and I hope that no one minds my "Lower Decks" approacj that I'm taking with Harvey. Just seemed like a fun way to try and incorporate some humor to him.
Ensign Harvey Kettle looked at the upper right hand portion of his work display station at the helm, where a notification signaled. His right hand lept up tapping the icon and the notification icon opened into a new window that took up the upper left quarter of his workstation.
A brief line of command from the Captain notified him that the attached data file was the navigational information that Commander Neyvok had apparently given his life for. Below that short explanation and the subsequent command to upload the data file to the computer and begin to start strategizing potential courses home.
Ensign Harvey Kettle wondered if he was greatly troubled by loss of his former direct superior officer. In truth, Harvey... Harv to his friends (of which there were uncomfortably few on this lightly manned crew)... had not really gotten much of an opportunity to get to know the surly second in command, aside from an uncomfortable 5 minute meeting with the man the evening before the Zeta left her berth to head out on this cursed mission. It had mostly consisted of Harvey looking at the various scars on the Theolosian's face and wondering what atrocity the man had been committing when he earned the different ones, and Makrev grunting while tapping forward and backwards through the pages of Kettle's rather brief personnel file...
Ensign Harvey Kettle had graduated from the Academy with rather unremarkable marks, but, thanks to an Uncle back on Earth who had always been quite fond of him as a young boy at their large family gatherings, who happened to be dating someone with a bit of influence over placements for graduates at fleet command, had gotten a rather plumb assignment of fourth helmsmen on the rather cushy Excelsior II-class USS Mestral. The Mestral had a charismatic Captain who genuinely cared for his crew. Captain Selaya's natural charm also meant his ship was called on to help settle petty disputes between friendly Federation worlds, or negotiate new trade pacts... for this reason the Mestral always had some of the best food and drink and most comfortable quarters in the fleet. They were always near populated Federation space, and trips home to Earth were relatively frequent, allowing Harvey to still be able to keep close touch with friends and family outside of Starfleet. On the ship, his crew had shared the tight bond of people who knew they were lucky and living the good life, and Harv had thrived, quickly becoming the first helmsmen in popularity, even if he had only risen to second helmsman in actual title. He had even begun to strike up a potentially intriguing relationship with a Orion botanist who had recently come on board, when his seemingly idyllic life in the stars had gone through dramatic upheaval when the Mestral had changed course when enroute ferrying a Galaxian royal wedding party to Rigel III, to an apparently black-site Federation SpaceDock and departed minus one Ensign Harvey Kettle, reassigned to be first Helmsmen of the USS Zeta on its classified mission to do some sort of brave exploration in the name of something.
Commander Makrev Neyvok had sat there for 3 of those 5 minutes of that initial meeting, glowering, tapping, and grunting over the data pad, before looking at him fully and stating in a accusatory manner... "So you were only the second best pilot on your last ship?"
Harv had tried not to feel too deflated at that and reminded the Commander that he had only been serving on the Mestral for a little over a year, had risen to the second helmsmen from fourth in that time, and that it was sort of hard to displace people who held the first helm chair whose family name happened to be Sulu... no matter how distantly related they might have actually been.
That had only earned a dangerous look from the Commander, a reminder that s second-tier performance would not cut it for the new first helmsman of the Zeta, then a curt dismissal and reminder that he was not permitted to send any messages regarding his reassignment and status to anyone, not that Harvey would find such access to do such a thing to do so if he had tried. Subsequently, Harvey had strove to live up to the high expectations of Commander Neyvok, and thought that perhaps then First Officer had begun to warm to him, when on then turbolift one day, the warrior-officer had actually moved slightly to the side to allow him onto the lift, instead of forcing Kettle to uncomfortably contort himself so as to not physically come into contact with his superior officer on entrance as he had in the past.
