Come here little sheep (Bea/Lorena)

[JAXON FLEETER]

Date: 2008 Nov. 06

here kitty kitty, now dont be shy

feel me in the inside of the, faintest trace of sound

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] THE DARKNESS AROUND The mirror like surface of the puddles reflected the pure black-sky making it appear as though a piece of hell had fallen to earth. Undisturbed by even the smallest breeze. The streets were morose and grey in the late night; the midnight spread over the sky like decaying fungus, a tangled web saturating the city. The rooftops were laden with a brilliant sheen and the windows were splattered with obscurity. Nothing but dizzying car lights racing past every now and then accompanied by the wisps of magic floating in the air. Unseen to most, the moon’s mournfully sadistic gaze rained upon the earth, as the creatures that thrived in it were pronouncing their anit-humanitarian knowledge. And there were the neon lights from the closed down stores, vaguely flickering and pouring strange, greenish light onto everything like searching beacons. Darkness bloomed across the place, the way blood blooms in water, spreads and fans and twirls, dark and wispy as fraying ribbon as Jaxon now glided the streets unnoticed with his power. Swiftly he bent past people, cars and anything else that was in his way as a mere shadow travelled through the street silently till finally resting outside a club door. Slowly as it etched its figure onto the wall, the shape made signs of flesh before forming into a man; Jaxon. There was another flare of red in this suck and swallow of darkness, this maw of black. It was an ember flash, the burn of tobacco crumbled in a pull of air. The cigarette balancing between his lips, the elongated limbs of arms swayed in a hushed rhythm till he turned back to the door of the club. Almost devoid of her original soul, this city was a perfect ivory beauty of insanity, though, unlike him it merely dwelled in the levels of her un-ventured, secretive mind, the back alleys and underground. The sweet, sickening smell of rotten remains and death assailed his nostrils as he prowled the light ridden streets. The pungent odour fornicated with the cigarette smoke birthed an acrid bastard more potent than either of its predecessors but the natural aroma of lavender that stuck to his skin was uneatable and soothed any horrid odours. Anyone would fight back the wave of nausea it brought, the little men in anyone’s head - the ones working the olfactory senses-nearly having strokes because of it. But Jaxon relaxed into the psychotic calm before the storm, letting it take over his senses. He relished the last fleeting moments of humanity as the environment about him slowly lost its clarity, only did the smoke trail a line of direction for him to follow. But at last, the sun had finally set, and the full moon surmounted power. He was beginning to grow even more bored, as the possibilities of pure evil were more dominate now the streets were before him, it made his desire for chaos thicken. His lungs burnt and the empty bag of his stomach seemed to tighten around them, squeezing hungrily around all of his organs. Not only did he yearned, he needed trouble. Life was just being shackled with the paedophiles and junkies, freaks alike. The smell of depravity taints every painful breath till there's no room for sanity while a cool sting of self-loathing permeates empty spaces and cuts down unknowingly atop the heads of rapists and thieves alike. Jaxon knew of this, till his dark curiosity birthed a new man; new creature in fact. This left no room for clean structure; organized chaos ruled the forsaken den of human decay. Faeces and vomit abound, these human mongrels abandoned any notion of tangible salvation long ago in favour of one quick, mean jerk of the noose and Jaxon was one to send this into action. They were all just cowards in their most distilled form, they crawl on hand and knee like vermin before the axe falls, knowing no other way but to roll around in their own diseased filth until it consumes them from the outside in. Once, Jaxon was like this, seeing and feeling the effects of an evil existence till everything changed. A man. It wasn’t as much that Jaxon felt superiority, he’d admit to self grievance. Only to himself, if that. Finally he rested himself on a park bench that still over looked the city life. Beautiful. #### WORDS 726, TAG BEA/LORENA , MUSE BLUE STAHLI - CORNER!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

Currently, the small park was also playing host to a pair of BPRD agents – Lorena and Bea had been called out at this late hour to deal with a very fresh discovery of a corpse. Not just any corpse, of course; this one looked like a patchwork, all manner of creatures sewn into one body in order to produce something that local legends had centred on for centuries – the elusive Jersey Devil. The most common tale regarding its existence attributed it to an invocation of the Devil by a woman named Mother Leeds (the jury was still out on whether or not she had in fact been a whore, though this did not make much impact upon the story of the creature) upon the birth of her thirteenth child. What happened next was the point at which the tale first began to diverge into separate streams; some saying the baby transformed immediately, others that it became the startling monster following a longer process. Some even sharply maintained that she locked it up, and the only reason it still existed to plague New Jersey was the fact that it became strong enough to escape.

