Encounterlogs
Seths Odd Encounter Sr Bear 241113
In the shadowy realm of supernatural dealings and factional control, Seth, a new and barely experienced member of a clandestine organization known as the Hand, finds himself ensnared in a perilous mission to confront Doctor Laurence Coleman, a demonborn surgeon gone rogue. Tasked with either capturing or neutralizing Coleman, whose indulgence in pain and suffering had escalated beyond the organization's tolerance, Seth navigates his own uncertainties and fears. Armed with a revolver and special ammunition designed to counteract Coleman's demonic resilience, Seth approaches the doctor's home under a deluge of rain, his heart heavy with the gravity of his assignment. Inside, he discovers a tense and unpredictable situation, finding himself face to face with the very essence of his dread, embodied in the form of the eerily composed doctor, prepared to confront or flee at a moment's notice.
Despite the palpable tension, a dialogue ensues between hunter and prey, wherein Seth, leveraging his innate human sensitivity and raw determination, manages to convince Coleman of his precarious position and the potential benefits of surrendering to the Hand’s demands. In a calculated act of trust and self-preservation, Coleman concedes, allowing Seth to lead him out to the waiting operatives, demonstrating not only Seth's unexpected capability to handle such a volatile situation but also highlighting the nuanced dynamics within the shadowy world they inhabit. The conclusion of this encounter leaves Seth with a quiet acknowledgment of his adequacy from the organization, a subtle commendation for his nerve under pressure. This event marks not just a rite of passage for Seth into the clandestine life he's now part of but also underscores the complex interplay of power, loyalty, and survival in the murky depths of supernatural politics.
(Seth's odd encounter(SRBear):SRBear)
[Tue Nov 12 2024]
In the dining area of a generous studio space
The dining area is designed with both functionality and elegance in mind. Bathed in natural light from expansive skylights along with high ceilings, give the space a feel of being open and airy. A sleek, modern dining table made of polished wood stands at the center, surrounded by comfortable high-backed chairs upholstered in neutral tones. Minimalist pendant lights provide focused illumination, casting a warm glow over the table. The polished wooden floors are complemented by a stylish rug beneath the table, while a sideboard offers additional storage and a touch of greenery with potted plants. The open layout allows for seamless flow between the dining area, the kitchen, and the rest of the studio, making it an inviting place to share meals and entertain company.
It is night, about 49F(9C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
The call came late at night, barely an hour and a half before midnight. The Hand contacted Seth and a number of other fledging members of their organization to handle the capture of what they perceived to be a loose end. Doctor Laurence Coleman, a once well-respected surgeon in his mid-forties, has been named for capture. Collected by a mutual contact and driven to the man's home, Seth is handed a dossier including the essential information for the mission. A demonborn of some twenty five years, Coleman has a long history of being a functioning member of society, and the Hand. Supporting their efforts financially in exchance for protection, the Hand viewed him as a member in decent standing. He fed exclusively on the pain of his patients, abundant in his trade without need of effort on his part, and has managed avoid drawing attention while supporting himself and the efforts of the organization. Until recently.
It started with a string of complaints. Vague, unsubstantiated rumors of sexual harassment. Verbal and public reprimands towards assisting nurses, the occasional comment on tone. All things HR could sweep under the rug for a valued surgeon. But in recent months, the doctor has added two malpractice lawsuits to an existing two over the last year. The man's behaviour has become increasingly aggressive, and erratic. Complications in surgery have lead to permanent injuries, infections, and most dangerously of late, the death of a young girl. The doctor, under investigation by Hand agents, was seen nearby as the news was delivered to their parents, clearly indulging in their suffering. The man's nature is obviously advancing his need to feed beyond his own restraint as he grows stronger, and the once respected associate of the Hand has now become a liability advancing quickly in their notoriety. This man must be apprehended or neutralized before forces mundane or supernatural are able to intervene. Viewed as an opportunity for training, several more experienced operatives have been placed outside the home, surrounding it. Seth has been tasked with the removal of this problem. Diplomacy is preferred, but if needed, violence is acceptable. Agents can be called in, but it won't look good for his reputation withing the organization.
someone resides at home, at the dining table in his apartment, flicking through texts, chatrooms, and social media. Then the call comes, and Seth, dutiful as ever, answers it. A summons to a clandestine briefing, his first official mission for the Hand. His own hand shakes a little as he checks the ammunition in his revolver and slips it away into the pocket of his leather jacket, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he gathers up the rest of his things and prepares to head out. What could they want from him, this fresh-faced to the organisation? Barely an intern, with no experience to speak of, beyond the brief glimpses into the supernatural he's been having all his life.
It's almost midnight when Seth arrives to the meeting, and is handed the dossier. His eyes grow gradually wider as he reads it over, clutching it tight. Apprehend a supernatural? With his limited knowledge and exposure? He thinks, for a moment, that the Hand might just want to get rid of -him-, and be able to call it an unfortunate accident in the line of duty. Really, one hell of a job to assign to a human sensitive who's only just past his intake. But he knows full well that asking questions, especially ones like that, will get him nowhere, and perhaps this kind of trial by fire is normal for the sometimes ruthless organisation. He draws in a deep breath and steadies himself, and nods, replying with a simple, "I'm on it."
