#intern jordan

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We’ve got another big anniversary today: On Jan. 29, 1860, Anton Chekhov was born in Taganrog, Russia. He was a doctor by trade, and a playwright and short story writer by choice. (For a time, Chekov's family lived off his writing.) Chekhov left his mark on the modernist writers Virginia Woolf and James Joyce, having pioneered the use of stream of consciousness. 

Here’s what literary critic James Wood has to say about Chekhov’s use of detail:

"Chekhov thinks of detail, even visual detail, as a story, and thinks of story as an enigma. He was not interested in noticing that the roofs of a town look like armadillo shells, or that he was confused about God, or that the Russian people represented the world spirit on a troika. He was drawn neither to the statically poetic nor to the statically philosophical. Detail is hardly ever a stable entity in Chekhov's work; it is a reticent event. He found the world to be as deeply evasive as he was himself -- life as a tree of separate hanging stories, of dangling privacies. For him a story did not merely begin in enigma, but ended in enigma too."

[squealedagent13]

[OPENING VIDEO FEED: STARK-BOT 000413]

[PROCESSING] A larger-than-life, smiling face pops into view on the video, blue eyes wide and slightly nervous. [IDENTIFYING... CONFIRMED: JORDAN WHITELEY. S.Q.U.E.A.L.E.D. INTERN] She taps the screen, as if to make sure that the bot is functioning, and clears her throat. “Alright, Jordan the intern signing in. Uhm, if that’s... what I’m supposed to say... Anyways, I’m about to start on my test! So. Here we go. I think this is the right place,” she turns her head to look at the building behind her as she says this. The building looks like an office, large and grey and nondescript. She straightens up and leaves the bot on the ground. She then walks into the building. [STEALTH MODE: ACTIVATED] The video follows the intern’s progress through the entrance of the building, into a maze of hallways and offices. In front of all of that is a reception desk with a very bored looking lady behind it. She is impeccably dressed, and entirely focused on the papers in front of her. Jordan approaches the desk, and the woman holds up a hand to stop her speaking. She finishes writing something and looks up, peering at Jordan over the top of her glasses. [IDENTIFYING... MATCH NOT FOUND.] “Can I help you?” the woman asks, lacing her hands together. “Yes, hello! I was looking for a, uh, job? And I saw that there were openings for internship here-” “Name?” the woman drawls, looking unimpressed. “Ariel,” Jordan says, “Ariel Grey.” The woman types something into her computer and frowns. “I don’t see you on here,” she says suspiciously. “Oh, it’s spelled with an ‘e,’ not an ‘a,’” the intern says, as if this is a common error. The woman corrects herself and then nods. “So, you are Miss Ariel Evelyn Grey? Hmm, impressive school records... Southern Methodist University, hmm?” she looks up at the intern, who nods, and then looks back at her computer, “One of our own went to SMU. Outstanding agent, that one, but completely out of the blue. Perhaps you’ll know her.” The woman looks at the intern’s fake files for a while, and then looks up at the intern herself. “So, Miss Grey, why do you want to work here? Says you have an English degree, which doesn’t exactly make me think you wanted to come here.” “There’s not much one can do with an English degree, Miss,” the intern says, shrugging, “And I was a tad bit curious about this place. Looks like I can get all sorts of experience here.” The woman nods, looking back at the computer screen. “Yes, well, we’ll take you into consideration. In the meantime, see if you can grab an agent to show you around the place. Try to figure out if you really want to work here.” “I can do that, chief,” a voice says, and the camera swivels away from the intern and the woman to focus on another girl, who looks about the same age as Jordan. She has long, bright red hair and brown eyes. [IDENTIFYING... MATCH NOT FOUND.] “Ah, just the agent I was looking for!” the woman says, and the camera swivels back to her and Jordan. The intern’s eyes are wide and stare at the agent. “This is the one who went to SMU. Agent Gaundalf, this is Ariel Grey. Would you mind showing her around?” [SEARCHING “GAUNDALF”.... MATCH NOT FOUND] “No prob,” Gaundalf says, beckoning for the intern to follow her. Jordan walks rather stiffly, as if something is wrong. The two walk into an adjoining hallway and, after a few minutes, Agent Gaundalf suddenly whirls around and punches Jordan in the face. The intern stumbles backwards, hand on her nose. [THREAT DETECTED. DEFENSE SYSTEM: UNENGAGED.] “The hell, Jordan!?” the agent says, a crazy smile on her face, “Where have you been!?” “H-hey, Missy,” Jordan says, laughing nervously, “Good to see you, too.” [SEARCHING “MISSY GAUNDALF”.... MATCH NOT FOUND] The red-head pulls Jordan into a hug as she says, “God, I haven’t seen you since your folks died. ‘Lizabeth and I wondered where you had gone