Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Van Leugen: Nida-Kule Complex

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Ylanne

It was almost midnight when Amira Qahtani all but kicked in the doors to the central communications room in the main headquarters. The younger woman, brown-skinned and stocky, wore frayed cargo pants and a t-shirt with a logo for some band that probably only a handful of the analysts might recognize and no one else. She pumped her mud-encrusted boots across the floor, quickly crossing from threshold to center, startling the few staff still at their posts for the midnight shift, who glanced at her and quickly looked away. Qahtani was used to that reaction. The usually neatly tucked head covering she wore -- now loose and wrinkled -- typically raised more questions than she cared to answer in a casual conversation, particularly at work, and most particularly, when keen on a conversation with the director of the Terran Intelligence Bureau.

The central communications room's walls were lined with carefully angled screens displaying data readouts, and in some cases, maps or live feeds, mostly from satellite. When necessary or relevant, the tech staff could easily switch input to display standard, night-vision, and infrared cameras in use for specific operations. At midnight on a Wednesday, there were no active operations, but surveillance on a variety of potentially high-value targets. The room murmured with chatter from the skeleton staff and the competing feeds displayed variously on the big screens and on smaller screens and desk consoles where the analysts sat. It was from this room that Arianne Drulović had been coordinating Terra's intelligence gathering efforts since almost the establishment of the TNG itself. Prior to that, Qahtani had heard, Drulović and her secretive agents had been housed somewhere near Westeria City. Before its most recent devolution to a total shitshow, of course.

The Nida-Kule Complex was a welcome change from the cramped quarters in Westeria, and the TIB had welcomed the opportunities for expansion, its staff growing to fill three buildings. Admittedly, Qahtani thought wryly, the bureau probably staffed the hangar with no more than twenty employees at any given time, but those twenty were new, hired within the past five years during the transition to Rhea Vaeros's government. It seemed each time she returned to Nida-Kule, she was greeted by a new set of strangers. Even now, Qahtani couldn't quite place the faces belonging to the three analysts busied near the center of the room, hunched over glowing screens while fingers tapped on sleek keyboards to the droning hum of machinery and overlapping audio feeds kept to a consistently low volume.

"Director?" Qahtani called, scanning the room with her eyes. She wrinkled her nose. The place smelled perpetually of coffee, and not any particularly tasty kind, but the generic, near-flavorless shit mass produced for suffering denizens of most office buildings everywhere from Westeria to Van Leugen and probably even on the decks of Terra's prized warships leading her fleet. The small, old woman with the limp and cane was nowhere to be found. Qahtani turned on her heel, scrunching her face together, when one of the analysts thumbed toward the side exit.

"Probably in 'er office," the bulbous-eyed alien said, begrudging her that little information with xyr thoroughly bored tone. "Left a couple hours ago."

Qahtani nodded. "Thanks." She headed for the door zie had indicated, momentarily pressing her palm to the pad affixed on the wall before it slid open to admit her.

Arianne Drulović was not known for an ostentatious manner. Her office was tucked away in a corner on the highest floor of the main headquarters, past several rows of cubicles and an office storage closet. The actual space was large enough to accommodate a small couch and two chairs beside the desk, but Qahtani had been to a handful of other agency heads and MP's offices, and the TIB Director had requisitioned a space in her own building that would have been used for an assistant's office in most others.

The furnishings were well-loved. Muted colors, soft but durable fabrics, and sturdy chairs. Drulović sat at the desk, right hand pressing gently against her jaw as she read through a thick report that sprawled over the desk. She was an older woman, lighter colored than Qahtani, with thick dark hair resting on her shoulders that nearly blended into the threadbare black suit she wore. She did not look up when Qahtani entered, suddenly self-conscious and wiping her shoes on the carpet before stepping inside.

"Director."

Drulović laid her hand over the page and glanced upward. "Ms. Qahtani. I'm glad to see you." She offered a small smile. "Can I get you something to drink? Some tea perhaps? I can't say I'm too fond of the office coffee."

The younger woman shrugged. "I'm fine, but thank you." She eased into one of the chairs facing the desk, and sat on the edge, leaning forward. "I identified the leak."

"And what of it?"

"Lance corporal. From the Navy. Wanted some extra cash for good times in the undercity, when in port." Qahtani stretched her arms, fingers gripping the edge of the seat. "I brought him in for interrogation."

Drulović nodded. "I don't suppose you've already started on it with him."

"Oh, I did." Qahtani smiled wider. "Talked to him for quite awhile. He resisted, a lot, as you might say, but I've got some information that could prove useful."

"Of course, you'll assess the merits of the intel before passing it along to anyone outside Nida-Kule," Drulović said, slowly returning the papers she'd been reading to a single pile. She moved slowly, with a trembling hand. Qahtani tried not to stare too long at the thick scarring winding its way around the director's hand and along the wrist, disappearing under her sleeve.

Qahtani stopped herself from rolling her eyes. This was not her friend; this was her boss. Her boss's boss. "Right. Of course. What do you want me to do with him while the team checks out the intel?"

"Keep him at the facility, if you would," Drulović replied, fixing her gaze on the younger woman. "When we've exhausted him, it may be prudent to gift him a bullet. Elsewise, I'm afraid Justice and the military will squabble over him with their endless tantrums about jurisdiction. I've no taste for politics; I'd prefer we kept it simple."

"Simple." Qahtani felt an unease gnawing at her stomach at the cool way in which Drulović spoke of killing the man. Though she wondered, if the TIB didn't opt to take him out back and shoot him when they were finished, what other options might there be? Drulović might have the right of it, much as Qahtani fought to keep bile from rising in the back of her throat at the thought. But instead of objecting, she nodded. "Simple," Qahtani repeated. "All right. I'll prepare a report and brief the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, Ms. Qahtani," Drulović said. "You may go. And I'd suggest a good night's sleep. The morning, I'm afraid, will not treat us kindly."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
as written by Ronin

As Qahtani left, a silent vacancy permeated Drulovic's office - the kind of numb quietude that accompanies a long, sleepless night. Petty, minuscule sounds usually reserved in the background spoke louder and louder with a strange confidence. The old clock on her bookshelf ticked a hollow, patient cadence, the metronome a dull drumline in the cramped little room. The AC vent shuttered and hissed with unusual vengeance.

Then, silence. Stillness. The clock froze in mid-tick, the big hand 2/3rds of the way between the nine and the ten. The AC went dead - didn't turn off or drone to a slow halt, but ceased altogether. From the corner of Drulovic's room, a black shadow rose from a patch of dark near the ceiling and spread across her walls like a spider's web. He stepped from its folds, tall, gaunt, garbed in a sickly black robe that writhed on his haggard shoulders as if it were made from the agonized bodies of insects. There was an aura to him - a whisping shroud that covered his frame and coiled around his limbs, a serpent of shadow and smoke. He was made of night and terror and sin - a demon beggar, a disgraced angel of death - save for his face, which was covered in a smooth mask of pure white.

"Drulovic." His voice rasped from his torn, clotted throat.
 
as written by Ylanne

For a moment, Drulović froze, catching sight of the blackness spreading in the office around her. She let her fingers touch the gold saint's medallion hanging about her neck, her posture stiffening in the chair. Her eyebrows wrinkled and she pressed her lips tightly together, eyes flicking about the room to keep the central mass of the shadow in view. When finally the shadow spoke, the sound of her name was overwhelming. She curled the fingers of the hand that she could actually move, her shoulders taut.

"I'm afraid we haven't quite met before now," Drulović said, maintaining a calm, almost light tone and an impassive expression as much as possible. A hint of recognition glinted in her eyes. "But I suppose if you've put in the effort for this appearance, Paragon, then there must be something you wish of me. But first, of course, I ought to offer you some tea. I can't be impolite."
 
as written by Ronin

Of all the reactions the disgraced demigod had been experienced during his first encounters with mortals, he had never before been offered tea. It was enough to give him pause, his mask jilting on his neck at a slight, curious angle.

"I must decline." His clawed fingers swept from his robe, clutching a manila file folder. "I've come here to warn you. The Aschen Empire plans to commit acts of terrorism against the Terran National Government." His hand flicked. The document flew across the room and landed on her desk. "You have a few weeks before the prime minister and all of parliament are murdered."
 
as written by barney_fife

The document in question was a paper from the IIA addressed to Miles Hagan, printed entirely in Anquietas, requesting several pieces of equipment, the specific nature in which had been redacted. To be shipped to the IIA headquarters. The second was a tech con purchase order, also redacted and printed entirely in Anquietas. All the documents would indicate was that the IIA demanded something from tech con, and whatever that something was, was kept secret.
 
as written by Ylanne and Ronin

Drulović's eyes flicked upward. After a pause, she reached for the file, sliding her thumb between the folder and the pages it contained to open it. The papers inside bore the Aschen Imperial Intelligence Agency's seal, the text in a language in which she'd developed a rudimentary working knowledge. After the cover letter, the papers were covered in tables with the Anquietas letters neatly aligned with rows of numbers.

Drulović returned her gaze to the shadowed vigilante. "I'll be sure to review these documents more thoroughly in the coming hours." She rested her hand atop the pages, the exhaustion from the earlier meeting seeping from her body, replaced by fresh excitement, though she knew it was little more than adrenaline working its way through her. She had always loved a good hunt. "Why should I trust these documents as genuine? I've little reason to act on information from strangers materializing through my office walls."

Though even as she spoke, Drulović knew she had little choice but to act on the information as given. In the best case scenario, the information would be proven false, a cruel jape, but the consequences of ignoring the information in the worst case scenario nibbled at the corners of her mind. Drulović would do her duty. She always had.

____

"Because I'm telling the truth," he responded plainly. "I bring this to you because I don't have the resources to handle the matter myself." Trails of shadowy smoke twirled out of the lidless black holes in the eyes of his mask. "And because I believe you are a competent."

He walked forward - seeming to slide across the carpet as if hovering over it. His cloak parted and he lay a small, moon-crescent trinket on Drulovic's desk made of obsidian. "You can reach me with this. Find out where they're striking. Stop them, or people will die."