Once Seth arrives to Doctor Coleman's surrounded home, he makes his way up to one of the operatives on look-out and leans in to whisper, "He's inside? I've been sent to... deal with this." He tries his best to look confident. Showing weakness now would get him nowhere, either. "Has anyone been able to see his movements inside? Heard anything from him? Do we have, like, jammers up, or is he able to call for help?"
Seth resides at home, at the dining table in his apartment, flicking through texts, chatrooms, and social media. Then the call comes, and Seth, dutiful as ever, answers it. A summons to a clandestine briefing, his first official mission for the Hand. His own hand shakes a little as he checks the ammunition in his revolver and slips it away into the pocket of his leather jacket, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he gathers up the rest of his things and prepares to head out. What could they want from him, this fresh-faced to the organisation? Barely an intern, with no experience to speak of, beyond the brief glimpses into the supernatural he's been having all his life.
It's almost midnight when Seth arrives to the meeting, and is handed the dossier. His eyes grow gradually wider as he reads it over, clutching it tight. Apprehend a supernatural? With his limited knowledge and exposure? He thinks, for a moment, that the Hand might just want to get rid of -him-, and be able to call it an unfortunate accident in the line of duty. Really, one hell of a job to assign to a human sensitive who's only just past his intake. But he knows full well that asking questions, especially ones like that, will get him nowhere, and perhaps this kind of trial by fire is normal for the sometimes ruthless organisation. He draws in a deep breath and steadies himself, and nods, replying with a simple, "I'm on it."
Once Seth arrives to Doctor Coleman's surrounded home, he makes his way up to one of the operatives on look-out and leans in to whisper, "He's inside? I've been sent to... deal with this." He tries his best to look confident. Showing weakness now would get him nowhere, either. "Has anyone been able to see his movements inside? Heard anything from him? Do we have, like, jammers up, or is he able to call for help?"
A couple of the faces look almost as fresh as Seths, positioned outside and doing their best to look busy, competent, and like they know what they're doing. Two others stand in position, an air of confidence about them, dressed in practical jeans and jackets, gloves adorning their hands. The fifth man approaches, and the gaze of the hardened man roams them appraisingly, their expression nothing short of predatory. "...Well then. Hopefully your competence exceeds your stature. You're being tested for your capacities that don't involve a weapon, but I'd keep your hand on your firearm. Scouts have already confirmed he's inside, and no exits are unblocked. If he flees the building, we'll intercept... and your performance will be noted. Precautions have been taken, and he will be unable to call for assistance. I'll choose to take solace in your understanding of the basics, rather than offense as your assumption of our incompetence. Value my mercy on this matter. Loud, quiet, how you handle it is up to you. Just know the removal of this liability is of higher priority to us than a fledgling recruit like yourself. Am I perfectly clear, Mister Asher?"
Seth is slightly reassured by the obvious presence of other fresh recruits. At the very least, he's probably not the only one wracked with nerves. He might just be the only human though, and that gives him a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach. The rain is still pouring, like it has been, for some godforsaken reason, for the past couple of days. His black hair is plastered to his head, and his clothes are soaked through. He reaches up to flick some damp locks from his face, and grimaces at the hardened operatives words. "Yeah, I understand" he replies simply, "Thanks."
With that, Seth trudges forward, past the threshold of the property. His hand goes into his jacket pocket to feel the reassuring weight of his revolver resting there, before he begins to make a circuit of the house. His jade gaze flicks up and down the structure, assessing the exits, the windows, and trying to, perhaps, catch a glimpse of his target moving about inside. He's looking for ways -in- primarily, but every way inside is a way out as well, and he notes each down internally.
The seasoned Agent chuckles, trailing Seth a moment, "Your enthusiasm is noted, Mister Asher. But you might require something of an upgrade in caliber. I was told you favored a revolver. Possibly the only attribute in which I can find in you a kindred soul." The tone is mocking, a touch venomous, but the hand that reaches into his jacket pocket produces what might be some small salvation. Six bullets. "Hollow points. Each round contains a pinch of powdered quartz. You'll find his biokinetic talents will make the fine doctor a bit difficult to put down with normal ammunition. Plainly, if you need more than the cylinder, you're likely praying for us to storm in anyways." The man's hand, clad in a fine black leather glove, deposits those rounds into Seth's palm. "And for your initiative, I'll let you know his front door has been picked. Be slow as you enter, it creaks." With that, the senior agent turns away, and leaves Seth with a tip and a mean to defend himself more reasonably. That circuit around the house reveal a number of windows, and two floors. Unless put down quickly, a demonborn would likely have multiple avenues of escape. Until recently, secrecy was not a necessary concern for the Doctor.
Once Seth has finished his circuit of the house, he returnbs to the seasoned agent. He nods firmly at his words, and pulls his revolver from his pocket. It's a small, unremarkable weapon, better for concealed carry and reassuring oneself than war, and for whatever reason, Seth gets the feeling he's walking into what'll soon be a battlefield. Still, he unloads the gun without much fumbling, collecting the mundane bullets into his palm and tucking them away into the pocket of one his jeans, before he carefully loads up the upgrades. "Appreciate it, man" he says, "But with what I'm dealing with, I can only hope it doesn't come to that."