And so it had supposedly roamed, seemingly immortal and seen by few – captured by none. Of course, other dead bodies had been lauded over the years as belonging to it, others had put up substantial rewards for its capture and thereby caused momentary frenzied greed among those who deemed themselves capable of completing such a feat. Upon stringent examination, none of these hoaxes – elaborate or otherwise – had withstood the brunt of scrutiny put upon them, and yet people still persisted. In this particular instance in the ongoing saga, an unfortunate dog-walker had been forced to drag their determined pet away from a half-buried mound; the hound dragging the mangled leg, stick thin but which ended in a large cloven hoof, along with it, much to the young man’s chagrin. The dog had dropped the limb after much coaxing, the local police were called, and they quickly chose to pass on the baffling case to the BPRD. And so here the pair were, in this tightly cordoned-off park, Bea having helped dig down to the rest of pieces of the creature before Lorena took over with the more delicate tasks involved in exhumation and forensic examination. The moon beat down in silvery stillness upon the city, bathing it in cooling light and setting the frost to sparkling as it formed on the over-grown grass. The only real sounds were those of traffic whooshing past that carried well on the still night air, or the gentle movements of what little wildlife called this small enclave of greenery home. Their trio of portable light stands sent a strong cross-section of unnatural yellow light across the graves-site, saving them from relying on torches and encouraging whatever scavengers might be on the prowl from avoiding the general vicinity of the two women.

All was perfectly peaceful - with Lorena absorbed in her current occupation and Bea singing 'Patience of Angels' as a sort of background soundtrack - until a half-heard creak of wood somewhere put the younger agent on the alert, abandoning her distracted scuffing of a boot-clad foot across the grass to strain to catch any further noises. One of the things that had been drummed into the newer agents was secrecy, secrecy, secrecy – it was the always the order of the day, no matter how trivial the task. Manning would have an absolute fit if he thought that there had been a civilian near such a thing; that it might even be one of those reporters he despised so virulently did not bear prolonged contemplation.

“Lore, I’m going to have to see what that was. Most likely nothing worse than a racoon, but still. I’ll be back in two ticks.” The Northern Irish woman explained briefly, a slight shrug of her shoulders emphasising her words that despite the fact that there had been nothing further – that one groan of wood had not sounded like a natural shifting of branches, and there was no wind to justify such an explanation. Better to be safe than sorry. And so Bea made her way back up the hill, emerging from the copse of trees in which they were currently based and onto a tarmac path that shone in ragged patches in the moonlight, the stems of dying weeds pushing up through long-neglected cracks in its surface. Logically, if it could not have been a tree, then the next most likely explanation was a bench – though the sole bench they had passed looked to be half-rotten at a best estimation. However, it was fairly close, only a rough couple of hundred yards away, and Bea was not one to ignore her common sense in these matters.

As it happened, she was correct in her summation: there sat a lonely figure, staring across the cityscape, seemingly lost in the view. To her it was not beautiful; there were no verdant fields, no rolling hills, no half-glimpsed streams dancing their way across the land. And there were no stars to punctuate the white-tinted blackness, and that was something to be missed – an unpolluted sky that bestowed the sight of a million far-away diamonds upon the world on a clear night. These were the things worth seeing, worth remembering, worth having in your blood. He hadn’t stirred, despite the fact that her approach had not been the stealthiest in the world, but the bet that he hadn’t heard her would be a possibly viable one. In fact, the strange character did not acknowledge her presence at all – he displayed no wariness despite his deserted location and the odd hour, merely continuing to drag in breaths filled with smoke from his dying cigarette – and so the agent ended up speaking first.