____

Drulović reached for the obsidian trinket without looking at it, clasping it in her fingers. She offered a nod. "I certainly appreciate the vote of confidence," she replied with a wry tone. "I can't say I expect too many reassurances to that effect from certain circles in the media." Drulović slipped the object into an inner pocket of her jacket, where it disappeared among the folds of fabric. "But of course, I will deal with this matter as we deal with all such things that come to our doors, much like odd and perhaps terrifying noises in the night -- we may find ourselves quite suddenly dealing with a half-starved stray or a well-coordinated team of burglars or murderers."

And the intelligence director certainly didn't put it past the Aschen to plot simultaneous assassinations -- mass murder, really -- in retaliation over the recent Terran military victory. They had always been a prideful, arrogant, and rather spiteful lot. Drulović knew. She expected no less from them, and found herself surprised only that it took as long as it did before she had begun to hear whispers of such a plot with any substance behind them at all. The papers in front of her bore witness to something dark coming soon their way, and had been longer in coming than she might have anticipated. Drulović, however, was patient.

____

"Then I trust you will contact me when I am needed." The shadow turned to go - not towards the door, but the same patch of dark that now covered nearly the entirety of Drulovic's opposite wall.

He was halfway through it when he stopped. The masked figure stepped from the black, rotating on an invisible axis until he was facing the director once more.

"Drulovic." He gazed into her. "All lives, even the lives of Aschen, even the lives of terrorists and murderers, have value." His mask tilted on his face, neck crooking at an uncomfortable angle.

"Do you know this?"

____

Drulović had been ready to put her things away for the night in anticipation of a long schedule the next day, as the shadow started away, before he turned, interrupting the brief reverie with the pointed, almost accusatory, inquiry. She paused where she was, center desk drawer ajar, papers in hand, only partway shuffled and now unevenly arranged. Instead of sliding the papers inside the drawer, she left them hanging on the edge of the desk and met his stare with her own, blinking slowly. She watched him like that for several beats, almost entirely unmoving.

"I've thought about this quite a bit, you know," Drulović replied, finally, sliding the drawer back in until it clicked shut. "I don't think I'm quite qualified enough to comment there, and I suspect you may already know why that is so." She fixed her gaze on the shadow, where the eyes ought to have been, and laid her hand flat atop the desk. "I do the best I can to keep our nation running and safe, and to do as little harm as is practicably possible in so doing. I'm afraid I've little flair for the theatrical and no thirst for political power or popularity. And I'll admit, I'm not usually asked questions of moral significance. I let those around me make their own assumptions. There's not much I could do to stop them anyway."

____

He regarded her, watching her, weighing her words in his mind. He nodded after a time.

"Good enough," he determined. Turning, he stepped through the shadow and disappeared as quickly and quietly as he'd come.

The clock resumed ticking at once.
 
as written by Ylanne and barney_fife

Come morning, the sun's soft warmth crept above Van Leugen's skyline, spilling into the spaces between looming towers and dilapidated tenements. The light came, too, to Nida-Kule's fortified walls, rising slowly from their base to their apex. For Arianne Drulović, the morning bruoght with it a fresh wave of exhaustion from the night before. She blinked tired eyes in the break room on her floor, the sunlight a nagging reminder that she hadn't quite managed even to go home. The couch was comfortable enough, but it was not a bed and it was not home.

"Director. Ma'am." The voice belonged to a taller, broad-shouldered man with pale flesh and deep-set eyes that probed her as he spoke. "Your staff will be here shortly. It's almost nine."

Drulović pressed her lips together, pushing her hair from her face, and wiped her eyes with the side of her hand, removing some of the overnight crust. "How long have you been there, Mr. Leimgrüber?"

"About five minutes, ma'am." The head of her security detail flashed a smile, but Drulović detected no mirth behind it, only his usual frustration. "Shall I escort you back to your office?"

"I don't suppose I could have you reassigned to garbage duty for the week at the annex," Drulović said, grimacing as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, hand gripping the armrest of the couch tightly. "What a terrible shame. Instead, I must bear with your constant attendance, like a gnat flitting about my head."

"I'm here to protect you, ma'am," Leimgrüber replied, his expression resigned. He knew better than to offer a hand in assistance. "I think you also have a meeting scheduled for 9:30."

"Yes, I'm well aware. Must you play the part of scheduler or secretary too?" Drulović's fingers grasped her cane, and she started from the room, Leimgrüber following close behind. "Ms. Gaul. She's already finished with the fine folks in the annex."

"They sent her home yesterday, and she'll be coming in for her second interview, with you, today."

"I can't say I'm looking forward to it." Drulović's lips turned downward in a small frown, pausing only to nod briefly at a passing senior staffer in the hall. "I'd prefer if you stayed outside during the interview, and before you ask, Mr. Leimgrüber, that is not a request." He made a sound of affirmation, and they continued until arriving at Drulović's office door. She straightened the lapels of her jacket, and started at cleaning off the surface of the desk. The administrative assistance would show Maribeth Gaul inside when she arrived, and Drulović fully intended for the space to be as accommodating as possible for the guest. That, of course, would have to start with beating the curtains free of their dust and tying them open so the morning's sunlight could grant the space some amount of comfort.

____

Following the first round of interviews, Kathryn, or rather Maribeth had made her mental and verbal preparations for the interviews to follow. She had read mountains upon mountains of old LDA, and current IIA Dossiers on Arianne Drulović, a cunning and extremely exceptional intelligence operative. Kat tried to put down the nervousness that was soon to follow as the TIB receptionist and escort started to direct her towards Drulovic's office.

She had spent the morning going through several clothes, many of the articles had been manufactured within the Aschen Empire. And while Aschen and Terran clothing was virtually identical, the advanced manufacturing processes left Aschen Clothing with a certain quality that wasn't found elsewhere.

Kat; or rather Maribeth was wearing a very simple, yet formal suit, with a dark blue knee length skirt and blazer, worn over a white camisole, and accented with gold cuff buttons. Her high heel shoes clicked on the floor of the complex as she walked towards Drulović's office.

As the door opened, she swallowed hard. Was it interview nervousness? Or was it the fact she knew she was an operative of the Imperial Intelligence Agency walking into the lion's den of the infamous Arch-Demon Arianna Drulović. Aschen Propaganda videos played in her mind, but she quickly dismissed them.

She sucked on her teeth quietly out of nervousness as she stepped inside. Her mind focused on speech. Aschen had distinct accents, especially those from places other than Caprica. The Caprican Accent was no different, a distinct blend of clean and tight vowels, sharp consonants, and an alluring almost. She had to really think to not let it slip.

She stopped a few feet short of the desk, before she offered Drulović a warm smile.

"Good Morning, Director." She offered. "Thank you for seeing me today, I'm very excited to be here."

____

By the time Kat was shown inside the office, Drulović had cleared the desk of the papers from the night before, leaving the surface spartan save for a wholly unnecessary name plate in brass and the desk console on lock screen displaying the bureau's seal. She rose as Kat entered, offering her hand in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gaul. Can I get anything for you to drink? Some tea perhaps? I wouldn't recommend the coffee; the last guest who tasted it spent an hour in the bathroom afterward."

The TIB director hadn't had a chance to change her clothing, and her worn black suit, hanging a bit loose around the shoulders, contrasted significantly with Kat's sharp formal dress in finery and age. She returned the smile, though hers held no trace of warmth or welcome, her eyes revealing nothing. The frames on the walls held her degrees on fine parchment, but a thin, even layer of dust had gathered on the glass. Only the drawers in the file cabinet, the couch, and perhaps Drulović's clothing itself seemed well used and lived in.

____

Upon her entry into Drulović's office, Kat had noted that there was a fine coat of dust over everything. It contrasted with the clean, austere offices back at the Agency. Whether by action of the Janitorial staff, or the pickiness of her own habits, her office was relatively clean and dust free, just like her own attire.

She took Drulović's hand with a firm handshake, though Kat's hands felt a little cold from the nerves.

"Some tea would be nice, thank you." She said, offering a small chuckle at the comment regarding the coffee.

"I've heard the coffee here can be quite hard on your stomach." She added. She was eager to get on with the interview, and following the handshake, she glanced briefly at the chairs, but did not sit down until instructed.

____

Drulović poked her head through the office door, asking the admin to fetch two cups of hot tea from her pot down the hall. "Please, have a seat," Drulović said, gesturing for Kat to take one of the armchairs. She made her way to its companion, both chairs upright with worn leather cushions and the hint of small stresses in the leather near where the upholstery was attached to the underlying wood. "I understand you completed your first round of interviews with the panel in H.R. yesterday."

Drulović reached for a thin folder on the bookshelf beside her, turning the pages but not seeming to look down at them as they rustled in her hands. The folder contained copies of the application materials for Maribeth Gaul, with a small, professional headshot of Kat stapled to the top. Behind the materials Kat had submitted, there were copies of the reports H.R. had run in investigating her background and history. "I've reviewed the notes from your interview with the panel, but I prefer to learn from candidates personally. In many agencies, hiring is done exclusively through the dedicated department, but at the TIB, I believe in meeting candidates myself."

Before she could continue, the administrative assistant, a portly young man with thick dark curls framing a round face, appeared in the doorway with a tray. Drulović looked upward, smiling briefly again. "Thank you, Mr. Bindas." He nodded, flushing a bit, and withdrew after setting the tray and the two cups it bore on the table between the two armchairs. "Please." Drulović gestured to the tray, taking her own cup and sipping from the rich mint tea. "It's my favorite brew; I hope you enjoy it."

Drulović leaned back in her seat, the file balanced on her knees as she fixed her gaze on Kat's face, unblinking. "Tell me, if you would, Ms. Gaul, why you think I choose to do this."

____

Kat's eyes scanned the folder for a moment, the investigation carried out by the TIB's HR seemed to have gone smoothly. Her eyes briefly scanned across the text before they went up to Drulovic, right as the administrative assistant placed the tea before them. Kat offered him a smile, before she took her cup and sipped it for a moment.

This tea was alien to her, but she made no mention or note of it. She thought to herself that she personally preferred the Elf Ear Tea that grew in the mountains around Caprica City, but she didn't say anything aloud.

"It's very interesting, not something I've had before, but it's quite good." She replied.