Then, after taking a moment to steel himself, and do his best to calm his nerves, he strides confidently towards the door. He listens at it for a moment, pressing his ear to the wood to see if he can catch any sound of movement within. Then, carefully, he pushes it open, doing his best not to cause the creaking he'd been warned of. He conceals his revolver in his pocket, but keeps his hand wrapped around the grip, a little hunched as he sneaks within.
The door is easy enough to open and close without causing too much of a noise, even for one inexperienced in home invasion. Less pleasant is the lack of a welcome matt to dry one's feet. Important, when the smooth wooden floors accompany every step with the wet squelch of the rain-drenched shoes. Entering, a few light are on in the home, lamps illuminating the living room to Seth's left, while access to a kitchen on the right provides little but the view of a refrigerator where the lights are off. Slowly, achingly slowly, Seth steps creeps forward into the home, the newfound agent of the Hand hardly trained in the art of stealth. Luckily, his slow pace produces the quiet necessary to hear the creak of a floorboard nearby. Whirling around, Seth would see the Doctor sneaking up on him, scalpel in hand, catching him ten feet away in the living room. The doctor freezes, and narrows his gaze in equal parts worry and anger. "You are... a robber? A thief? Or..." Doctor Coleman trails off, not naming the obvious second guess. The man is dressed in little but pajama bottoms, his toned figure showing off a body muscled in ways few doctors could achieve. He looks very healthy, the man clearly eating well.
That door is easy enough to open and close without causing too much of a noise, even for one inexperienced in home invasion. Less pleasant is the lack of a welcome matt to dry one's feet. Important, when the smooth wooden floors accompany every step with the wet squelch of the rain-drenched shoes. Entering, a few light are on in the home, lamps illuminating the living room to Seth's left, while access to a kitchen on the right provides little but the view of a refrigerator where the lights are off. Slowly, achingly slowly, Seth steps creeps forward into the home, the newfound agent of the Hand hardly trained in the art of stealth. Luckily, his slow pace produces the quiet necessary to hear the creak of a floorboard nearby. Whirling around, Seth would see the Doctor sneaking up on him, scalpel in hand, catching him ten feet away in the living room. The doctor freezes, and narrows his gaze in equal parts worry and anger. "You are... a robber? A thief? Or..." Doctor Coleman trails off, not naming the obvious second guess. The man is dressed in little but pajama bottoms, his toned figure showing off a body muscled in ways few doctors could achieve. He looks very healthy, the man clearly eating well.
To anyone with supernatural hearing, the thumping of Seth's heart as he sneaks through the house might sound as resounding as thunder. He tries to make his footfalls quiet, but with boots, and wet boots at that, it's not easy. He's alert, gaze wide and flicking from place to place, lingering on every exit, every window, and every hiding spot. He surveils the living room warily as he makes his way inside, listening intently. Intently enough, that when a floorboard creaks behind him, he whips around, and with his hand still on the handle of his gun in his pocket, comes face to face with Laurence Coleman. "Doctor" he says warily, raising up his free hand in front of him flat, "It's alright. I've come from the Hand, I'm sure you could guess that. I just want to talk." If the doctor is perceptive enough, it'd still be easy enough to notice the stress evident on Seth's features. The wide eyes, the faintly trembling hands, the sweat on his brow.
Standing before Seth, the demonborn actually closes his eyes a moment. The smell of his home's intruder's cold sweat, the pounding of their heart, even the psychic fear that heightens in the doctor's presence. It intoxicates the creature, and like any addict, the doctor craves for more like a physical need. Opening those pale blue eyes, the demon born takes a step, slowly pacing around Seth, predating him at a distance. Drawing a quarter circle around the man with his pace, he moves not an inch closer, but settles himself between the man and the door he entered from. "...The Hand usually schedules a luncheon when they want to meet with me. You... you come into my home, armed. And clearly so frightened I can't imagine you're entirely in your depth." The doctor's gaze roams, leaving Seth for the first time as he peers outside, "...Did you come alone, then? What business does the Hand have with me? I'm sure any indiscretions that have occured of late can be covered with a generous donation, no?" That gaze returns to Seth, the face and eyes human, but the expression is closer to a reptile. Devoid of any form of empathy, tone forcibly calm, the creature eyes Seth with an appraising gaze, determining whether the man should be considered prey in the moment.
Seth's gaze follows Laurence as the doctor begins to circle him, his fingers wrapping tighter around the reassuring metal grip of his revolver. He feels a little better, knowing it's loaded with a surprise that the demonborn might not be expecting. If it comes to that. He still holds out hope that it won't. As Laurence settles between him and the exit, his gaze flicks about searching for alternative exits, before returning to the man. "This won't be settled with a luncheon, doctor" he says, trying his best to sound calm, summoning whatever inner reserves of strength he has to do so, "I'm alone here, but there are people waiting for us both" he continues. And that much was true, at least. He had entered on his own, and despite the agents circling the house, he felt immensely isolated. "You need to come in. Have a talk with some more experienced members. What you've been doing... has not gone unnoticed. By the Hand, yes, but by others too, and that's the crux of the problem. Perhaps it'll be sorted by a donation, but we'll have to go and find that out." He pauses for a moment, eyeing the doctor carefully, his reaction, his movements. The slightest move to run, or to fight, would have his revolver out in a moment. "It'll be civil, and no harm will come to you. I promise you that. Just conversations, that's all, to clear this up. Will you come with me?"
