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In Spite of Herself [14 Jul 2009|11:51am] [Takes place before the final thread.] While this wouldn't be Jill's first time in a courtroom, it would be her first time sitting in the witness' chair. As the FBI's lead investigator in the case of Travis Dunegan, a Springfield, Ill. native who was overseeing an international human trafficking ring with the help of a vampire cult just south of the Loop, Jill was to give a deposition making the prosecution's case for the harshest penalty possible. The shift in roles made Jill nervous, and she sat alone in a room adjacent to the courtroom with her left leg bouncing up and down. The silence of the room made the agent even more uneasy. She stared at the mahogany table in the center of the room, she stared at the window with half-drawn blinds, barely letting in the July sunshine. She stared at the painting across from her of a Chicago judge from days gone by, whose name she didn't know. Jill was also on-edge because she knew who represented Travis. Not only was Wolfram & Hart doing everything it could -- probably literally -- to make sure Travis never saw the inside of a jail cell, the firm was probably also in on the trafficking network. The agent had no proof of this, but her experience as a former attorney with the firm was enough to give her an educated guess. She fiddled with the small silver cross hanging around her neck. She'd taken every precaution to make sure the judge and the jury and the prosecution would protect themselves against whatever tactics Wolfram & Hart would employ. The FBI never explicitly said this, but Jill had a feeling they considered her invaluable because of her experience with and knowledge of that law firm. Considering how many dirty pies Wolfram & Hart had its demonic fingers in, it made sense. ( It's a pity, really(Adult Content: Violence) ) post comment

On the Phone [01 Jul 2009|09:05pm] "You'll forgive me for not being scared." Days like this made Jill wish she hadn't quit smoking. She remembered how a long drag of nicotine would calm her nerves and give her a momentary reprieve from the daily stresses of her job. Granted, that was a different job, but the longer Jill called the halls of the FBI Chicago Division on West Roosevelt home away from home, the more she realized being an agent was almost as stressful as being a lawyer. Perhaps more so. "I know exactly how they operate, Your Honor," she spoke into the black receiver, swiveling back and forth in her black leather chair. "Probably better than you realize. Trust me when I say you're gonna want to protect your grand jury -- mystically." ( Time for herself ) post comment

Bad Habit [19 Mar 2009|03:03pm] Normally, Jill didn't like meeting potential informants after dark in the back of some dim, noisy establishment. Sure, the presence of alcohol was nice -- the agent couldn't remember the last time she'd had a beer -- but the idea of interviewing someone for a case with a backdrop of deafening techno left much to be desired. Thankfully, top-of-the-line, government-issue voice recorders drowned some of that noise. Still, the whole thing seemed seedy and, to be perfectly honest, a bit cliche. Jill felt like she was on an episode of Alias or The X-Files or even The Sopranos. She just hoped this informant didn't wind up dead after talking to her. The agent scanned the crowd, surprisingly dense for a Wednesday night. Several co-eds were drunkenly dancing all over each other. They must've thought it sensuous, but Jill found it to be incredibly clumsy. Not to mention, girls like that were often vampire bait. Who better to pick off for a meal than an intoxicated, possibly horny co-ed? ( Kinda Secretive ) post comment

Jurisdiction [03 Mar 2009|10:58pm] "Yes, Maureen, I saw the article. "I didn't think that was our jurisdiction. Local authorities already made the arrest, near as we can tell, all of the murders have occurred within the city limits. I mean, I guess you could make a case for the police commissioner, but doesn't the FBI have more pressing matters? "Well, there's the Lincoln Park case. There's the thing with Elfleda invading and defacing government property. I'm even hearing rumblings of a mafia underground in the city -- who knows where that could lead. "And what could we do? Can we really hold a Slayer, even a potentially unstable one? "Well, if you don't mind me saying so, I think they have the wrong person. "Yes, I know about her past; didn't even need to read the paper for it. Wolfram & Hart had this massive file on her. The L.A. branch signed her to a contract in 2000, offered her five figures for services rendered. "The work? They wanted someone dead. Well, permanently dead; the target was a vampire. "No, she never did. The vampire took her in and she later turned herself into police. Served three years before escaping. "Well, according to the file, she returned to Sunnydale after a brief stint in L.A. and had a hand in the destruction of that town's Hellmouth. Sure, the rest of the town went with it, but I'm not sure she or anyone else really saw that part coming. "No, when I last saw the file a few years back, she'd been clean since. Been all over the country, spending a lot of her time in Cleveland and Las Vegas. Nothing out of the ordinary, just being her usual Slayer self and occasionally saving the world in her own unique way. "No, I don't put it past Wolfram & Hart to frame her. The firm is nothing if not vindictive; they're big on making those who cross them pay. Either the Senior Partners feel slighted that she never fulfilled her duties, or they're trying to get to her in order to get back at someone else. "I can't, Maureen. I'm already working on three cases. Not really much we can do with the suspect already behind bars, anyway. I can give you a name, though -- nothing solid on this, just a guess, based on what I know of this person. "Elise Shelby. Yeah, she's Wolfram & Hart. She'll probably tell you she doesn't know anything, but I'm almost willing to bet an entire month's salary she'd be lying. "... I said 'almost', Maureen." post comment