It was time for the interview questions it seemed, and after pondering her answer, she replied.

"Aschen Soldiers murdered my family when I was very young, wrong place at the wrong time. It's because of them I spent my whole childhood in the foster care system." She said, pausing a moment. "You do this for the same reason I'm sitting here in front of you, to protect innocent people from the evils that plague this world."

____

Drulović studied Kat's face as she spoke, her hand resting atop the pages in the dossier. The investigation, which had dragged on for a couple months as was standard in personnel matters, had been thorough but as efficient as possible. The investigations lead liked to joke that with Drulović's standards, an efficient investigation was fast if it took three months to complete. But she was careful. The two foster families listed on the application packet had confirmed that Maribeth Gaul had lived with them during the years given. But one of the group homes had been an entire can of worms, with the resident and financial records a holy mess. And an additional review Drulović had requested of the investigator -- who'd responded to the director with an eye roll and a grumble -- had returned some incredibly interesting information on the woman's history.

Drulović related none of this to Kat before her, only listened with a practiced expression of mild curiosity. When Kat had finished speaking, she tilted her head a few degrees to the side. "I'd meant these interviews, Ms. Gaul, though I thank you for your answer. Why do you think I interview candidates directly? I'm incredibly busy, as I'm sure you can imagine. Even with Parliament's powers curtailed by emergency directive, I must be available to the MP's as much as I serve our prime minister. It takes quite a bit to run an agency."

____

She pondered her answer for a moment, she considered her words, and her previous faux pas, before she spoke.

"I suspect you want to make sure that the people who are working for you, are genuine. It shows you take a personal interest in your organization, which i can respect, Director. It's far too often you see Directors, CEOs, and other high level individuals take no interest in their candidates, and it adversely affects their organization."

Her eyes glanced to the file once again, a feigned nervousness and a smile. She had even put on convinction and even bordered on waterworks when she made the statement regarding her family. Her face showed the emotional impact, even if her real family lived comfortable lives in Caprica City.

"Yeah... I heard about the emergency directive. I was in Westeria City when the Aschen hit, can you believe it? Big green bolt of light flattened my house, vaporized it."

____

Drulović offered a sympathetic smile, her expression otherwise unchanging. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Ms. Gaul," she said, gaze lingering on the younger woman's face. "Have you found somewhere else to live since then?" Of course Kat had; her clothes would not be so nice and pressed if she were slumming in a shelter or on someone's couch in a cramped apartment like most of those in Van Leugen. But Drulović had to ask; to do otherwise would seem impolite at best, and in this business, more questions were always preferable to fewer.

____

She nodded. "Yes, I've managed a considerable life savings, and after the insurance payout I managed to get a nice property here in Van Leugen, on the outskirts. It's quiet, and removed from all the crime that's been going on here in this city." She explained.

"I'm fortunate, but then again it's foolish not to maintain some kind of safety cushion."

____

Drulović nodded. While Kat spoke, she reached for a small notepad and pen, flipping past neatly ordered lists in non-Terran script written in a clumsy, awkward hand to a blank page where she painstakingly jotted notes in a shorthand form of the previous script. "Tell me more, if you would, about your new home; I'm quite curious to know about it," Drulović said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke, and underlined some word on the page.

She distinctly recalled a previous candidate, maybe two years ago or thereabouts, who'd spoken of similar circumstances as Kat did now. She also recalled declining to give that candidate an offer. Drulović held the pen as steadily as she could, but her hand was not nearly as still as she would have liked. Unfortunately, as numerous doctors had told her, absent invasive procedures, there was little that could be done with physical therapy alone.

____

Kat studied Drulovic's expression intently, every wrinkle, every muscle twitch, she brought her gaze back down to the notepad, and she frowned ever so slightly. She couldn't read the cyrillic on the paper, but she had read an extensive file on how Drulovic kept encrypted notes. Encrypted notes in a language the IIA didn't even have the ciphers for.

Her gaze went back up to Drulovic, before she spoke.

"A Small cottage out in the countryside." She said, smiling. "It's very quaint, very peaceful, an excellent place to lounge in the sun and sip an ice cold glass of sweet tea." She said.

"It was all I could really afford, I lost everything in the attack."

____

Drulović scrawled a handful of notes as Kat gave her answer, her movements particularly vehement or passionate when Kat described losing everything in the Aschen attack on Westeria City, laying the pen down only to sip at the tea from her cup. "You seem to be doing quite well, under the circumstances," Drulović said in response, allowing a twinge of sympathy to enter her eyes as well as her tone. She stopped for a moment, nodding toward Kat's cup. "I hope the tea is still to your liking."

Shifting her weight, Drulović set the cup again on the tray and took the pen in hand, leaning slightly forward. "I'd like to ask you now about your previous work, with Tai Yong Medical. Tell me about your work there, and particularly, about some of the more difficult projects you handled."

____

"I manage, like I said, the insurance money from the house helped pay for the cottage, Property here is much cheaper than it is in Westeria City." She said, her eyes moving to the pen briefly.

She brought her attention back up to Drulovic at that moment, to answer her next inquiry. She pondered a moment, remebering a dossier on the defunct Tai Yong Medical. They were a prosthetics company that manufactured prosthetic body parts for medical patients.

"I was in the Corporate Espionage division, my job was to collect corporate intelligence from rival corporations, Tokura Electronics and Tadokoro industries in particular." Kat explained, pondering a moment.

"One of my more difficult assignments saw me traveling to Niihama City, to get a job with Tadokoro industries, you see. Obviously I'm not Taiyou, and their racism made it difficult. fortunately I had a strong cover and was able to get the job. It brought record profits to Tai Yong until I was laid off, when Tai Yong was bought out by the Ten-Shi Zaibatsu."

____

"Tell me about the strategies you employed while in Niihama City," said Drulović, who had covered near about two pages of notes during Kat's previous answer, though she maintained a nearly entirely impassive expression as was her habit. "You spoke of Taiyou racism, but I'm interested in your reactions and planning for circumvention, and more importantly, for earning trust." The air conditioning momentarily shuttered out, but the brief quiet was quickly overrun when it hummed back to life. That would have to be seen to by maintenance later in the day. Drulović sipped again at her tea, the cup nearly empty.

____

Kat offered a smile, before she held up her glass of tea. "Even the most Stalwart Taiyou becomes your friend when drinks and good food are involved." She said, taking a sip of her glass of tea. "I worked hard to earn their trust, lots of late nights at company events, sometimes you have to prove yourself. It's difficult, but I managed to prove myself without jeopardizing my job at Tai Yong." She said, thinking.

"I'm sorry, it's been quite a long time since I was on Niihama. It's something you have to adapt and overcome. I learned quite a bit about their culture when I was working for Tai Yong. It was a long hard road, but I earned their trust, by helping introduce a few techniques into their prosthetics."

____

Drulović nodded in acknowledgement, adding another page of notes to what she'd already written and finishing the last bits of tea that remained. She hoped that the kettle still had more of the tea, and made a mental note to herself to go looking for it once this interview had ended. There was something not entirely right about the way Kat spoke, but at least for now, Drulović hadn't been able to put her finger on what it might be exactly beyond occasional snippets, an occasional hint at something that did not line up with everything else.

"Since the Ten-Shi Zaibatsu bought Tai Yong and eliminated your position, what have you been doing?" Drulović asked, her eyes narrowing again as she watched Kat's face closely. She had served as an interrogator at times in the past, and had long known that in any quest for information, it was crucial to observe the smallest movements -- anyone could be trained to hide the most common telltale signs of lying, but everyone, even those most genuine and benign, developed distinct ways of speaking in tandem with their facial movements that could be analyzed to better understand the words themselves. She remembered how her own manner of speaking had once been used against her, to quite horrific effects, though given the chance, she would rather have forgotten.
 
as written by barney_fife and Ylanne

"I've been unemployed, traveling the world. Trying to expand my cultural horizons, learning about other countries and their culture." She said, carefully pronouncing her words and keeping her facial expression in check. Everyone had subtle quirks when lying, but IIA Agents had been extensively trained to lie as naturally as they told the truth. Though nothing was flawless, and with Kat's answer came the pronunciation of sharp consonants and clean vowels, however brief and subtle. Language habits were difficult to break, especially if Terran Common was a second language.

She kept her mind occupied though, trying not to dwell too much on Drulovic's questions. She thought about her home, her real one. A typical city home in Caprica City, the white modular architecture dominating Aschen designs.

"But I'm looking to get back into the workforce, and Intelligence is really all I know."

____

"You worked in corporate espionage and then traveled the world," Drulović said. "I imagine you've had plenty of opportunities to enjoy the more pleasurable bits of life -- some warm, sunny beaches, perhaps, or cold beers from the finest taps, some freshly caught seafood or tender rare steaks." Her own staff might have attested to the fact that Drulović hadn't been known to take a vacation in years. "Why do you want to work for the bureau, Ms. Gaul? Why would you trade a pleasurable lifestyle with all the sweet trappings of corporate life for a position here?"

She gestured toward her office windows, from which they could see the dreary Nida-Kule walls and the methodical passings-by of the workers moving between the buildings in the complex, like miniature people from their height. "The place isn't much to look at. The coffee is arguably worse than what our prisoners drink -- and I mean to say, before the disastrous events in Westeria, which undoubtedly poisoned the coffee there. I'll tell you, my staff doesn't always find me a forgiving boss, though I'm sure you know that already. Reputations travel quite far."

Drulović rested her right arm on the armrest, leaning slightly to that side to compensate, and stared directly at Kat, her heavy-lidded eyes now blinking slowly. "Surely you must have given it some thought. It would be a rather enormous transition. You must have reasons that go beyond mere vengeance or loyalty -- those who stay here did not seek employment on whim or caprice. I should hope you have not either."

____

"Director, if I may." Kat said, bringing up her own memories of seeing a Reverence II above a skyline for the first time, granted. It was Caprica City and meant to stir up different emotions. But being an effective actor, Kat turned the memories into those of shock and horror.

"Have you seen one of their ships in the skies in person? The Aschen Ones... what do they call them...? The look of terror when people gaze up at them?" She said. "The big, bulbous ones that block out the sun."