That had just been yesterday afternoon, and now Makrev was dead, that progress in their relatuonship was meaningless, and Harvey was left wondering what his place would be on the Zeta's crew... Many of the key pieces of it- Neyvok included- were connected in some way to the mysterious Captain Falcon. Ensign Kettle's only connection to anyone of this crew had been an awkward lecture at the Academy given by Chief Strange that was ostensibly on Engineering development in the past two centuries but was in reality a way for Command to put the oddity on display as a reminder of just how far the Federation had progressed since the uncivilized C.U. days. Ensign Harvey Kettle wanted nothing more than to just be sipping Romulan ale with his botanist lady friend while making small talk with Galaxian wedding guests instead of wondering why the Zeta's Chief Security Officer had chosen to disintegrate Chase's hand instead of just setting the phaser to stun, or why the ship had a telepath who clearly had no issue with using her abilities to intrude on others minds without explicit consent (it tickled when she had taken passing glimpses there, and he hoped to never draw her full attention as it wasn't a feeling he enjoyed), or why earlier in the shift after feeling a slight shift in pressure in the cabin, he had caught the faintest whiff of something chemical, and then a slight numbness that reminded him of an particularly enjoyable evening with Nyglosoan ambassador and his vapipen of some sort of illicit substance he had been "forced" to partake in last year.
No, something wasn't right about this mission beyond the obvious Lost In Space theme, and he wasn't feeling very good about any of it, but all Harvey could do was try to figure out how to follow his Captain's order to incorporate Qyikuli nav-com coding language... one belonging to a race only known of distantly in passing through some of the newer Federation planets, yet had never actually been encountered by any of its members.... into Federation nav-com coding language. The ship computer was able to use a universal translator based codec to display an immense and impressive display of systems upon systems worth of stars, planets, and anomalies, but without a common language, it was not able to easily incorporate the information contained within the file into the Zeta's own navigational computations. Theoretically, they had enough information to get from the world they now circled to where ever the probe which had gathered this information had originated or beyond with just a few dances of his fingers over the workstation... instead they had the equivalent of a very old earth "net-based" map with lots of pretty pictures but no key or ability to to read any of the "pop-ups" that might offer up deeper insights into potential destinations.
Ensign Harvey Kettle sighed deeply and whispered to himself an utterance that Fleet wisdom taught should only be said in truly most dire circumstances...
As the Wonder Worker pressed the Gold Z back into GoldEyes' outstretched hand, JaggedTail returned holding something, about the size of one of the StarFolk's head to her chest. She went to GoldEyes and pressed it into his arms, the displeasure apparent even to those unacquainted with the nuances of the LizardFolk's body language.
GoldEye's own signals allowed for no discussion in the matter and he looked to where the female leader had returned first, then back to the Wonder Worker.
"Did not want... death of your kin. BrokenClaw was stupid. And weak. His death was no loss. Your kin gave up his life for the clan. He was not weak. Your loss is greater."
GoldEyes stretched his arms forth, holding a translucent crystalline structure, various shades sapphire blue in color, with a number of structures protruding all over. Occasionally from within the crystal, a slight light would pulse very faintly in different places within, in no pattern or rhythm. He stood before the Wonder Worker, with the decently sized chunk of crystal extended to him in a gesture of offering.
Welcome Kingfowl! I'm relatively new here and am not active on many games, but the people here are great, and Rise of the DSSP wants YOU! to serve your (or maybe not yours actually, but work with me here) country and sniff out Paranormal Commies in the 60s. It's also pretty fresh and run by the kind gentleman who posted above me.
I swear to God I can write concise posts when it is needed. But I LOVE Strange's new world and think there is so much potential and there is are so many places we can steal from for it! looking forward to reading more of yall's posts!
Warren was pleased that his autopsy report was being viewed with seriousness, but guilt crossed his expression, when he realized what truly little value it brought to the agents who were about to venture into the field.
"In truth, gentlemen, very little I'm afraid. What I heard of your explanation of the events in Kentucky, is very different than what I encountered in Chicago, at least as it pertains to those exsanguinated... that is, drained of blood. Whereas my decedent's corpse disappeared, it sounds as if the victims reported in Kentucky remained quite in place. The Vice Lords recovered from the meatpacking plant, apparently did not, bear any similar markings of neat and deliberate bite marks as I found on the Jane Doe's wrist. As it was described to me by responding Special Investigation officers and the M.E. who completed their autopsies after my dismissal who I got on with decently, two apparently were killed when their necks were neatly snapped, several died of severe blood loss due to wounds that resembled being mauled by a wild animal, one had his head apparently ripped from its body, one was found partially thrown out of an upper level window and died from blood loss caused by the broken glass, and one- reportedly the leader of that outfit- had his body suspended from a meat hook. He had large numbers of broken bones throughout his body presumably caused by a prolonged beating with a metal rod found discarded beneath." Kettle paused a moment allowing the full weight of the carnage as it had been described to him to sink in to his small audience, before adding... "His genitals had been ripped off and shoved into his mouth. Declan had said that that what had been done to him resembled what he imagined might have been inflicted by a particularly vicious Spanish Inquisitor."