Pale blue eyes narrow their gaze, and a long silence greets the two at that question. Barely audible, the sound of water hitting metal in steady droplets emits from the corner of the room, a nearby gutter drain announcing its presence. Those drips fall in a steady rythm, not quite counting the seconds in their erratic rythm, the sole chorus to a decision between emminent violence and the possiblity of everyone going home hole. Knuckles whiten along the scalpel in the man's hand, and for one of the longest minutes in Seth's life, it seems like the Doctor might be expanding his practice to home visits. Finally, the Doctor breaks the pregnant silence, "...Do you really have the position to be making guarantees? What proof do you have they won't just execute me as soon as I surrender myself? Perhaps I'm less trouble in a hole in the forest."
Seth almost winces at the sound of the droplets from the drain, as that far closer sound joins the distant rumbling of thunder and the downpour of rain outside the home. He sets his jaw for a moment, intentionally slowing his breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. An attempt to calm his nerves for what might be a coming fight. His body is still, but his muscles are readied, and carefully, with an index finger, he feels for the trigger of his weapon. But then, finally, the doctor speaks again. "I don't have it in writing, doctor, if that's what you mean" Seth replies carefully, "But give it a moments thought. If the Hand wanted you -dead-, they would not have sent me. They would have sent someone far scarier, far more practiced with killing, and they wouldn't waste their time with conversations like this. You know that isn't the Hand's way." Seth almost believed what he was saying, it sounded reasonable enough, which helped him keep a straight face, and made the words come more naturally. It wasn't really a lie, and so he didn't have to make an attempt to cover one up, in his tone and the subtle quirks of his expression, "And, besides that. You're valuable, more valuable than me. You've shown your worth before this recent slip up. A powerful demonborn, and a surgeon at that. The Hand isn't wasteful either, if things can be resolved. And they can, if you'll just come with me."
Too many strained seconds pass between Seth making his case and the doctor deciding on it. Theres a tension in the muscled man's frame, a readiness to spring, to practice their expertise on the intruders flesh. But the point is solid: If death was the goal, they would not have sent Seth to do the job. "...You speak too optimistically about what the Hand's -way- is. But if they wanted me dead, they've a number of options more suited to the task. More importantly... killing you here would place a target on my back. The power within me burgeons, and it is better for me to be among friends while it grows than to be hunted as a vagrant. Perhaps my role shall begin to transition from financial support to something more... active." Doctor Coleman seems to be painting a positive future for himself all on his own, perhaps betraying a lack of confidence in his own position. The demonborn's hand relaxes, and that scalpel fall to embed its tip into the wooded floor. "Very well. Lead on, Agent. I'll trust your words, for the time being. Betray me, though, and know I don't need a scalpel to carve you." Despite his threatening tone, that posture relaxes, the demonborn's gaze falling to Seth's hand on his revolver, a silent invitation to do the same.
A sigh of relief escapes Seth as the scalpel thunks into the floor. The grip on his revolver relaxes a little, and he moves his finger away from the trigger. Then, he releases the weapon, and lets it sit there, concealed within the pocket of his leather jacket. Some of the tension returns to him at this, but he slips his hand out nonetheless, empty, and raises his hands flat to show he's now unarmed. "I have no doubt, doctor" he says as he takes a step forward, making to lead Laurence through his home, towards the exit, "That you'll have a far more active position in the Hand, and that you could kill me if you wanted to, even without a weapon."
With that, Seth shows the doctor through his own home, towards the front door. He steps out himself first, raising his hands flat and calling out to the gathered agents, "Doctor Coleman is coming out, unarmed!" Then he steps past the threshold, glancing back to see if the doctor is still following, walking aside him now as they make their way towards the ring of Hand operatives.
Immediately, as the doctor steps out onto his own porch, that group of five surges forward to meet him. The newer members look surprised, impressed... perhaps a bit worried that the doctor is now their problem to monitor. The more experienced members approach with no movement towards their weapons, and the senior-most member approaches with a tone quite polite, if not respectful. "Doctor Coleman. So good to see you are still capable of reason. Maintain that with us, and we shall escort you to discuss your new arrangements. Come, come." The voice is casually authoritative, and where the doctor showed Seth a predatory visage, before this man, and his many accomplices, the demonborn wanes a bit, "Ahem, yes. I... trust you will treat me well." Despite his nature, before superior force, the doctor seems rather human. Ushered away quickly by the more experienced members, the senior member stays behind, extending a single gloved hand. "Bullets. You'll be compensated for your time, and your report will reflect that your performance was... adequate to our needs. Which, to be clear, is far more than I expected of you. You will be provided a ride home. One of the lessers can deal with that." He urges Seth to unload his weapon with an impatient grasping gesture, and offers no further compliments or looks once he has them. Eventually, one of the the two fresh members hurries up, looking very glad to be given the assignment to drive Seth rather than escort Doctor Coleman. "Alright, Sir! If you'll follow me, I'll get you home quickly. I'm sure your overdue for some sleep." With no further distractions, adventures, or compliments for his work, Seth's head can finally hit the pillow, job done. Adequately.