____

"More times than I care to count," Drulović replied, maintaining her position. "I believe you mean the Reverence II class of ship. Please, though, go on." She waved at Kat to continue.

____

"I want to do my part to make a world for our children, a world where you never have to see that sight. You're right, it's not something to be made on a whim. I've made my choice the day the attack happened in Westeria. I want to be part of something greater. Even if it's whitewashed walls and terrible coffee, and with all due respect an unforgiving boss." She said, trying to make some light humor. The soft vowels and harsh consonents peered through amidst her speech once more, if only for a moment.

"I believe that there's a lot I can offer the TIB, with both my background and my skill set."

____

"That's all well and good, and I appreciate you taking the time," Drulović said, adding a few more notes in the same script that would have been barely legible even to someone else who understood the letters and had the cipher. She had a certain interrogator to thank for that. "If you would, Ms. Gaul, tell me about your weaknesses. Some failure of yours. Some fear you have." Drulović peered intently at the younger woman, her own eyes betraying little other than routine wariness, a byproduct of decades in her business.

____

"I have morals, Director. I'm not going to lie to you." She said, glancing down at the notebook. "Sometimes I find it hard to accomplish a task I find morally reprehensible." She explained.

"Morals can be described as a weakness in this line of work, I prefer to work in ways that don't compromise my morals, and sometimes that affects my performance." Out of all the lies the IIA mole has told in this interview, perhaps this was the only truth among them, the IIA had several disciplinary notes on file regarding Kate questioning agency directives.

"I fear drowning, it's a terrible way to die." She said, recalling a time during training where waterboarding broke her, and she divulged information she was supposed to keep secret. Failing the exercise and earning several demerits.

____

Drulović watched Kat for several long moments, adding further lines on the current page. "Make an argument for me. Convince me of why I shouldn't hire you. And do be convincing."

There was a visible look of confusion on Kat's face, a question that had caught her rather off guard. But she remembered the blood tests, and she reached into her jacket and withdrew a small glasses case, opening it up to reveal a small syringe with metered doses, similar to a Diabetic's insulin pen.

"I have an autoimmune disease, and I'm on a medication that is designed to allow me to live in perfect health." She said before she handed it to Drulovic, the purple liquid within the medication pen easily recognizeable, the label printed in Anquietas.

"I have to take a dose every couple of years, or my immune system fails and I die."

____

Drulović took the syringe, inspecting both contents and label carefully before returning it to Kat, apparently satisfied with it. "Surely that's not enough reason not to hire you; you must compound that," she said, leaning back a bit in her chair, waiting expectantly for Kat to continue making her argument.

____

Kat paused for a moment, trying to understand the point of this line of questioning. Perhaps Drulovic was on to her. Perhaps during the course of the interview her cover had been blown.

"During the course of my travels, I went to the Aschen Empire to get treatment for my disease. I still owe a company called MedLabs a considerable sum of money." She said, confused, She had told a half truth however, MedLabs manufactures Tretonin, and Tretonin is offered to Non-Aschen who can afford it.

"For a dispicable people who killed my family... they do have some good doctors."

____

"Tell me," said Drulović, resting her fist under her chin as she peered over and upward at Kat sitting across from her. "Why should your choice of doctor or your debt to MedLabs be grounds for rejecting your application for employment? You've made some claims about yourself, but you're not so convincing, I think. Convince me. A good spy must have the ability to lie persuasively even, and perhaps most especially, when under great stress, or else when faced with wholly unexpected changes in a situation. The delivery of the lie is not the only issue at hand, either, as the substance, the content of the lie must be believable and provided in a manner that reinforces its -- and thus your -- credibility." She gestured idly in Kat's direction, eyebrows arched in a probing expression. "Go on, then, if you will."

____

Kat had to think of something quick. She had to convince Drulovic of a reason not to hire her. She pondered and pondered as she formulated her lie. Or did she want to tell the truth, cast the line out there and see if Drulovic would bite. She decided against it, and dismissed the thought.

"Wouldn't spending time in the Aschen Empire, subject to their propaganda and possible influence be grounds to disqualify a potential candidate, especially in this field? You never know who they could really be working for." She said, leaning back in her chair.

"Afterall." Kat said, putting on a straight face. "I'm loyal to the Emperor, I'm loyal to the party, and I'm loyal to the Empire."

____

Drulović's expression did not appear to change much at all -- a slight movement of the lips, the eyebrows lowering somewhat from their arched position -- at Kat's assertion. She watched the younger woman, and then, offering a small nod, stood, grabbing her cane to steady herself. "Better," Drulović said. She glanced momentarily at the clock on the shelf, the one that had stopped its ticking when the shadow had come to pay his visit, and moved toward the desk, her gait somewhat uneven as she walked. "You seem to have the right idea, in any case."

Drulović bent over the desk, laying her palm flat over the scanner to allow access to her computer. After a moment, her screen flicked into active mode. The monitor was turned so that nothing on-screen was within Kat's line of sight from her position in the armchair, a simple measure intended to keep any visitor from catching a chance glimpse of Drulović's screen. With some minor difficulty, she located the directory she was looking for, and opened the file, expanding it to fill the screen. Without further comment, Drulović rotated the screen so it faced Kat, and let herself sit in the desk chair, her knees reminding her with a familiar ache that she could not stand on them too long without respite.

____

Kat's eyes moved to the screen before her. It had started out simple enough. The anthem of the Aschen Empire began to play, the words echoing through the room.

"Oh Langara... Oh Langara! Ohh Langara! Tis for thee...."

Kat's expression was relatively unchanging.

"This is our land... a land of peace, and of plenty... a land of harmony and of hope. This is our land, the United Aschen Empire."

"These are our people, the workers, the strivers, the builders. These are our people; the builders of our Empire, struggling, fighting, bleeding, dying.."

The video displayed happy citizens of the Aschen Empire, vast wheat fields, machines harvesting crops, before it took a sudden turn to show war, fighting.

"On the streets of our cities, and on the far flung battlefields.. against the mutilation of our hopes and dreams... who are they?"

The video displayed brutal conflicts between Aschen and Terran soldiers, a menacing Terran soldier gunning down the viewer. Or so was the idea. The Soldier screamed in savage rage as he fired his weapon at the camera.

The video slowly shifted to show marching Terran Marines.

"They are the dark armies; the dark murdering armies of the Terran National Government!" The announcer in the video said, as more Terrans, or what appeared to be Terrans were seen gunning people down.

"In the vast sea of stars, courage, strength, and youth are sacrificed... to barbarians who'se only honor, is atrocity."

The video cut to more Terrans murdering Aschen soldiers. A video of TNG marines executing Cally and other Tech Con employees.

"But even as we grasp at victory, there is a cancer, an evil tumor growing; spreading in our midst."

"Shout! Shout! Shout out her name!" The video cut to Rhea making some public speech, her words muted to allow the jeering crowds to spew hatred at her. It was at this moment Kat turned to Drulovic, appearing confused, perhaps with a tinge of discomfort.

"What is the purpose of this?"

Kat had seen this video hundreds of times, it was used for the Two Minutes hate, and was aired all over Aschen media.

"I do not understand." She said, confused. "It's an Aschen propaganda video from what I can tell."

After one minute, the video cut to the flag of the Aschen Empire, and a portrait of Isambard Prince, while the Aschen Anthem once again began to play, and the video faded out, leaving Kat appearing subtly uncomfortable, and appearing mostly confused.

____

"Oh, I have quite a few of these around here," Drulović said, rotating the screen again to face her side of the desk. "Langara seems to take a particularly disturbing kind of pleasure in producing these for Aschen enjoyment. Distraction, really. They're quite effective for their purpose. The subjects do change from time to time, but the substance changes very little, I would say." Drulović switched to another file in the same directory, readying it to play automatically as she turned it to face Kat, her own expression practiced and blank. Internally, Drulović smiled, and suppressed a chuckle. "Take a look at this, Ms. Gaul. I'd like your comments."

The previous file she had played had been named rheavaeros(1) in the directory. This one had been saved as adrulovic(2).

____

Kat remained silent through this one. The second video wasn't produced for public Aschen consumption, but had been circulated amidst intelligence circles within the Aschen Government.

The Video typically started out with the Aschen Anthem, Langara 'Tis for thee. But then it faded to a video of Drulovic during a press conference, the announcer's voice heard.

"This is Ariane Drulovic, the Arch-Demon of the Terran Intelligence community..." The voice said.

"She is personally responsible for every military and intelligence folly the Empire has ever faced. This Arch-Demon is cunning, skilled, and heartless." The voice explained. "She would as quickly kill you, your entire family, and everyone you ever knew, as she would offer you a glass of tea."

A Large poison logo was superimposed on the screen, before a near flawless lookalike of Drulovic leaned to the camera, and offered the viewer a glass of tea before the video cut to a large 'Beware!" sign, and then it cut out.


Kat was confused still, but she nodded.

"The Aschen Government seems to like to direct the hatred of it's people at specters in the night, to distract them from the issues at home." She said.

"The first one, with Rhea seemed to catered to the general public, but this one... this one is shorter and to the point, less distracting.." She said, chuckling.

"I guess you haven't upset their movers and shakers as much as Prime Minister Vaeros has." Kat said. "They seem to know how to make Propaganda, though."

____

Drulović shrugged. "It's funny, isn't it? I found it amusing at least. The actor, though, there's something a bit off about her. I think it might be the way she moves. I do hope she won't face summary execution or some other terrible punishment for that, however; it's a small flaw." Drulović spoke lightly, rotating the screen again before returning to her previous seat, taking the notepad and pen again into her hands.

"Arch-Demon," she repeated from the video, chortling. "I doubt I'm that appalling a manager or administrator, but I suppose I've been called just about everything at this point in my life." Drulović's expression flattened again into her customary impassive one, eyes once more fixed -- softly, perhaps -- on Kat. "Describe for me, please, Ms. Gaul, your favorite type of cake. I'm quite curious."

____

"I think it relays the intended message to the masses, despite the flaws in the acting." Kat replied, having played everything off quite well. She took one last glance to the folder in front of her. She had made a mental note to try and smuggle some of Drulovic's work back to the Empire. But it would have to wait.

