“one day, I’ll be a big police dog!”

It sounded like a good plan. They hadn’t had a night to themselves like that in a long time. Of course, they spent evenings together and days off together, but a night where they had a good talk, nothing else to do at all, was rare. Of course, the first time it happened Adrian had been antsy. He had wanted to work on something, anything, keep himself proactive and working hard. But Aya was slowly showing him how to relax, how to unwind and how to ‘turn off that switch in his head’.

As Aya pulled away-- reluctantly-- he agreed that it sounded wonderful. He instantly went over to the fireplace. It may have been Summertime, but at Coldfront it was still nippy and chilly. So some of the snow had melted, and you could see some tundra turf here and there-- didn’t matter! It was still a cold base, with ice and snow a lot of the time. 

Once getting that going, he went over to Kaiser’s bed. He brought it over to the fireplace sitting area. He’d make it a proper night, with all of them around the fire, sharing a good time. Adrian had the potential of being an excellent father someday. The way he treated Kaiser was a huge indication of that.

He tried banishing that eerie feeling as well, but it wouldn’t go away. Something was coming.

“Darling, do you want me to put some music on? For background noise? Or will that distract us, you think?” 

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

“We could sit a while. I could get the fire down low, and we could dim the lights. We could just be with each and take in the evening.” He rubbed Kaiser’s ears a bit more, hearing the happy ‘grump’ noises coming from the puppy. “Or, we could make some popcorn, something to eat. I could read you something, or you could tell me stories about your coven.” He looked around the room, his ever whirring mind at work. “Or... if you would like, we could go to bed early. Earlier than I said I would.” He looked at her, silent for a few moments, before reaching out to run his own fingers through her pale braid. His touch was gentle for a policeman, despite his sometimes harsh gaze and cold attitude.

Things were funny, how they turned out. When he first arrived on the base, he was a monster, a bad guy. He had to do his job, and he couldn’t give in to the weirdness on this mercenary-based station. Tentacled hybrids, really? So he came off as rude and professional... which he knew he was. But he was indeed labeled as a villain, something he was labeled often. He didn’t mind. He couldn’t blame the scared mercenaries.

“It is up to you,” he said with a small smile. “But whatever we do, let us do it together.”

For some reason... he didn’t want to be alone. Not now. He felt weird, like there was something against his back all the time now, breathing down his neck.

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

“No, I do not know that, for I do not know who this Sam Kinnison is.”

He enjoyed scratching Kaiser’s ears, causing them to ‘flap’ a little bit. The puppy was just so eager to be with them. Maybe some would call the puppy a little clingy, but he didn’t mind that. It was an animal, a living thing, and it deserved love just as much as anyone else. He never wanted Kaiser to go without knowing he was loved.

The cuddle snapped him back to reality. He wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close to him just long enough for him to give her a kiss. “To this I agree. No work. Do you have anything in mind?”

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

The policeman instantly pays attention to Kaiser. He was such a good puppy. He never really had a dog when he was a kid. Always wanted one. He wasn’t sure any canine would enjoy his company. The dogs in the police task force usually didn’t pay him any mind, which, all in all, was fine with him in the end. He had work to do, he didn’t have time to play with dogs.

But Kaiser... he was different. He was giving him a new chance to relive the childhood he never had.

Scratching the puppy’s head, he smiles faintly at the kiss to his temple. He swore it even eased the slight headache that had been forming. “I breathe just fine. My lungs are working properly, with no sign of an illness decreasing its effectiveness.” He cracked a faint smile at that comment. He had his rare moments of playfulness, even if it was hard to tell with how stiff he usually was. “You are right in a way. I will call it an early night.”

A chill scattered up his spine, and he shivered without realizing it. Something felt off, but he wouldn’t tell Aya that.

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

The smell of her perfume. It was a trademark scent with her, something that Officer Meyers had come to expect. She wore it a lot, various light smelling perfumes that simply put him under a spell. A figurative one, not a literal one. He welcomed her embrace, allowing his guard to drop at last. He relaxed, not as stiff and not as tense. Placing a hand on her slender arm, he gently rubbed his thumb in a slow, tender circle.

“I still do not understand the concept of an aura, when you speak of it, but I assure you mine is fine. If anything, it is worn down from work. I am not being attacked for I have not been harmed. My skin has not been split, no blood has been spilled yet. There is nothing physically hurting me.”

