Of Straightforward Solutions
5nd of October 2006 A.D.
Just how many more restrictions do you expect me to take on mom? you bristle, though the thought never gets spoken, on second thought all the better for it. She's not asking for a promise to never kill something all the way dead again, but to be cautious. What that means is still up to you and you know your mother knows that as well. "I'll be careful," you nod firmly, even though there is a part of you that agrees with Usum's assessment.
"When oh Lady of Dark Arising would be be wiser to let a foe return than with vengence in their heart than to drive the dagger fully through. "
"Thanks Molly," Mom answers, breathing a little easier. She does not even grumble at writing and signing off on another bullshit excuse for the school,
In a way you guess it is a 'family emergency', dad is going to be coming with and it is very urgent to get those vampires in some place more secure than lying in pieces in Harry's living room, circles or not.
***
On a scale of one to
Men in Black 2 the agents of the Library of Congress rate a solid seven for how noticeable they are. The trio of vans are powder blue not black and the windows aren't tinted, though they are remarkably thick. As the driver of the lead one rolls his down, you notice the edge glints bluish purple rather than the green of normal glass, alchemically treated
"More's Morning Movers," the man says, looking over his sunglasses at detective Murphy, because of course they have those. "One hundred percent safe delivery."
"This way," she motions towards Harry's place, the door ajar, stacked boxes covered with tarps clearly visible. What better way to pass off a vampire than in a coffin after all? It's
traditional.
The lead agent who introduces himself as 'Greg' though you doubt you'd be able to take that one to the bank, seems rather nonplussed at the state his prisoners are in.
"Best wake them up first, procedure is to feed fangs before transfer so they don't act irrationally. I know these aren't your regular fangs but they still need a drink and get cranky if they don't get it for long. That's what the report said."
Lieutenant Murphy just nods, but you are a bit more dubious about the nine agents can handle all the prisoners. "Are you sure...?"
"Oh yeah, More's got the tools for the job," 'Greg' proclaims in a faux-cheerful tone like a late night TV add that hides something darker. "Let's get inside and I'll show you."
Harry is clearly not enthused at letting any kind of spooks past his threshold and the muttered 'sorry about that, it's business' does not help much. These people had clearly not been chosen for their diplomatic skills, though you quickly find out just what they had been chosen for..
The head agent sets a duffel bag on the counter with a clink, half metal, half plastic, your enhanced senses tell you. Out of it he pulls a sleek looking collar, black steel with futuristic looking studs on it, wouldn't look out of place as a accessory in some clubs you've been to. Judging from his frown dad had figured out what they were for before Agent Greg starts talking.
"Mark Two Compliance Collar, it can deliver shocks, but that is just to get a fang's attention if they start to rage out. The important bit is the C4 in them. Enough to blow the head clean off the toughest..." he snorts and seems to unwind a bit. "I'll spare you the marketing shall I? Good enough to blow off the head off anything we'd agree to transport cross country in a van."
"Who has the controls?" You ask, wondering how they got around the obvious flaw.
"Each of them is linked to a different agent, but they don't just work off vocal commands. if the linked agent to have some kind of unusual biochemical reaction, like say if something were to magically induce a feeling of awe, terror, desire, subservience, you name it the collar goes off."
"What if something else happens to make you lose your calm?" dad asks, sounding quite sure he isn't going to like the answer.
"We all have training not to, but in this job it's better to have a false positive than a false negative considering..."
"Judge, jury and executioner," Detective Murphy mutters under her breath, though she sounds more sad than angry
Alas Harry is not as content to be quiet: "Are vampires the only ones you use those on Agent Mulder?"
"My team only deals with vampires," the agent replies evenly. "If you want to talk policy we have a full liaison with Edinburgh, send them a letter, I'm sure he could do with some work in that damn cushy job of his."
One of the other agents, a dark haired woman who had forgone the sunglasses cracks a smile and so do you, though more out of a wish to disarm the situation.
Let it go Harry. The enemy of my enemy is... someone you at least want a nonaggression pact with.
To your relief he does and the rest of the transfer goes smoothly. All the prisoners have their limbs after you had spent the better part of two hours stitching them on, the bags of refrigerated blood wake up the prisoners enough for their situation to be explained in detail which is rather remarkable given the fact that, Akuma or not, the Wan Kuei do not feed on blood, but chi. Blood separated from its source should have long since lost the spark of life.
That is when you notice the bowl of Hygeia has rather more symbols around its brim than usual, which is to say any symbols at all and the serpent of Epidaurus also has some oddly shaped scales, a spell of preservation. On its own that would have been mildly impressive, a proper enchantment, but it does not work independently of the function of the portable fridge, rather it enhances it from the realms of the physical into the spiritual. Andrea's Von Trier's disdain for Daedalus aside it is clear that the organization she is part of is more than willing to embrace modern technology and even meld it with sorcery in subtle, unpretentious ways.
Quietly you point it out to Harry. "See, you can totally have working electronics in here."
He gives you a bit of an odd look. "Not really what's on my mind right now Molly."
"They seem to know what they're doing," you say, trying to reassure him. The servants of Emma-O certainly seem to believe in these mortals' willingness to blow their heads off. None of them had even tried to grandstand or to invoke the name of their lord, though that might have to do with you also being in the room.
His next words are so soft you barely catch them sitting next to him on the couch. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about."
Do you have any questions for the agents of the Library of Congress?
[] Yes
-[] Write in
[] No, continue to Saint Mary's where Father Forthil will try to exorcise that poor girl
[] Write in
OOC: Not the strongest vote to end on, but I feel like this is a good cut off and you are in a position to ask questions