As the infamous cake question was leveled, Kat's eyes were on the window. She was thinking about the planned Thalaron attack on Van Leugen. She made a mental note to check in with assets on that front. Afterall she didn't want to infiltrate the TIB, only to be killed in the upcoming attack.

"Cake.." She replied. "I don't eat cake, I have a gluten intolerance." Kat replied. "It tears me up every time I eat something with gluten inside, it's part of my autoimmune issues the Tretonin is suppressing." She explained. "Sorry, I don't know if that was the answer you were looking for."

____

"Well, I'd certainly be lying if I claimed there weren't answers I'd prefer to hear during interviews, but no, there's not a single correct answer as far as I'm concerned." Drulović settled back into her chair, assuming a rather casual posture, one that seemed to hint at indifference, though of course it was a veneer. Her eyes raked over the younger woman. She offered a small smile. "I understand I'm a bit unconventional with these, but I can't say I've ever cared too much for the whims of 'professionalism' as many of my colleagues would prefer it."

Drulović tapped the pen idly against a blank page of the notepad. "We require our operatives to undergo extensive training after receiving an initial offer of employment. What types of training do you think we might require for candidates, and why? And please, Ms. Gaul, be blunt if you will. I'm a bit tired." But the intelligence director's eyes were sharp as ever.

____

Kat considered her answer "Well, I imagine there would be basic hand to hand training, firearms training, I suspect we'll be trained in the laws of this and other governments if we ever had to carry out intelligence work on foreign soil." She answered, pausing before she continued. "The TIB I suspect requires it's agents to excel both physically and mentally at whatever they're assigned, so extensive training would be required." She answered. She paused for a moment to try and recall her own training regimen with the then Langaran Defense Agency. There was basic physical training, weapons training, and extensive training regimens regarding foreign cultures, foreign languages.

"I imagine we'll be learning a few foreign languages, I hear Anquietas is in high demand in the TIB right now, given recent events."

____

"You suspect or you know?" Drulović said mildly, not having written any notes as Kat spoke this time. She waved, not particularly forcefully, indicating that Kat should continue. "What else do you think we wish to accomplish with training, and for what purpose?"

____

"I don't know, I was making speculation; because I haven't been privy to the training regimens of this organization." She said calmly. She wasn't in the least flustered about the hiccup in her answer, but the thought of execution for failure nagged at her.

"Yes, you might require firearms training, so that we can defend ourselves in combat, you might require learning foreign customs and languages, to enable successful infiltration of target governments. Hand to Hand combat in the event we're disarmed. The TIB will train potential candidates in countermeasures for interrogation, in the event they're discovered. All for the purposes of serving and protecting the people of Terra." Kat explained.

"I'm sorry, I don't know precisely what answers you seek; I'm just going off of what I've observed." She admitted.
 
as written by Ylanne and barney_fife

Drulović nodded, her small smile revealing nothing. She would keep her suspicions to herself for now. The clock now said it was fast approaching half past ten, and the hour she'd allotted for this interview was drawing to a close. Her schedule was horrifyingly packed with all manner of appointments, though she had to admit, the ones with Parliament members were the least appealing of all. Drulović narrowed her eyes somewhat. Her clothes rustled as she shifted her weight, the better that she could adjust the position of her left arm, which she had left lying over her lap, gently curling around her abdomen. She tugged at the sleeve enough to reveal some of the extensive scarring along her arm, wrapped around her wrist in ugly ridges and valleys, and snaking in jagged lines that disappeared behind the sleeve.

"I've one further question before you will go," Drulović said. Indicating the scars along her left arm, which also seemed mirrored on her right, she gave Kat a pointed look. "They're quite ugly, I know. I've had plenty of time to think about them." She tilted her chin back, the question an open challenge. "How do you think I came about these marks? More importantly, Ms. Gaul, why?"

___

Kat surveyed them for a moment. The scars appeared to be burn marks, and knife wounds. Kat made a face as she looked at them. "I suspect they come from a long career in this field." She said, choosing her words carefully. She surveyed the scars on the knuckles in particular. An impact wound and burn mark, from what looked like rebar.

Kat recognized this one in particular, a favorite torture method of her mentour, Marlene Angel. Kat visualized the moment, heated rebar brought across Drulovic's knuckles as Marlene searched for answers. A strike for each lie, each refusal. The searing rebar marks most prominent.

"It looks like you were held prisoner and tortured by a cruel individual, by the looks of it you were tortured more for their pleasure than for information."

Kat's green eyes went up to meet Drulovic's, and she sighed. "It must have been an incredibly painful experience, and taken great conviction and strength of character to endure." Kat replied. She had seen first hand how Marlene tortured subjects with heated rebar over and over again. They broke after the first few strikes; they always broke. But Drulovic had many marks.

In the IIA, Kat was intimately familiar with the interrogation methods employed by the Aschen, though Kat personally preferred exercising the Tantalus torture, since it didn't leave any physical marking, nor was it as barbaric as some of the other methods. She thought a moment, remembering one subject. The individual broke within a week. It was a Taiyou spy, who divulged everything and was hung publicly soon after.

"Those scars serve as a reminder of your brave sacrifice to the Terran People, I imagine." She replied, curious as to how correct her answer was. "I suspect I wasn't far off in my speculation into your scars." She added.

____

Drulović had caught the momentary recognition in Kat's inspection. But she gave no comment. Drulović did not want to remember the beatings, the cold flooring, the sensation of blood seeping along her limbs and cheeks and jaw, the crack of her bones when metal fractured them along invisible fault lines, the sizzling electrical burns. But the persistent aches and occasional, unpredictable spikes of white-hot agony on a bad day, they drew the memories unbidden up like well water from the dark places. Something flickered less than a second in her eyes, a shadow of pain remembered. Drulović pulled her sleeve down again, covering some, but not all, of the scars.

"Character has little to do with it," Drulović said, speaking softly now. "Stubbornness, more like. I've grown quite used to pain." She fingered the medallion around her neck, clumsily, before letting the fingers of her right hand fall back to the pen and notepad. Her left arm remained unmoving, its fingers stiff and unbending. "I suffered more than five years in that hellhole, and these ugly scars are all I have to show for all that time." Behind her, in one of the frames coated with a thin layer of dust, hung a medallion bearing the TIB's seal in the center, a coveted award for meritorious service. "I should hope you never have to experience that."

____

Kat paused a moment. Five years in Aschen custody. She remembered, having been over at the Shore Patrol division. She remembered Marlene discussing the 'enhanced interrogation' of a high value subject. What puzzled Kat though was that prisoners were always executed as to not present a liability to the agency.

"Curious." Kat said to herself.

"I worked with a an individual back at Tai-Yong who was captured by the Aschen government, Tai Yong had sent them to conduct corporate espionage on Tech Con. They were arrested at the border and never heard from again."

"They had perfectly forged documentation, everything lined up with an existing identity, and yet they were still arrested at the border." She said, frowning.

"I certainly understand how precarious this line of work is, what happened to my coworker is certainly a testament to how quickly things can go wrong." Kat explained. Truth was there was someone from Tai Yong, an aspiring young Terran that was posing as an Aschen Citizen. Kat; working for Shore Patrol was the one who arrested them because their genetic imprint was not in the Central Registry. They were interrogated by Shore Patrol and then handed off to the OIA, where they were interrogated and subsequently executed.

____

Drulović inclined her head, her expression suggesting sympathy. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that," she said. She suspected that the Tai Yong worker had been subjected to summary execution, likely after the unfortunate individual's genetic material did not match a record in the central registry. The Aschen immigration policy, if it could in fact be called an immigration policy and not an exclusionary, isolationist, and xenophobic policy, only reflected the empire's absolutist purism. It smacked of eugenics.

"I think there's an argument to be made whether it would have been better to die in prison or survive it," Drulović said, "but I prefer not to dabble in what-ifs, and if-onlys, and had-beens. Those I'll leave to quack psychics and mediums and storytellers. Our trade is, and must be, in facts and information, as I hope you learned with your previous position." She paused, preparing the pen to take additional notes, and offered a small smile. "That's all for now, Ms. Gaul. Do you have questions you would ask of me before you go?"

____

Kat nodded slightly. "Just the facts, as it should be." She said, frowning. "Begs to question though, Director. If you're at liberty to tell me, what steps would be taken to ensure I'm not stopped and arrested at the border, if I'm ever assigned to do work within the Aschen Empire?" She asked. Though it wasn't of any personal concern to Kat, she wanted to have an idea of what to relay back to her superiors, so measures could be taken to rectify any potential leaks.

"I'm curious to know, so that I could make the necessary preparations if the assignment ever did come up."

She silently smoothed her blazer down for a moment, smoothing any wrinkles. Whether it was nervous habit was yet to be seen.

____

"If the need to know arises, then you will know," Drulović replied simply, her gaze not unkind as she watched the woman with the neatly tailored Aschen-made clothes and shoes in front of her. "Curiosity is not unwelcome here, but it must be tempered. In any case, you do not yet work for this bureau; I'm afraid our trade secrets must remain quite hushed." She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. "Do you have any other questions for me, then?"

____

"I understand." Kat replied as she slowly moved to stand up from her seat." I hope to be in touch, and I thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to carry out this interview." She added, smoothing on the creases on her jacket yet again as she extended her hand out to offer a firm handshake.

"I look forward to hearing further from you." She said, smiling.

____

Drulović rose slowly, leveraging a tight grip on the armrest to steady herself as she stood, and then she took Kat's hand and offered a small, slight nod. "Of course, Ms. Gaul. You should expect to hear from your contact in the hiring process within the week. I believe that was Mr. Mitchum. My assistant will escort you to the door for now." She smiled thinly. "I wish you all the best."

The administrative assistant who had earlier fetched the tea soon arrived to retrieve Kat from the director's office, looking harried and disheveled as if he had come running from another building in the Nida-Kule Complex -- and perhaps he had. He apologized, head bobbing up and down with hasty movements, and then turned to go with the interviewee. Kat had been incredibly polished, Drulović thought, almost too polished, except when she had been thrown a bit by some of the questions asked. She waited for them to leave, waited until she heard the telltale ding of the elevator at the end of the hall, and then closed her door, returned to her desk, and added a few notes to the last page of the notepad she'd carried throughout the interview.