Despite the palpable tension, a dialogue ensues between hunter and prey, wherein Seth, leveraging his innate human sensitivity and raw determination, manages to convince Coleman of his precarious position and the potential benefits of surrendering to the Hand’s demands. In a calculated act of trust and self-preservation, Coleman concedes, allowing Seth to lead him out to the waiting operatives, demonstrating not only Seth's unexpected capability to handle such a volatile situation but also highlighting the nuanced dynamics within the shadowy world they inhabit. The conclusion of this encounter leaves Seth with a quiet acknowledgment of his adequacy from the organization, a subtle commendation for his nerve under pressure. This event marks not just a rite of passage for Seth into the clandestine life he's now part of but also underscores the complex interplay of power, loyalty, and survival in the murky depths of supernatural politics.
(Seth's odd encounter(SRBear):SRBear)
[Tue Nov 12 2024]
In the dining area of a generous studio space
The dining area is designed with both functionality and elegance in mind. Bathed in natural light from expansive skylights along with high ceilings, give the space a feel of being open and airy. A sleek, modern dining table made of polished wood stands at the center, surrounded by comfortable high-backed chairs upholstered in neutral tones. Minimalist pendant lights provide focused illumination, casting a warm glow over the table. The polished wooden floors are complemented by a stylish rug beneath the table, while a sideboard offers additional storage and a touch of greenery with potted plants. The open layout allows for seamless flow between the dining area, the kitchen, and the rest of the studio, making it an inviting place to share meals and entertain company.
It is night, about 49F(9C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
The call came late at night, barely an hour and a half before midnight. The Hand contacted Seth and a number of other fledging members of their organization to handle the capture of what they perceived to be a loose end. Doctor Laurence Coleman, a once well-respected surgeon in his mid-forties, has been named for capture. Collected by a mutual contact and driven to the man's home, Seth is handed a dossier including the essential information for the mission. A demonborn of some twenty five years, Coleman has a long history of being a functioning member of society, and the Hand. Supporting their efforts financially in exchance for protection, the Hand viewed him as a member in decent standing. He fed exclusively on the pain of his patients, abundant in his trade without need of effort on his part, and has managed avoid drawing attention while supporting himself and the efforts of the organization. Until recently.
It started with a string of complaints. Vague, unsubstantiated rumors of sexual harassment. Verbal and public reprimands towards assisting nurses, the occasional comment on tone. All things HR could sweep under the rug for a valued surgeon. But in recent months, the doctor has added two malpractice lawsuits to an existing two over the last year. The man's behaviour has become increasingly aggressive, and erratic. Complications in surgery have lead to permanent injuries, infections, and most dangerously of late, the death of a young girl. The doctor, under investigation by Hand agents, was seen nearby as the news was delivered to their parents, clearly indulging in their suffering. The man's nature is obviously advancing his need to feed beyond his own restraint as he grows stronger, and the once respected associate of the Hand has now become a liability advancing quickly in their notoriety. This man must be apprehended or neutralized before forces mundane or supernatural are able to intervene. Viewed as an opportunity for training, several more experienced operatives have been placed outside the home, surrounding it. Seth has been tasked with the removal of this problem. Diplomacy is preferred, but if needed, violence is acceptable. Agents can be called in, but it won't look good for his reputation withing the organization.
someone resides at home, at the dining table in his apartment, flicking through texts, chatrooms, and social media. Then the call comes, and Seth, dutiful as ever, answers it. A summons to a clandestine briefing, his first official mission for the Hand. His own hand shakes a little as he checks the ammunition in his revolver and slips it away into the pocket of his leather jacket, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he gathers up the rest of his things and prepares to head out. What could they want from him, this fresh-faced to the organisation? Barely an intern, with no experience to speak of, beyond the brief glimpses into the supernatural he's been having all his life.
It's almost midnight when Seth arrives to the meeting, and is handed the dossier. His eyes grow gradually wider as he reads it over, clutching it tight. Apprehend a supernatural? With his limited knowledge and exposure? He thinks, for a moment, that the Hand might just want to get rid of -him-, and be able to call it an unfortunate accident in the line of duty. Really, one hell of a job to assign to a human sensitive who's only just past his intake. But he knows full well that asking questions, especially ones like that, will get him nowhere, and perhaps this kind of trial by fire is normal for the sometimes ruthless organisation. He draws in a deep breath and steadies himself, and nods, replying with a simple, "I'm on it."
Once Seth arrives to Doctor Coleman's surrounded home, he makes his way up to one of the operatives on look-out and leans in to whisper, "He's inside? I've been sent to... deal with this." He tries his best to look confident. Showing weakness now would get him nowhere, either. "Has anyone been able to see his movements inside? Heard anything from him? Do we have, like, jammers up, or is he able to call for help?"
