mind.” Replied Michael trying to look like he belonged in the middle of the corridor.
“Well your going the wrong way.” Said the woman, gazing up at him suspiciously.
“So I am,” Michael grimaced embarrassingly as he grabbed Rhia by the arm. “See I told you we were going the wrong way.” He said loudly, grinning at Rhia as they hurried back down the corridor before the woman could say another word.
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 12, 2007 12:10:59 GMT -5
Rhia chokes back a laugh at the grin on Michael's face. She shakes her head just a bit. "Wrong way eh,. Mr. I-have-major-connections-with-the-FIB-learn-from-me-young-padaoun," Rhia teases in a whisper.
She does her best to keep a straight face as Michael drags her through the hallway, looking for some agent's office. "I can walk, Michael. Don't drag me around to make yourself look better." Rhia teases again, letting just a small bit of her normal mischevious grin peek through.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 12, 2007 12:37:38 GMT -5
“I do have contacts.” Said Michael with a serious nod. “I just haven’t got the foggiest idea of where to find them.” He laughed as he stopped dragging her down the corridor away from the dragon lady.
“Let you in on a little secret. That ID badge of mine isn’t exactly kosher.” The smile on his face taking on an equally mischievous look to match the one Rhia was wearing. “They should definitely take your advice and hire us to sort out their security. We got in waaaaay to easily.”
Skipping down the long corridors together, trying desperately hard not to laugh when they passed the unsuspecting security guards walking the building, they managed to explore the lower floors of the building without any problems. They passed the labs Michael had talked about, wormed their way through the Were division, and had a nervy experience in a vamp only bathroom (don’t ask…really) before they finally made it to the fourth floor where they stood outside of a door with Agent Farrell’s name emblazoned on a bronze placard.
“Time to look pretty.” Grinned Michael as he winked at Rhia, raising his hand to knock on the door.
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 12, 2007 12:52:07 GMT -5
Rhia grins, reaching up to fluff out her hair a bit as Michael knocks on the door. She had done her best to keep her cool as they explored the offices, which is easier said than doen, especially after the whole vamp-only bathroom incident (don't ask).
The one good thing she had found about being a good looking woman in this line of work is that most men completely underestimate you, making it a lot easier for them to feel at ease and let a whole lot of things slip.
So, standing next to Michael, she puts on her best smile and waits for Agent Farrell to come to the door.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 12, 2007 19:08:03 GMT -5
“Here goes nothing.” Smirked Michael as he knocked on the door quietly, but firm enough to be heard and not sound too insistent.
“Yo, come in and put the files on my desk.” Came the thick New Orleans accent from somewhere deep within the room.
Michael pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open while gesturing for Rhia to enter. “Ladies first.” He said in a low whisper to let Rhia know that he would like to leave his presence hidden for as long as possible and not because he was trying to be a gentleman.
Half obscured behind his desk was a stocky man with midnight black skin and closely cropped hair. He was furiously digging around in what appeared to be a large cardboard box beneath his desk, mumbling away to himself as he sifted through and discarded numerous odd items. “You can leave it on the side there.” Pointed a hand without Agent Farrel ever lifting his head from his search. Michael moved around to one of the seats in front of the desk and lowered himself down into one, leaning back slightly to get a little more comfortable, if that was even possible in the cheap office furniture.
“Hey Jimbo, what’s up.” Said Michael in an overly cheerful voice followed by a thud as Agent Farrell banged his head on the underside of the desk.
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 13, 2007 8:27:06 GMT -5
Rhia laughs, both at Agent Farrell smacking his head on the desk and Michael's overly happy grin. She hikes her bag higher up on her shoulder and stays by Michael, waiting for the Agent to pull himself out from underneath the desk.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 18, 2007 14:15:57 GMT -5
“You mind telling which idiot let you in the building without warning me.” Scowled agent Farrell, rubbing at the back of his head as he pulled himself out from under his cluttered desk.
“Why, that would be you my you dear boy.” Said Michael with a half-cocked smile as he flipped the visitor id badge pinned to his jacket.
Farrell sighed as he glanced at the plastic coated ID, shaking his head in dismay. The security on this place was lax enough without his own people forgetting to collect a medium level security pass off of someone as potentially dangerous as a rogue wizard.
When Mr. Drevan had first applied for a job with the FIB, his CV had shown up nothing spectacular. It was only after the IS had stuck their size twenty shoes in that the FIB had taken another look at the wizards file. Something didn’t add up, and further digging had come up with very little information. Much of Michael’s past seemed to have been a mystery.
“So what you doing here in my office and who’s your lady friend?” Asked the more than suspicious agent.
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 18, 2007 14:39:13 GMT -5
Rhia watches the agent's face, wondering why it seems that most people she meets who know Michael all seem to have that expression when he comes near.