Drulović would have the DNA sample sent for further analysis. She glanced at her calendar, penciling in a visit to the woman's home, the cottage just outside Van Leugen, and sent an email to Davonte Mitchum instructing him to wait until the end of the week to send Maribeth Gaul a conditional offer of employment with orders to report for training by the end of the month. Her progress -- and more importantly, her activities -- during training would be closely monitored. These tasks having been accomplished, Drulović returned her attention to more pressing matters of the day, vaguely contemplating in the back of her mind when she would have an opportune moment to find something to eat for lunch
 
as written by Ylanne and Ronin

The Aschen were always contriving some new murderous plot. It was a tired old story, and certainly nothing new for Arianne Drulović, who had come at some point in her working life to accept that as a basic operating fact. Strange how anything could become ordinary. She shuffled the papers at her desk, arranging them in neat piles, though not aligned quite as perfectly as the intern with the perpetually terrified look on his face would have made the stacks. The Midlands had been all but reduced to treacherous wasteland, and every day, Drulović watched with impassive eyes as swaming masses of refugees streamed into Van Leugen, carrying with them battered suitcases stuffed with the only worldly possessions they'd been able to cram inside before fleeing.

She kept her home along the outskirts, and most of her own furniture was shoved against the walls, leaving little room for actual living. There hadn't been too much time to settle, and Drulović figured anything even resembling calm would be a long time coming. Thankfully for her and the agency, she had always seemed to function best in crisis. While Parliament had scattered to the four winds, Drulović remained in the corner office inside the Nida-Kule complex, her familiar presence and occasional japes a comfort, however small, to those scrambling to feed actionable intel to the TNG's military in hopes of preventing another disaster.

"Director."

Drulović looked up from the papers, removing her reading glasses and setting them atop the nearest stack. "Mr. Leimgrüber. I've asked you before not to interrupt unless you've been asked to join me inside this office. I sincerely hope this building is currently on fire."

The security chief blanched, then tightened his expression, clamping one hand over the other behind his back. "No, Director, the building is not currently on fire. Thank the gods." He sighed, heavily. "Your assistant is missing. And there are a couple folks out there who say they have appointments with you. Do they?"

"You're not a secretary; there's no need to play-act as one," Drulović said, rubbing her jaw for a moment. In the soft light of the lamps around the desk, Leimgrüber thought the director seemed more exhausted than he remembered seeing her in a long time. In another context, he might have mistaken her for someone else's curmudgeonly secretary, but he knew better. "They're allowed inside the office. I'm surprised you didn't recognize our own personnel. I might suggest reviewing the personnel files sometime to reacquaint yourself with their faces. It might save you some future embarassment."

"That doesn't mean they're necessarily a -- fine. I give up." Leimgrüber barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel to greet Saigo Natsuma again. The other agent was no longer in the outside area, but he figured that whenever she returned, he'd tell her the director had confirmed she could enter.

____

A 'thank you' was heard as Leimgrüber allowed the agent to pass. Saigo Natsuma came to Drulovic' ajar door, stopping at the terrace.

"Good day, Director," he gave her a nod that was almost a bow. "I understand that you summoned me. May I come in?"

He was 5' 9", close-cut black hair, cropped and brushed. His suit was clean and pressed, though a keen eye would quickly denote the three-piece as a thrift brand. His shoes were polished but worn, the scuffs and marks just barely visible beneath the oily gleam. The broad shoulders and barreled chest spoke of a muscular and athletic physique - hardly a surprising feature for a TIB field agent.

He held his hands behind his back and stood with diligent posture, not entering until Drulovic gave him permission to come in.

____

Johannes Leimgrüber was a good man. Drulović knew that. Still, it had been clear since the first day of his employment that Drulović preferred her security detail out of sight, the better to keep from reminding her of the ever-present possibility of an assassination attempt. There hadn't been a written threat in some months, but of course, they could take no chance with her life, even if Drulović herself had been known from time to time to give her detail the slip -- much to Leimgrüber's carefully measured displeasure.

The young Losenji agent in the doorway looked many years younger than Leimgrüber, perhaps almost young enough to be his son or far removed younger brother, though Drulović knew from the personnel file he had already been working for the agency these past six years. She noted the suit he wore, but opted not to comment about the brand. She much preferred competence to fashion sense in her employees, and besides, her own attire was well worn and aged. Drulović offered Saigo a small smile, gesturing for him to enter. "Please, have a seat. Can I fetch anything for you? Some coffee or tea? I'd suggest the tea over the coffee, but of course, it's entirely your decision. I believe I also have some pastries in the pantry, if you're lacking for something to eat at the moment."

Seated behind her desk, Drulović's severe hairline and deep jowls combined with her quiet dignity in the worn, plain black pantsuit lent her an imposing appearance. She had never worn makeup, and her only adornment for the day was the saint's medallion resting on her chest. The natural light coming through the windows only helped to expose the extensive scarring on the older woman's body, which otherwise might have been hidden in shadows. Drulović was careful about the position of her sleeves, but today, exhaustion had overtaken what would ordinarily have been more deliberate preparation, especially after the interview, and her jacket's sleeves were not pulled far enough to hide the scars.

____

"Thank you," Saigo replied, walking into her office and taking the chair opposite her desk. "I must decline, I've already eaten. Thank you." It had been six years since he'd last sat in this chair. Back then he'd been a recruit fresh off the review line - a young, nervous boy without the faintest clue of what he was getting himself to. Back then the TIB had been stationed in Veritas, but somehow the office he'd been interviewed in felt remarkably similar to this one.

He hadn't seen Drulovic since that first encounter. He'd heard things, of course, from other agents. Not even the TIB was exempt from workplace gossip. She always offered her agents tea, he'd heard. That much was true. She was never caught without her religious symbol around her neck - that seemed correct also. Simple but refined clothing. Scars knicking her arms. No makeup. The same hairstyle every day.

These were aesthetics, of course. The rumors surrounding her mannerisms and quirks were just as abundant. Some said she had a habit of going off in conversational tangents - calmly flip-flopping between topics without rhyme or reason. Some say they recalled the cool, almost pleasant smile on her face as she engaged topics of assassination and interrogation as easily as if she were discussing the weather. She drove like a maniac. Her husband left her. Her daughter was a murderer...

As with most things in his life, Saigo had retained the information passed onto him by his fellow coworkers but had resolved to reserve judgement until he had the opportunity to know Drulovic personally. Not that it mattered, of course. Even if the worst of the hearsay were true, she was still the Director of the TIB - a damn good one at that. She was his superior. It was his duty to observe her authority.

"It's been a long time," he smiled, "I don't mean to overstep myself Director, but I hope that you've called me today to give me an assignment."

Six years of grunt labor, back-breaking field work for other agents, monotonous reconnaissance and loyalty testing. Was today finally the day when Saigo would be given a mission of his own?

____

"As you wish," Drulović said. She rose from her seat, taking a file folder from the desk with her as she made her way to the other side of the desk and claimed the other chair beside Saigo. "If you would, Mr. Natsuma." She offered the file to him, her expression revealing nothing, though she fixed her gaze on his face, studying him with the careful, practiced eyes of one who had conducted numerous interrogations and interviews. The fluorescent lights ubiquitous to most offices and other institutional spaces were switched off in the director's office, supplanted by the soft glowing lamps and the sunlight outside. The space itself may have been smaller than one might expect, but it did not lack for windows.

The file folder Drulović had handed Saigo contained copies of the documents the shadow monstrosity had left with her, along with a note in her own jagged, infantile cursive with a checklist of sorts. "I'd like your impressions once you've finished reviewing these materials, and I'm afraid this is quite urgent. I'd apologize for the shortness of time if I could do so, but unfortunately, we must play the hand we're dealt."

____

Saigo received the document and opened it. He scanned the texts silently, translating the shipping records from Anquietas into his native tongue in his head. He would take a moment, saying nothing. If Drulovic did not speak up, a short silence would follow as the agent decoded what he could of the file.

"I'm not a scientist, Director," Saigo began, "but it seems like these are materials for the construction of a very powerful weapon. The parts are being built by Tech Con and are then to be shipped by the IIA..." He paused, parsing another line. "...somewhere."

He looked up. "Given the recent animosities between the TNG and the Empire, this could suggest that the Aschen are planning to commit acts of terrorism against the TNG." He shrugged. "Or this is completely unrelated to us. It's hard to say."

____

"Don't sound so surprised, Mr. Natsuma," Drulović replied, leaning back in her chair as she spoke. "I'm sure they're not taking the loss of nearly their entire fleet so well, especially given our size -- our smallness, really -- in comparison to that great big empire of theirs. Ms. Vaeros is in hiding. Parliament is about as useful as a child's play sword in a gunfight. You know I've no great love for politicians and their ilk." She shook her head. "I want you to look into this for me. See how much we can rely on the information in that file, and whatever else we might be able to ascertain about this weapon someone wants so much to build in secret. I'd advise you to do it quickly."

Drulović rested her arm over her legs, her voice devoid of any warmth or excitement. No matter how much she checked the thermostat, it was always too cold in here. The windows had been newly installed upon her arrival in this office when the agency relocated, but she'd never been totally convinced of the soundness of the seal. Less for spying purposes -- the place was sweeped at least twice daily for all manner of recording and transmitting devices -- than for producing a constant draft sufficiently cold to necessitate keeping a scarf on the back of the door for the worst days.

____

"I'll look into it at once, Director," Saigo nodded. He rose from his chair, file still in hand. "If I may ask, where did you receive this file? Classified documents like this aren't too easy to get your hands on." His brows furrowed. "Aschen intelligence is notoriously deceptive, as I understand. This could be bait. I'm certain you've already considered that."

____

"Of course," Drulović replied, her expression momentarily sour. "As I'm sure you understand, however, we cannot afford to take chances with purported threats, especially under present circumstances. I'd much rather you invest the time to find this is some convoluted ploy meant as a distraction than to ignore these documents and find ourselves near dead from the threat we dismissed as implausible in the beginning." She stayed where she was sitting, watching Saigo with tired eyes. "Don't allow those documents to leave the secured parts of this building. I'll not have any further leaks. You might speak to Ms. Qahtani from Counterintelligence if you're curious what may happen to those responsible for such mishandling. I trust, however, you won't need to have that conversation."