Biggs looked to be the most affected by the recitation, delivered by Warren's slightly nasal voice in the mostly rapid monotonous delivery one would expect from a coroner delivering a report. Hooper remained stone faced, but seemed to be looking for something in his two agents. Mouse, who had been last to be handed the autopsy report - at first only quickly glanced at- still seemed to be skeptical, but opened the folder again and was frowning at the black and white photos with more intensity. Warren continued.
"About a week later, one of S.I.'s informants gave them a tip about a gang member who had supposedly fled the scene. Dec and one of his patrolmen followed up on it, and found the hood was holed up in a cheap hotel room on the South side. They tried to take him in for questioning, but the young man was a mess, pale and sobbing, saying he never wanted to hurt "her" and that the Devil himself had come that night to punish them. Before the officers could secure him, the hoodlum pulled out a snub nosed revolver, shoved the barrel in his mouth, and took his own life." Kettle sighed, having run out of facts as best he knew them to be, and looked as if for a place to sit down. Finding none, he leaned against a wall and took off his glasses. He pinched his nose between his eyes, then pulled out a small cloth with which he began cleaning his glasses.
"I met up with Detective Murphy about a month later and we discussed the case, amongst other things. Having found myself with an exceeding amount of free time, I had checked out some books on the topic of vampirism. I had never mentioned it in official report, but the facts as I had observed them being what they were, how could the topic be ignored? As one would expect, therevery few serious attempts at studying it, and almost nothing analyzing it exclusively. Usually, vampires mentioned in concert with other pieces of mythology and explained away as a primitive culture's fear of both of both the unknown, and death itself. Our own Professor Broom was one of the few researchers that I found who felt that perhaps there was more to the topic and that such historical figures as Vlad the Impaler and Countess Bathory were in fact inspired by such real life tales as we ourselves had encountered, or perhaps had even stumbled more dramatically into the truths directly. In fact, I found more consistencies in what we encountered in works of fiction such as those by Stoker and his ilk... leading me to wonder if at least some of those tales had been allowed to be shared with the world at large by narcissistic personalities who craved nothing more than recognition and acknowledgement for being more than a simple monsters by society, and made attempts in doing so with biographers who could only sell their books by marketing them as works of horror. Declan and his unit had made no further progress after the demise of the hysterical gang member. Just rumors and stories of people that had disappeared, of lone figures in the night had been witnessed doing impossible things, even a fanciful tale of organized houses more powerful than any known criminal organization placed throughout the country. But nothing that led to anything concrete, and the people who shared such things were never the sort who would be viewed with any sort of seriousness by "those in charge". That was sort of the way things went for Special Investigations though." Warren stopped the extended cleaning of his glasses, tucking the rag away in his lab coat and placed them back on his nose. "Dec and I theorized, though, that if we were to allow for vampires as a possible explanation... then it appeared that one had either come across the Vice Lords or the gang had set up shop in it's territory; that said creature had been most displeased by the actions they had taken upon our Jane Doe, and that it had exacted a terrible punishment upon the group, either in a sense of perverted justice, or as a warning to other groups who might consider doing similar actions. Thus the wide variety of methods of death dealt to the gang, and the deliberate torture delivered to the leader. That an offer was made, to our poor Jane Doe, either in recognition of the impossibility of a quality life to be able to be lived after the abuse that they had inflicted on her, or as an opportunity for her to deliver her own vengeance upon a society that had allowed such an evil to be perpetrated in the first place... that the bargain having been struck, she lay down in the middle of that room of depravity and breathed her last breath as a mortal woman, and awoke on a slab in the cadaver cabinet in the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office a truly changed being, and slipped out to explore her new world. Perhaps it sounds insane, but it does align with the facts as I know them to be. As for Owensboro? If there are indeed vampires there, then it does not sound like they are necessarily interested in turning their victims, as much as they are feeding. If fiction can indeed be relied upon as a better guide in such matters than a textbook, perhaps a copy of Dracula, some stakes, and some Holy Water might be wise to include with your gear. Don't underestimate your potential adversaries... Declan Murphy was not a man inclined to flights of fancy, and neither am I. Everything I just shared with you, is truth as I know it to be, at least as it pertains to events in Chicago. Whether or not that truth extends to Kentucky, I suppose is up to you to learn."