She listens to the exchange, then turns to Michael. "Yes, aren't you going to introduce me?" she says, smiling. She wasn't sure if Michael wanted to let the 'hey, meet my girlfriend and business partner whose also a witch' out of the bag yet.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 18, 2007 16:40:12 GMT -5
“My apologies.” Smiled Michael as he pulled a chair over for Rhia to sit in. “Agent Farrell, the hot little number standing before you is Ms. Rhia Marinello. She was crazy enough to volunteer herself as my partner in crime in my newly formed little runner company.”
“You got the business up and running real quick. What’s it been, four months since you escaped that contract we so kindly paid of for you?” Smiled Farrell, slowly beginning to regain the composure he had lost after being caught by surprise.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who has forgotten their manners today. It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am.” Said Farrell, leaning across the desk to offer his hand. “And what pray tell, does Ms. Marinello do in that little circus of yours.”
Michael leaned back into his chair and slowly crossed his arms, all the while wearing a proud grin on his face. “Rhia’s the muscle.”
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 18, 2007 16:53:44 GMT -5
Rhia laughs, reaching out and shaking Farrel's hand before sitting down. "The pelasure is mine, Agent Farrel," she says as she takes her seat.
"That's me. Combination muscle and bad guy distraction. I show a little leg, they drool, and Michael punches them in the face," she says, trying to stay serious but failing miserably.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 18, 2007 18:00:26 GMT -5
“What ever you say mon cher.” Replied Farrell, unsure of how to take the two people smiling away in front of him. “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit, you got a another little tip you looking to share.”
“Fourty-five million dollars worth of medicinal grade brimstone wasn’t exactly a small tip now was it Agent Farrell.” Said Michael who was now leading forward in his chair.
“Well that depends doesn’t it.” Asked the Agent who had now sat up in his seat and rested both of his arms on the desk before him. With his large frame he cut an imposing figure. “My sources tell me that the shipment had been estimated at nearly five times that size. Where do you think all that extra brimstone disappeared to?”
Michael and Agent Farrell locked eyes, each man daring the other to blink first. The two of them could carry on like this the whole day and never break. “Well I suppose.” A thin smile breaking through the edges of Michael’s resolve when he decided to break the stale mate. “That your informants were either very wrong or you only found part of the shipment.”
What Michael didn’t mention was that the Fourty-five million dollars worth of drugs the FIB had been allowed to find was merely a polite bribe by the Strathmore’s. It was basically ‘here’s a big wad of cash to split between all the corrupt politicians and the police force, now back the fuck off’.
Farrell had suspected as much, he even had a good idea that Michael had been very much a part of organising the deal he just couldn’t prove it. “Are you two ever gonna tell me why you’re here, I don’t do overtime.”
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Post by starrzchylde on Feb 18, 2007 18:07:18 GMT -5
Rhia watches the two of them, rolling her eyes. "Lay off the testosterone, fellas. It's so thick in here, it's a wonder I'm not growing chest hair."
She reaches into her bag and pulls out the small vial of brimstone that Ms. Green left with them. She places it in Michael's hand, letting him be the one to decide on how much of the stuff to give to Farrell.
"We're working on a case that came through our door earlier this afternoon and were hoping you might be able to help up out with it." She looks at Michael, waiting for him to explain things.
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Post by FrankTheTank on Feb 23, 2007 10:25:48 GMT -5
Michael carefully took the small but deadly vial of brimstone from Rhia’s hand and gave her an appraising glance, specifically around her chest area. “Hair would be a bad thing.” He said with a shake of his head and a small grin.
“Hey, you wanna tell what you have there or do you wanna get room, particularly one that isn’t my office.” Snapped Farrell as he watched the two uninvited guests smirking at each other.
Placing the small glass vial on the edge of the paper strewn desk, Michael slipped the container across the surface over to Agent Farrell’s waiting hand. “I was hoping you could get one of the lab rats to take a look at the contents.”
“What’s in it?” Asked Farrell who was balancing the vial in his palm as he examined the contents thought the clear glass container.
“It’s a sample of Brimstone brought to us by a vampire.” Said Michael as he watched for Agent Farrell’s reaction. Farrell had joined the FIB for simple reasons. He hadn’t signed up to protect and serve humanity; he just didn’t trust Inderlander’s not to try and take over the world when they weren’t looking.
“Case solved then.” Said Farrell as he placed the vial back down on the desk. “If you knew what it was why the hell did you bring it to me?”
“Oh it’s not ordinary Brimstone.” Smiled Michael as he leaned forward with an evil glint in his eye. “Someone has placed a black killing curse on that particular sample.”
The sight of Farrell backing up against the wall, coughing and spluttering as he wiped the hand that had touched the vial against his trouser leg in a panicked motion was nearly enough to cause Michael to wet himself. As it stood, he just managed to keep a straight face.
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