Seth resides at home, at the dining table in his apartment, flicking through texts, chatrooms, and social media. Then the call comes, and Seth, dutiful as ever, answers it. A summons to a clandestine briefing, his first official mission for the Hand. His own hand shakes a little as he checks the ammunition in his revolver and slips it away into the pocket of his leather jacket, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he gathers up the rest of his things and prepares to head out. What could they want from him, this fresh-faced to the organisation? Barely an intern, with no experience to speak of, beyond the brief glimpses into the supernatural he's been having all his life.
It's almost midnight when Seth arrives to the meeting, and is handed the dossier. His eyes grow gradually wider as he reads it over, clutching it tight. Apprehend a supernatural? With his limited knowledge and exposure? He thinks, for a moment, that the Hand might just want to get rid of -him-, and be able to call it an unfortunate accident in the line of duty. Really, one hell of a job to assign to a human sensitive who's only just past his intake. But he knows full well that asking questions, especially ones like that, will get him nowhere, and perhaps this kind of trial by fire is normal for the sometimes ruthless organisation. He draws in a deep breath and steadies himself, and nods, replying with a simple, "I'm on it."
Once Seth arrives to Doctor Coleman's surrounded home, he makes his way up to one of the operatives on look-out and leans in to whisper, "He's inside? I've been sent to... deal with this." He tries his best to look confident. Showing weakness now would get him nowhere, either. "Has anyone been able to see his movements inside? Heard anything from him? Do we have, like, jammers up, or is he able to call for help?"
A couple of the faces look almost as fresh as Seths, positioned outside and doing their best to look busy, competent, and like they know what they're doing. Two others stand in position, an air of confidence about them, dressed in practical jeans and jackets, gloves adorning their hands. The fifth man approaches, and the gaze of the hardened man roams them appraisingly, their expression nothing short of predatory. "...Well then. Hopefully your competence exceeds your stature. You're being tested for your capacities that don't involve a weapon, but I'd keep your hand on your firearm. Scouts have already confirmed he's inside, and no exits are unblocked. If he flees the building, we'll intercept... and your performance will be noted. Precautions have been taken, and he will be unable to call for assistance. I'll choose to take solace in your understanding of the basics, rather than offense as your assumption of our incompetence. Value my mercy on this matter. Loud, quiet, how you handle it is up to you. Just know the removal of this liability is of higher priority to us than a fledgling recruit like yourself. Am I perfectly clear, Mister Asher?"
Seth is slightly reassured by the obvious presence of other fresh recruits. At the very least, he's probably not the only one wracked with nerves. He might just be the only human though, and that gives him a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach. The rain is still pouring, like it has been, for some godforsaken reason, for the past couple of days. His black hair is plastered to his head, and his clothes are soaked through. He reaches up to flick some damp locks from his face, and grimaces at the hardened operatives words. "Yeah, I understand" he replies simply, "Thanks."
With that, Seth trudges forward, past the threshold of the property. His hand goes into his jacket pocket to feel the reassuring weight of his revolver resting there, before he begins to make a circuit of the house. His jade gaze flicks up and down the structure, assessing the exits, the windows, and trying to, perhaps, catch a glimpse of his target moving about inside. He's looking for ways -in- primarily, but every way inside is a way out as well, and he notes each down internally.
The seasoned Agent chuckles, trailing Seth a moment, "Your enthusiasm is noted, Mister Asher. But you might require something of an upgrade in caliber. I was told you favored a revolver. Possibly the only attribute in which I can find in you a kindred soul." The tone is mocking, a touch venomous, but the hand that reaches into his jacket pocket produces what might be some small salvation. Six bullets. "Hollow points. Each round contains a pinch of powdered quartz. You'll find his biokinetic talents will make the fine doctor a bit difficult to put down with normal ammunition. Plainly, if you need more than the cylinder, you're likely praying for us to storm in anyways." The man's hand, clad in a fine black leather glove, deposits those rounds into Seth's palm. "And for your initiative, I'll let you know his front door has been picked. Be slow as you enter, it creaks." With that, the senior agent turns away, and leaves Seth with a tip and a mean to defend himself more reasonably. That circuit around the house reveal a number of windows, and two floors. Unless put down quickly, a demonborn would likely have multiple avenues of escape. Until recently, secrecy was not a necessary concern for the Doctor.
Once Seth has finished his circuit of the house, he returnbs to the seasoned agent. He nods firmly at his words, and pulls his revolver from his pocket. It's a small, unremarkable weapon, better for concealed carry and reassuring oneself than war, and for whatever reason, Seth gets the feeling he's walking into what'll soon be a battlefield. Still, he unloads the gun without much fumbling, collecting the mundane bullets into his palm and tucking them away into the pocket of one his jeans, before he carefully loads up the upgrades. "Appreciate it, man" he says, "But with what I'm dealing with, I can only hope it doesn't come to that."
Then, after taking a moment to steel himself, and do his best to calm his nerves, he strides confidently towards the door. He listens at it for a moment, pressing his ear to the wood to see if he can catch any sound of movement within. Then, carefully, he pushes it open, doing his best not to cause the creaking he'd been warned of. He conceals his revolver in his pocket, but keeps his hand wrapped around the grip, a little hunched as he sneaks within.
