Encounterlogs
Declans Odd Encounter Sr Crystal 241017
In a curious blend of espionage and supernatural elements, Declan Hayes finds himself entangled in an odd and tension-filled encounter. Tasked by Miranda Hall, the Director of the Boston Chapter of the Temple, Declan is enlisted to interrogate a subject of interest through dream invasion—a method to delve deeper into the person's mind to extract crucial intelligence about a rogue shifter named Seymour Adams. Amidst the unusual and highly secretive operation within a minimally adorned living room, the unexpected happens; Declan receives a disturbing and high-priority call from Miranda, igniting the fuse of a mission that spirals into a complex web of loyalties and deceit. As Declan proceeds to White Oak to carry out his mission, he is unexpectedly joined by Taylor, a dark-haired woman who introduces an undeniably optimistic yet mysterious presence early in the morning, adding another layer to the unfolding narrative.
As the story unfolds with twists and turns, it becomes apparent that Taylor, far from being a mere ally, harbors her own secrets, complicating the mission further. The operation takes a darker turn when they uncover the last moments and thoughts of their comatose subject, only to realize that Taylor's involvement has endangered the mission's success and her own life. Declan's interactions with Taylor evolve from professional to deeply personal, a dance of manipulation and attraction that culminates in a poignant conclusion. Faced with a gut-wrenching decision by the directive of the Boston Chapter, Declan is forced into a corner where his actions dictate not only the mission's outcome but also define the uncertain fates intertwined with his own. In the end, as the winds carry off the echoes of a thunderous decision by the shore, Declan and the Temple are left to ponder the true cost of their endeavors and the shadows that linger long after the mission concludes.
(Declan's odd encounter(SRCrystal):SRCrystal)
[Wed Oct 16 2024]
In A Living Room
With cream-painted walls and otherwise minimal in the way of superfluous finishes, this living room leans heavily towards budgeted and utilitarian, though most of the workmanship is at least acceptable quality except for some patches of ceiling and wall. At the western side, by the windows, are arrayed several counters and a refrigerator, as well as a wall-socketed induction stovetop.
It is morning, about 42F(5C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with stealing a vital piece of intelligence from a subject by delving into their mind with dream invading to try to tease out the secret.
)
Just as Declan puts his phone away in his black leather jacket, it starts to rumble indignantly, like it had a very big issue with being stuffed in there. While it isn't a sentient being, it's vibrating violently, and if he put the device on silent mode, it's ringing out a very tinny, annoying melody. Someone is calling him, and has managed to get through his device settings, signaling it to be some high priority missive.
Declan doesn't look particularly busy, bustling about his living room and stowing his phone that he'd left on the counter into his pocket .. right after that, it starts making a racket and not in his usual alarm or ring notifications, either. How weird. As he puts away a pitcher in the fridge, he goes on to open it and possibly answer it.
The phone decides to buzz a few more times, resolute in making Declan know full well that it's been nagging for his attention. The tinny alarm slash tune growing louder, for some reason. "...for the love of," a woman's voice can be heard through some interference. The voice is melodic and in different circumstances, might even sound pleasant and alluring. At this very moment, she sounds exasperated, irritation seeping through each syllablue she puts out. "Ah," is quickly followed up. "Hayes? Declan Hayes, yes?" she makes a point of presuming, but knows quite well who is on the other line. "This is Miranda Hall." There's an expectation in her voice like that name ought to ring a bell. Maybe it's somewhere in the Temple Operatives directory, if he's been keeping up with his homework.
The name sounds familiar, though it's been a minute since Declan got any mission from out-of-chapter sources that didn't involve rescuing ex-operatives from snorting too many lines of coke over vampire strippers that can go all night and don't need to breathe. One digresses, though. "Hayes here," he affirms her presumption, holding back a sigh. "Don't think you ever called me back after last time. What is it?"
A short, heavy exhale sounds out from the other end of the line. It's dry cut and easily broadcasts that she's rolling her eyes at some reminder she's probably tried to bury in the annals of her memory. No such luck, though what could she have expected if she were calling him directly. "Yes. Anyway," she clips back at him in a flat tone. "As Director of the Boston Chapter of the Temple, I'm sure you're well aware of why I would be calling." Typically she'd let that declaration hang in the air, but it's Declan she's dealing with who happens to have some memories to unearth, so she cuts right to the chase before he assumes this isn't strictly a business call. "We have a situation. You're needed at White Oak to interrogate someone of very special interest to us. Unless you could get the commander on the line. I doubt you'd have any better luck than I though..." she elaborates, disclosing some of her own struggles with him. She sounds like she needs a drink.
"Why? No luck with the ex?" Declan briefly teases the Director on the line; outside his chain of command, he can't expect too much professional consequences. And perhaps it was deserved. He tries not to chuckle and picks his car keys off the countertops before he starts for the exit, already knowing anyways this is not going to be a WFH feasible arrangement. "All right. Brief me on this special someone, or send me a report. Headed over to White Oak right now." He's getting into the driver's seat.
"..." emanates from Declan's speaker, broken up by interference on Miranda's end. There's some scrambling and what sounds like a desk drawer being shut, and the click of a firearm. Just when it might seem she was pushed to the other end, she clears her throat, and the clink of glass disperses any other untimely outcome. She got herself a drink. "No need. You have an escort already waiting for you," she informs him, followed by a heavy sigh. When she hears what sounds like Declan leaving, she promptly hangs up.
Before Declan can get too far driving himself to the clinic, there's a dark-haired woman in a dress suit and white satin gloves standing before a Mercedes Benz. She's wearing glasses and looks far too optimistic this early in the morning. "Ah. Hayes!" she calls out to get his attention, frantically waving for extra emphasis, making sure she couldn't possibly be overlooked. It's too cold out for her to be wearing a short dress suit, but the pantyhose covering her legs help protect her from the moderate chill. "We'll be driving you!" She adds h urriedly, anxiously checking the time on her phone. "Come, come," she urges.
"What? We expecting company on this trip?" The White Oak campus isn't even that far away, though Declan reflects at least it wasn't a helicopter or airborne ride. Saves him a few cents of gas, I guess, after Miranda's hung up on him and he can muse about her ex. Exiting the car then, he meets up with the woman who's parked right down his patch of Willow, offering a hand for a brisk shake before hopping into the back. "Am I getting brandy too in the back or something?" Probably not, but it's worth asking if he's getting the premium treatment.
"It's very urgent, and you were the only one that's responded," the brunette woman half explains, half reminds Declan, sans the obvious sass her superior harboured. She's quick to take someone that handshake, waving his arms up and down vigorously, and then her nose starts to twitch and an expression of evident concern grows on her haughty features. She's gonna sneeze, and she yanks Declan's arm with unnerving strength, sneezing into the back of his hand. "Sorry. I can't ruin my dress," she breathes out after gifting him with a bit of her slobber and mucous. A very supernatural kiss on the back of his hand, very gentlewomanly.
"Call me Taylor," she says nasally, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief. She's already rounding over tot he driver's seat, tapping on the key fob which unlocks the passenger side of the vehicle.
"It's very urgent, and you were the only one that's responded," the brunette woman half explains, half reminds Declan, sans the obvious sass her superior harboured. She's quick to take Declan on that handshake, waving his arms up and down vigorously, and then her nose starts to twitch and an expression of evident concern grows on her haughty features. She's gonna sneeze, and she yanks Declan's arm with unnerving strength, sneezing into the back of his hand. "Sorry. I can't ruin my dress," she breathes out after gifting him with a bit of her slobber and mucous. A very supernatural kiss on the back of his hand, very gentlewomanly.