“Hello. I’m sorry, but this area is currently off-limits. I’m going to have to ask you to leave I’m afraid.” Bea stated, hoping to temper the request with some small measure of apology even as she professionally flashed her badge in his direction to show she had the clear authority to move him along in this instance (despite the fact that, realistically, he must have had to overstep the police tape on his way in).

Thread Inspiration Song: Boo Heweredine - Patience Of Angels

[LORENA ZACCARDO]

The park was secluded, seemingly empty, save for the dynamic duo: Bea and Lorena. They had been called to deal with a corpse, and being the forensics scientist on duty, it was Lorena's job to accompany the field agent and take a look at the scene. It wasn't an ordinary corpse, but hardly anything about this job had proved to be ordinary, it had been a strange roller coaster experience since the day that Thomas Manning had recruited her to work alongside the agency from her old home at NJ:CSI. The corpse belonged to a mythical creature formally known as the Jersey Devil. Much to Lorena's disappointment, the Devil failed to resemble the creepy Agent Hellboy. While Lorena had not been informed as to the original myth behind the slain creature, she had no reserved doubt that Bea was well informed. Bea, who often had the opportunity so somehow get a better briefing on missions prior to traveling to the field to examine the actual case. Having studied forensic botany, the first thing Lorena was interested in was the plants in the area. Any plant within a certain radius could be the key to the mysterious corpse. It was strange what a plant could inform one of. A plant, a single leaf, could tell whether or not a body had been moved, to how long a body had been dead. Plants were quite amazing actually.

Bea was singing a song that Lorena was not familiar with, in a slightly amusing soundtrack. “You know.” Lorena stated glancing over her shoulder at the other agent. “I often wondered what life would be like if music played at all the epic moments of my life like it does in the films... But I never thought I'd experience it while examining a body. It's surprisingly more morbid than I envisioned actually.” A small creaking sound drew the attention from her work. She had all ready been lectured by Manning today, how could it get any worse?

Bea announced that she had to investigate the sound. Please dear God, let it be no more than a hedgehog, or pidgeon.. Lorena thought to herself, as she continued to work amidst the darkness, fingers digging through the nearby ground. There was signs of dragging, the creature had been moved, by something. “Holy...” She said in a voice barely audible. Tracing a finger, encased by a rubber glove, over the drag marks in the grass, her eyes widened. Someone had seen this, and moved it. It was candidate for a setup. Agent Sapien had mentioned that a few less than neutral forces liked to play havoc with the BPRD at every ample opportunity. Perhaps this was one of those less-than-common occurrences.

Spooked by her discovery, the skittering footprints of a light animal scared the wits out of her, sending her flying to her feet. She covered her mouth to prevent a scream and staggered back a few paces. The glowing green eyes of a cat greeted her, her arm falling back to her side more relaxed. “Who would set us up with a corpse?” She wondered quietly. “It doesn't make sense.” Someone was clearly here. Reaching for her case-kit, she pulled out a small garden shovel an dug up the plants that were affected by heavy weight, evidence of being dragged, in case Agent Sapien was required to double check her work. As a junior agent, Manning proved to be more than a little reluctant to trust her work. Bea had been gone for a while. While most evidence would be put into sealed plastic bags or containers, this was a plant and had to live long enough to be further investigated. Proceeding to pull out a small plastic container, Lorena held the moved plant upright, while filling the container with dirt and packing it down. “Well, Jackson.” She said naming the plant, “We're going to be seeing a lot of each other, so try to stay alive until we reach headquarters, all right love?”

It had been too long now. Bea must have found something, or someone. Grabbing her radio, she turned it down to a low volume, hoping against hope Bea had her radio in. Beep. “Bea, is everything all right?” She asked quietly, hoping that her voice was not heard by anyone else. “Something has moved our friend here, I don't think we're alone.” She added cautiously, fearing for the other agents safety.

[THE STAFF]

Closed out of respect of Sue's absence.
Closed on: 2011 June 20 by The Staff