With that Warren straightened from the wall, and addressed Matt Hooper directly. "Director, please ensure that file is returned to me when you are finished examining it. It had been marked for destruction by my former employer, and my colleague who finished those Vice Lord autopsies took a bit of a professional risk to get that and some of my other reports out before that was able to take place. And please let me know when a good time for you for me to discuss the renovations to our pathology lab will be. As much as I am happy for your ham and rye to share its space in the refrigerator with my specimens, I'm told that the taste of formaldehyde tends to travel in shared environments. Gentlemen?" With that Warren turned to leave the office and retrieve the requisition forms he had initially ventured forth for from Sarah.
"Well, Director Hooper.... Bigs... Mouse..." Warren nodded to each of the field agents in turn. "My former employer before coming to join you all here at the C.I.A. was at the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office in Illinois. I spent 7 and a half years there, one of 7 to 10 M.E.'s on staff at any one time. Somehow, despite there always being 2 to 3 that tended to fluctuate in and out of the Office, I never managed to make it onto the day shift... I didn't mind, however, as in addition to allowing me a bit of freedom in the playing of my more experimental jazz records, as one might expect, late-night Chicago presented me with some of the more interesting post-mortems ranging from mob-hits to one unlucky fellow who took a header from the upper deck at Wrigley Field trying to catch one of Ernie Banks' foul balls."
Kettle caught the warning expression in Hooper's eyes to get to a point, and he hurried on.
"Chicago P.D. had a small group of patrolmen and detectives who tended to get the oddball calls and cases... the ones that happened in the wee hours of the night and that often left more questions than answers. In '62, that group earned a name, Special Investigations, and I came to know a few of those men who made up that unit over the course of my work. One of their cases... my last case with Cook County, as it turned out, came to mind when I heard you discussing corpses drained of blood..." Warren swallowed getting to the meat of the matter at hand.
"Dec... Declan Murphy, head of Special Investigations... he told me it was the most horrific scene he had ever come across in his years on the job. West Side, an abandoned meatpacking facility that had been taken over by some Vice Lords. Dec said that at first when they walked in, they couldn't quite tell how many men made up the victims,.. 5... 10.... but horrific violence inflicted upon them. Blood... everywhere. But in the middle of the room, was this young woman. She had clearly been their toy... and been subject to their depraved whims for a while, and she had been doing a fair bit of self-inflicted harm as well in the form of narcotics abuse. But while those Vice Lords had been brutalized, Dec told me she looked like she had been sleeping peacefully... like Sleeping Beauty... or maybe Snow White would have been a better fairy tale name for her. When they brought her into the morgue, she still had this smile on her lips.... and she was so, so pale. Corpses are pale, but gentlemen, understand me when I say, when I examined her there was not a solitary drop of blood left in her body. And while her body had been abused there was no fresh wound to account for that type of blood loss, aside from two puncture wounds on her right wrist."
Warren handed the folder that he had been carrying... an autopsy report, including black and white photos... to Bigs for his examination.
"Unfortunately, I was unable to complete my autopsy. It was towards the end of my shift when she was brought in, and with no blood in the body, I left her in a cabinet with the intention of completing my examination the following evening. But when I came in the next day and opened the cabinet and pulled out the table... she was gone. And so too, was my job with the Cook County Medical Examiner, charged with negligence and improper handling of a corpse, which I found to be quite ironic seeing as there was no corpse to prove improper handling. I had, however, been viewed as a bit of the oddball in the office, and that Director, was only too glad to use that as an excuse to rid himself of me." Kettle shrugged his shoulders slightly and gestured with his hands in a "What can you do?" sort of fashion.
"Gentleman, I'm afraid, that story... and my report, which happened to make its way out the door with me and you now have in your hands before you... is all I have to offer you in the way of insight on your upcoming case... perhaps take it as proof that these sorts of stories do indeed happen, and might not even be as rare as one might be inclined to believe. I would appreciate it if you would not take my file with you... perhaps the C.I.A. might have one of those little spy cameras around, and you might take pictures of its contents to take with you on your trip, should you desire."