At the whimper, he squeezed her arm. The other whimper prompted him to look down at the floor. There he was, his chubby little rottweiler. He was smitten with the puppy. Softly he patted his lap as he continued to sit at his desk. It was an indicator for the puppy to try and get up into his lap.

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

“A personal day can wait. I do not want to use all of mine up. Besides, there is much to be done still, and there are many files I have to sort and order.”

Always a typical sort of reply. Officer Meyers was practical to a fault. Hard working, he rarely took a day off or took time to actually stop and smell the roses. He enjoyed life, and he did enjoy the downtime he did receive, but more or less he was constantly on auto drive.

However, despite all of this, he did pause from his work. He relaxed, feeling Aya’s hands going to work, massaging all those kinks out of his neck. 

“Nightmares,” he replied offhandedly in that familiar tone of his. “Illogical fears manifesting in the form of a bad dream. That is what I have been experiencing. There is nothing to worry about. Nightmares cannot hurt someone.”

Apparently he can, though. He’s woken up several times to find marks on his arms, as if someone, or something, had been clawing at him. Whitened marks that nails left behind. A night ago, it actually drew blood. Nothing a little peroxide and a clean rag couldn’t fix.

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

when you try to push up your glasses but forget you took them off so you just kinda hit your face

Sweetheart? Are you ok? You're white as a sheet. :rubs his shoulders comfortingly, whispering a tension-easing incantation as she does so. Something simple. She hoped it'd help.:

He jumped slightly from the voice. He had been too engrossed in some files and cases, filling out the documents that needed to get done. He was rarely skittish or jumpy, but he had been for the last week or so. Aya, his secretary and girlfriend, obviously seemed to take notice. That incantation was proof enough.

Finding himself instantly relaxing, he looks at her, his usual neutral scowl more of a concerned grimace if anything. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I am fine. I just have a lot of work to complete. The tension must be getting to me. That is all.”

Thi҉s҉ ̢įs͘ onl̵y t̵he bègi͘nn̵ing̕..̡.̧ :the lights click back on. Nobody in the room Everything is fine.:

This was peculiar. And his heart was… racing? This was very unlike him to get this worked up over a clear hallucination brought on by too many nights working overtime in a row.

The voice. That disembodied voice spoke again. His mind flicked back to another memory, briefly, one where he heard a man screaming out in German. He had a crop in his hand, and he brought it down, mercilessly, over and over until his held hostage had crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from the many lacerations and cuts. He remembered a towering man of Russian descent barreling towards him, grabbing the man up by his neck.

Crack.

Adrian Meyers swore he heard the cracking and snapping bones of that man’s neck, but he hadn’t. Glancing down, he saw that he had stepped on a few shards of glass. He must have knocked something over once the darkness hit. It looked to be a drinking glass. 

Sighing heavily, he frowned to himself as he went about, cleaning up the mess. He needed to get to bed, and get some sleep.

He dipped his head into an apologetic nod at the news that the man in question, the one being sought after, was perhaps terminally ill. He knew how hard it must be on this man. To try and search out someone who was that ill could lead to a dead end, with a cold headstone and a long ago etched epitaph. Or, knowing the corporation on a whole, the body was possibly cremated or donated to medical studies or experiments and science. 

He motioned for the man to step into his office. It was best to get situated there. “I can look him up on the database,” he said. “There should be some trace of him in MannCo’s files. I can access it from my computer. If not, I am sure I can look through printed out documents. I am sure to find a trace of Mr. Conagher somewhere, Sir. And it should not take a long time. I will try and put in all the information you’ve given me and plug it into our database.”

Moving over to his office door, he unlocked it. It opened without a single groan or creak from the oiled hinges. The man was impeccable in his manners as he was in the upkeep of his environment, it seemed, for his office was sterile yet inviting... for the most part. From the carpet to his desk, everything was in place. Not a spot of dust. The only thing that seemed a little out of character for this austere and professional man was a rather chubby pup, a Rottweiler, curled up on a rumpled blanket in a basket. It yawned, its tiny pink tongue curling as it stretched.

“Have a seat,” he said, moving over to his desk and booting up his computer with a strike of a single key. “I am afraid my computer is not the best. It is a little slower than I would like.” Sitting down at it, he pulled his chair closer to his desk. “This will only take a few minutes. If you wish, you may tell me more about yourself, your ties to the company or to this man.”