"Call me Taylor," she says nasally, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief. She's already rounding over tot he driver's seat, tapping on the key fob which unlocks the passenger side of the vehicle.
".. what." Declan stares incredulously at the snot on the back of his hand. He has a little handkerchief to wipe it away, and somehow he's more vexed by that than Taylor being a Demolisher clad in human clothes. Not a great use of one, but being bodyguard-chauffeur at least is technically within their duties. Let's hope this one doesn't need a shock with a collar. He shakes out his hand and wrist afterwards and climbs into the back once it's open. "So my hand's good enough to sneeze on? Shouldn't wear something you can't ruin in this work." He clips in and waits for her to get them moving.
Taylor let's the engine run for a moment before she pulls out from the patch of grass she's parked before Declan's residence. They're going to be leaving some tire marks as a friendly reminder of the visit. "So. You might be aware, we're currently investigating a rogue shifter by the name of Seymour Adams," the demolisher handily explains towards Declan while conveniently ignoring some of the good points he's brought up. They're in for a bumpy ride. She ignores more than one stop sign, drives on the wrong side of the lane at Elm, and when she tries to parallel park she gives up midway and leaves it parked diagonally next to a scooter and a pickup truck. It's early, but that truck wants to pull out he's going to need to get the Benz towed first.
As she hinted, she's in a hurry, and probably doesn't care about that asset. Her priority is to bring Declan to White Oak. "We're going to extract the location of where he could be hiding before our friend expires, see?" She explains the gist of the situation to him, handing him a manila folder with details on their quarry. (Plot info 3). "Anyways. I don't know my way in from here. The Clinic. Examination Room Three. You lead," she insists, gesturing over towards the campus after stepping out of the vehicle. In a flash, she's at the passenger side, opening the door for Declan.
"Name seems familiar," says Declan, even though it isn't at all. Makes him seem more legit, though. Perhaps it's in the parts of recent Eastern seaboard bulletins that he's missed. However, he's used to rather rough driving so it doesn't make him fearful, more confused that their time schedule is apparently so tight he needs to be rushed to a campus no more than a mile or two away. (Probably less, but distances can be funky inside the town.) Once they're there, he nods, unbuckles, and moves to take Taylor's arm to help him out, giving her a pat on the back and a reminder, "Okay, this way. Stick to me." A bit later past the reception it's somewhat apparent that he's not hugely more familiar with White Oak than she is, but the signs are helpful. And he simply ignores stuff like the acromegalic monks. "Exam room three."
Inside of the manila folder, there's also a hastily written note on a magenta post-it note. It was clearly meant for Taylor's eyes only, as it states, 'Remember to butter up any Haven Chapter operatives, it'll make them more cooperative.' Which she promptly remembers when she notices it sticking out of the folder. She snatches it as Declan takes her arm, and then puts on her most winning, charming smile. She's pretty enough to pull off a smile meant to ply guys and gals to her cause. "Wow, Declan! Are all Temple operatives in Haven as handsome as you?" she asks as she's just about dragged over towards the examination room. She stumble steps as she can't quite keep up with Declan's strides, but with her arm taken, she doesn't get left behind. She was probably supposed to point out how handsome he was when he stepped out of the door. "Wow! You're very astute. I would have never found exam room three," she further contemplates aloud, all of it sounding as if she memorized these compliments beforehand.
Declan saw it. He seems highly amused by Taylor's belated attempts to charm him, though this doesn't mean he's immune to flattery or pretty, smiling women. He's already cooperating though, since he'd like to get this over with, so it's welcome if unnecessary. "You should see Manny, he's got better hair than me," he replies to the Demolisher, "Doubt I could fit that dress as nice as you. But - could certainly pull it off." Once they're at the exam room, though, less time for flirting and a more serious review of the information in the folder. "Kindly open the door."
"Wow!" she goes on, exclaiming brightly, staring at the post-it note in one of her hands, but gives up on that act once she's established they've gotten past that point. Weaseling away from Declan's hold, she pushes the door open. The room is dark inside, save for the blinking lights of a large marchine arrayed over a gurney with someone strapped in it. The person looks frail, and is bald and pallid. He or she looks to be in a peaceful slumber, but their condition does look dire otherwise. "Here she is, here she is," Taylor sings out, stepping inside promptly. "They won't let me work the machines. No authorization." Demolishers don't have the clearance, apparently. It looks to be Temple Operated equipment set up here, and Taylor was likely sent as a last ditch effort as one of the expendable resources warranting a trip to Haven. She can't work the machines though. Weird.
"This thing'll let us step inside of their head or something," she wagers, staring at a briefing in her phone. "You just need to stare into the eye scanner thingy and we can get started?"
gives Taylor a momentarily dubious look - why is she even necessary? Did the Boston chapter need her to do busywork, or perform an escort job that'd be hard to fuck up? Not like he's a traitor, ha ha ha. But perhaps it might be if baldy in the machine gets unruly and breaks the hypernatural-rated restraints. He glances aside at her, then at the file. 'She'? He might've misread the file, but takes the Demolisher's word for it. "All right, shut the door." While rusty with working brainfucking equipment, Declan presses a few buttons to start powering up the main systems, then crouches to give retinal authorization. Unusual level of security. "Have you ever done it? It's an interesting experience."
The demolisher's face darkens briefly when she's told to shut the door, but after a second or two she puts on that fake smile and shuts it as told. Or really, slams it hard, the impact jolting the room, and with it the sleeping occupant. Her eyes briefly strain open, wide-eyed and glare at Declan. Her folded arms start to brace at the leather bindings holding her gangly arms together. For a second, it looks like she's going to snap free.
That is when Taylor steps forwawrd, the smile gone. She locks eyes with the green-eyed captive, and after a silent exchange the latter's eyes flutter shut, compelled to fall asleep. The tense posture that Taylor adopted relaxes, and she shoots Declan that fake, wide smile once more. "Whew! That was close, huh? I haven't. But I'd like to see," she tells him, though if he read the manila paper in its entirely, it specifically states not to let Taylor enter the subject's mind and to encourage her to stay in a corner, turned away. "Best get started, huh?" She waves over at the contraption assembled over the bald woman.
Declan purses his lips, and sends a brief message to Miranda, requesting a temporary passcode to Taylor's implants. He tucks his phone into his pocket and cracks his knuckles before moving aside to interpose himself between Taylor and the access panel and stool for the brainhacking procedures, clicking his tongue. "You can observe." He's not sure -why- that directive is there, but it's likely important. "If you disobey me, I'll need to restrain you." He backs away slowly to settle down in a chair, laying claim to it and checking that values are nominal. Or within regulation, anyway, since the sleeper is prooobably not all that calm.
Received.
An encrypted message worms its way into Declan's device, courtesy of Temple communications. '1-2-3-4,' flashes as the authorization to Taylor's implants. Cursory investigation will find that while she's a strong asset to the Temple, the implants have been used far more than would deem something reliable. She's probably outliving her usefulness if she keeps up with her misbehavior. The warning he voices makes her smile drop into something more unkind, similar to when the subject stirred from Taylor's antics. She looks at Declan, then up at the ceiling, finding an observing camera staring right back at her. She stares at Declan again, then at the camera before shecomplies, taking a few steps back, eyes boring into Declan unblinkingly. No more smiles from her as she drops into the steel seat. "I'll observe," she assures him.