The door is easy enough to open and close without causing too much of a noise, even for one inexperienced in home invasion. Less pleasant is the lack of a welcome matt to dry one's feet. Important, when the smooth wooden floors accompany every step with the wet squelch of the rain-drenched shoes. Entering, a few light are on in the home, lamps illuminating the living room to Seth's left, while access to a kitchen on the right provides little but the view of a refrigerator where the lights are off. Slowly, achingly slowly, Seth steps creeps forward into the home, the newfound agent of the Hand hardly trained in the art of stealth. Luckily, his slow pace produces the quiet necessary to hear the creak of a floorboard nearby. Whirling around, Seth would see the Doctor sneaking up on him, scalpel in hand, catching him ten feet away in the living room. The doctor freezes, and narrows his gaze in equal parts worry and anger. "You are... a robber? A thief? Or..." Doctor Coleman trails off, not naming the obvious second guess. The man is dressed in little but pajama bottoms, his toned figure showing off a body muscled in ways few doctors could achieve. He looks very healthy, the man clearly eating well.
That door is easy enough to open and close without causing too much of a noise, even for one inexperienced in home invasion. Less pleasant is the lack of a welcome matt to dry one's feet. Important, when the smooth wooden floors accompany every step with the wet squelch of the rain-drenched shoes. Entering, a few light are on in the home, lamps illuminating the living room to Seth's left, while access to a kitchen on the right provides little but the view of a refrigerator where the lights are off. Slowly, achingly slowly, Seth steps creeps forward into the home, the newfound agent of the Hand hardly trained in the art of stealth. Luckily, his slow pace produces the quiet necessary to hear the creak of a floorboard nearby. Whirling around, Seth would see the Doctor sneaking up on him, scalpel in hand, catching him ten feet away in the living room. The doctor freezes, and narrows his gaze in equal parts worry and anger. "You are... a robber? A thief? Or..." Doctor Coleman trails off, not naming the obvious second guess. The man is dressed in little but pajama bottoms, his toned figure showing off a body muscled in ways few doctors could achieve. He looks very healthy, the man clearly eating well.
To anyone with supernatural hearing, the thumping of Seth's heart as he sneaks through the house might sound as resounding as thunder. He tries to make his footfalls quiet, but with boots, and wet boots at that, it's not easy. He's alert, gaze wide and flicking from place to place, lingering on every exit, every window, and every hiding spot. He surveils the living room warily as he makes his way inside, listening intently. Intently enough, that when a floorboard creaks behind him, he whips around, and with his hand still on the handle of his gun in his pocket, comes face to face with Laurence Coleman. "Doctor" he says warily, raising up his free hand in front of him flat, "It's alright. I've come from the Hand, I'm sure you could guess that. I just want to talk." If the doctor is perceptive enough, it'd still be easy enough to notice the stress evident on Seth's features. The wide eyes, the faintly trembling hands, the sweat on his brow.
Standing before Seth, the demonborn actually closes his eyes a moment. The smell of his home's intruder's cold sweat, the pounding of their heart, even the psychic fear that heightens in the doctor's presence. It intoxicates the creature, and like any addict, the doctor craves for more like a physical need. Opening those pale blue eyes, the demon born takes a step, slowly pacing around Seth, predating him at a distance. Drawing a quarter circle around the man with his pace, he moves not an inch closer, but settles himself between the man and the door he entered from. "...The Hand usually schedules a luncheon when they want to meet with me. You... you come into my home, armed. And clearly so frightened I can't imagine you're entirely in your depth." The doctor's gaze roams, leaving Seth for the first time as he peers outside, "...Did you come alone, then? What business does the Hand have with me? I'm sure any indiscretions that have occured of late can be covered with a generous donation, no?" That gaze returns to Seth, the face and eyes human, but the expression is closer to a reptile. Devoid of any form of empathy, tone forcibly calm, the creature eyes Seth with an appraising gaze, determining whether the man should be considered prey in the moment.
Seth's gaze follows Laurence as the doctor begins to circle him, his fingers wrapping tighter around the reassuring metal grip of his revolver. He feels a little better, knowing it's loaded with a surprise that the demonborn might not be expecting. If it comes to that. He still holds out hope that it won't. As Laurence settles between him and the exit, his gaze flicks about searching for alternative exits, before returning to the man. "This won't be settled with a luncheon, doctor" he says, trying his best to sound calm, summoning whatever inner reserves of strength he has to do so, "I'm alone here, but there are people waiting for us both" he continues. And that much was true, at least. He had entered on his own, and despite the agents circling the house, he felt immensely isolated. "You need to come in. Have a talk with some more experienced members. What you've been doing... has not gone unnoticed. By the Hand, yes, but by others too, and that's the crux of the problem. Perhaps it'll be sorted by a donation, but we'll have to go and find that out." He pauses for a moment, eyeing the doctor carefully, his reaction, his movements. The slightest move to run, or to fight, would have his revolver out in a moment. "It'll be civil, and no harm will come to you. I promise you that. Just conversations, that's all, to clear this up. Will you come with me?"