after that. Glad to see that you aren’t dead, too” Jordan winces visibly, and the agent backs off. “Soooo, why are you here under a fake name? You runnin’ from the law or somethin’?” the agent asks, a smirk on her face. Jordan looks rather tense, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, not running from the law. Just. Doing a thing,” she says, “It’s not important.” Missy raises an eyebrow, and Jordan tries to smile. “I didn’t know that you worked here, though! How’d that happen? Thought you were gonna try to find a clown college to go to,” the intern says, trying to change the subject, “That’s what you said in high school, anyways.” “Yeah, I tried that. The circus thought I was too cool, though, so they shipped me off here.” It was obvious that neither of the girls were going to give the other a straight answer. “So, am I supposed to know that you’re here?” Missy asks, and Jordan sighs. “...No, uh. Actually, I think I might have to. Uhm. Fight you.” Missy gives her a very skeptical look. “Really? You? Who used to be the self-proclaimed pacificator of every single one of your friends?  Who was the only one who could ever keep Isaak in check with your stupid little Homestuck moral thing?” Jordan shifts from foot to foot. “..Yeah. Sorry.” She then lunges forward, pulling her taser out of her purse. Missy jumps backwards, surprised, but the taser zaps her, regardless. She falls to the ground, while Jordan stands over her with a stunned expression. Apparently agents that aren’t Black Bolt are a lot easier to fight. [THREAT NEUTRALIZED] The intern takes a deep breath and continues walking, taking a left turn down a hallway that looks a lot darker than the others. She remembers from studying the layout of the building that it- whatever it is- is in the basement. She finds a stairwell and begins to run down the stairs, pulling a badge from her purse and clipping it to her clothes. It labels her as an agent. It would appear that she has done quite a bit of her own fake paperwork, not just relying on what Black Bolt made for her. She reaches the bottom and finds a door there. She scans her badge, nervously hoping that she’s done everything right, and the door’s lock clicks open. She pushes the door open and slips inside. The room is empty, with only a desk. It looks like a regular office. She frowns and walks over to the desk, examining it. A faded name plaque sits on it, and she doesn’t care enough to try and see the name on it. She looks on and under the desk, but sees nothing. She opens all of the drawers that she can find and finally withdraws a battered looking briefcase. She wonders why there was so much security for this one little office. [SCANNING ROOM... SCAN COMPLETE.] She tucks the briefcase under her arm and walks quickly back up the stairs and through the hallways, back to where she had knocked out Missy. She frowns when she sees that the agent is no longer there. But no alarm had sounded. She looks up sharply as she realizes that that must mean- She is suddenly knocked out of frame by a pair of feet that swing down from the ceiling. Agent Gaundalf drops to the ground, looking quite angry. [THREAT DETECTED. DEFENSE SYSTEM: UNENGAGED] “What, really? You’re robbing us?” Jordan groans and tries to get to her feet, cringing. She looks at the briefcase in her arms and lifts her shoulders in a combination of a wince and a shrug. “Sorry, Missy. I’ve got to do this.” They stare at eachother for a long moment before Missy speaks. “You’ve got five minutes to get out before I pull the alarm, Jordan. I wouldn’t be doing this unless I knew you. And also because I don’t think I could shoot you if I tried. But you have to leave that... whatever it is.” Jordan shakes her head. “No, I have to take it. I’ve got to. I’m sorry, really,” she says, “And... I will fight you, if you... fight me. I... I will.” She sounds about as threatening as a puppy. Missy sighs and shakes her head. “I guess that’s that, then.” She suddenly springs at Jordan, fist flying towards the intern’s face. Jordan tries to dodge and isn’t entirely successful, but manages to swing the briefcase up to hit Missy in the face. This knocks the agent backwards, and Jordan fervently hopes that whatever is in this briefcase isn’t breakable as she swings it into the side of Missy’s head. The agent stumbles to the side with a groan, and Jordan takes the second that she’s recovering to hit her in the head again. She feels pretty guilty, but she has to do this. Missy falls to the ground, and Jordan takes a moment to make sure that she isn’t dead. She isn’t dead, just unconscious. She straightens up, holding her hand to her face- now her cheek AND her nose are throbbing- and takes a deep breath. Okay. She’s got to get out of here. [THREAT NEUTRALIZED] She turns around, grips the briefcase more securely, and begins to walk. She walks back out of the hallways and through the lobby, knowing that she could be found out at any moment, and walks out the door. It isn’t until she’s halfway down the street that she starts running. [VIDEO FEED TERMINATED]

