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How I Didn't Meet Your Mummy [Peace, Miklos, Vimes]
Sadly, despite her hopes, she was not going to Egypt, where it would not be chilly except at night. No, her debriefing had been very clear – wait for her teammates at the Agartha portal on the Savage Coast. Peace rested her head against a rock face. The town was more or less abandoned now, and really, if they wanted to be honest, all the factions were waiting for people to die out. It would make cleanup easier, really.
Oooh, she thought, pulling her hood over her head to keep her ears warm in the chilly September night air, “Not nice thoughts.” She supposed that the higher ups had decided to send her out before she was rendered more or less useless the entire month of October. She really couldn’t blame them, in that regard and tapped at her phone’s screen, growing bored. Somewhere, a wendigo shrieked its displeasure with something.
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“I don’t remember seeing your name on my mission parameters. Are you here for me, or for someone else?” The girl raised an eyebrow and pulled her hood down. Once deep red hair was now deep blue instead, lighter in places than others, and rolled into a massive side bun. Somehow the color just made her look pale as ever. She felt cute, almost. In a weird way. Strange what a little bit of dye did for one’s confidence.
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Also, maybe, an excuse to shoot at things. That was always relaxing.
"That blue is still odd. Not.. bad. Just.. unusual. It is everything opposite the norm."
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Peace stretched her arms over her head and was rewarded with the pop-pop-pop! of vertebrae. "I'm not worried if you come along, since I'm always honest when I write up my reports. It's not a problem, though." It never was! She liked it when Miklos unhooked himself from his desk and spent time with her. While Peace personally preferred punching things, some of the aspects of the mission needed stealth and non-melee damage. So, under her coat were her gifted pistols from a friend.
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Vimes crinkled his nose as he stumbled out of the Agartha portal, adjusting his pistols as he found his footing. The coast was not his favorite place in the world-as a matter of fact some could say [his sister agreed] that it was their twin-voted least favorite place on the face of the planet. Maybe once it was a place they could call home, but that ended with the deaths of all the Innsmouth Academy teachers, their teachers, and the even more recent draug'r-and-other-supernatural-murderous-phenomena problem.
Checking his phone once more he perked up somewhat visibly at the sight of Peace [Pyramidion bless, a familiar adorable face], and his eyebrows rose as he noticed Miklos. This was an unexpected field team. "..Hi?"
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At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Miklos gave Vimes the sort of long, studying look that had a tendency to make most people uncomfortable. Half of that was likely intentional (and the rest more directly related to his need to always be gathering information). He finally acknowledged him properly with a short nod.
"And now it seems we're all present."
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Peace turned when Vimes did, but her expression changed instantly into something shy, but excited to see him. (A familiar face was the best face to see, right?) "Vimes!" The monitoring program on Miklos's phone beeped a warning. Peace paused, reddened and the program chirped placidly - heartbeat within regular parameters. "I am all ready when you are, though I'm not sure why they'd need a medium and a necromancer. Maybe in case whatever we're looking for is just.. a bodypart?"
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Was that a smirk? It was definitely a smirk.
It was then that Peace's phone would go off as well, the screen reading plainly:
[Now I wonder how many alerts were you in danger and how many because your little friend made your heart flutter..]
"You are correct. Preparation is key. Is that a complaint? You could be on morgue duty today, right?"
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"I can't imagine what they'd need us both for? I need the head if I'm supposed to be useful- can't raise the dead and ask them questions if they can't talk."
Smiling somewhat grimly he adjusted the strap of his shotgun and nodded. "So, shall we go then?"
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Nasty issues.
Stomach flipping issues.
"I suppose if I can't read what's happened, that's what you're for. And if we get split up--" Peace pulled out her phone to check her screen and gave Miklos a look. "Rude, Miklos."
A pause, "But if we get split off from Miklos, I can read some of the objects around to cheat and find a solution." Or open a safe. Whatev. "I'm ready!"
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If anyone questioned it, they would always get the same answer: Information dominance is my job description. Do I need to remind you of the definition of dominance?
That was his usual excuse should anyone bat an eye. He never went digging through things that were too far above his pay grade, of course. Everything he needed fell well within the purview of his mission parameters. According to him, Lord of All, apparently.
Peace's comment was acknowledged by a twitch of his lips in a sort of half-smirk. As if to say 'And? Where is the lie?'.
But he would never say that because that was for children and internet trolls. Example #1218 of why having the Internet on a constant data stream in and out all day was a chore.Miklos need only do a subtle and quick check of his own weapons. He was very much in tune with the pistols he loved so much with their ornate (see: overkill) etching and not-quite-subtle symbolism in their appearance. A brush of his fingers was enough to tell him all was well and in place and the elementalism focus he carried almost for decoration more than anything else he already knew was there. In his back pocket. Under his coat. Where no one could see it (because honestly, would it kill someone to make one that didn't look like some sort of strange voodoo doll made out of extension cords?).
"In the event whatever we're looking for happens to be surrounded by more hostiles than we might have anticipated, you couldn't possibly argue with having a third. And should we run across any abandoned tech in the area.. even better.." He adjusted the way his jacket lay on his shoulders and looked around at both of them.
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"Better to ask questions then go in blind, right?"
Raising a somewhat dubious eyebrow at the other man's comment, Vimes couldn't help but nod in agreement. Three was an ideal amount of people in a field mission team, and while he knew the New England are like the back of his hand wendigos were still wendigos.
Stepping closer to Peace the New Yorker adjusted his own coat and slid his hands easily into his pockets. He'd follow the lead of whomever was in charge without question- that was easy enough, but not knowing anything about Miklos didn't sit well with him, and he made a note to send an inquiry to his sister about the man later.
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