Gods Among Men Langley

Saarai

Saarai

Lord of Bondage and Pain
Benefactor
Located in McLean, Virginia, a suburb of Washington D.C., Langley, Virginia is a commuter town for the capital. Like other suburbs of the capital, government officials, politicians, and military leaders reside in the town.

Langley is also home to the Central Intelligence Agency's headquarters, and much of their leadership.

In recent years, Langley has seen a growth in anti-superhero sentiments.
 
Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters...

Langley, Virginia.

Agent Joyner sat in his office, eyes on his computer screen. Social media was blowing up with the news that a terrorist attack was underway in DC.

As much as he wanted to be out there again, fighting the good fight, Joyner was assigned to handling public affairs for the Agency.

He pressed a finger on his intercom, "Kidman, send in that new guy. Uh, Davrell." The man said, clearing his throat as he waited for the young agent to enter the office.
 
James Davrell hunched over his cubicle desk, sorting the last bits of his office supplies into a cardboard box. It'd been a easy task; there wasn't much to put away. Wrapping up the picture frames in foam had been the hardest part. His encased purple heart sat next to a worn-down copy of Homer's The Iliad, a bookmark wedged two-thirds of the way through the brick of pages.

James stepped back and winced as a twitch of pain shot up his left thigh. He looked longingly at the small orange capsule next to his box, half-full of tiny white pills. With a sigh, he packed them away. Already had one this morning. No need for another till after dinner.

"Packed up already?" Agent Jack Tremain peeked over James' cubicle, grinning.

Davrell turned, smiling. Tremain was the only colleague that James had come close to calling a 'friend' in his year or so as an office jockey. "Wasn't much to do." He shrugged. "You'd think I would have left a bigger mark in this space after a year."

"Simple man, Jim," Jack smirked, "simple space for a simple man."

"You know I hate being called 'Jim'."

"Yeeaupp." Jack laughed. "Figure you can take it, today. Getting a promotion after a year of work. Liason for the Justice League, no less." He whistled. "Some of us would kill for that slot."

James shrugged, running a finger through his hair. "...between you and me, I'd rather be out on the field."

"So you've told me." Tremain lifted a mug of black coffee to his lips. "Leg's still acting up though, eh?"

"It'll heal."

The phone in his cubicle interrupted them - Kidman, requesting James at Joyner's office.

James took a breath. "Guess that's my cue." He walked to his colleague and offered his hand. "Been a pleasure, Jack. Thanks for bothering with me."

Tremain shook it. "Thanks for letting me bother." He clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good kid, Jim. Bright future. Never feel like you're not doing anything important being stuck behind a desk. Sometimes, the only change a man can make in the world is with a keyboard and a cup of coffee. We're only human, after all."

James laughed, a quiet but genuine gesture. "Yeah. That's what worries me."

---

James Davrell knocked twice on Joyner's office door before entering.

"Sir? You sent for me."
 
"I did, yes. Please, Agent Davrell, take a seat." Joyner said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "The higher-ups wanted me to go over some things with you before you leave for the Hall of Justice." The CIA agent told James.

"As a liason for the Central Intelligence Agency to the Justice League you represent us, you represent the United States." Joyner began, "You're used to field work, but in this position you will not meddle, you will not become involved with any League members outside of work."

"Tensions are high these days, you understand?"
 
James took his seat, attentive to Joyner's every word. A former soldier with CIA's special operations, he was no stranger to diligently receiving orders from higher-ups.

"Tensions are high these days, you understand?" What an understatement. Tensions had been high for a long time now - ever since Zod and his army were defeated by the newly-formed Justice League - ever since the people of Earth had been made to see that gods walked among them. James held no delusions about the importance of his position. The fact that a liaison even existed between the CIA and the Justice League was hugely important. It meant communication was still an option.

"I understand, sir. I'm committed to representing the United States and the CIA with dignity." He nodded.
 
"Good. The Office of Public Affairs wants you to head to the Hall of Justice and meet with a Catherine Cobert, but I had a better idea." Joyner said to the former field agent.

"Terrorists went and attacked the Hotel Belle Monaco in Downtown. They call themselves the Sons of Liberty and believe themselves to be metahuman freedom fighters." He began, turning his computer monitor to show James what the news was reporting online about the attack.

Headlines both for and against metahumans, social media posts about government spying leading to rebellion. Things were going to get worse if no one stepped up.

"People are going to want the government to crack down on metas, but I want you there to speak to a few reporters, as an unnamed source of course, and let them know that we won't be a house divided by would-be revolutionaries." Joyner finished.

"Try to sound like you believe that, even if you don't. We are Public Affairs, after all. We need the public, metahumans and humans alike, on our side."
 
A quiet tension entered James at mention of the attack. His jaw grit, his whole body priming in motionless routine - the instincts of a soldier. That he should be sent directly into an ongoing crisis was a bit unusual, but it would send the public a strong message. A small part of him wondered if the hostilities wouldn't be resolved by the time he arrived. Would he be able to assist...?

He banished the thought. You're not a field agent anymore, James. Liaison officer. Desk jockey.

"Understood, sir." He nodded. "Denounce the terrorists, put our 'foot in the door', so to speak. Let them know we're still a country of law and order."

He looked down at his attire - a simple white oxford and plain blue tie.

"...I'll need to change my jacket, though."
 
"You'll also need a cover identity, or two, as a CIA agent who has been involved in operations we have to ensure your safety." Joyner said, showing a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

He was told to be stern with Davrell because of how sensitive the assignment was, but the last thing he wanted was to see a fellow agent get hurt because some drug lord hiding in a country with no extradition watches CNN.

"I imagine you already have some to choose from. The Justice League is very high profile, so choose any that let you fly under the radar. Instead of James Davrell, injured badass, be James Smith, injured personal trainer."

"And, yes, do put on something very different. You're dismissed, Agent."
 
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