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jchrisobrienThe FBI has a lot of different branches and organizations, but as far as social groups go inside the organization, you are one of three things: chique, a geek, or a freak. It sounds a lot like a really lame horror movie from the nineties, but it's true. The chique are all the high profile, cause-of-the-moment groups: profiling serial killers, chasing terrorists, busting pornographers. The geeks are all the number crunchers and accountants, the agents who check out vandalism in national parks, or do all the research while the cooler agents are running through subway tunnels or engaging in quid pro quo arguments with madmen. The geeks are out of the limelight, but even they have someone to make jokes about: the freaks. The handful of agents who investigate the so-called supernatural: alien sightings, vampires, ghosts, demonic possessions. I've never seen an alien off of the big screen, and the only blood drinkers I've met were some really odd kids from the City. Demonic possession? That's all too real. That's my department.
The FBI won't budget for any more than that, and my boss won't take more than three of us: the master and his two apprentices. Three really is a magic number, according to him. I'm inclined to believe him. We get a few jokes make around us: Ghostbuster mugs left on our desks, questions about Casper or Elvis. Mostly the rest of the agents give us a wide berth, due to the high mortality rate in our group. I guess death just isn't that funny. The job takes us lots of places, from trendy underground communal apartments, to secluded seaside resorts. We get a subsidy and inside information from a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, but You Didn't Hear Me Say That. Despite budget cuts, openly hostile supervisors, and our high body count, our department never loses funding, and we are always there. Lucky us.
The last case I covered involved a woman who said her scale was possessed. Yeah, I know, that sounds like the stupidest case of possession ever, but my boss decided it needed looking into. Intuition is one of the biggest qualities in an investigator, so we packed up our rosaries and our holy water and paid the apartment a visit. Sure enough, after the opening prayers were read, the scale changed into a Device, the likes of which we never saw before. There was a low hum you could feel in your bones, and I could taste blood in my mouth. Demons are deceitful by nature, they will do anything to throw you off your guard. Who could take an evil toaster seriously? We asked it questions, it gave us insults. My boss moved on to the banishment stage of the exorcism. That's when it all went horribly wrong.
My assistant was found hanging from the ceiling by his feet, his hands bound together with his rosary, blood dripping down the beads.
My boss was found outside the building, trench coat still on fire. He's in the hospital in a coma right now, with second degree burns. Me? I was fine. I don't remember much besides throwing a bottle of holy water at the Device and shouting something in Latin. But whatever it was is now gone. There are other agents, the chiq ones, investigating the apartment now. One of them is my ex. She studied forensics, and is damn good at her job. Her intuition borders on the psychic, in fact I'm sure of it. She can read things by touching them. She tells me I'm full of it, the ideas just come to her, it's good old fashioned routine police work. I indulge her in her little fantasy. Her cursory sweep of the apartment has already revealed some peculiar clues relating to the apartment's owner. She's not joking with me this time, she's concerned. So am I. There's only one of us left in the deparment now, and until my boss wakes up, I'm in charge now. Which means I have to recruit. She doesn't know it now, but my ex is my number one draft choice. I hope she handles her "demotion" well.
She suggests I take up smoking to help relieve the stress. I tell her I'll pass. I tell myself I have enough fire and ash in my life.
You know, if I had had this dream on October 31st, I'd have had my NaNoWriMo story in the bag.
The FBI won't budget for any more than that, and my boss won't take more than three of us: the master and his two apprentices. Three really is a magic number, according to him. I'm inclined to believe him. We get a few jokes make around us: Ghostbuster mugs left on our desks, questions about Casper or Elvis. Mostly the rest of the agents give us a wide berth, due to the high mortality rate in our group. I guess death just isn't that funny. The job takes us lots of places, from trendy underground communal apartments, to secluded seaside resorts. We get a subsidy and inside information from a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, but You Didn't Hear Me Say That. Despite budget cuts, openly hostile supervisors, and our high body count, our department never loses funding, and we are always there. Lucky us.
The last case I covered involved a woman who said her scale was possessed. Yeah, I know, that sounds like the stupidest case of possession ever, but my boss decided it needed looking into. Intuition is one of the biggest qualities in an investigator, so we packed up our rosaries and our holy water and paid the apartment a visit. Sure enough, after the opening prayers were read, the scale changed into a Device, the likes of which we never saw before. There was a low hum you could feel in your bones, and I could taste blood in my mouth. Demons are deceitful by nature, they will do anything to throw you off your guard. Who could take an evil toaster seriously? We asked it questions, it gave us insults. My boss moved on to the banishment stage of the exorcism. That's when it all went horribly wrong.
My assistant was found hanging from the ceiling by his feet, his hands bound together with his rosary, blood dripping down the beads.
My boss was found outside the building, trench coat still on fire. He's in the hospital in a coma right now, with second degree burns. Me? I was fine. I don't remember much besides throwing a bottle of holy water at the Device and shouting something in Latin. But whatever it was is now gone. There are other agents, the chiq ones, investigating the apartment now. One of them is my ex. She studied forensics, and is damn good at her job. Her intuition borders on the psychic, in fact I'm sure of it. She can read things by touching them. She tells me I'm full of it, the ideas just come to her, it's good old fashioned routine police work. I indulge her in her little fantasy. Her cursory sweep of the apartment has already revealed some peculiar clues relating to the apartment's owner. She's not joking with me this time, she's concerned. So am I. There's only one of us left in the deparment now, and until my boss wakes up, I'm in charge now. Which means I have to recruit. She doesn't know it now, but my ex is my number one draft choice. I hope she handles her "demotion" well.
She suggests I take up smoking to help relieve the stress. I tell her I'll pass. I tell myself I have enough fire and ash in my life.
You know, if I had had this dream on October 31st, I'd have had my NaNoWriMo story in the bag.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 05:30 pm (UTC)Neat.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 05:32 pm (UTC)intro
Date: 2005-11-07 03:16 pm (UTC)Re: intro
Date: 2005-11-07 05:33 pm (UTC)Re: intro
Date: 2005-11-07 05:58 pm (UTC)Cool !
Date: 2005-11-07 03:54 pm (UTC)Re: Cool !
Date: 2005-11-07 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 05:01 pm (UTC)I'm not gaming right now: and i've found that - Being a gamer - makes me a better writer: more complicated plots, more realistic charectors!
because I know what sort of plots people will see through, what sorts of plots just don't work, what real people would really do when confronted with things!
go!
screw NANOWHATEVER! ;-)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 05:36 pm (UTC)The big question is. Who will be my third? Will my boss (who looked very much like the priest from Ultraviolet) recover from his coma? What chance do mortals have against centuries old spirits, and are they really spirits at all?
Maybe I'm just crazy. :)
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Date: 2005-11-07 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 05:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 06:49 pm (UTC)I'm getting a late start, but since I'm not officially writing for November... I'll see if I can get 25,000 words out.
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Date: 2005-11-08 06:54 pm (UTC)I try writing, but never get nearly as much as I want done. *pout*
no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 07:27 pm (UTC)I know that I would edit myself a lot, and therefore get no writing done.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-08 07:42 pm (UTC)Gotta be wierd:
What genre(s) do you enjoy writing?
What race/class do you play?
Yay for Ultraviolet!
Yay for sushi! *goes back to work*