With that Warren came to a close and looked at his colleagues to gauge their reaction. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Autopsy Summary: Date: November 13th, 1965 Name: [Jane Doe] Age: Indeterminate, estimated to be late twenties to mid-thirties External Examination: The decedent is a female, whose age is challenging to determine but is estimated to be within the late twenties to mid-thirties range. The body presents multiple indications of prolonged physical abuse, including old scars, contusions in various stages of healing, and signs of prior bone fractures. Consistent with chronic drug use, track marks are evident on both inner arms, suggesting recurrent intravenous drug use. A particularly noticeable observation is a set of twin puncture wounds located on the right wrist, spaced approximately 2cm apart. The immediate area surrounding these wounds displays marked pallor. The punctures themselves are clean-cut and precise, resembling either a sharp instrument or potentially teeth. The pronounced pallor of the body, as well as the absence of blood externally and within observable vessels, strongly suggests significant blood loss. It was ascertained that the decedent had been near-completely exsanguinated. Partial Internal Examination: The autopsy, being incomplete, ensured that internal organs were left undisturbed. Preliminary external palpation intimated potential organ damage consistent with chronic drug abuse. The liver displayed characteristics of enlargement and firmness, suggestive of long-standing liver disease. Lung palpation hinted at complications, potentially stemming from inhalation of narcotics or infections. Upon auscultation, no cardiac activity was discerned, aligning with the conditions of the body's discovery. Other Observations: In the vicinity of the victim's discovery, 5 to 7 male bodies were also located. Initial evaluations hint at violent ends for these individuals. Comprehensive autopsies for them remain in progress. Conclusion: Based on this initial examination, the primary cause of death is believed to be exsanguination stemming from the puncture wounds on the right wrist. The conjunction of these wounds and the pronounced blood loss is not in line with conventional forensic findings. The decedent's history of both physical and sexual abuse, as well as drug-related complications, has significantly impacted her overall health. It should be noted that the body inexplicably disappeared from the morgue premises before the autopsy could reach its conclusion. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Warren set the bucket of now-only warm sanitizing solution by the sink and wrung the towel out. He removed the rubber gloves carefully and used the back of his sleeve to wipe away some of the moisture that had accumulated in his eyes from the acrid scent of the ammonia-based cleanser. He looked over the kitchen-turned-lab in satisfaction. In truth, the room and its contents had not been overly dirty, but he felt that his ministration had served the purpose, in his mind at least, of marking this area as his domain. He carefully poured the contents of the bucket down the drain and took note of the increase in activity in the offices outside. A priest had stepped into the office across from the kitchen, joining the thin man, and an older gentleman who Warren recognized as Dr. Hiram Bloom, whose younger photograph adorned the inside jacket of an introductory text on comparative mythology that Kettle had picked up as a method of beginning to get to know his new colleagues, after having accepted this new position within the CIA. The pathologist stepped over to his desk, picked up the yellow pad of paper, and thought that now might be a good time to gather a few of those requisition forms that she had mentioned, and possibly stop off at Director Hooper's office to properly introduce himself, and apologize for missing the initial meeting.
Notepad in hand, he stepped out of his own office, and made his way back down the hall towards Sarah's desk. As he stepped closer to an office that had an open door with lettering that shown it belonged to Matt Hooper, Director, D.S.S.P. he heard the words...
"Anyways, the whole town is apparently seeing vampires in its soup right now.." Warren Kettle stopped dead in his tracks, caught off guard, and a cold chill running down his spine. He had considered that at some point... that possibly... but never once had he considered hearing that word on his first day here at the D.S.S.P.
Sarah, her desk looking down the hallway, had seen him approaching, and looked to be correctly surmising his intention of retrieving those requisition forms, but was looking at him curiously, perhaps wondering at his sudden halt, or perhaps the lack of blood in his already pale face.
A different voice, one that was full of cynical doubt floated from the Director's office, mentioning a couple of blood-drained corpses and bite marks. Warren felt a familiar sensation of frustration rise within him in hearing that tone, raised his finger in a "One moment" gesture towards Sarah, and he turned on his heel and hurried back to his office. The priest, scholar, and agent were huddled around a desk looking at some sort of contraption and speaking intently. Kettle walked to his desk and looked at the picture he had placed on its corner, closed his eyes and steadied himself, reaching into his pocket and removing the key he had placed there a short while ago. Unlocking the desk drawer, he removed two of the files he had brought with him, quickly opening and looking at the contents of each. Considering them, he replaced the bottom file into the drawer with the others, and secured it again, dropping the key back into his pocket. He looked once more at the photo, whispered to himself... "This is why we came here, isn't it Dec?", and hurried back to the Director's office door, knocking on it lightly, and looking at the 3 men inside.