Not Now [09 Feb 2009|01:52am] Nights like these made Brian Andersen wish he was still on the streets. Not that he minded the pay, which was leaps and bounds over what he made when he was pulling desk duty in one of Baltimore’s overworked precincts. But the late hours, the fact that he hardly had any time to shave anymore – not to mention the near-daily interactions with the one law firm he was convinced was going to be the end of this planet – it was starting to take its toll. Then again, it didn’t help that Brian was already a pessimistic sort. Long estranged from his family, Baltimore’s new district attorney was single and had gone three years since his last date. That was by choice, thanks in large part to Brian’s single-minded dedication to cleaning up this city. His latest case was proving to be quite difficult, which was why Brian was still in his office, pouring over legal texts even as the clock struck midnight. Colleagues could tell him to go home until they were blue in the face, but until he put this scumbag away for extortion, drug trafficking and child prostitution, this office was Brian’s home. “And here I thought I had long hours.” ( Maybe Not Ever ) post comment

Good GIrl [19 Jan 2009|03:13pm] "Spare us such displays of human frailty ..." Doors, whether locked or not, were no barrier to the Corruptress' presence. Elfleda revealed as lounging across the lawyer's desk in relaxed, super-model pose. One leg drawn up, hand resting upon its knee. An archetypal Lilith, in all but name. Certainly in attitude. With a supreme lack of compassion, head turned towards Jill. Elfleda seeming to care nothing for the woman's emotional pain. "It really is a waste of good suffering." "Easy for you to say," the lawyer managed to spit as she slowly regained her footing, "you're not the fucking human ..." Once upright again, the lawyer gazed at Elfleda coldly, her eyes incapable of emotion now that tears had run their course. Hair was matted in places, frayed in others; mascara now ran along Jill's cheeks, her pale face momentarily scarred with the redness of hurt and emotion. Her breathing was steady, nonexistent, as she stood in that one spot, staring at the Corruptress posing on her desk like some Playboy whore. If Hugh was into the pale crowd, anyway. "Can I help you with something, or are you just here to gloat and waste my time?” ( What's-Her-Name? ) [Flashback snippets taken from the Birthright scene Blame, Guilt ... All That Fun Stuff.] post comment

The Real Deal [18 Jan 2009|11:50pm] “Pause it.” The grainy black-and-white footage stopped on Jill’s command, freezing the image of a nebulous black figure. The agent squinted her eyes and leaned in for a closer look, her eyes taking in that form and what destruction that camera shot could find. The destruction wasn’t Jill’s focus, though – she’d already seen the high-resolution photographs taken at the scene. Rather, Jill wanted to confirm or negate the suspicion she’d held since talking to Kathleen in Montana: that Elfleda was responsible. “What is it, Agent Andersen?” Scott, the Chicago field office’s video technician, asked. ( You could say that ) post comment

Holiday Business Trip [01 Jan 2009|05:20pm] After she passed through the metal detector and retrieved her purse from the security guard, Kathleen went straight to the elevators. A handsome man in a dark suit and a travel mug in his hand had already pressed for the lift. She glanced at him, and noticed through his open suit jacket that he was armed with a gun in a brown leather holster on his belt. “Good morning,” he greeted after he caught her looking at him. “Good morning,” she replied. It was technically morning, but it was much closer to being noon. Ding. The elevator arrived empty. “After you,” he insisted, and she obliged. She was not going to argue with a man that carried a gun. Inside the elevator she quickly pressed the 3rd floor button, and the man in the suit followed. “Hey, I’m on the third floor, too.” The doors closed and the man leaned back against the wall as the elevator started up. “Here to visit someone?” He was friendly, she thought. “Yeah, an FBI agent,” she replied looking up at the taller man. “Well, I don’t have any appointments, so you must be meeting with the Special Agent from the Chicago office. Dr. Kathleen Forbes?” He said with a smile as if he knew everything that went on in his jurisdiction. “That’s me. So you’re an FBI agent too, then?” the elevator stopped and the door began to open. “I should have known, gun, dark suit, coffee mug,” she smirked. “Damn the coffee mug always gives me away,” he grinned and lifted up his travel mug. “Special Agent Chris Rogers,” he nodded. “I’ll walk you over to where Andersen is at.” ( Whirlwind ) post comment

