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@redemptionguided-blog
CODENAME: HOOK
extralegallyblonde:
She ignores Marshall as she wishes Jessica a good evening and sees her back to the steps. While Monroe understands the other agent’s anxiety, she also knows that she isn’t done with the situation yet and that if she isn’t careful now, if she suddenly starts rushing, Jessica could notice. At best, that would delay them further; at worst, it could jeopardize both of their missions. Still, she does her best to minimize small talk.
Once she hears the other woman’s steps fade from the stairwell, she makes her way back to the room she’d opened before, where Marshall is waiting.
“As promised.” She sets the card on the dresser without bothering to look for him. She closes the door behind her as she exits before pushing her cart to another section of the floor, leaving Marshall with that hall to himself. She doesn’t need to say anything else, but there’s no one around, and she can’t help herself as she murmurs “Happy now?” to him through the coms.
“Happy no, satisfied yes,” Marshall confirms and a large hand consumes the card, pulling it up into his sleeve. Pacing in the room for a moment -- he wants to assure Jessica could clear the hall before his exit -- his mind races. It is him time to get shit done, finally.
Moving out into the hallway, crystal eyes glance up and down the hallway with caution. Clear. Remaining vigilant, the agent takes confident steps down the hallway to the room he was now granted access too. Swiping the card his body tenses -- please work -- when it does, Marshall's muscles relax and he quickly slips inside. Dropping his voice, Marshall speaks into his com, advising those watching over the mission that he has made it to the room.
The room is well kept, but it is clear that whoever left last, left in a hurry. Object lie askew off their surfaces, marking the path the unknown individual took before taking flight. “Looks like we got something to work with here,” he mutters more to himself than anything.
Opening up the briefcase that he carried with him, Marshall who looks like no more than a businessman pulls out a camera to first depict the present state of the room. Flashes of light capture a laptop and phone at the room’s desk, the chair on its side on the floor. Keeping his camera with him, Marshall straightens up the chair and takes a seat. Thick fingers moved over the computer’s keyboard. His face falls into a scowl. Wiped clean. Hands then fall to the phone, also wiped. Fuck.
“We have a laptop and phone on location. Devices are both wiped clean.” Maybe someone with a greater skill level than he with technologies would be able to uncover something, but Marshall is not the guy for computers. Moving on, Marshall pulled out his brush and powders and moved back towards the door.
Earlier, Agent Key sent guard through the room and they left fingerprints behind. Lifting them with the small kit from his briefcase was a careful skill. Marshall takes prints from a number of surfaces and looks over them with a careful eye. “It looks like we have more than one set here. The two guards and maybe the bastard we are looking for --”
Sighing, Marshall loads the prints into the hardware of his briefcase and hopes the signal is strong enough to get back to the bunker for analysis. Trudging through the room his eyes fall on an overturned wastepaper basket. “Please don’t let there be condoms on here,” he whispers to himself -- and he is sure he can here agent Ruth laughing at him on the other end. Reaching in, he feels the softness of used tissues then small pieces of paper. Pulling a handful out of the crescent shadow it becomes clear; “We have a business card?” His finger pokes around in the mess, "Appears to have some writing.”
Putting it into the safety of an evidence bad for analysis later, Marshall moves into the bedroom, He only has so much time before he has to clear the room. The camera’s light floods the dark room. It’s as if the bed wasn’t slept in, but something catches his eye, the pillows are out of order for the king-sized bed. Moving forward his eyes look over the pillows and sheet. It is there, sprawled across the pillows are thicks strands of hair. Moving for his kit he takes tweezers and small bags and places the strands in.
“Room is canvassed. I’m going to clear.”
END.
CODENAME: HOOK
extralegallyblonde:
“Unhelpful,” she hisses back to him as she ‘looks’ through the bathroom. She hears Jessica taking the couch apart, meaning she’s safe from her gaze for a few moments, at least. An idea begins to occur to her, and she takes both cards out to look at them.
They’re identical, except that there’s a light scratch across the corner of Monroe’s, so she can tell them apart. Jessica doesn’t know that though, and it’s hardly noticeable.
“Alright, I’ve got something,” She mutters over the coms, before raising her voice again. “Oh! I found it!” She pockets Jessica’s card and walks, smiling, into the main part of the room with her own held out. “Must’ve slipped out of your pocket while you were doing the bathroom.” Now she just has to get Jessica’s card to Marshall, and then tell the main desk she lost her own card. They’ll deactivate the card she gave Jessica and issue her, Monroe, a new one. She and Marshall will both have working cards and all she’ll have to do after that is get the card back from Marshall and switch it with the one in Jessica’s locker after he’s done. Barring any other unforeseen circumstances, this should work.