Recommend off-world reassignment, Declan makes a mental note as he returns Taylor's gaze; not afraid, exactly, but certainly wary. His revolver and his knife would be of little use against a strong supernatural at this distance, so he'll need to rely on deescalation and White Oak neutrality. A gentle point towards the camera as his butt plants on the seat. "You seem to have a history with this one, Taylor," he notes, slowly and deliberately, "What is it?" As the neurohelmet's fitted onto the subject and he's moving onto the next step of the procedures, he opens the manila folder to remind himself of what's at stakes. S. Adams. Location. In this unnamed subject's head. A grumble, but he gets started nonetheless.
"No history!" Taylor replies, willing up that lilting cadence meant to charm and disarm. She still isn't smiling. Nor has she seemed to have blinked. "I'm here to ensure that our friend dubbed Jane Doe does not get too unruly." Just as the implants inside of her body compel her not to get any bright ideas either.
Declan's phone gets another encrypted message, specifically a query from none other than Miranda. "Status?" It blinks at Declan repeatedly, honing in the point that he needs to respond asap or she might overreact and send even more 'resources' to Haven. Taylor points at 'Jane Doe'. "She won't be breathing for too long, you know. We need to get inside or we'll lose precious intel." With that very important point made, she stands up, and begins to creep towards the comatose woman.
'Demolisher unruly. Starting info extraction', Declan autocompletes swiftly on the encrypted line, since this isn't a uncommon Templar phenomenon for conscripts as opposed to volunteers. Especially ones with powers and intentions like Taylor. Whichever type she is - he can only guess 'living' since it's not like vampires sneeze - he is no match. His attempts to delve into her head are delayed by her standing up and he mutters under his breath, holding out a hand as he peels from the console to put an arm between the subject and herself. "And you interfering might waste us time. Come on and sit down. She'd be no good eating to someone like you."
Declan receives another message. "...why are you requesting codes to her implants? Her escorts should have that under wrap." Clearly she wasn't filled in with the request. She must have taken another opportunity to pour herself another glass of whiskey. Or cognac. Bourbon. Either way, it should probably clue Declan in that he's probably missing a few bodies in the mix. They certainly weren't in that fancy Mercedes Benz. He might even recall how she wasn't even able to properly drive down to White Oak. There was that GPS giving her directions but she was driving on the other end of the road... strange.
She once again plays the part obedient, dropping back to the steel seat over in a corner, most of her form veiled by the shadows except her startlingly wide, blue eyes. "Hey, look into my eyes?" she prompts him, blinking just the once and lifting her chin for the perfect angle to meet Declan's gaze. If he looks closely, he'll find bits of red embedded in the blue of her cornea.
'Demolisher arrived alone,' Declan swiftly answers, mentally cursing that he needs fingers to reply; sure could use some Temple cortical implants right now. Or perhaps a bit of Taylor's blood to interface with devices. Her momentary compliance does buy him time. Sloppy! He didn't verify that she'd arrive alone, but then Miranda gave him too little information to act on, but he could have put it together himself. "I'd be afraid to get lost in them," he almost reflexively replies to Taylor, fighting her attempt to charm him in that sense by instead glancing down at the lowish neckline of her dress and shaking his head. "Back view might be better." He clumsily uses his left hand to start making a simple inquest into the subject's mind, a few prompts translating into the screen, depicting a figure quite like S. Adams into their mind. An unelegant solution.
Much of the blame could be between Declan and surly Miranda's past, the latter wanting little to do with Declan lest she be reminded of an embarrassing recollection or five. All ending with a good dose of shame and a need for a cigarette. She's always claimed to have quit.
Taylor sets her hands over her lap primly and purses her lips in a small pout when Declan doesn't take the bait. Noting where his eyes land, she traces the outline of her bust beneath the smart blue dress she has on, flicking her fingers upwards at the last moment in a ploy to get his gaze to follow her finger up to her face. "You see..." she'll start to say, but the readings on one of the monitors start to play out in a vomit of information regarding why he's here. For Seymour Adams. That garners her interest and she sits back. It's all a jumbled mess though.
'Rats. Vermin. Rats. Vermin.' it all plays out repeatedly. Taylor moves to rise again, looking very concerned. "Oh. She's about to give her last, doc," she says over towards Declan. "We probably wasted too much time here," she resolves, gingerly stepping towards the subject. When they stepped inside, Declan might havenoticed that the subject was breathing rapidly. Right now, her chest is barely moving. He might even feel drained himself. "If you let me closer to her, I'm sure we can find something of value before she goes belly up," she tempts him, curling a finger into the double breasted blazer of her suit dress. She's wearing a white shirt underneath, but it still shows her figure nicely all the same.
Declan sets it to record. The information as presented is a scramble, but later analysis may be more informative. An extra prompt or two to try for more subtler alternatives to suss out this location, perhaps something about the fake Seymour asking about hideaways. Time is running short, especially as he notices the subject's vitals dropping to dangerous levels. His eye twitches. Sloppy again. They should have picked someone more competent, but didn't have that luxury or account for Taylor breaking many more rules. In a subversion of his frequent rakish manners, he does his best not to stare at Taylor's chest as he again intercepts her approach, hand moving out to push her away by the stomach. "I think you're hurrying her that way." Not that he cares for the subject. "You should step outside instead and wait for me to finish."
"Declan. End her." That command is embedded into Declan's screen, overriding any open applications and even his screen lock. "Escort deceased. Three operatives vitals gone." Another message blinks in. "No Sanctuary. End her," her phone stresses, dictated by none other than Miranda. She's right, on account of her allegedly eliminating her escort on transit here, she's also an outsider to Haven. The protective spell hasn't taken hold of her, and likely won't for a good while if she did murder someone in cold blood. He pushes at her and she hardly budges, but smiles widely and accosts his hand. The one that is holding his phone. With a firm strength, she angles her phone to peep at what's being sent to him. The grip tightens, but not oppressively so. She meets his eyes and tries to stare into them. She knows he has access to her implants, and thus she tries to play it cool. "Don't. We could run off together. You and I," she implants that suggestion into his head, her voice a sweetened honey that caresses at his ear. She's starting to shake, knowing that this might be it for her. "You really are handsome," she adds, trying to stick a needle into his heart.
Declan twitches his eye and begins to sweat. He himself has the benefit of Sanctuary protection, but he won't be able to evict her off campus by force - and killing her on the spot invites a bunch of scrutiny on the Temple from the White Oak staff. Whether or not it's permitted under contract, it's simpler to convince Taylor off-campus first. So that's what he does. A soft grunt of pain as he wiggles his hand in her grip, and slowly he levels his gaze with Taylor, but he's mindful to look her in the nose, in the mouth, as if he were tempted by her poisoned honey. He sucks in a slow breath. "Maybe I am tired," he admits. "Tired of this town. We can drive off in the Benz to the next state. Link up with rogue elements."
It's his turn to force a smile, but he might have a little more baseline talent at acting than she does - and it makes sense that it's tense, given the situation he's in. He rigged the machine to automatically upload to the Temple servers, so that's at least dealt with. His hand, witthout a weapon, goes to her hip to hold her there. "What'll we do afterwards?"
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, someone fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them.
oticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, Taylor fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them.