[previous] (did this since tumblr is real bad with RPs derived from asks)

The pen flew over the paper, writing down everything Pierre said with accuracy and speed. The policeman was diligent, that was for sure. He kept up with this guest by using shorthand, making sure he left nothing out.

“You work for Builders League United. My sincere apologies for assuming you worked for the entire company as a whole.”

He paused, only briefly, before writing something else down. He flicked his gaze back up to Pierre’s face at the ‘old friend’ part. Another pause, and he continued writing, his gaze drifting back down to the paper. He wrote that down, along with something else. Everything he was writing may have been hard to read for most people, perhaps not Pierre, for it was not done in English, but in German. The man wrote all his personal notes in this language, then painstakingly translated them into English as well, keeping two copies.

“You fear for his well-being. This suggests he is ill, or in trouble.” With a tap of the pen’s side against the paper, he finally looked back at the man, and kept eye contact. There was something harsh, yet subtly kind, about his eyes. Concerned, even. “Pierre D’Orleans,” he continued, keeping that same flat, nearly monotone edge to his voice. Strictly professional. “Yes, a pleasure to meet you. I can tell you now that I am within rights to find information for you, and to look him up within our databases. Since you do in fact work for Builders League United, you are still within the company, and as an employee I am able to look up information involving other employees for you.” He tucked the notepad back into his pocket. “However, I will warn you, if the end result of me giving you the desired information results in tomfoolery and the potential damage of MannCo property, including its workers, outside of mission based regulations, then I will be forced to withhold anything else you may need in the future. Do you understand?”

:the lights immediately cut out. No flicker or fade, just an instant plunge into darkness. A crackle of vicious static over the intercom in the room- followed by a horrific scream, the sort only made by a dying man. It's not a scream that most would have heard before- but the policeman has.:

Darkness.

It was a jarring transition without a warning or a gentle easing into. The lights shut off quickly, leaving the policeman to be swallowed up in the shroud of darkness. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to his newly found situation. He had to see where he was going. Perhaps the electricity went out in the base, as well? It happened more than one would think. The mountainscape lead to many possibilities and ways the electricity could be knocked out. He hoped ice wasn’t involved. He hated having to deal with ice on the wires.

Taking a step forward, he heard the burst of static coming from the intercom from his room. That intercom had remained quiet all this time. His Advisor had been silent, not giving him much in the way of commands. He used to hear his superior speak through it giving the base news, revised rules and the likes. But now, instead of a voice, it was static.

Static… that turned into a scream.

His nerves surged up his spine, causing him to jerk into action. His hand instantly went to the gun, holstered at his side. He unsheathed it and brought it up, expertly pointing it at a fixed point in the darkness. His body remained still, unshakable, his mind resolute. That was the case, until he recognized the scream.

A scream from his past. The scream of a dying man. The scream from a memory, the real one where he got his scar. He didn’t get it from a training accident. He didn’t get it from being clumsy. How could he lie and cover up the truth? How could he ever lie to anyone?

“Detrick,” Officer Meyers called out, clearly forgetting that the civilian from his past was dead. His eyes glazed over, and he found himself standing in another place, at another time. A woman bleeding profusely, a knife to her throat. A child, on the ground before her, prone. A father crying out for help. A crowded plaza full of panicking people. A bomb threat. A killer standing before him. Weapons drawn. Blood. So much blood. “Sei still! Ich bin schon unterwegs!”

He stopped. He blinked twice, and the vision drifted from his sights. He gasped, the scream still heard. It chilled his blood. He lowered his gun, finger off the trigger. He hadn’t realized he echoed the very same words he spoke to that man, the one screaming over the intercom.

Such ́á b́old lit͘t͝l̡e ̛th͜in̵g yo͜u̢ ͏ar̵e͘.͠ ͜Y͜ou ̵w̨a̡įt͡ ̨an̸d́ se͝e҉. ̛We̕'̸ll͞ p͝u͡t͞ th̷át tò t҉ḩe̴ t̷e͏st.͠

“If there is a test to be had, I am confident I will pass it with full credentials and flying colors.” 