“Got it? Good, now get it to me,” Marshall half growled into his com. Usually, he did well under pressure, but this mission had higher stakes. It wasn’t just him against an enemy society or a collection of guards he could fight off without really trying -- this mission relied on everyone doing their part on schedule. If this Jessica delayed their mission any longer, and he wasn’t able to complete his mission, Marshall would never be able to live with himself.
With the pressure slowly beginning to get to Marshall he can feel his palms begin to sweat. “Monroe, I’m exactly where you told me to be. Key card, now. I am running out of time.”
CODENAME: HOOK
extralegallyblonde:
Monroe swipes open one of the rooms at the far end of the hall, letting Jessica in to start searching. “I am open to suggestions,” she mutters back once the other woman is out of earshot. Does she have time to hide the key card, let Jessica find it, and grab another one? She’s working through that scenario when Jessica pipes up:
“Oh! The last room I did on this floor was 406; they had late check out. Maybe there?”
406 sounds familiar. Why does 406 sound-
That’s where Marshall is. Oh boy.
“406,” she repeats so Marshall can hear her. “Good thinking. Y’know I was just doing the room across the hall. I think I actually left the door open,” she says, smiling sheepishly so that Jess will think it’s a confession and not instructions. “Well, we should get moving!”
She makes sure to trip over her own feet on their way back towards the hall, to distract Jessica and hopefully give Marshall an extra second to move.
Slouched against the wall, Marshall waited casually, with no feeling of alertness or alarm -- that is until he hears the sweet sound of Monroe’s voice in the com. 406. For fuck sakes.
“I swear Monroe, if you can’t take care of this I will,” James told her his words a threat towards the other woman. He won’t hurt her -- badly -- but he is not going to let a little housekeeper stand in the way of finding out what happened to their fallen comrade Franklin.
Hearing the click of their shoes growing nearer, Marshall makes the dash across the hall into the open room. His face twists into a knot, the room a cluttered mess. Where is he supposed to hide in here? “Slip me the card and get rid of her.”
CODENAME: HOOK
extralegallyblonde:
Agent Monroe pushes her cart to a stop outside the room across from the one Marshall is supposed to be waiting in, unlocking the door and leaving it open slightly so it seems to anyone who sees her like she’s doing the turn down service. No one should; there’s another pair of housekeepers around the corner, she knows, but she’s the only one on this section right now. Still, she speaks quietly as she switches to their designated channel and gives Marshall the heads up over the coms:
“Marshall, are you in position? I’m ready to make the-”
She hears the stair door open a few feet away. “Shit. Don’t move.” She says quickly over the line, before turning to see who it is.
It’s one of the other housekeepers. Monroe smiles in confusion at the woman, and asks with easiness she doesn’t feel, “Watcha doing up here Jess? I thought you’d left.”
“I did, but I forgot my car keys. When I went back to my locker to get them, I realized my master key was missing. I thought I’d check to see if I left it up here before I reported it missing, cuz you know how they get. Think you could help me?”
“Of course!” She actually knows exactly where Jessica’s key is; it’s burning a hole in her back pocket as she speaks. She couldn’t give Marshall her own because she has to keep doing turn down afterwards. If only Jessica had remembered her keys.
“Let’s start here.” Monroe steers her to the other end of the hall, away from Marshall, as she thinks through her options.
Marshall’s lips were parted to speak into his com. when he was silenced by her voice coming through again. Naturally, there always had to be some form of complication. Things could ever go smoothly during a mission. An unforeseen variable, in this case, Jessica, got in the way. Couldn’t they just hog-tie her and shove her in a storage closet? NO, that would be too easy.
Sighing the agent remained in the shadows of the room -- just in case someone sauntered inside. He needed to be able to take cover, fight, or talk his way out of the situation. Thankfully he could be prepared for either outcome. Waiting, however, leaves Marshall impatient, “Com'on Monroe, we don’t have all day,” he mutters into the com, his words a whisper in the air.
CODENAME: HOOK
If there is one thing Agent Marshall is known for, it is his ability to make it seem like he belongs where he doesn’t. It is a skill he masters time-in-time again, beginning when conning ruled his life. Donning a fine suit, and his head held high in confidence Marshall blends in with the business crowed that loiters in the lobby. It is when the crowd begins to thin that the scars on his hands, and the cockiness in his stride that becomes more evident.
His head lowers out of habit, hiding his features from the camera at each corner -- while he knows Agent Ruth has been left in charge of assuring that the camera feeds do not display his presence, he doesn’t trust her. Ruth has always caused too much trouble for his liking. Passing a housekeepers cart, his eyes linger on the two woman who work around it. Charming, he gives a petite blonde a wink before continuing down the hall where he slips into the empty room awaiting him. If only infiltrating the other rooms could be as simple, now he wait and hope that Monroe can get him the key card.