____

"That won't be necessary, Director," Saigo's tone quickly softened - going from curious to obedient in a heartbeat. His posture straightened and he nodded again, the incline even closer to a bow than before. "I'll begin my work at once." He checked the file. "If the Aschen are going to use this weapon against us, then they'll need a way of shipping it on world. I'll begin by visiting Veritas and reviewing all incoming space traffic into TNG territory."

He moved to leave, but stopped again at the threshold. He turned and looked at Drulovic, a slight silence passing between them.

"Will there be anything else, Director?"

____

Drulović pushed herself upward from her seat, pressing her palm hard into the armrest for leverage. A grimace crept over her features before receding into her characteristically impassive expression. "I'll expect daily updates from you on this matter, and additional updates should you encounter anything of particular urgency, which I'll leave to your discretion." She stood facing Saigo, the light falling over her face highlighting the shadows under her eyes, and offered him a small smile that almost seemed to spread to her eyes. "I'm sorry for my shortness with you today, Mr. Natsuma," she said, tugging at the lapel of her jacket to smooth the wrinkles from it. "The occasion of leading your first mission ought to be something celebratory, reason for a visit to a nice restaurant or upscale bar for a higher-end drink or two at the end of the day. At least, that's how things generally went in my day. It's sad, I think, but I hope you'll not be too disappointed."

The console built into Drulović's desk dinged softly twice, but she did not turn to look. "You've done well these last few years with us. I've thought favorably about the incident involving Mr. Aubrecht last year in particular." She tilted her head slightly, reaching to rest her hand on the file cabinet by the door to keep herself upright. The pain in her knees grew each moment standing. The smile slowly faded from her face. "Thank you."

____

"There's no need to apologize, Director," Saigo smiled back, a bit of warmth piercing his professional, soldier-esque demeanor. "I'm just happy to be doing my part." He nodded thanks as she mentioned Aubrecht, though a bit of light fled from his face. His first major success. That assignment had propelled him out of paper-shuffling and into real field work. It had also been the site of his first kill.

At the last 'thank you', his eyes went back to hers. He saw the pain in her face, the strain to stand, to keep her focus. It was a pain, he realized, she endured everyday. She was old, but not from age. What memories hid beneath the patchwork of scars lining her hands? What stories lurked beneath every aching bone, every flaming tendon and groaning joint?

"I'll be contact. Thank you, Director. Good day." He nodded again, turned, and exited her office.
 
as written by barney_fife and Ronin

A little over a month later, Elsewhere in the Nida-Kule complex...

Maribeth Gaul; or rather Kathryn Connors had elected to take advantageof a break from her training with the TIB to take care of some important clerical work related to her hiring. However today was the day she was supposed to take her tretonin. The woman frowned for a moment as her planner chimed to alert her to this fact. Had it already been a year? She remembered her last Tretonin injection, an appointment with her physician before she was assigned to Valore to work an assignment for the IIA. This most recent assignment had come via courier.

Kat stopped in a low level access hallway next to a break room, where she elected to go ahead and get her medication out of the way.

As she stopped she produced a small silver box from her jacket, grimacing she opened it up to reveal syringe, and a small vial of purple colored liquid. Leaning against the wall, she picked up the vial, and began to put a clean needle on the syringe, oblivious to what was going on around her.

____

"Are you alright, miss?"

Were Kat to turn, she would find herself face-to-face with a plain-looking Losenji man in a three-piece suit. He stood with diligent posture, a manila file folder tucked under his arm. A slight empathy marked his expression, but he appeared for the most part more stoic and curious than concerned.

"Forgive me," he nodded his head forward, "it's just unusual to see people injecting themselves in the halls. Do you need medical attention?"

____

Starting slightly, she let out a barely audible gasp before she turned around, swallowing hard as her PDA Chimed yet again. She pulled it out and swiped the alarm to turn it off.

"I.. I'm fine, thank you though." She said, quickly closing the silver box, slightly nervous. Was it a drug? Was it something else? "It's for a condition I have.." She said, looking back to the man, who to Kat appeared Taiyou. Were the Taiyou Empire also exerting it's machinations upon the TNG?

The woman's words were lightly accented, with a distinct blend of clean and tight vowels, sharp consonants, and an alluring almost smooth way the words seemed to become slightly mangled. It was the accent that stemmed from romance languages typically.

"M.. My name's Maribeth, I'm new here."

____

"It's quite alright," he replied, extending his hand. "Maribeth? I'm Saigo Natsuma. It's a pleasure to meet you." He smiled. "New? You must have had your interview with the Director already. How did it go?"

____

"I presume it went well, I'm here aren't I? I'm just submitting some last minute paperwork the agency requested before I report to my training.. Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Natsuma." She said, producing the small silver box and loading up the Syringe from the vial.

She slowly pressed the needle into her neck, and pushed the plunger, wincing slightly in pain. The anquietas labeling on the bottle was evident.

'Tretonin, 90CC" Along with Maribeth's name, and dosage requirements.

Once she pressed the plunger and withdrew the syringe, she discarded the needle in a small sharps container in the metal case, and put everything back away.

"I have an autoimmune condition that requires injections every six months, otherwise I die." She said, pocketing the box.

"Director Drulovic is a strange woman." She commented. "In a charming way."

____

"Indeed she is," Saigo nodded. "I'm curious, did you accept the tea when she offered you some?" A small smile touched his lips. "I declined. I'm fearful that I made a grave offense."

His eyes scanned the anquietas scrawling the injection. "Are you Aschen, by chance? Or of Aschen descent?" His tone bore no hostility or anger. "Not too many people use Tretonin on Valore. I don't even think it's sold on-world."

____

Kathryn shook her head. "No; I'm not." She said flatly. "Frankly I'm offended you'd insinuate that; do I look like an Aschen to you?" She said shaking her head.

"Had my fair share of run-ins with them though, what with the whole lining up my family and executing them when I was a child.." She said, turning to fully face Saiga.

"Oh, and they vaporized my house when they decided to attack Westeria." She said, chuckling. "But no, I just take their drug. If anything, the Aschen have better medical technology than we do, and it was take Tretonin, or live in a bubble for my entire life." She said. "I chose the former." She added.

"I took the tea, but see; I have a gluten intolerance.. she got me on the cake question." Kat said, laughing.

____

"It would have made no difference to me," Saigo replied, "Valore is a planet of many cultures and ethnicities, Aschen included." He inclined his head into a slight bow. "I apologize if I have offended you. It was not my intention."

He listened to her brief story of how she'd been wronged by the Imperials, his expression betraying nothing. "We've suffered much at the hands of the Empire. I'm sorry for what you've lost." He gestured to their surroundings. "I'm glad you're here, though, doing what you can to make a difference."

At the mention of cake, Saigo quickly adopted the change of topic. "Ah, well at least you were one for two." His head tilted. "How was the tea? I'm a bit of a tea snob. Part of me refused because I was worried it wouldn't be any good."

____

Kathryn shrugged. "Personally I'm more for coffee, the Tea wasn't the greatest but I didn't want to be rude." She said, trailing off for a moment. She couldn't help but regress back to the original subject of the Aschen Empire.

"They live so much better than we do... it doesn't make sense why they would constantly attack us like this." The statement was honest, not part of a facade. Kathryn genuinely questioned the entire operation for just a moment.

"I've been to Langara." She said. "To get my medications.. before things went south. Caprica City, even got a chance to go out and see the countryside... It's very pretty." She said.

"Have you ever been to Langara?" Kat asked.

____

"I have not," Saigo shook his head. "And can't say that I understand it myself." He shrugged - a slight, almost non-committal movement. "But wars are rarely fought for rational reasons. Sometimes misunderstanding and prejudice are all it takes to send billions of people to their graves."

A ding. Saigo reached into his coat pocket and checked his phone. "Forgive me," he looked up at, Maribeth, "I need to be going." He extended his hand once more. "I wish you luck in the coming years, Marybeth. Maybe we'll see each other on the field."

____

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, I too better get going; a pleasure meeting you." She said, taking his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Good luck!" She said, before she turned to leave, she planned to turn in her paperwork, and head home to pack for her training.
 
as written by Ronin and Ylanne

By the time the van rumbled back onto Nida-Kule's grounds, dusk had overtaken Van Leugen, and the sky's darkened indigo tones were slowly turning black, marred only by the dull light pollution from the city. Drulović fingered the note, the paper crumpling in a dozen different ways, the ink smudging with the repeated contact.

Come home. The cookies burned in the oven.

Saigo Natsuma would have received the note on his encrypted comm, the message clear enough. Little needed to be explicitly said, and Drulović knew he would understand. The image conveyed clearly the TIB director's painstaking, childlike handwriting -- immediately recognizable now as hers.

"Has Mr. Natsuma received the message? The line hasn't activated yet, and I'm afraid it's already nightfall." Drulović grabbed the handhold on the side of the van as it came to a stop inside the main gates, preparing to step down. The bags under her eyes were visible even without the benefit of sunlight to highlight them. One of the agents came around to the door, boots crunching on gravel, and pulled it open.

"If the watcher by the house doesn't see Ms. Gaul return by morning, I want the place searched. I don't trust an inchs of it." Drulović stepped unsteadily from the van before finding her foothold, and began to move toward the main building, her small figure silhouetted against the security lights illuminating the walls. It was already nearly eight, and she was ready to head home.

Saigo had been reviewing logistics records from the TAF of all incoming space-faring transports when he received Drulovic's message. The agent immediatel stopped what he was doing, exited the archive and patched into the encrypted comms.

"Where am I needed?" he spoke to whoever was listening, whether that was Drulovic or a receiving agent.

"Hi. The new probie? Maribeth Gaul. She's probably a spy. Aschen." From the other end, Amira Qahtani's voice was pleasant enough, but there was no trace of warmth as she spoke, and perhaps more than a slight edge to her tone. "The orders are to detain her. Are you at home? The director should be getting in right about now."