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, someone fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them. (fix)
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, Taylor fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them. (fix)
"I want to save that for when we make love," Declan insists as she presses up against him. A little wiggle of his wrist, to worm up enough hand mobility to try and activate the code. "Want to know how you feel." Some part of it is more convincing, because for all her sins, he does find her physically attractive, and in spite of her murderous intentions, it's not hard ofr him to bring himself to use the hand on her hip to pull her in for a firmer hug, their heads over each other's shoulders. His mouth close to her ear .. and the cortical implants high upon her spine to disable her. He might feel a bit of a shock, but evidently he wasn't charming enough for the first approach. With the distraction, he may be able to then push the Taylor-off button...
Taylor wrinkles her nose and looks mildly discomforted at the thought of having sex. She might just not be into Declan as she is putting a show on for, or maybe she just swings for the other team. It's a common occurrence in Haven, so perhaps it's as bad outside of the town as well. "Alright," she states, wholly unconvinced but not willing to press him further, not when he has that kill switch at the ready.
When she allows him to take hold of her, an odd realization might happen. His arm easily envelops her slim frame, crafting an illusion of how delicate she might be against his more masculine frame. Flush against him, she feels warm. She feels like any other person would, a human, not the monstrosity that she really is. "I feel like I have a new man in my life," she entices him further towards her cause.
And if there weren't any supernatural factors in play, one would think Declan had Taylor's physical number. Looks are deceiving, as one says. He holds her almost as a lover would, and should she permit, nudges her hand aside to wiggle her grip free. He has her now, he thinks, but not yet. "Let's get out of here. You can even let me carry you if you want." Perhaps letting her get her legs around him is a dangerous proposition, but it does make taking her out of campus easier. He pushes a button on the wall to let the staff know that disposal and harvesting is in order, powers down the machines, and would lead the way out to the Benz. "Where are you from?"
Over at headquarters, Declan's phone is receiving all sorts of inquiries from none other than Miranda. She's probably demanding to know why one of their rogue assets is still breathing. She's all the way over at Boston, so no matter how many times she presses the red button that would send Taylor out of action, the signal is too weak to do much about it. All it's really doing is sending those distress signals to the other three operatives who would get that sorted. They're supposedly long gone by now. She's probably sent a detail over to retrieve their remains and belongings. Normally that would fall under Haven's chapter, but as was established, they can be hard to contact at times. Declan is the only one who answered the call.
"Fine by me," she murmurs in a dulcet sweet tone, figuring she's already got Declan under her thumb, and all without transfixing him with her stare. Bracing a forearm along Declan's back, she uses her immensely strong core strength to heft her legs up as she jumps, daring Declan to catch her her or get dragged down with her weight. It's a dangerous game they both play, but if he were to go underfoot, she'd probably take advantage in an insidious manner.
Declan still has the code, and has his phone. All he needs to do is to put Taylor somewhere more convenient off the White Oak campus. Disposing of assets is nothing new to him, but it hasn't gotten much easier over the years - whether in service of the US government or in the Temple's service. He can handle Taylor's physical weight, though, even if he's struggling with the mental part a bit. Tilting back to carry her through campus and drawing a few stares, he'd let her sit in his lap even as he gets into the car to drive them back. Just off towards the highway, to make it more convincing that he does want to leave the state. But not out of reach of the spell yet. "How old are you, Taylor?"
The writing is on the wall, and Taylor seems to have read it. She knows she is probably at the end of her rope here. She's messed up once again, after countless reorientation programs in the rig, she just can't seem to get right. She's grown far more disillusioned with this lifestyle. She's tired of it, and resigns herself to a fate under Declan's hands. She knows she can't come back in the Temple's good graces, and has nowhere else to turn. Not with the implants embedded in her. Held aloft in his arms, she grows more human with her complacency. "@line
She's not at all bothered by the stares they draw. "Too old now," she gently tells him, running her palm along his cheek, feeling his skin against her own. "It's about time I go home now. Living forever isn't all it's made out to be, you know," she confides to the man that carries her like a bride. "I can't seem to get it right anyway.""
With the writing is on the wall, and Taylor seems to have read it. She knows she is probably at the end of her rope here. She's messed up once again, after countless reorientation programs in the rig, she just can't seem to get right. She's grown far more disillusioned with this lifestyle. She's tired of it, and resigns herself to a fate under Declan's hands. She knows she can't come back in the Temple's good graces, and has nowhere else to turn. Not with the implants embedded in her. Held aloft in his arms, she grows more human with her complacency.
She's not at all bothered by the stares they draw. "Too old now," she gently tells him, running her palm along his cheek, feeling his skin against her own. "It's about time I go home now. Living forever isn't all it's made out to be, you know," she confides to the man that carries her like a bride. "I can't seem to get it right anyway."(FIX)
"I .. understand living too long, sometimes. Even though you're way older. Feels heavy." Declan cannot tell if Taylor's being honest with him, or this is a last ditch attempt to get a pity-look from the errant Demolisher. It doesn't make what he has to do much easier. Better he does it himself, though, rather than task it to some other Templar kill-squad. He pulls over a good distance down the highway and along an off-road, to a spot with a good view of Haven Bay and the rolling waves of the coast.
He's still carrying her as he finds a good spot to appreciate the view. "When you were born, or even young, what did you want to be?" He carefully gets his hand onto the phone in his pocket.
Taylor carefully curls a finger back and forth along the slope of Declan's shoulder while he arrange for the perfect spot with the perfect view to do what needs to be done. She applies just enough pressure for him to feel her against his jacket. "I wanted to become the president of the United States," she tips to him with a knowing smile. There hasn't been a madame president of the United States of America yet, but it's an ever present possibility. She angles her head to follow where his hand disappears into. Then looks up at him meaningfully. "When I'm gone," she say sin that light, pleasant lilt. "Don't tell them how you found me," she implores him, not elaborating who 'they' are. "Make up a happy story. Taylor Greene, whose only crime was being born with demonic blood."
"Thought I could make a difference and grow up to someone to aspire to be. Now I'm a rake who can only kill," Declan confides back to Taylor, setting her down facing the waters. It's a cooler day, but neither enough to justify morning clothes nor cause a chill. It wouldn't be dignified if one died shivering, would it? It might be about the sort of end that is deserved. Sensing the fight has somewhat drained from her, he places his hand on her shoulder with something almost approaching tenderness, a pat upon the cheek.
It's also harder to kill someone when you've looked them in the eye and told them your name. Another good reason to avoid it. "Where is home now? Where are we going?" He releases. In one hand the phone, the other the revolver.
"Never done any good things. Never done any bad things," Taylor hums that tune by the late English singer, feeling it appropriately thematic. "Oh. I don't know. It's been far too long since I had somewhere to call home. You can decide where home is too," she decides, slinking away at a brisk pace, almost giving the impression she's decided to make a last ditch effort to escape. Instead, she swings over the guard railing and seats herself there, back turned to Declan. Maybe Declan was right, she might look more captivating from behind. The wind carries her hair over her shoulder, dark tendrils seeking everything and nothing at all in the air. What follows next is something that is much like the ending to the story of Mice and Men. There's a loud crack of thunder, and someone's soul departs from this mortal coil.
Vitals gone, Taylor Greene is no more, which prompts Declan's phone to receive another slew of inquiries from Miranda. Once she gets the details, she can only imagine she's in for long week, full of paperwork and some admissions that need to be done to save face for the incompetency shown. Was the loss of three Temple operatives and a demolisher worth the hassle to chase down Seymour Adams?