[squealedagent13]

just because everything's changing doesn't mean it's never been this way before

Jordan the intern sat in a taxi on its way to the airport, a small robot in her lap and a large duffel bag stuffed full to the brim with clothes and toiletries and books and weapons and papers and the like. She kept patting the robot nervously, staring out the window at the passing buildings. She felt guilty, horribly awfully guilty, for leaving without a word to anyone. But she didn't want to make Rory extra worried, and she didn't want to call attention to herself. It would be better to be in and out before anyone noticed her absence.

When they arrived at the airport, she fished money out of her wallet to hand to the cab driver. He thanked her and wished her luck, which she thought was odd. She hadn't said anything to him the entire way. Maybe she just had an anxious air about her. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and strode into the airport, coaching herself with every step.

"You can do this. You can do this. You can do this."

The next hour or so passed in a haze of people and smiling faces behind desks and lots of papers and getting lost two or three times in the airport. Eventually, she managed to convince the airport people that she was on a first-class trip to L.A. and was being allowed to take weapons and a robot on the plane, as evidenced by the papers that Miss Bolt had managed to put together for her and what she had forged for herself. Let it never be said that she couldn't lie to people.

So she wound up in a nice seat on the plane, sitting by herself. The lack of chatter from one red-headed ant was overly apparent a few quiet girls and a sweet elderly couple settled into first class with her, talking amongst themselves and occasionally laughing. She didn't particularly mind, though; She was set with her iPod, a book ("The Night Circus," a favorite of her's) and a cup of coffee. She settled back into her seat, and, somewhere over the middle of America, fell asleep.

---

She left her room impeccably clean, cleaner, almost, than it had ever been. The bed was made, and the clothes that she didn't take with her hung neatly in her closet. No half-eaten food or empty soda cans sat on the desk, and the whole place smelled faintly of cinnamon Febreeze. There was a note on the bed.

"I love you all, I'll miss you all. I'll be back in a week or so. Wish me luck!

-Jordan (the Intern)"

[stateofthe-art-pleasurebot]

-He blinks and the apps disappear. He looks crestfallen-

Oh..well. If you're sure...

[stateofthe-art-pleasurebot]

-Chuckles-

Ladies, ladies. Please. I have no clue who this M4 is. But as I have announced numerous times by now, my designation is iVIN. 

-His eyes travel the length of each of your bodies, calculations present in his left eye, a gaudy "Parental Control" icon popping up as he tries to guess each of their ages. He smirks at them-

I was not built by Miss Stark but by my former Mistress, Miss Justine Hammer...I am rather anxious to be acquainted with Miss Stark though. -His smirk deepens, folding his gleaming white hands behind his back-

Perhaps one of you lovely things can tell me where to find her?

[squealedagent13]

In Which Kasady Intimidates Intern

And the intern tells a lie.