"I'm in the library," Saigo spoke calmly, seemingly unphased with by the knowledge that the woman he'd had a pleasant conversation with not two weeks ago could be an Imperial mole. "Does the director want me to meet with her first, or shall I deploy immediately?"

"Well, if you're here, I see her out the window. Let's make it quick. You're mine for the night." Qahtani ended the connection -- or at least, her voice cut to the customary silence.

Outside, Drulović approached the door, swiping her palm long enough for the scanner to gain a read. The door clicked, allowing her entry, and most of the agents on the security detail followed afterward.

"Hm," a low, musing grumble escaped Saigo's throat as Amira cut the line. He knew enough about the senior agent to know how competent she was, but had never actually worked with her as a partner. This would be interesting.

Seeing as how he hadn't been told exactly where he was supposed to go, Saigo deduced that if Drulovic had just arrived, she was probably headed towards her office from the security room. He moved quickly to position himself in one of the hallways leading there and waited for her to pass by.

When the older woman rounded the corner, she caught sight of Saigo waiting. "It's an urgent matter. I'm sure you understand." Qahtani was not far behind, both agents moving faster than Drulović seemed to walk at her perhaps surprisingly leisurely pace. "Ms. Gaul -- of course, I'm sure that's not her name -- is Aschen. I suspect it's rather likely she works with the IIA. I stopped by her house a bit earlier today, and she received a call in code from Marlene Angel." The director's face darkened considerably as she spoke the name, her frown deepening on her face.

Saigo fell into step alongside Drulovic, never missing a beat. "You want agent Qahtani and myself to apprehend her, then? Bring her into the house for questioning?"

He was vaguely aware of the implicated danger. If Kat was IIA and if she was working with Marlene Angel herself, then bringing her in for questioning would be far from a simple operation.

"I'd like her detained, not killed, and not anywhere particularly close to here," Drulović directed the two of them to follow her into a darkened conference room. The overhead lights flickered to life at the motion, their faces shimmering in reflection on the tinted glass -- opaque to external vision, but still allowing the room's occupants to see the Van Leugen skyline. "You cannot allow her to leave this planet."

"If you don't want her here, do you have a preference for location?" Qahtani remained standing even as Drulović sunk slowly into one of the seats.

Drulović shrugged. "Any of the secured buildings, anywhere outside this city. I trust the two of you have sufficient creativity between you to think of something."

"We will have access to the house's armory?" Saigo asked. His eyes briefly trailed the glittering horizon of the city before returning to Drulovic. "If she is IIA, she won't be taken without a fight." His brows knit. "And if she's working with Marlene Angel ... well."

Drulović looked sharply at Saigo, her features tensing. "You might keep in mind that Ms. Angel may be here on Valore, possibly even somewhere within our borders." She exhaled, looking down toward the conference room's table. "Take whatever you'd like, but return the equipment in something resembling decent condition, if you would."

"We'll do our best," Qahtani replied, straightening her shoulders. She glanced a moment at Saigo, pleased that the younger agent seemed eager for this. Energy could only help. It was late, and while she knew she had enough fuel to keep running for a while longer, she'd been closing out another situation earlier in the day already. Qahtani held up her comm, asking, "Can you send us a copy of her file?"

Drulović nodded, blinking slowly. "I wouldn't believe much, if anything, contained in it." She reached for the scarf hanging about her neck, pushing part of it over her shoulder and smoothing some of the wrinkles. "I'd like to see you both come morning."
 
as written by Ronin and Ylanne

"We'll return, director," Saigo replied, "with Ms. Gaul in custody." He looked towards Qahtani, nodding for the exit. The sooner they got moving, the better.

After leaving the conference room, the two agents would make their way through the security clearances leading into the armory. As they walked into the broad, well-lit underground dome that comprised the complex's armory, they were greeted by a massive dragonkin in a tight-fitting suit.

"Evening Leopold," Saigo nodded.

The lizardman snorted in acknowledgment, ember-eyes flitting between the two agents.

"We're on assignment," he said, "I'd like a class B4 loadouts with wristbands and a boomstick." He began unbuttoning his jacket. "And whatever the lady likes."

Leopold looked to Qahtani.

Qahtani shot Saigo a momentary glare. "It's Qahtani or Sir, not 'the lady.'" She turned to Leopold, smiling coolly, and signed off on a class A9, her usual choice of weapon. Rarely had she ever been in a situation that led to much of a firefight. Like all agents, she was, of course, subjected to intensive months-long training in all manner of combat, but for the most part, the TIB left that to the military. Qahtani had been one of the relatively few non-veterans on staff to have seen direct, prolonged conflict.

Saigo paused, brows furrowed. After a moment of thinking, he nodded.

"Apologies, agent Qahtani," he said, loosening his tie, "I'm a bit nervous. Etiquette slips."

Leopold went off to a nearby table and began typing into a holopad with clawed fingers, requisitioning the needed supplies.

"We're potentially going up IIA," Saigo continued, "so we should expect ... what? Power armor, disruptors, hardlight shields." It was unclear if he speaking to Qahtani or to himself, but he was loud enough to be heard by his fellow agent. "Maybe even some of our own tech, if she's been in the TIB." Saigo didn't think Kat had armory clearance, but it didn't hurt to assume the worst.

"We should probably tag team this, agent Qhatani," he looked at her directly now. "One of us in pursuit and on-field, the other at a distance with scope and cover fire. Unless you can think of a better strategy?"

"I'd prefer if we had three, not two," Qahtani said, shoving her hands into her pockets and halfway leaning against the wall behind her. "Short of magically creating a third team member ex nihilo, I'd suggest incapacitation as soon as possible, or else either she'll escape or we'll kill her." She left unspoken the possibility that Kat could kill one or both of them. Neither of them particularly needed the added anxiety. "She may not know we're specifically tasked with finding her, and right now, but I'd bet money she knows she's been followed. Probably the Director wants her to know that."

"Probably," Saigo agreed, "and if Marlene Angel is really backing her, then we should expect her to be present during the opp as well. We'll need to take her down as soon as possible."

Leopold returned, two massive cases in hand. He lay one down in front of Saigo and the other in front of Qahtani.

"Thank you," Saigo nodded. He opened his case and removed a thin vest. He removed the rest of his dress shirt and strapped it to his chest. "So. Nonlethal takedown." He next took a small gauss pistol from the case and pressed his thumbprint to the grip. A green light flashed on the weapon. "We can bring a toxin to incapacitate her, but it would have to be potent enough to beat Aschen nanites. We run the risk of killing her." He holstered it beneath his arm. "A shock weapon is probably the best bet, but if she's wearing combat skin, we'll need to be able to hit her bare flesh."

He looked back to Qahtani. "What do you think?"

"I'm thinking about a sound cannon," Qahtani replied, unloading her own case. "You don't need direct contact for that. And we'll need to run signals interference." If they could disrupt communications between Marlene -- or whoever else was directing Kat's actions -- they would stand a far better chance of successfully capturing the Aschen agent. "And you're right -- if she knows we're following her, she's probably suited up." Qahtani sighed as she checked her weapon's magazine. "It's going to be a long night."

In the other part of the building, Drulović had already packed what little things she intended to take home, and was well on her way out of the building.

"That's not a bad idea," Saigo nodded. The agent next took a small square device from his case. He pushed two buttons before clipping it to his belt - an Omni-Shield. He looked at it, frowning a bit. "Hm. Omni-Shield or thermal shield? Thermal will defend well against disruptors and plasma, but it's not good with ballistics. Omni defends moderately well against everything."

"Alright. We've got the primary route with the sound cannon, the shields for defense. It's a solid loadout." He began putting back on his shirt. "Short of them bringing in a tank, I think we're set. Unless there's anything else you think we should take?"

Qahtani nodded sharply. "Let's play it safe and take a rocket launcher." She shrugged from her zip-up hoodie, slipping on her own vest, before pulling her hoodie back over her arms and zipping it most of the way. In contrast to the younger agent's pressed business attire, the more seinor agent seemed dressed for a firefight in the streets. In her work shirt and tough cargo pants with utility belt slung about her waist, she might have blended more readily into a diner filled with working people grabbing a quick dinner after a long day's labor.

Partway through the process of checking that her gear was in the appropriate pockets and holsters, Qahtani shook her head. "If you're going to be closer, take the thermal shield. Aschen love their disruptors. Besides, you've got the vest on, and it should have enough stopping power to deal with standard ballistics. Anything more serious than that, and the omni-shield isn't going to be much help anyway."

"Fair enough," Saigo replied. He took the thermal shield. A moment later, Leopold brought a rifle-looking device with a wide-barrel muzzle and a slew of small metallic domes. The rocket launcher. The quartermaster swiftly condensed the weapon with two swift motions that folded it into a franction of its full size. He offered it to Qahtani - along with as much ammunition as she felt she could spare.

To Saigo he gave a coilgun the size of a pistol. The sound cannon. This the agent holstered behind his back. "I suppose - given our choice of attire - that I'll be the one on the ground, in pursuit. You'll be at a distance providing cover."

He looked at his fellow agent, eyes flashing to the various pieces of equipment arrayed on her figure. "Are we set?"

Qahtani took the proferred rocket launcher, strapping it onto her back for ease of access. "Yep, or, as ready as we can be." Once they'd finished gathering their gear and had turned to leave the armory, Qahtani exhaled heavily, muttering, "... tonight is not going to be fun." She motioned for Saigo to continue ahead of her. "I hope you're good at close range. If things go well, I won't have to use any of this shit."

"I'm proficient in hand-to-hand combat," Saigo replied plainly, "but those skills are hardly valid when your opponent is wearing imperial armor. Aschen technology has a way of flipping off skill and strategy in favor of raw strength and power."

A low snort rumbled behind them. Leopold lumbered forward, two metal bands in his hand.

"Oh," Saigo turned, "almost forgot our wristbands." The dragonkin offered one to each of them. An all-purpose gadget of sorts, TIB wristbands came equipped with launchable grappling wires and worked as an attachable zip-line. They also acted as close-range force blasters, expelling great quantities of energy at whatever was directly in front of them. It could send a grown man flying. A good last-resort weapon and useful mode of quick transportation on the battlefield.
Saigo attached his. "Alright." He nodded. "Let's do this."
 
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