As the story unfolds with twists and turns, it becomes apparent that Taylor, far from being a mere ally, harbors her own secrets, complicating the mission further. The operation takes a darker turn when they uncover the last moments and thoughts of their comatose subject, only to realize that Taylor's involvement has endangered the mission's success and her own life. Declan's interactions with Taylor evolve from professional to deeply personal, a dance of manipulation and attraction that culminates in a poignant conclusion. Faced with a gut-wrenching decision by the directive of the Boston Chapter, Declan is forced into a corner where his actions dictate not only the mission's outcome but also define the uncertain fates intertwined with his own. In the end, as the winds carry off the echoes of a thunderous decision by the shore, Declan and the Temple are left to ponder the true cost of their endeavors and the shadows that linger long after the mission concludes.
(Declan's odd encounter(SRCrystal):SRCrystal)
[Wed Oct 16 2024]
In A Living Room
With cream-painted walls and otherwise minimal in the way of superfluous finishes, this living room leans heavily towards budgeted and utilitarian, though most of the workmanship is at least acceptable quality except for some patches of ceiling and wall. At the western side, by the windows, are arrayed several counters and a refrigerator, as well as a wall-socketed induction stovetop.
It is morning, about 42F(5C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with stealing a vital piece of intelligence from a subject by delving into their mind with dream invading to try to tease out the secret.
)
Just as Declan puts his phone away in his black leather jacket, it starts to rumble indignantly, like it had a very big issue with being stuffed in there. While it isn't a sentient being, it's vibrating violently, and if he put the device on silent mode, it's ringing out a very tinny, annoying melody. Someone is calling him, and has managed to get through his device settings, signaling it to be some high priority missive.
Declan doesn't look particularly busy, bustling about his living room and stowing his phone that he'd left on the counter into his pocket .. right after that, it starts making a racket and not in his usual alarm or ring notifications, either. How weird. As he puts away a pitcher in the fridge, he goes on to open it and possibly answer it.
The phone decides to buzz a few more times, resolute in making Declan know full well that it's been nagging for his attention. The tinny alarm slash tune growing louder, for some reason. "...for the love of," a woman's voice can be heard through some interference. The voice is melodic and in different circumstances, might even sound pleasant and alluring. At this very moment, she sounds exasperated, irritation seeping through each syllablue she puts out. "Ah," is quickly followed up. "Hayes? Declan Hayes, yes?" she makes a point of presuming, but knows quite well who is on the other line. "This is Miranda Hall." There's an expectation in her voice like that name ought to ring a bell. Maybe it's somewhere in the Temple Operatives directory, if he's been keeping up with his homework.
The name sounds familiar, though it's been a minute since Declan got any mission from out-of-chapter sources that didn't involve rescuing ex-operatives from snorting too many lines of coke over vampire strippers that can go all night and don't need to breathe. One digresses, though. "Hayes here," he affirms her presumption, holding back a sigh. "Don't think you ever called me back after last time. What is it?"
A short, heavy exhale sounds out from the other end of the line. It's dry cut and easily broadcasts that she's rolling her eyes at some reminder she's probably tried to bury in the annals of her memory. No such luck, though what could she have expected if she were calling him directly. "Yes. Anyway," she clips back at him in a flat tone. "As Director of the Boston Chapter of the Temple, I'm sure you're well aware of why I would be calling." Typically she'd let that declaration hang in the air, but it's Declan she's dealing with who happens to have some memories to unearth, so she cuts right to the chase before he assumes this isn't strictly a business call. "We have a situation. You're needed at White Oak to interrogate someone of very special interest to us. Unless you could get the commander on the line. I doubt you'd have any better luck than I though..." she elaborates, disclosing some of her own struggles with him. She sounds like she needs a drink.
"Why? No luck with the ex?" Declan briefly teases the Director on the line; outside his chain of command, he can't expect too much professional consequences. And perhaps it was deserved. He tries not to chuckle and picks his car keys off the countertops before he starts for the exit, already knowing anyways this is not going to be a WFH feasible arrangement. "All right. Brief me on this special someone, or send me a report. Headed over to White Oak right now." He's getting into the driver's seat.
"..." emanates from Declan's speaker, broken up by interference on Miranda's end. There's some scrambling and what sounds like a desk drawer being shut, and the click of a firearm. Just when it might seem she was pushed to the other end, she clears her throat, and the clink of glass disperses any other untimely outcome. She got herself a drink. "No need. You have an escort already waiting for you," she informs him, followed by a heavy sigh. When she hears what sounds like Declan leaving, she promptly hangs up.
Before Declan can get too far driving himself to the clinic, there's a dark-haired woman in a dress suit and white satin gloves standing before a Mercedes Benz. She's wearing glasses and looks far too optimistic this early in the morning. "Ah. Hayes!" she calls out to get his attention, frantically waving for extra emphasis, making sure she couldn't possibly be overlooked. It's too cold out for her to be wearing a short dress suit, but the pantyhose covering her legs help protect her from the moderate chill. "We'll be driving you!" She adds h urriedly, anxiously checking the time on her phone. "Come, come," she urges.
"What? We expecting company on this trip?" The White Oak campus isn't even that far away, though Declan reflects at least it wasn't a helicopter or airborne ride. Saves him a few cents of gas, I guess, after Miranda's hung up on him and he can muse about her ex. Exiting the car then, he meets up with the woman who's parked right down his patch of Willow, offering a hand for a brisk shake before hopping into the back. "Am I getting brandy too in the back or something?" Probably not, but it's worth asking if he's getting the premium treatment.
"It's very urgent, and you were the only one that's responded," the brunette woman half explains, half reminds Declan, sans the obvious sass her superior harboured. She's quick to take someone that handshake, waving his arms up and down vigorously, and then her nose starts to twitch and an expression of evident concern grows on her haughty features. She's gonna sneeze, and she yanks Declan's arm with unnerving strength, sneezing into the back of his hand. "Sorry. I can't ruin my dress," she breathes out after gifting him with a bit of her slobber and mucous. A very supernatural kiss on the back of his hand, very gentlewomanly.
"Call me Taylor," she says nasally, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief. She's already rounding over tot he driver's seat, tapping on the key fob which unlocks the passenger side of the vehicle.
"It's very urgent, and you were the only one that's responded," the brunette woman half explains, half reminds Declan, sans the obvious sass her superior harboured. She's quick to take Declan on that handshake, waving his arms up and down vigorously, and then her nose starts to twitch and an expression of evident concern grows on her haughty features. She's gonna sneeze, and she yanks Declan's arm with unnerving strength, sneezing into the back of his hand. "Sorry. I can't ruin my dress," she breathes out after gifting him with a bit of her slobber and mucous. A very supernatural kiss on the back of his hand, very gentlewomanly.
"Call me Taylor," she says nasally, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief. She's already rounding over tot he driver's seat, tapping on the key fob which unlocks the passenger side of the vehicle.
".. what." Declan stares incredulously at the snot on the back of his hand. He has a little handkerchief to wipe it away, and somehow he's more vexed by that than Taylor being a Demolisher clad in human clothes. Not a great use of one, but being bodyguard-chauffeur at least is technically within their duties. Let's hope this one doesn't need a shock with a collar. He shakes out his hand and wrist afterwards and climbs into the back once it's open. "So my hand's good enough to sneeze on? Shouldn't wear something you can't ruin in this work." He clips in and waits for her to get them moving.