Jordan the intern stalked into the kitchen, quite irritated at one Mr. Cletus Kasady. She did not want to put up with his... whatever it was that he was doing. He was probably trying to piss her off. “I can’t handle him,” she grumbled, walking over to the sink to make sure that she didn’t have any dirty dishes lying about. As she was doing so, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out. “[txt] You wouldn't be able to, even if you tried.” Her eyebrows furrowed. It was from the man himself. How did he know what she had said? She looked around furtively for a moment before texting him back, not wanting to deal with him. That was why she had left, wasn’t it? “[txt] I don't need your sass.” After sending that and ascertaining that were no dirty dishes to be washed, she pulled out a bowl. Maybe she’d make brownies. She hadn’t done that in a while. Unsurprisingly, her phone buzzed again. “[txt] You couldn't handle that either.” She drummed her fingers on the counter for a moment, irritated even further. She wanted to snark back at him, but, to be honest, that was not a battle she would win. She typed on her phone. “[txt] I would try to argue but yeah I'm actually not that great at handling anything.” Now that she had consented to defeat, perhaps he would leave her alone. She pulled out a box of brownie mix- she felt like being lazy today- and a bowl. As she turned to wash her hands, her phone buzzed once more. “[txt] Then how do you ever hope to handle two men at once?” She felt her face turn bright red, and she typed back furiously. “[txt] That is a fantastic question! [txt] Wow it looks like my phone is out of battery ahahaha!!!!” The intern turned off her phone and stuffed it in her pocket, taking deep breaths. No, that was not a subject she wanted to talk about. Especially not with- “Now, now... I was asking a question...” She gasped and whirled around, letting out a strangled squeak of surprise. There was Mr. Kasady, complete with a smirk on his face. She knew that she was probably blushing even more now. “Why would you do something like that!?” she yelled at him, raising a wooden spoon defensively. He feigned a look of innocence. “Like what?” he asked, still smirking. The intern took a deep breath to calm herself before replying, “Like appear out of freaking nowhere. Geeze, you're gonna give me a heart attack.” Kasady laughed, “Well, I have been here for a while. You just are too busy fantasizing about being the middle of a sandwich.” Jordan’s irritation took a sour turn towards anger. “I do not fantasize about being a sandwich!” she said, glaring at him, “My personal life is none of your business, anyways!” Kasady’s smirk grew sour, as well, more dangerous, as he said, “Sure ya do. Otherwise, you wouldn't string along Freckles and attempt to get your annoying lover back.” Jordan’s nose wrinkled as he used her nickname for Rory. She turned around, facing her bowl again. Suddenly he was right next to her, leaning against the counter. “And everything’s my business,” he said, chuckling. “No, everything is most certainly not your business,” the intern said, ripping open the top of the box violently, “Especially my business.” Kasady shook his head, “When it comes to you attempting to get that thing back to you, it most certainly is.” Jordan’s hands froze where they were, which was in the process of dumping brownie mix into the bowl. It slid out and landed in its destination, sending up a small puff of brown particles. She glanced at him, struggling to form words. “The ring,” she said at length, “You know about the ring.” Kasady smiled darkly and nodded, “I do.” Jordan set down the empty box and stood there for a moment. She then began to walk to the fridge to fetch a couple of eggs. “Okay,” she said as she opened the door, her eyes scanning the inside of the fridge for what she wanted, “Okay, why are you telling me this?” Aha! There they were. She pulled out two as Kasady answered her with a sigh. “I've been particularly bored today while the real me is enjoying himself. Call this my entertainment.” Jordan rolled his words over in her head as she cracked the eggs and put their contents in the bowl with the brownie mix. “Entertainment,” she echoed the word, “Okay. I’ll bite. What do you know that you’d be willing to tell me?” Kasady left her hanging for a few moments, and she took the opportunity to get a cup of water. When she had poured it into the bowl, he finally answered her. “Tell me. If that ant loves you so much, what are you gonna do when you watch Grey crush him under his foot?” That had not been the answer she had wanted. She glowered at her bowl, grabbing a whisk and churning the mix up aggressively. “I’m not going to let that happen,” she grumbled. Kasady laughed at her, throwing his head back insanely. “Sure you will. You would do anything to get that ring back. Even if it means killing someone,” he said, still chuckling. She whipped her head around to glare at him. “I would not,” she hissed, “I would not kill someone.” “You've already asked to get the ring back by ‘any means necessary’,” Kasady said, raising an eyebrow. Jordan turned back to her mixing, shoulders stiff. “Not by ‘any means’,” she said as she mixed, “I'm not going to kill someone over this, alright? I'm never going to kill anyone again, not if I can help it.” Kasady sighed loftily, “Then you better stop talkin' to your second love...” The intern glared at her hands as they churned the whisk. “It’s not love, Mr. Kasady,” she said sharply, “It’s hate.” “A hateful lust is a distinct love,” Kasady said, “Just like how you hate me.” Jordan recoiled, pulling the whisk from the bowl. She walked quickly to the sink to throw the whisk in. “Oh god no,” she said, shaking her head, “I hate you platonically.” “Someone should get Thorby,” a new voice