"Director Hooper? Gentlemen... I apologize for intruding.... and for the lateness of my arrival this morning... I couldn't help but overhear a bit of your conversation a moment ago from the hallway and I think I have something of relevance that you should see."
I have had intentions to post on Rise and failed utterly this week... in fact I have not even read the newest posts since last Sunday. I'm up at my parents this weekend and today will mostly be spent working here with things they need but will get something down tonight best case tomorrow night, worst case. I am in need of developing a writing routine because it actually is good for my own mental health amd I am happier when I am doing it. Hope you all have a good Saturday and look forward to getting caught up on what everyone has written soon.
Warren picks up his box and follows Sarah down the hall toward his new workspace. He nods at two of his new colleagues that are grabbing their jackets and heading out. Sarah's sudden change in demeanor had caught him off guard at first, but Warren chose to embrace the warmth being shown as opposed to being suspicious of it. As Sarah turns to lead him into the kitchen/lab, he looks across the hallway to where a gaunt, and frazzled-looking man was looking at him intently.
"It isn't very well appointed, but we are working on it! I have requisition forms at the desk if you find anything blatantly missing."
Kettle smiles, again showing his slightly out-of-aligned front teeth, taking in the room. The refrigerator was completely inappropriate for storing lab specimens, the stainless steel table in the center of the room was the wrong sort for autopsies, though it was feasibly large enough to at least lay a body on it, providing it was only small to medium-sized in stature. The light fixtures that were being installed were not nearly of the strength needed to perform examinations, and the drain in the center of the room did not look to be of the appropriate type to meet any health and safety standards that he was aware of. On the plus side, there did appear to be a generous provision of beakers and specimen jars, the microscope sitting on the stainless steel table was of superior strength and quality to the one that he had brought with him (though to be fair, that and the Bunsen burner he had brought along was due more to the sentimental value they held for him than any statement on their expected performance. On the plus side, there was a stool next to the stainless steel table, and he was pleasantly surprised to see he had been provided with a desk (albeit with a folding metal chair instead of a rolling one, and said desk had a center drawer and on the left and right-hand side a smaller top drawer and larger lower one, and a key was sitting in its slot in the top drawer on the right.
"This is lovely Sarah. I'll be sure to come up and get those forms later." Warren sets his box on the metal table, taking out his personal microscope and Bunsen burner and setting them next to the provided equipment, before moving over to the desk and pulling out a framed photo of Warren with a slightly older gentleman wearing a jacket with a badge visible on his waistband, each of them with one arm around the shoulder of the other in a show of obvious friendship, and their free hands holding a bottle of Schlitz aloft, smiling widely. Warren holds the photo, at first a faint smile of remembrance tugging at his mouth, then pain crossing his expression. He sets it reverently on the corner of his desk, and he looks back over to where Sarah is looking intently at him.
"I'll let you settle in, Warren. I know that Director Hooper will be eager to see you once you are ready." With that Sarah, turns and heads back to her own personal sanctuary, her softer expression turning to daggers as she sees Adam Bueller sidling up to his own office door to get a better view of the actions of his new neighbor across the hall. The sharp stare does its job, and Adam again turns his attention to the arrangement of his personal oddities and knick-knacks.
Kettle sighs to himself, and looks once more at the photo, before pulling out of the box a Phillips compact cassette recorder and several blank cassettes and a small microphone that he places in the empty upper left-hand drawer. Several framed degrees, come next, most prominent being a Doctorate of Forensic Pathology from the University of Chicago, which he sets to side. He then proceeds to pull out several Medical and case file folders which he places in the lower right-hand drawer, before turning the key to lock the drawer, before taking the key itself and placing it in his pocket. His personal effects seemingly having all been withdrawn, Warren sets the box on the ground next to the desk, then pulls a pencil out of the holder on top of his desk, grabs a provided pad of paper, and begins to wander around the kitchen/lab, making notes. He looks consideringly at the wall to the neighboring room, then steps into the hallway and walks further down, stepping into each of the next two offices on the same side as the kitchen, and making some notes, then looking across the hall at an open door that appears to lead to a room with weapons racks. At the end of a hall, is a larger freight elevator. Warren nods approvingly at that, and makes a few more scratches on his pad then returns to his lab.