Taylor let's the engine run for a moment before she pulls out from the patch of grass she's parked before Declan's residence. They're going to be leaving some tire marks as a friendly reminder of the visit. "So. You might be aware, we're currently investigating a rogue shifter by the name of Seymour Adams," the demolisher handily explains towards Declan while conveniently ignoring some of the good points he's brought up. They're in for a bumpy ride. She ignores more than one stop sign, drives on the wrong side of the lane at Elm, and when she tries to parallel park she gives up midway and leaves it parked diagonally next to a scooter and a pickup truck. It's early, but that truck wants to pull out he's going to need to get the Benz towed first.
As she hinted, she's in a hurry, and probably doesn't care about that asset. Her priority is to bring Declan to White Oak. "We're going to extract the location of where he could be hiding before our friend expires, see?" She explains the gist of the situation to him, handing him a manila folder with details on their quarry. (Plot info 3). "Anyways. I don't know my way in from here. The Clinic. Examination Room Three. You lead," she insists, gesturing over towards the campus after stepping out of the vehicle. In a flash, she's at the passenger side, opening the door for Declan.
"Name seems familiar," says Declan, even though it isn't at all. Makes him seem more legit, though. Perhaps it's in the parts of recent Eastern seaboard bulletins that he's missed. However, he's used to rather rough driving so it doesn't make him fearful, more confused that their time schedule is apparently so tight he needs to be rushed to a campus no more than a mile or two away. (Probably less, but distances can be funky inside the town.) Once they're there, he nods, unbuckles, and moves to take Taylor's arm to help him out, giving her a pat on the back and a reminder, "Okay, this way. Stick to me." A bit later past the reception it's somewhat apparent that he's not hugely more familiar with White Oak than she is, but the signs are helpful. And he simply ignores stuff like the acromegalic monks. "Exam room three."
Inside of the manila folder, there's also a hastily written note on a magenta post-it note. It was clearly meant for Taylor's eyes only, as it states, 'Remember to butter up any Haven Chapter operatives, it'll make them more cooperative.' Which she promptly remembers when she notices it sticking out of the folder. She snatches it as Declan takes her arm, and then puts on her most winning, charming smile. She's pretty enough to pull off a smile meant to ply guys and gals to her cause. "Wow, Declan! Are all Temple operatives in Haven as handsome as you?" she asks as she's just about dragged over towards the examination room. She stumble steps as she can't quite keep up with Declan's strides, but with her arm taken, she doesn't get left behind. She was probably supposed to point out how handsome he was when he stepped out of the door. "Wow! You're very astute. I would have never found exam room three," she further contemplates aloud, all of it sounding as if she memorized these compliments beforehand.
Declan saw it. He seems highly amused by Taylor's belated attempts to charm him, though this doesn't mean he's immune to flattery or pretty, smiling women. He's already cooperating though, since he'd like to get this over with, so it's welcome if unnecessary. "You should see Manny, he's got better hair than me," he replies to the Demolisher, "Doubt I could fit that dress as nice as you. But - could certainly pull it off." Once they're at the exam room, though, less time for flirting and a more serious review of the information in the folder. "Kindly open the door."
"Wow!" she goes on, exclaiming brightly, staring at the post-it note in one of her hands, but gives up on that act once she's established they've gotten past that point. Weaseling away from Declan's hold, she pushes the door open. The room is dark inside, save for the blinking lights of a large marchine arrayed over a gurney with someone strapped in it. The person looks frail, and is bald and pallid. He or she looks to be in a peaceful slumber, but their condition does look dire otherwise. "Here she is, here she is," Taylor sings out, stepping inside promptly. "They won't let me work the machines. No authorization." Demolishers don't have the clearance, apparently. It looks to be Temple Operated equipment set up here, and Taylor was likely sent as a last ditch effort as one of the expendable resources warranting a trip to Haven. She can't work the machines though. Weird.
"This thing'll let us step inside of their head or something," she wagers, staring at a briefing in her phone. "You just need to stare into the eye scanner thingy and we can get started?"
gives Taylor a momentarily dubious look - why is she even necessary? Did the Boston chapter need her to do busywork, or perform an escort job that'd be hard to fuck up? Not like he's a traitor, ha ha ha. But perhaps it might be if baldy in the machine gets unruly and breaks the hypernatural-rated restraints. He glances aside at her, then at the file. 'She'? He might've misread the file, but takes the Demolisher's word for it. "All right, shut the door." While rusty with working brainfucking equipment, Declan presses a few buttons to start powering up the main systems, then crouches to give retinal authorization. Unusual level of security. "Have you ever done it? It's an interesting experience."
The demolisher's face darkens briefly when she's told to shut the door, but after a second or two she puts on that fake smile and shuts it as told. Or really, slams it hard, the impact jolting the room, and with it the sleeping occupant. Her eyes briefly strain open, wide-eyed and glare at Declan. Her folded arms start to brace at the leather bindings holding her gangly arms together. For a second, it looks like she's going to snap free.
That is when Taylor steps forwawrd, the smile gone. She locks eyes with the green-eyed captive, and after a silent exchange the latter's eyes flutter shut, compelled to fall asleep. The tense posture that Taylor adopted relaxes, and she shoots Declan that fake, wide smile once more. "Whew! That was close, huh? I haven't. But I'd like to see," she tells him, though if he read the manila paper in its entirely, it specifically states not to let Taylor enter the subject's mind and to encourage her to stay in a corner, turned away. "Best get started, huh?" She waves over at the contraption assembled over the bald woman.
Declan purses his lips, and sends a brief message to Miranda, requesting a temporary passcode to Taylor's implants. He tucks his phone into his pocket and cracks his knuckles before moving aside to interpose himself between Taylor and the access panel and stool for the brainhacking procedures, clicking his tongue. "You can observe." He's not sure -why- that directive is there, but it's likely important. "If you disobey me, I'll need to restrain you." He backs away slowly to settle down in a chair, laying claim to it and checking that values are nominal. Or within regulation, anyway, since the sleeper is prooobably not all that calm.
Received.
An encrypted message worms its way into Declan's device, courtesy of Temple communications. '1-2-3-4,' flashes as the authorization to Taylor's implants. Cursory investigation will find that while she's a strong asset to the Temple, the implants have been used far more than would deem something reliable. She's probably outliving her usefulness if she keeps up with her misbehavior. The warning he voices makes her smile drop into something more unkind, similar to when the subject stirred from Taylor's antics. She looks at Declan, then up at the ceiling, finding an observing camera staring right back at her. She stares at Declan again, then at the camera before shecomplies, taking a few steps back, eyes boring into Declan unblinkingly. No more smiles from her as she drops into the steel seat. "I'll observe," she assures him.
Recommend off-world reassignment, Declan makes a mental note as he returns Taylor's gaze; not afraid, exactly, but certainly wary. His revolver and his knife would be of little use against a strong supernatural at this distance, so he'll need to rely on deescalation and White Oak neutrality. A gentle point towards the camera as his butt plants on the seat. "You seem to have a history with this one, Taylor," he notes, slowly and deliberately, "What is it?" As the neurohelmet's fitted onto the subject and he's moving onto the next step of the procedures, he opens the manila folder to remind himself of what's at stakes. S. Adams. Location. In this unnamed subject's head. A grumble, but he gets started nonetheless.
"No history!" Taylor replies, willing up that lilting cadence meant to charm and disarm. She still isn't smiling. Nor has she seemed to have blinked. "I'm here to ensure that our friend dubbed Jane Doe does not get too unruly." Just as the implants inside of her body compel her not to get any bright ideas either.