His brow furrowed in concentration, he tried to understand as to why he was responding to a disembodied entity. Perhaps he needed to get a good night’s sleep. He was overworked, that must be it. He needed some sleep. He had done enough for tonight, and now his psyche was paying the price.

“I am not afraid of you,” he said suddenly, standing straight and tall and proper. “I am not afraid of something I cannot see. That is foolish to fear something that is not there. It is a waste of time. Since you do not show yourself, I clearly have nothing to fear.”

[previous] (did this since tumblr is real bad with RPs derived from asks)

The pen flew over the paper, writing down everything Pierre said with accuracy and speed. The policeman was diligent, that was for sure. He kept up with this guest by using shorthand, making sure he left nothing out.

“You work for Builders League United. My sincere apologies for assuming you worked for the entire company as a whole.”

He paused, only briefly, before writing something else down. He flicked his gaze back up to Pierre’s face at the ‘old friend’ part. Another pause, and he continued writing, his gaze drifting back down to the paper. He wrote that down, along with something else. Everything he was writing may have been hard to read for most people, perhaps not Pierre, for it was not done in English, but in German. The man wrote all his personal notes in this language, then painstakingly translated them into English as well, keeping two copies.

“You fear for his well-being. This suggests he is ill, or in trouble.” With a tap of the pen’s side against the paper, he finally looked back at the man, and kept eye contact. There was something harsh, yet subtly kind, about his eyes. Concerned, even. “Pierre D’Orleans,” he continued, keeping that same flat, nearly monotone edge to his voice. Strictly professional. “Yes, a pleasure to meet you. I can tell you now that I am within rights to find information for you, and to look him up within our databases. Since you do in fact work for Builders League United, you are still within the company, and as an employee I am able to look up information involving other employees for you.” He tucked the notepad back into his pocket. “However, I will warn you, if the end result of me giving you the desired information results in tomfoolery and the potential damage of MannCo property, including its workers, outside of mission based regulations, then I will be forced to withhold anything else you may need in the future. Do you understand?”

The policeman turned to properly face the emerging man. Straight and just a little stiff in an austere sense of the word, he nodded, once, towards his visitor. His mouth was set deeply in a neutral line. His eyes were hard behind his glasses, his expression strictly professional.

“Good evening,” he replied, a hint of an accent smothered up by his perfect English. “There is no need to apologize. You’ve come to see me because you have a problem that needs to be dealt with. If I demanded an apology for that, then that would make me a rather cruel being, would it not?”

Adjusting his glasses, he listened patiently, intently, as the man explained himself. He began taking mental notes on everything– from how the man stood, to whether he slouched at all or not, to the color of his eyes and the way he spoke. 

“Dell Conagher. A member of MannCo corporation, I assume?” He took out a notepad and a pen, and jotted down the name. “I can locate the man’s whereabouts, or at least any information I can possibly find on him. If he is still in the MannCo database, then I am positive I can give you what you need.” He inclined his head, just a little bit. “And your name is, Sir? What is your relationship with this man in question? I assume you work for MannCo, correct?”

"Pardon me, do you have a moment to speak?"

“I do have a moment,” he said, putting down the folder in his hand. He had slid it right back into its rightful place, in a metal filing cabinet. “I assume you are a spy,” he continued, quite dryly. “Or, you are afraid to show your face. Do not be afraid to speak with me one-on-one. I would appreciate it if you did not hide. It will make the conversation go faster.”

"Pardon me, do you have a moment to speak?"

“I do have a moment,” he said, putting down the folder in his hand. He had slid it right back into its rightful place, in a metal filing cabinet. “I assume you are a spy,” he continued, quite dryly. “Or, you are afraid to show your face. Do not be afraid to speak with me one-on-one. I would appreciate it if you did not hide. It will make the conversation go faster.”

Yóu͏ a͠r͠e. ́Every̵o̧n͟é f̶e͡a̸rs so͞me͞thin̸g. ̶I̢ ̡won̷der wh͝a͞t y̧ou̕ fear̀,̡ ͝li̛ttle͜ pol͝iz̸is͢t.̸..̡

“I do not fear anything.” He looked up from the files he was sifting through. He wasn’t sure why he was talking to this voice he was imagining. The stress from the nights he’s stayed up late, working overtime, was getting to him. “I fear nothing. There is nothing to be afraid of. Life is predictable. Because of this, there is nothing that can surprise me, nothing to startle me.”