@extralegallyblonde
Battered [OPEN]
agentedison:
Eddie flinches, not wary at the man’s actions but rather his lack of care for the crimson smudge further smearing across his face. Does he not feel that? Maybe not. His mouth probably tastes like warm pennies that’ve been in the sun. Eddie’s lips press into a thin line, shoulders rolling into a languid shrug.
Eddie leans their chin in towards their chest and practically squeaks, voice pitching, “Gonna get a lil’ something everywhere if you keep spitting it on the ground, my guy!”
Their amusement, the little they had, is gone, at the thinly veil warning. By no means is Eddie looking to step on anyone’s toes, especially not this man’s, and they certainly fear the day they may have to train with him. Stiffly, they respond, “… yeah, a recruit. And you’re- not.” An obvious deduction on their part (not really). They carefully step aside, not necessarily to end the conversation but to allow Marshall to pass. With an outstretched arm allowing passage, Eddie suggests, “We can keep up with the introductions on the way to the medical bay, if you want. The hallways won’t look pretty in red.”
The hallways won’t look pretty in red. Marshall knows there is blood -- blood in his mouth, and smeared across his hands -- dripping down his chin and onto the floor. He always knows just how to make a mess of things, almost all the blood stains in the compound belong to Agent Marshall or one of his victims.
Glancing down, bright eyes watch as the blood beads down his colorless button down. What doesn’t gather in a crimson stain catches on the thick leather of his belt before dropping to the floor. Fuck, he is bleeding bad.
Rough hands tug the shirt free of its confines before ripping the fabric. The loss of fabric puts his body on display. With it, Marshall puts pressure on the bleeding and holds his blazer closed with his opposing hands. “Medical is sure going to love seeing me today. I swear I’m the only guy that comes in this fucked up when there are no active missions.”
Classy clothing
Battered [OPEN]
agent-truth:
“You and Madison?” Truth raised her eyebrows, visibly surprised by the confession. She didn’t know her mentor was the type to have a relationship with someone in the Agency, then again it wasn’t her business. If he wanted to talk about it, she would be more than happy to listen. But otherwise, she wouldn’t push it, especially since she didn’t know him. “Sorry, that was intrusive.”
“Do you go out often? I don’t know, I’d feel awkward like everyone knows you’re an agent.” She chuckled and pushed the door of the infirmary. “Madison?” She called out but frowned when she didn’t answer. “Alright, she’s not here… Just sit down, I’ll see what I can do to help you.”
“Yeah,” his response was gruff and simple. He wasn’t about to go into any details either. The relationship he shares - and shared in the past - is unique. Agent Marshall is selective about who he lets in, and Agent Madison was his first. Full of complications, the job, and their personalities didn’t allow them to continue to engage in relations -- but it didn’t make it easier to watch her flirt with Agent Hamilton.
Relief near takes Agent Marshall when Agent Madison isn’t in the infirmary. With Agent’s Truth’s questions, he feels it would be almost awkward to have to suffer through her fixing him up in the young woman’s presence. “You don’t have to do that, I can just wait here until Mads comes along.”
Battered [OPEN]
agenttesla:
The humor she found at his indignation almost outweighed the disappointment that, once again, he wouldn’t disclose a thing. However, his muttered words managed to stretch her mouth wide in a smile and add an amused twinkle in her eye, so it was safe to say she wasn’t too upset.
She let slip a loud laugh as she stepped closer to peer up at his lip wound; they were pretty badly beaten up, a shame, too, since they would have been lovely, y’know, without all that blood. Forcing her smile down to a small tilt of her lips, Tesla traveled her gaze up to his eyes, attempting to sound solemn, “Only if you want to disturb every other agent in this building, because you know I’ll scream the floor down if you do.”
“I don’t think it would bother anyone really -- not after that screech you just let out,” he teases her and takes a step closer to her petite frame. It almost made Marshall curious just how small she was. How did a strong wind not break her-- or at least not knock her off balance? So petite she seems almost frail.
“--Well if I don’t get to pick you up, will you at least want with me? If I have to get to medical I wouldn’t mind the company -- besides if I pass out before I can get there I can at least count on you to run and get Agent Madison to come take care of me.”
Battered [OPEN]
founderbuilt:
“No.” Her voice is stern, firm as she grabs his arm, her grip stronger than expected. “I’m going to patch you up, then I’m going to kick your ass twice.” Eyes narrowed, she begins to pull Marshall towards the doors that lead to the medical bay. “What the hell happened?”
“I’d like to see you try sweetheart,” Marshall teases and lets his steps fall into place behind hers. They have a history, and Marshall struggles to leave it in the past -- even with her rumored relations with Agent Hamilton. Feelings are a difficult concept for Marshall, he either has them or rids of them near completely. His feelings for Agent Madison are ones Marshall doesn’t think he can completely suppress. “Just a fight, you know me-- It’s all talk until they throw the first punch.”
Business elegance
Shane Bain .
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