Christmas Past [26 Dec 2008|12:16am] ( December 25, 1990. Baltimore, Maryland. ) post comment

Viewer Discretion Advised [22 Dec 2008|10:32pm] [Takes place before "Hungry, Thirsty Roots."] As much as Jill had buried herself in her work of late -- investigating, interrogating and drafting report after report on Lincoln Park -- she was glad to have a little time off for the holiday. Any more 19-hour days would've led to burnout, and the agent sighed with relief yet again as she sat at one of the many coffee shops in Chicago, deciding to give Caribous Coffee a shot over Starbucks. Jill didn't have all that many people to shop for this Christmas -- ironically enough, her social circle was smaller now than it was when she was supposedly the Golden Child at Wolfram & Hart -- but she wanted to make sure she did something for the few people she considered friends. Two bags sat in the chair next to the agent as she nursed her very hot mug, holding a few gifts she'd picked up for her boss at the FBI and Kathleen, with whom she'd formed a friendship with on top of their professional association. Jill enjoyed how her mug felt in her grasp as the temperatures outside dipped into the single digits. She grew up in the cold in Baltimore, so Jill fully expected to have to bust out the coats and the scarves come December, but nothing could've prepared the agent for the frigid reality of winter along Lake Michigan. Still, it beat living in the desert -- for any number of reasons. New boots. In all his years, on his list of priorities, footwear was low on Whistler's totem pole. It never seemed to matter if the soles were worn, a small patch of newspaper inside covered the main issue. If there was a tear by the seam, he'd duct tape the inside. It got him by. Especially in Searchlight; it was a trivial matter to pull off his shoes outside the double-wide and empty out particles of sand before heading inside. And he could usually pass around the odd puddle if caught in a rainstorm. But Chicago was a whole other story. The environmental beat-down was too much for his toes to bear. And of course he had to discover this right before Christmas. As much as he despised shopping for himself, he hated doing it during the busiest shopping season more. If only people knew the real Santa Claus -- the one who, yes, flew through the air in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, but disemboweled children as opposed to leaving them presents -- the malls might not be so crowded. Fatigued, the hatted man pushed past a few stragglers at the door to the coffee shop and grabbed the nearest comfortable seat (which took a few looks and three minutes. And maybe a tiny mental push. He was that tired.) Perhaps the only thing that felt better than the warm red mug cradled in Jill's hands was how the warmth seemed to spread over her every time she took a sip. The agent's coffee tastes weren't all that fancy -- just a regular brew, occasionally mixed in with sugar or creme of some sort. The lattes and cappuccinos of the world weren't really her cup of tea, for lack of a better term, partly because of their outrageous price comparatively speaking. Seeing a familiar figure slump into a nearby seat, Jill couldn't help but grin a little to herself. It took the agent a few moments -- and two more sips of coffee -- before she finally remembered where she recognized the hatted man, recalling her encounter with him several months -- and a few dozen more degrees -- prior. While he'd initially freaked her out with his little trick of knowing stuff without being told, she felt at ease once he assured her he was on the Powers' side of thing and not the Senior Partners'. Still, it was slightly disconcerting. "Guess you don't have to read any minds to tell how cold everyone is," she mused, giving the man whose name she couldn't quite recall to show him she meant no harm. ( Statue Guy ) "Nobody's perfect." Whistler finished the last of his drink, and wiggled his toes gingerly. They were still a bit cold, and his socks were soaked through. He'd need to get out of those soon enough or it would be the cold from hell, round two. "Hey, on your way out, could you get 'em to send over another latte? And ooh, a chocolate cookie. Those never go outta style." Jill laughed, standing and leaving a couple dollars' tip under the empty mug. "Sure thing," she said, walking past Whistler and making sure to discreetly drop her business card at his feet. Her office phone number was on there, as well as her cell phone. A government-issued cell phone number was also on the card, as well as an email address. Three ways for Whistler to get in touch with her, if the need arose. "Have a Merry Christmas," she added before approaching the counter, placing the extra order and paying. post comment