Declan's phone gets another encrypted message, specifically a query from none other than Miranda. "Status?" It blinks at Declan repeatedly, honing in the point that he needs to respond asap or she might overreact and send even more 'resources' to Haven. Taylor points at 'Jane Doe'. "She won't be breathing for too long, you know. We need to get inside or we'll lose precious intel." With that very important point made, she stands up, and begins to creep towards the comatose woman.
'Demolisher unruly. Starting info extraction', Declan autocompletes swiftly on the encrypted line, since this isn't a uncommon Templar phenomenon for conscripts as opposed to volunteers. Especially ones with powers and intentions like Taylor. Whichever type she is - he can only guess 'living' since it's not like vampires sneeze - he is no match. His attempts to delve into her head are delayed by her standing up and he mutters under his breath, holding out a hand as he peels from the console to put an arm between the subject and herself. "And you interfering might waste us time. Come on and sit down. She'd be no good eating to someone like you."
Declan receives another message. "...why are you requesting codes to her implants? Her escorts should have that under wrap." Clearly she wasn't filled in with the request. She must have taken another opportunity to pour herself another glass of whiskey. Or cognac. Bourbon. Either way, it should probably clue Declan in that he's probably missing a few bodies in the mix. They certainly weren't in that fancy Mercedes Benz. He might even recall how she wasn't even able to properly drive down to White Oak. There was that GPS giving her directions but she was driving on the other end of the road... strange.
She once again plays the part obedient, dropping back to the steel seat over in a corner, most of her form veiled by the shadows except her startlingly wide, blue eyes. "Hey, look into my eyes?" she prompts him, blinking just the once and lifting her chin for the perfect angle to meet Declan's gaze. If he looks closely, he'll find bits of red embedded in the blue of her cornea.
'Demolisher arrived alone,' Declan swiftly answers, mentally cursing that he needs fingers to reply; sure could use some Temple cortical implants right now. Or perhaps a bit of Taylor's blood to interface with devices. Her momentary compliance does buy him time. Sloppy! He didn't verify that she'd arrive alone, but then Miranda gave him too little information to act on, but he could have put it together himself. "I'd be afraid to get lost in them," he almost reflexively replies to Taylor, fighting her attempt to charm him in that sense by instead glancing down at the lowish neckline of her dress and shaking his head. "Back view might be better." He clumsily uses his left hand to start making a simple inquest into the subject's mind, a few prompts translating into the screen, depicting a figure quite like S. Adams into their mind. An unelegant solution.
Much of the blame could be between Declan and surly Miranda's past, the latter wanting little to do with Declan lest she be reminded of an embarrassing recollection or five. All ending with a good dose of shame and a need for a cigarette. She's always claimed to have quit.
Taylor sets her hands over her lap primly and purses her lips in a small pout when Declan doesn't take the bait. Noting where his eyes land, she traces the outline of her bust beneath the smart blue dress she has on, flicking her fingers upwards at the last moment in a ploy to get his gaze to follow her finger up to her face. "You see..." she'll start to say, but the readings on one of the monitors start to play out in a vomit of information regarding why he's here. For Seymour Adams. That garners her interest and she sits back. It's all a jumbled mess though.
'Rats. Vermin. Rats. Vermin.' it all plays out repeatedly. Taylor moves to rise again, looking very concerned. "Oh. She's about to give her last, doc," she says over towards Declan. "We probably wasted too much time here," she resolves, gingerly stepping towards the subject. When they stepped inside, Declan might havenoticed that the subject was breathing rapidly. Right now, her chest is barely moving. He might even feel drained himself. "If you let me closer to her, I'm sure we can find something of value before she goes belly up," she tempts him, curling a finger into the double breasted blazer of her suit dress. She's wearing a white shirt underneath, but it still shows her figure nicely all the same.
Declan sets it to record. The information as presented is a scramble, but later analysis may be more informative. An extra prompt or two to try for more subtler alternatives to suss out this location, perhaps something about the fake Seymour asking about hideaways. Time is running short, especially as he notices the subject's vitals dropping to dangerous levels. His eye twitches. Sloppy again. They should have picked someone more competent, but didn't have that luxury or account for Taylor breaking many more rules. In a subversion of his frequent rakish manners, he does his best not to stare at Taylor's chest as he again intercepts her approach, hand moving out to push her away by the stomach. "I think you're hurrying her that way." Not that he cares for the subject. "You should step outside instead and wait for me to finish."
"Declan. End her." That command is embedded into Declan's screen, overriding any open applications and even his screen lock. "Escort deceased. Three operatives vitals gone." Another message blinks in. "No Sanctuary. End her," her phone stresses, dictated by none other than Miranda. She's right, on account of her allegedly eliminating her escort on transit here, she's also an outsider to Haven. The protective spell hasn't taken hold of her, and likely won't for a good while if she did murder someone in cold blood. He pushes at her and she hardly budges, but smiles widely and accosts his hand. The one that is holding his phone. With a firm strength, she angles her phone to peep at what's being sent to him. The grip tightens, but not oppressively so. She meets his eyes and tries to stare into them. She knows he has access to her implants, and thus she tries to play it cool. "Don't. We could run off together. You and I," she implants that suggestion into his head, her voice a sweetened honey that caresses at his ear. She's starting to shake, knowing that this might be it for her. "You really are handsome," she adds, trying to stick a needle into his heart.
Declan twitches his eye and begins to sweat. He himself has the benefit of Sanctuary protection, but he won't be able to evict her off campus by force - and killing her on the spot invites a bunch of scrutiny on the Temple from the White Oak staff. Whether or not it's permitted under contract, it's simpler to convince Taylor off-campus first. So that's what he does. A soft grunt of pain as he wiggles his hand in her grip, and slowly he levels his gaze with Taylor, but he's mindful to look her in the nose, in the mouth, as if he were tempted by her poisoned honey. He sucks in a slow breath. "Maybe I am tired," he admits. "Tired of this town. We can drive off in the Benz to the next state. Link up with rogue elements."
It's his turn to force a smile, but he might have a little more baseline talent at acting than she does - and it makes sense that it's tense, given the situation he's in. He rigged the machine to automatically upload to the Temple servers, so that's at least dealt with. His hand, witthout a weapon, goes to her hip to hold her there. "What'll we do afterwards?"
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, someone fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them.
oticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, Taylor fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them.
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, someone fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them. (fix)
Noticing how he's avoiding her eyes, she dips her chin some to try and catch him with her icy blue eyes, smile wide as ever as he seems to reconsider taking her out, whether by incapacitating her with the code, or just ending her as Miranda ordered. Behind her, the screen blinks with a few last thoughts. Thoughts of New York. A warehouse. Then it goes dark, and Jane Does passes away peacefully, the last thing on her mind the rats that Seymour nurtured and the big apple itself.