Pale blue eyes narrow their gaze, and a long silence greets the two at that question. Barely audible, the sound of water hitting metal in steady droplets emits from the corner of the room, a nearby gutter drain announcing its presence. Those drips fall in a steady rythm, not quite counting the seconds in their erratic rythm, the sole chorus to a decision between emminent violence and the possiblity of everyone going home hole. Knuckles whiten along the scalpel in the man's hand, and for one of the longest minutes in Seth's life, it seems like the Doctor might be expanding his practice to home visits. Finally, the Doctor breaks the pregnant silence, "...Do you really have the position to be making guarantees? What proof do you have they won't just execute me as soon as I surrender myself? Perhaps I'm less trouble in a hole in the forest."
Seth almost winces at the sound of the droplets from the drain, as that far closer sound joins the distant rumbling of thunder and the downpour of rain outside the home. He sets his jaw for a moment, intentionally slowing his breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. An attempt to calm his nerves for what might be a coming fight. His body is still, but his muscles are readied, and carefully, with an index finger, he feels for the trigger of his weapon. But then, finally, the doctor speaks again. "I don't have it in writing, doctor, if that's what you mean" Seth replies carefully, "But give it a moments thought. If the Hand wanted you -dead-, they would not have sent me. They would have sent someone far scarier, far more practiced with killing, and they wouldn't waste their time with conversations like this. You know that isn't the Hand's way." Seth almost believed what he was saying, it sounded reasonable enough, which helped him keep a straight face, and made the words come more naturally. It wasn't really a lie, and so he didn't have to make an attempt to cover one up, in his tone and the subtle quirks of his expression, "And, besides that. You're valuable, more valuable than me. You've shown your worth before this recent slip up. A powerful demonborn, and a surgeon at that. The Hand isn't wasteful either, if things can be resolved. And they can, if you'll just come with me."
Too many strained seconds pass between Seth making his case and the doctor deciding on it. Theres a tension in the muscled man's frame, a readiness to spring, to practice their expertise on the intruders flesh. But the point is solid: If death was the goal, they would not have sent Seth to do the job. "...You speak too optimistically about what the Hand's -way- is. But if they wanted me dead, they've a number of options more suited to the task. More importantly... killing you here would place a target on my back. The power within me burgeons, and it is better for me to be among friends while it grows than to be hunted as a vagrant. Perhaps my role shall begin to transition from financial support to something more... active." Doctor Coleman seems to be painting a positive future for himself all on his own, perhaps betraying a lack of confidence in his own position. The demonborn's hand relaxes, and that scalpel fall to embed its tip into the wooded floor. "Very well. Lead on, Agent. I'll trust your words, for the time being. Betray me, though, and know I don't need a scalpel to carve you." Despite his threatening tone, that posture relaxes, the demonborn's gaze falling to Seth's hand on his revolver, a silent invitation to do the same.
A sigh of relief escapes Seth as the scalpel thunks into the floor. The grip on his revolver relaxes a little, and he moves his finger away from the trigger. Then, he releases the weapon, and lets it sit there, concealed within the pocket of his leather jacket. Some of the tension returns to him at this, but he slips his hand out nonetheless, empty, and raises his hands flat to show he's now unarmed. "I have no doubt, doctor" he says as he takes a step forward, making to lead Laurence through his home, towards the exit, "That you'll have a far more active position in the Hand, and that you could kill me if you wanted to, even without a weapon."
With that, Seth shows the doctor through his own home, towards the front door. He steps out himself first, raising his hands flat and calling out to the gathered agents, "Doctor Coleman is coming out, unarmed!" Then he steps past the threshold, glancing back to see if the doctor is still following, walking aside him now as they make their way towards the ring of Hand operatives.
Immediately, as the doctor steps out onto his own porch, that group of five surges forward to meet him. The newer members look surprised, impressed... perhaps a bit worried that the doctor is now their problem to monitor. The more experienced members approach with no movement towards their weapons, and the senior-most member approaches with a tone quite polite, if not respectful. "Doctor Coleman. So good to see you are still capable of reason. Maintain that with us, and we shall escort you to discuss your new arrangements. Come, come." The voice is casually authoritative, and where the doctor showed Seth a predatory visage, before this man, and his many accomplices, the demonborn wanes a bit, "Ahem, yes. I... trust you will treat me well." Despite his nature, before superior force, the doctor seems rather human. Ushered away quickly by the more experienced members, the senior member stays behind, extending a single gloved hand. "Bullets. You'll be compensated for your time, and your report will reflect that your performance was... adequate to our needs. Which, to be clear, is far more than I expected of you. You will be provided a ride home. One of the lessers can deal with that." He urges Seth to unload his weapon with an impatient grasping gesture, and offers no further compliments or looks once he has them. Eventually, one of the the two fresh members hurries up, looking very glad to be given the assignment to drive Seth rather than escort Doctor Coleman. "Alright, Sir! If you'll follow me, I'll get you home quickly. I'm sure your overdue for some sleep." With no further distractions, adventures, or compliments for his work, Seth's head can finally hit the pillow, job done. Adequately.