Reporting [19 Dec 2008|01:05am] TO: DIRECTOR, FBI; CHICAGO DIRECTOR, FBI FROM: FBI SPECIAL AGENT 438-2B SUBJECT: Investigation into fallout from Community Area 7. This communication is classified “TOP SECRET” in its entirety. Enclosed for the Bureau is an envelope which contains a possible classified document. On December 10, 2013, FBI Special Agent Jillian Andersen conducted her first investigative tour of the facilities in which the UNITED STATES ARMY has conducted its investigations of the June 22, 2012 incident in Chicago’s Community Area 7 (otherwise known as Lincoln Park). Her tour included a debriefing with Captain Kathleen Forbes, M.D. AMEDD (Army Medical Department), a helicopter tour over the quarantine zone and an interview with Dr. Joaquin Espinoza at Argonne National Laboratory. This report was compiled and submitted by FBI Special Agent Jillian Andersen, Chicago field office. The contents of this report are highly classified as decreed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and are intended solely for the Chicago Director and the National Director based in Washington, D.C. Classified Dec. 19, 2013 ( Top Secret - Eyes Only ) post comment

Unsetlling [10 Dec 2008|10:09pm] Even with having to wait for Dr. Espinoza to meet with her, Jill couldn't hide the smile on her face. After all, it wasn't every day one got to see the United States military in action, taking down a large fire-breathing monster with a swiftness and efficiency unlike anything the agent had seen from someone who wasn't gifted with supernatural powers. The more Jill learned of the reality on the other side of the Lincoln Park barricade, the more she was starting to get a sense for what the FBI wanted her to do. It didn't make that job any easier, but at least Jill now knew what that job was. The agent waited in one of the lobbies at Argonne, knowing Dr. Joaquin Espinoza would meet with her and maybe show her one of the specimens being held in captivity. Seeing some of the mutants "in the wild," so to speak, had been an eye-opening experience, and Jill wanted to know just what the military and its scientists did with the ones they captured. Jill already knew the cause; now she wanted to see the effect. Even if it meant seeing some potentially grotesque and scary things. That thought didn't really bother Jill; a lot of things didn't seem quite so scary anymore after the agent spent nearly a decade with Wolfram & Hart. She stared David Gregor in the eye twice and cut him down, so as far as Jill was concerned, some monsters weren't going to make her shake in her incredibly expensive shoes. Joaquin Espinoza was a genius. Born in Havana, he emigrated to the States as a toddler when his parents fled Castro's regime in a barely-seaworthy tugboat. Landing in Florida, the family was detained by the government while they applied for and were granted asylum. He became a naturalized citizen at the age of four and got his education in American schools. Intelligent and curious, he made his early mark in science courses, and once he graduated from high school he was offered a full scholarship to attend Northwestern University. Upon graduation, he accepted a job with the Pentagon, researching the effects of both natural and unnatural medical conditions inflicted on the human body. Plainly put, mutations. The Lincoln Park incident had attracted quite a lot of attention, and when Espinoza got word that he was to be transferred to Illinois to head up a long-term research project on the outcome of a mysterious portal opening up and infecting a large portion of the residents, he considered it to be the jewel in his crown. Not only was he given free reign to recruit the most promising technicians and lab workers for his staff, he didn't report directly to anyone except for a few highly-placed military personnel. Even when the hard data started to dry up, what with no one being allowed within the quarantined zone to investigate, the doctor continued his work doggedly. Espinoza was a small, neat man with short-cropped dark hair and a mustache he was always smoothing with his index finger. He was currently sitting in front of a computer terminal, recording some of the results from his latest round of tests. The keys on the high-tech machine were almost silent, the screen flickering softly as he typed. Only the best money could buy for the brightest star on staff. Given time, he'd be able to publish his work, at least in certain quarters. Theories were all very nice, but this was the real deal. This was science. ( Maddened ) "No, thank you," Jill said with a smile and a shake of her head. "I have to get back to my office now. It's been an ... informative day." Shaking Dr. Espinoza's hand, Jill made her way back down the blank hallway, leaving the complex much the way she came. She clutched at the cross on her neck again, shaking her head and feeling the tears building in her eyes again. The agent had done a remarkable job to this point of holding back her emotional response to what she had seen, but now that she was on her own and back within the realm of her private thoughts, Jill felt no such need to hide the way she felt anymore. Within minutes, Jill had gone through the necessary channels and security protocols to leave the Argonne complex, returning to the civilian side of the city. Before starting the engine to her car and heading back to the office, Jill closed her eyes and rest her forehead atop the steering wheel, gripping the sides with her hands. One tear became two, which turned into three, until the agent wound up sobbing quietly in the confines of her vehicle. She couldn't get the image of Andrea Turnbull without an arm out of her head, and it really hurt knowing what happened to that arm. After a few minutes, Jill wiped her eyes and glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Going to the office looking like this would do her no good; Jill retrieved a napkin from the glove box and dabbed under her eyes, sniffling and wiping away the last few tears that managed to fall. The agent shook her head, finally starting the motor and buckling her seatbelt. The office could wait. First, Jill needed to get to church -- she wanted to pray for Andrea and Cain. [NPC Dr. Espinoza was written by Stargazer.] post comment