Tilting her head, Taylor fixes Declan with a curious stare, the smile threatening to slip as she ponders what she'd do next. Not they, but she. "I don't think typically think that far ahead. It vexes me," she warns him, relenting from that unnaturally strong grip on his wrist. "When we leave. I need you to look into my eyes," she instructs coolly, her voice almost a whisper, and she presses herself against his side as if to sweeten the deal. "It's for your own good." She likely wishes to wipe his mind of her implants, and how to activate them. (fix)
"I want to save that for when we make love," Declan insists as she presses up against him. A little wiggle of his wrist, to worm up enough hand mobility to try and activate the code. "Want to know how you feel." Some part of it is more convincing, because for all her sins, he does find her physically attractive, and in spite of her murderous intentions, it's not hard ofr him to bring himself to use the hand on her hip to pull her in for a firmer hug, their heads over each other's shoulders. His mouth close to her ear .. and the cortical implants high upon her spine to disable her. He might feel a bit of a shock, but evidently he wasn't charming enough for the first approach. With the distraction, he may be able to then push the Taylor-off button...
Taylor wrinkles her nose and looks mildly discomforted at the thought of having sex. She might just not be into Declan as she is putting a show on for, or maybe she just swings for the other team. It's a common occurrence in Haven, so perhaps it's as bad outside of the town as well. "Alright," she states, wholly unconvinced but not willing to press him further, not when he has that kill switch at the ready.
When she allows him to take hold of her, an odd realization might happen. His arm easily envelops her slim frame, crafting an illusion of how delicate she might be against his more masculine frame. Flush against him, she feels warm. She feels like any other person would, a human, not the monstrosity that she really is. "I feel like I have a new man in my life," she entices him further towards her cause.
And if there weren't any supernatural factors in play, one would think Declan had Taylor's physical number. Looks are deceiving, as one says. He holds her almost as a lover would, and should she permit, nudges her hand aside to wiggle her grip free. He has her now, he thinks, but not yet. "Let's get out of here. You can even let me carry you if you want." Perhaps letting her get her legs around him is a dangerous proposition, but it does make taking her out of campus easier. He pushes a button on the wall to let the staff know that disposal and harvesting is in order, powers down the machines, and would lead the way out to the Benz. "Where are you from?"
Over at headquarters, Declan's phone is receiving all sorts of inquiries from none other than Miranda. She's probably demanding to know why one of their rogue assets is still breathing. She's all the way over at Boston, so no matter how many times she presses the red button that would send Taylor out of action, the signal is too weak to do much about it. All it's really doing is sending those distress signals to the other three operatives who would get that sorted. They're supposedly long gone by now. She's probably sent a detail over to retrieve their remains and belongings. Normally that would fall under Haven's chapter, but as was established, they can be hard to contact at times. Declan is the only one who answered the call.
"Fine by me," she murmurs in a dulcet sweet tone, figuring she's already got Declan under her thumb, and all without transfixing him with her stare. Bracing a forearm along Declan's back, she uses her immensely strong core strength to heft her legs up as she jumps, daring Declan to catch her her or get dragged down with her weight. It's a dangerous game they both play, but if he were to go underfoot, she'd probably take advantage in an insidious manner.
Declan still has the code, and has his phone. All he needs to do is to put Taylor somewhere more convenient off the White Oak campus. Disposing of assets is nothing new to him, but it hasn't gotten much easier over the years - whether in service of the US government or in the Temple's service. He can handle Taylor's physical weight, though, even if he's struggling with the mental part a bit. Tilting back to carry her through campus and drawing a few stares, he'd let her sit in his lap even as he gets into the car to drive them back. Just off towards the highway, to make it more convincing that he does want to leave the state. But not out of reach of the spell yet. "How old are you, Taylor?"
The writing is on the wall, and Taylor seems to have read it. She knows she is probably at the end of her rope here. She's messed up once again, after countless reorientation programs in the rig, she just can't seem to get right. She's grown far more disillusioned with this lifestyle. She's tired of it, and resigns herself to a fate under Declan's hands. She knows she can't come back in the Temple's good graces, and has nowhere else to turn. Not with the implants embedded in her. Held aloft in his arms, she grows more human with her complacency. "@line
She's not at all bothered by the stares they draw. "Too old now," she gently tells him, running her palm along his cheek, feeling his skin against her own. "It's about time I go home now. Living forever isn't all it's made out to be, you know," she confides to the man that carries her like a bride. "I can't seem to get it right anyway.""
With the writing is on the wall, and Taylor seems to have read it. She knows she is probably at the end of her rope here. She's messed up once again, after countless reorientation programs in the rig, she just can't seem to get right. She's grown far more disillusioned with this lifestyle. She's tired of it, and resigns herself to a fate under Declan's hands. She knows she can't come back in the Temple's good graces, and has nowhere else to turn. Not with the implants embedded in her. Held aloft in his arms, she grows more human with her complacency.
She's not at all bothered by the stares they draw. "Too old now," she gently tells him, running her palm along his cheek, feeling his skin against her own. "It's about time I go home now. Living forever isn't all it's made out to be, you know," she confides to the man that carries her like a bride. "I can't seem to get it right anyway."(FIX)
"I .. understand living too long, sometimes. Even though you're way older. Feels heavy." Declan cannot tell if Taylor's being honest with him, or this is a last ditch attempt to get a pity-look from the errant Demolisher. It doesn't make what he has to do much easier. Better he does it himself, though, rather than task it to some other Templar kill-squad. He pulls over a good distance down the highway and along an off-road, to a spot with a good view of Haven Bay and the rolling waves of the coast.
He's still carrying her as he finds a good spot to appreciate the view. "When you were born, or even young, what did you want to be?" He carefully gets his hand onto the phone in his pocket.
Taylor carefully curls a finger back and forth along the slope of Declan's shoulder while he arrange for the perfect spot with the perfect view to do what needs to be done. She applies just enough pressure for him to feel her against his jacket. "I wanted to become the president of the United States," she tips to him with a knowing smile. There hasn't been a madame president of the United States of America yet, but it's an ever present possibility. She angles her head to follow where his hand disappears into. Then looks up at him meaningfully. "When I'm gone," she say sin that light, pleasant lilt. "Don't tell them how you found me," she implores him, not elaborating who 'they' are. "Make up a happy story. Taylor Greene, whose only crime was being born with demonic blood."
"Thought I could make a difference and grow up to someone to aspire to be. Now I'm a rake who can only kill," Declan confides back to Taylor, setting her down facing the waters. It's a cooler day, but neither enough to justify morning clothes nor cause a chill. It wouldn't be dignified if one died shivering, would it? It might be about the sort of end that is deserved. Sensing the fight has somewhat drained from her, he places his hand on her shoulder with something almost approaching tenderness, a pat upon the cheek.
It's also harder to kill someone when you've looked them in the eye and told them your name. Another good reason to avoid it. "Where is home now? Where are we going?" He releases. In one hand the phone, the other the revolver.
"Never done any good things. Never done any bad things," Taylor hums that tune by the late English singer, feeling it appropriately thematic. "Oh. I don't know. It's been far too long since I had somewhere to call home. You can decide where home is too," she decides, slinking away at a brisk pace, almost giving the impression she's decided to make a last ditch effort to escape. Instead, she swings over the guard railing and seats herself there, back turned to Declan. Maybe Declan was right, she might look more captivating from behind. The wind carries her hair over her shoulder, dark tendrils seeking everything and nothing at all in the air. What follows next is something that is much like the ending to the story of Mice and Men. There's a loud crack of thunder, and someone's soul departs from this mortal coil.
Vitals gone, Taylor Greene is no more, which prompts Declan's phone to receive another slew of inquiries from Miranda. Once she gets the details, she can only imagine she's in for long week, full of paperwork and some admissions that need to be done to save face for the incompetency shown. Was the loss of three Temple operatives and a demolisher worth the hassle to chase down Seymour Adams?