He opens the refrigerator door and takes in a brown paper bag, bearing carefully printed words: Matt Hooper, Director. The refrigerator gives off a musty smell and Kettle shakes his head in disapproval. He turns to the counter with the sink, and opens the cabinet below, pulling out a bucket that he finds, and a bottle of government-issued ammonia-based cleanser. He opens the cabinet above the sink, and pulls out some rubber gloves he finds, and towels from a drawer next to it. turns the hot water on first, filling the bucket about three quarters full, before adding a touch of cold to it, then shutting off the water and adding some of the cleanser. Slipping one of the gloves on, he stirs the cleanser into the water, then returns to the refrigerator, pulling the director's lunch out and setting it on the metal table behind him. Warren pulls the second rubber glove on, dips a towel into the bucket, and proceeds to begin to sanitize his lab.
[image: i.imgur.com] CIA Original Headquarters Building, Langley, VA (arrow indicates wing I believe we are in, not floor)
Warren Kettle hesitates just for a moment before trying to grab the knob to open the door to the DSSP, adjusting his thick glasses as he did so and in doing so, almost dropping the box containing his personal equipment. He catches it before it drops by raising his knee quickly and using his body to slam the box into the door. Sighing to himself, he readjusts his grip on the box and opens the door, realizing that in the kerfluffle, his glasses are once again askew.
As he steps forward into his new workplace, Warren realizes that he was apparently late for the first meeting, as 5 men are standing from a conference table and all staring at him.
"Ummm.... hello." Warren then looks to where an annoyed looking receptionist is glaring at him. He steps forward and addresses her directly, acutely aware of the horrible first impression he is making.
"Um, hello there, Sarah, right?" he began, glancing at her name tag and then immediately back at his box of effects to make sure he doesn't lose his grip. He sets it on the edge of her dsk, "I'm here for the... well, the thing. I'm Warren Kettle, your new pathologist and lab squint extraordinaire!" He smiles broadly, showing his slightly out of alignment teeth. The smile fades, realizing there is no amusement in Sarah's eyes, but she does appear to be glancing at the semiautomatic at her side in a considering manner. Deciding that a slightly more serious tone might be called for he unclips his name badge and holds it forward for her inspection. In a slightly more hushed tone.... "Warren Kettle, reporting for duty."
Taking a deep breath and trying to look confident, he scans the room. "Is there, um, an assigned lab space?" He looked around, not seeing an immediate spot. "Or maybe an area I can convert? I've got some equipment, and I'll need to set up soon. Also, do we have a place for, you know, specimens and samples?" He paused, looking a little flustered. "Sorry, I should've probably figured this out before coming."
I'm working on getting caught up on Tavern. I'm a couple or pages behind atm. When WK first showed up he had a fun a exchange with Akira over a lunch and promise of some chocolate cheesecake in the future. He left with GoldEyes slipping into his mind for a second and I personally left with lofty ambitions of working in a thing where various RPs personalities and maybe even little pieces of skills starting to merge into the main T.C. base world and then had a hard time keeping up with just Zeta. I felt like. My in-game employer at my 3 star flowershop disappeared 22 days ago, and its me and a person who never logs in left manning the store as the inventory depletes (I'm not getting trained but I make 80 grand a day, so I am sort of hoping she just got bored with Torn or just does this sometimes (her character is 2000 some days old and she's only level forty or so so maybe she randomly drops off sometimes for long stretches). Wk could always show back up to the bar looking to get some cheesecake and if in-game Akira is missing too it could make for some angst, but I have to catch up first and see where the story even is.
I'm also mourning the loss of Harvey as I was planning his stupid little arc that will never be.
What games are open atm? Ww2 is too heavy for me atm, and too close to real world to seem like fun for me...
looking forward to reading more of yall's posts!![[image: i.imgur.com]](https://i.imgur.com/wXCcEn0m.jpg){kind=link}
![[image: i.imgur.com]](https://i.imgur.com/pCFCmAM.png?1){kind=link}