Briefing, Part I [07 Dec 2008|01:25am] Kathleen had answered her page from the clerk in the administrative office that Special Agent Andersen had arrived for her appointment. “Sergeant, please tell her that I will be down in a few minutes.” She then hung up the phone. Her eyes read the hands of her watch to confirm the time. Jill had arrived earlier than expected. She quickly saved her reports, closed her windows, and then logged off her laptop. The tour was going to take up most of the day, and Colonel Wentworth had personally asked that she accompany the Agent throughout the day. It was kind of cool that she was going to be the one to show Jill around, which also included a helicopter ride to Argonne National Laboratory. At the elevator lobby, the Captain glanced at herself in a mirror, wearing her gray digital patterned combat uniform. She did not particularly like the way she looked in the Army Combat Uniform, but the new zone commander insisted that medical personnel start wearing the ACU more often while on duty at the hospital. At first glance, she looked like any other soldier in the uniform and there was nothing to indicate she was a medical doctor. The only hint that she was in the medical corps was the AMEDD shoulder patch. Truth be told, Jill had no idea what to expect. The grainy photos in the file on Lincoln Park -- Community Area 7 -- were one thing, though disturbing in their own right. The agent was sure seeing some of the mutations in-person would be quite the startling experience, which was why she decided to forgo lunch before arriving for her briefing with Dr. Forbes. Jill was relieved to know Kathleen would be showing her the facilities, more comfortable with someone she already knew than someone who had been nothing more than a name in a file. The agent smoothed out her hair, making sure her ponytail was snug enough for the occasion. Her badge hung off the left collar of her navy blue business suit, Jill's look decidedly more conservative than it was when she had been at Wolfram & Hart. Dress codes weren't as strict there, but more than anything it was a change in Jill's attitude. Somehow, embellished cleavage and short skirts seemed to fit the evil lawyer bitch motif, while a solid-colored business suit with slacks seemed more apropos for the whole FBI thing. She smiled when she saw Kathleen, though it took her a moment to recognize the doctor in her uniform. She was so used to seeing Kathleen in one of her dress uniforms or a white doctor's lab coat that the combat uniform was a little unsettling. Were they going to be going behind the wall? She didn't recall that being on the agenda. Then again, it probably came with the territory -- TC/SCI clearance was a two-way street in that regard. If you wanted to learn the truth, you had to go extra lengths to get it. "Dr. Forbes," she said, extending her right hand in a show of professionalism. “Agent Andersen,” she shook Jill's hand and then flashed her smile. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?” She asked. They had shared a few oddball emails and an occasional call since the last time they met. ( Cause and Effect ) post comment

Eye Opener [02 Dec 2008|09:06pm] Considering all the hoops Jill had to jump through just to get this intel, it didn’t surprise her in the least that the FBI wouldn’t let her leave the premises with it. Not that the agent particularly cared whether she read it in her living room or the office; either way, it was an eye-opening couple of hours. The only light in Jill’s office came from the lamp sitting on her desk, though Jill herself was actually Indian-style on the floor, a pencil clenched between her teeth. Papers from the Lincoln Park file surrounded Jill, confining her to a virtual island of carpet in the middle of her workspace. Her blazer was draped over the chair, leaving Jill in her sleeveless red top and gray dress pants. Black high-heeled shoes were by the door, because wearing them caused her feet to scream out in pain. A cursory investigation of the files revealed the bulk of information being compiled in the immediate aftermath of the incident. As the months passed, information became harder to come by, and the agent found herself wondering why that was the case. Then again, if information wasn’t so scarce, would the bureau have given her the assignment? Jill doubted it. ( Community Area 7 ) Now, she wished she could enlist the help of a Slayer or Watcher. This sort of thing was right in their wheelhouse, wasn’t it? The United States government, whether it wanted to admit it or not, was still a rookie when it came to supernatural phenomenon. Jill yawned, closing the door to her office behind her. She’d give it more thought tomorrow; right now, the burning in her eyes told her other, more normal things took precedence. Like sleep – and eventually Starbucks. post comment

