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faithofthefallen2015-09-01 04:24 am
djinnofthesea) wrote in faithofthefallen2015-09-01 04:24 am
Back to New York
"Thank you for your help, sheriff. I need to get this back to my people, now." Omar patted a plastic tub that he'd been given. It was decidedly smaller than he'd hoped for, but it couldn't be helped. He supposed he should feel lucky that he got as much back as he did, considering the condition he'd found the bodies in. The explosion that killed the demons that the Phoenician ran into had also destroyed the bodies, leaving a mixed up, charred mess. He'd salvaged the most likely pieces to be identified.
Truthfully, though, he felt cheated. The first promise in a long time of a decent meal, and the fool had to get himself blown up around demons. He could still just eat the meat and see what happened. He'd done it before. However, he highly doubted anyone in New York wanted to deal with him when he was sick, hallucinating, and lashing out at demons only he could see. The backlash from consuming demonic flesh struck him as something that would cause all kinds of migraines for corporate.
A method of analysis was in order, then. Fortunately, he had an idea of one he could use that was in-house. He brushed at his bare shoulder. Blood caked his shirt and his upper body. Fresh, it stirred his hunger. Old, dried, and stale, it just annoyed him. A bath, maybe, before he headed to the Labyrinth. Or he could just change as he transported himself there. His phone beeped in his pocket and he checked the message. Peace was waiting. No bath, then.
"That's what I was waiting on. Good bye, sheriff. Thank you." He gave her a bow of his head, then headed out of the police station. As he headed into the woods and zombies looked up, testing his scent, just different enough from a human's to give them pause, he disappeared...
...And reappeared in the middle of the lobby of the Labyrinth. He still clutched the plastic tub, but the mess on him was gone, his camouflage exchanged for a neat white suit edged with glowing blue lightning. He let his hair out of its ponytail and ran his fingers through it to straighten it, then headed towards the morgue. Some agents gave him a nod or a greeting, but most kept their distance, sometimes crossing to the other side of the hallway from him. The djinni was something dangerous, something valuable to Geary, was all any of the normal agents really knew. Of course, the handlers had access to more. Geary to more still.
With the body parts safely stowed in the cold, he sat down at a desk in the autopsy room and took out his phone again, tapping out a message, then opening up a game to play. Angry Birds was, perhaps, one of the more annoyingly addictive games he'd played.
Truthfully, though, he felt cheated. The first promise in a long time of a decent meal, and the fool had to get himself blown up around demons. He could still just eat the meat and see what happened. He'd done it before. However, he highly doubted anyone in New York wanted to deal with him when he was sick, hallucinating, and lashing out at demons only he could see. The backlash from consuming demonic flesh struck him as something that would cause all kinds of migraines for corporate.
A method of analysis was in order, then. Fortunately, he had an idea of one he could use that was in-house. He brushed at his bare shoulder. Blood caked his shirt and his upper body. Fresh, it stirred his hunger. Old, dried, and stale, it just annoyed him. A bath, maybe, before he headed to the Labyrinth. Or he could just change as he transported himself there. His phone beeped in his pocket and he checked the message. Peace was waiting. No bath, then.
"That's what I was waiting on. Good bye, sheriff. Thank you." He gave her a bow of his head, then headed out of the police station. As he headed into the woods and zombies looked up, testing his scent, just different enough from a human's to give them pause, he disappeared...
...And reappeared in the middle of the lobby of the Labyrinth. He still clutched the plastic tub, but the mess on him was gone, his camouflage exchanged for a neat white suit edged with glowing blue lightning. He let his hair out of its ponytail and ran his fingers through it to straighten it, then headed towards the morgue. Some agents gave him a nod or a greeting, but most kept their distance, sometimes crossing to the other side of the hallway from him. The djinni was something dangerous, something valuable to Geary, was all any of the normal agents really knew. Of course, the handlers had access to more. Geary to more still.
With the body parts safely stowed in the cold, he sat down at a desk in the autopsy room and took out his phone again, tapping out a message, then opening up a game to play. Angry Birds was, perhaps, one of the more annoyingly addictive games he'd played.