Interrogation [18 Nov 2008|05:19pm] Maureen forgot to mention the in-depth investigation part of things. All Jill wanted was access to the government's complete file on Lincoln Park, something beyond what CNN and The New York Times liked to shove down everyone's throat, even more than a year after the fact. If the Federal Bureau of Investigation wanted Jill to take a more active role in the investigation and monitoring of the quarantine area, the agent was going to need access to everything. Which was what eventually led Jill to this dark room, where she sat in a cold, uncomfortable metal chair. Nodes were attached to her forehead, with cords running from the nodes to all sorts of electronic equipment and computers the agent had never seen. Best Jill could tell, the machinery was some super-advanced form of a polygraph, and as she sat and awaited this most recent line of questioning, Jill felt like this was needless and excessive. She'd already proven her worth as an agent; why go through all this just to upgrade her security clearance level? She'd never met the woman sitting by the computer monitor, scratching her chin and holding a pencil inches from a pad of paper. She showed no emotion, which when combined with the lack of aesthetics in the room made the agent really uncomfortable. It almost felt like she was being interrogated over a crime, not questioned to determine whether she could be trusted with government intel. Either way, the sooner this ended, the better. This was the side of government life Jill really hated. ( Past Associations ) [NPC Miranda Guitterez was written by Stargazer.] post comment

Classified [14 Oct 2008|08:41pm] “I don’t see what the issue is, Agent Andersen. You have everything you need.” “No, I don’t,” Jill said in as even a tone as she could muster. Getting angry at the Chicago FBI Director probably wouldn’t go a long way to getting the agent what she needed. Hell, it might get her fired. “The file you gave me only tells me everything I already know – cause I saw the media reports and I read the articles.” Maureen Sanders sat back in her leather chair, interlocking her fingers along her midsection. Her chewed on her lower lip the way she always did when she mulled things over, her green eyes narrowing. Short blond locks framed her pale face and her narrow gaze eventually shifted to the window to her left. Her eyes eventually made their way back to Jill. “And you don’t think you can do what we need you to do without more,” she posited. “You realize the rest is classified.” “And why don’t I have the clearance?” Jill wondered, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m a member of the FBI, Maureen. Shouldn’t I have the same access as the other agents who might be monitoring the situation?” There was a hint of desperation in Jill’s eyes, even though she was trying her best to hide it. She really didn’t want to seem desperate to Maureen, but the fact was, with the information she had now, there was no way Jill could do her job properly. And considering the agent actually wanted to do her job nowadays, she wanted to get every advantage she could. Even if that meant pushing for classified intelligence. Maureen leaned forward, resting her elbows on what seemed to be an inordinately shiny desk. Seriously, Jill thought she could see her reflection in the wood. “You know I have to go through certain channels to get this,” she said. “I can’t just hand you a folder with ‘Classified’ written on it and let you be on your merry way.” Jill glanced down at her hands for a moment, wishing her job didn’t have so much red tape. That was one thing about Wolfram & Hart; if Jill wanted something, she just got it regardless of the consequences or the complications. But now, with the FBI, there were channels and waiting periods and people who directed you to people who directed you to people who directed you to people who ever lucky if they could deliver a pizza without blowing up the entire planet. “I know,” she said. “I realize it’ll take some time and a formal request will have to be filled out. But I don’t care.” If Jill didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn she saw the edges of Maureen’s mouth twitch into a smile. The agent took in a deep breath to calm her screaming nerves, refusing to tear her gaze away from the director. Jill was not going to back down from this, whether Washington said yes or no. “Well,” Maureen said, “I appreciate your vigor. Normally, I tell an agent something’s classified, they slink on back to their office and make do with what they have. “I can see why Wolfram & Hart liked you so much.” Jill visibly cringed, standing and placing her notepad back into her briefcase. She pulled her black ponytail over her shoulder again, shaking her head. “Please, Maureen,” she said, trying to hide her irritation, “don’t bring them up again. At least, not on a personal level.” Maureen gave a nod and stood as well, smoothing over her business coat. “My apologies,” she said. “I’ll file the request after lunch. We should hear back in about three to five days.” “Thank you,” Jill said with a smile. “In the meantime,” the director suggested, “why not take a few days to yourself? You’ve been working almost day-and-night the past few weeks. You can come back once we hear about the request.” The agent gave a soft smile, offering a single nod. “Thank you, Maureen,” she said. As she walked back to her own office, Jill couldn’t hide the smile from her face. Sure, there was a chance Washington would deny their request to grant Jill access to the classified file, the fact that she was given a short vacation of sorts was a welcome surprise. Jill didn’t know what she’d do with her time off, but she looked forward to finding out. And with any luck, the agent would be able to actually do her job when she returned. [NPC Maureen Sanders was written by Jeff.] post comment

Questioning [09 Oct 2008|12:07am] Ding. The doors of the elevator opened onto the lobby floor. Kathleen stepped out of the elevator quickly, as she was running late and had kept the FBI agent waiting. The main lobby was almost like the interior of a modern church with all the Catholic symbols, from a statue of the holy mother, to a large cross that faced the main doors. There was even a small water feature in the center of the lobby of blessed holy water. It was a safe haven. The Catholic hospital was originally founded in 1868, and one of the oldest hospitals in Chicago, though the current building was built in the 1960s. The hospital was part of the Resurrection Heath Care network, which operated many other hospitals in Chicago area. The U.S. Army Medical Department leased the south-west wing of the hospital to support the military operation overseeing the Lincoln Park containment zone. Kathleen wore her Army Service Uniform, and instead of the skirt this time, she wore light blue slacks with a gold strip down the pant leg. The uniform very much resembled the popular cavalry uniforms of the late nineteenth century. The Army liked to keep with tradition and the uniform was part of its heritage. It had replaced the old-dress green uniform a few years earlier back in 2010. A choice very much preferred by the young doctor, the new blue uniform was simply nicer. Past the entrance door to the outside, Kathleen paused for a moment to place her black beret on her head, and shaped it. Regulations required that a cover be wore outdoor with the uniform, and removed once indoors unless one carried arms. She found the FBI agent sitting at one of the benches around the large mason statues of St. Joseph and Jesus as a young boy. “Agent Andersen,” she said to get her attention as she approached. The statue of St. Joseph and a young Jesus struck Jill. Her readings from the night before were still fresh in the agent's mind, and she sat and stared at the statue while she waited for Dr. Forbes. The phone call asking for a meet had been a pleasant surprise; Jill never thought Kathleen would choose not to ever call, but the agent figured it would've at least been another couple days. From what she read in the case file and heard from Kathleen in their last meeting, the attack at the bar was rather traumatic, so Jill would've understood if the doctor needed a little more time. Hearing the doctor's voice snapped Jill out of her trance, and she shook her head once before tearing her eyes off the statue. The agent stood and slung her black purse over her left shoulder, offering her right hand. "Dr. Forbes," Jill said with a pleasant grin, glad she put her black hair in a ponytail as a gust of wind kicked up. Four months in Chicago, and finally Jill realized it was the Windy City. Jill straightened the crimson button-down she wore, making sure her FBI identification badge was securely fastened to the breast pocket. She left the top two buttons undone, so that the gold cross she wore around her neck was visible. She gave the statue one more glance, before taking in Kathleen in her uniform. It was striking, when up until now the agent had only seen her in scrubs and a white lab coat. "Hectic day?" ( Truth with a side of lunch ) The agent gave Kathleen a smile before reaching over and giving her a quick hug. "It seems like you need one," she clarified as she released her hold and walked out the door of the shop, holding it open for the doctor. "Thank you for the information. I'll let you know when we catch the monsters who did this. "You be safe, okay?" "I'll do my best." Kathleen placed her black beret on top of her head, and looked at her reflection in the window to make sure it was on straight and even. She then walked back toward the hospital, at least part of the way with Agent Andersen. post comment

A Good Cleansing [19 Sep 2008|04:23pm] Truth be told, it had been far too long since Jill set foot inside Our Lady of Victory. Not that the agent was the sort of person to think church attendance was mandatory to being a good Christian, but the rigors of her job often required more personal and solitary worship. It had been four whole days since Jill last read from her Bible, so burnt out by the drama involving the case she could no longer investigate for the FBI. Being Dylan Coker's former attorney, investigating his alleged drug dealings represented a conflict of interest -- one Wolfram & Hart would not hesitate for a second to exploit. And though it was tempting to use mystical resources to give the law firm a taste of its own medicine, Jill couldn't bring herself to suggest it. It was all so unseemly, and on some level, the FBI would be no better if it went down that road. While the federal government was certainly not above morally ambiguous actions, it was still better than Wolfram & Hart. Come to think of it, a root canal with anesthetic in the bottom layer of Hell was still better than Wolfram & Hart. Jill hoped David was here. It had been too long since she last saw the man, and after her run-in with Elise -- and having to set foot in that building -- Jill felt the need to see a friendly face. And really, what was friendlier than someone who devoted their life to God? Especially when they did without going to war. The room was quiet, and near as Jill could tell, empty. Candle light flickered against the walls, and the statue of Mary was as striking as it had been the first time she sat within these walls. "Hello?" ( God bless ) "Take care," he responded with a modicum of regained composure. Watching the agent leave, he found it hard to imagine her as anything but repentant soul she had become; the idea of her as some violent bastion of hell's presence on earth was difficult to digest. Still, he knew people could change -- he'd seen it enough over the years. He only hoped that Jill's newfound faith would carry her through. post comment

On the Phone [17 Sep 2008|05:54pm] “With all due respect, sir, you know damn well that’s how it is. “You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t know that would be a conflict of interest. I used to be his lawyer, for God’s sake! “Listen, I’m all for lending my expertise to help us deal with the strategies Wolfram & Hart throws our way. Hell, I’m glad the FBI has a Mystical Resources department, so we can protect ourselves from some of those strategies … “What? No … sir, you’re not listening. Wolfram & Hart won’t leave any stone unturned. Calling me out for a conflict of interest is child’s play for them. We’re talking about a corporation who tampers with jurors – I’m talking spells, if not outright wetwork. “I don’t wanna be taken off the case, either, but the fact is if I don’t hand it off to someone else, this thing’s never gonna see the inside of a federal courtroom. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the thought of Dylan Coker walking the streets again. It’s only a matter of time before a body comes up with heroin where its blood should be. “So put Flores on the case. I can sit on the sideline and give advice on how to deal with Wolfram & Hart. “Yes, but she doesn’t scare me, sir. “No, we can’t cast a spell to make the judge and grand jury forget the conflict of interest. If we do that, we’re no better than Wolfram & Hart. I understand we live in a world where certain rules have to be … rewritten, but I’d like to think we’re above using their tactics. “I don’t like it either, sir. But if we want this guy behind bars, I don’t see where we have any other choice. “I want to stick it to the firm as much as you do – more so, even. But I gotta pick and choose my battles. I can’t just go up to them, guns a-blazin’. I do that, they’ll smack me down and you’ll be short an agent. Hell, for all I know, they might be planning that anyway. “Trust me, sir. When it comes to them, we gotta be happy with the little victories, and we gotta be patient. “Flores is plenty capable; this case is going to be in good hands.” post comment

A Tingle [16 Sep 2008|08:56pm] Technically her superior, Elise had never regarded Rodney Katsnelson with much more than mild disdain. Balding, bumbling and notoriously sweaty palms, the man disgusted her on more than one level. She never did understand just how he had climbed so far up the corporate ladder, though she had heard a rumor or two of the ruthless attitude he'd had in his youth. Middle age had softened the man; it was more likely than not only a matter of time before someone had him for breakfast. At least a foot shorter, Elise made no expression as she looked up at the man quietly berating her. "... and while I do appreciate your fervor, it would really be better for all of us if you did refrain from killing people now and again," he finished. Elise blinked. "But they annoy me," she replied simply. He sighed. "Yes, I understand that, but ..." "Mr. Katsnelson," Elise interrupted, putting a small hand on his arm to ebb the flow of his words. "While my methods are not necessarily in line with your personal corporate vision, I imagine that the Senior Partners knew very well what they were doing when they sent me here. If I were you ... I wouldn't get in my way." She turned then on her designer heels, heading towards her office. ( First of All ) You would know, wouldn't you? Leaving Elise's office, Jill scowled at literally everyone she walked by, disgusted with their ignorance -- or their compliance, if they actually knew what this place was. The fact that she used to be one of those people made her hate them even more, though she did feel a twinge of sympathy for the ignorant ones, the ones who honestly thought Wolfram & Hart was just a massive corporation. Even then, in this day and age, they should've known better. Finally walking back out into the sunlight, Jill flipped open her phone, pressing it to her ear. "Director," she spoke. "We have a problem. A big problem." post comment

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