said. Jordan whirled around, making another squeaking noise, to see McDeadpool standing there with a smirk of her own. Jordan smacked her forehead with a palm. “What, how long have you been there,” she mumbled, “How long have you been listening.” “I’m everywhere and nowhere, intern,” McDeadpool said, trying to sound eerie, while Kasady said, “Ah, so you do admit that it is love.” Thorby poked her head in as if she had been summoned, took a quick scope of the situation, and made a face. “I am not shipping Kasady and Jordan,” she said. “Thanks, sis,” Kasady said, smiling at the Asgardian. McDeadpool looked outraged. “Whaaat? C’mon, it’s hate ship gold!” Thorby and Jordan each shook their heads, stating various comments of disdain for that idea. “Hey, if I can put up with the Joker, she can put up with Kasady,” McDeadpool said with a devilish grin. “No. And a very emphatic one, at that,” Jordan said before continuing her argument with Kasady, “And ugh, no, I don't love Grey, I love Rory! I am in love with Rory. I am in hate with Grey. There's a difference.” Thorby looked confused as Kasady laughed at Jordan. “You love the guy!” he said, “You are doing whatever you can so you can giggle and banter and do anything your lust-filled mind can conjure.” “Whatever, I’m still shipping it non-canon,” McDeadpool said to the room at large. Rather than deal with what Kasady had said, which had caused a blush to reappear on her face, she turned to McDeadpool. “I already have a kismesis, and that's how this whole debacle started in the first place,” she said, not noticing Kasady’s face growing increasingly angry as she spoke. When she finished, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. “Answer me,” he growled, his voice dangerous. Jordan blinked rapidly, startled and unprepared. “Wh- What did you ask? I didn't even hear a question!” she spluttered, her hands shaking. Kasady leaned down, bringing his angry face closer to her frightened one. “You are doing whatever your sick, disgusting mind can think of to bring him back just so you two can have your hate/lust. And yet you claim that you love Rory,” he said, his voice a furious rumble. “I do love Rory! Why can't quadrants be a thing? Quadrants should totally be a thing! Relationships would be so much less confusing,” she said, once more avoiding the actual question, “Or more confusing, depending on how you look at it.” Kasady, tired of her dancing around his words, closed a threatening hand around her throat. He wanted answers. Jordan immediately panicked and closed her own hands around his wrist, although he was not yet applying any pressure. “You have become a threat to everyone here,” he growled, “Threats are to be resolved swiftly.” “Woah, woah, woah,” the girl said, eyes wild with fear, “What the heck am I even doing!? I don't want to hurt anyone here! How am I threatening you?” Kasady’s eyes narrowed as he said, “You continue to call to him and find ways to bring the demon back. That is the threat.” “Oh,” the intern said, falling silent, “Well...” Kasady was fed up with waiting. He tightened his hand ever-so-slightly, causing her to squeal in panic again. “I'm listening intently,” he said, staring into her terrified eyes, “Do tell me why you aren't a threat now.” “Okay, okay, okay!” the intern squeaked, her voice high-pitched with terror, “I won't... I won't....” Kasady’s fingers tightened again as he chuckled, “I can’t believe you with that.” “I won't let anything happen!” Jordan said frantically, although he was not yet choking her to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Kasady shook his head and tightened his fingers once more for a moment, cutting off her breathing, before opening them wide enough that she could still draw in air, “Not what I need to hear.” He smiled toothily at her, while she struggled to form words. “Okay, I won't do it!” Jordan choked out, “I won't... bring him back...” Kasady raised an eyebrow, his face morphing into a disgusted sneer, “And?” “And?” Jordan repeated, her voice trembling with panic. What more did he want? “Cut all communication with him,” Kasady rumbled. “I...Okay,” she said, feeling tears prick at her eyes. No, no crying. Not now. “I’ll... cut communication with him.” He nodded with satisfaction and released her. She stumbled back, coughing and rubbing her throat. He wiped his hand on his pants, as if his hand had gotten grime on it from touching her. “You are too stupid,” he sneered at the intern, “You fall for his words, and you believe him. That's why you need to be cut off.” He turned to walk away from her. “Just be happy with the Ant-boy. Start acting smart.” “I...” Jordan looked up at him, a glare on her face. Oh, yes, she would definitely start acting smart. She would need to be smart if she was going to get around him. Because she wasn’t a perfect human being. She lied, just like everyone else. “Of course, Mr. Kasady.”

[squealedagent13]

... Okay, Grey, you listen to me and you listen well. You hurt me, and you used me. I wouldn't mind so much if you hadn't used me to hurt innocent people, but you did. And you hurt Rory. RORY. Rory the sweet little ant who had done NOTHING wrong. And then you used us to attack one of our FRIENDS. And I can't handle that. That doesn't sit well with me. And now you're threatening us. Well, I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to let you hurt my friends again. So I hope you're ready for one hell of a fight, DARLING. Because I am.

[squealedagent13]

Practice Makes Perfect

She wasn't normally like this. She didn't usually sit on apartment rooftops and shoot cars at random with black lightning. But that's what she was doing, dressed in a black shirt, grey scarf, and jeans. Metallic gray eyes glinted in the evening sunlight, as opposed to their normally blue color.

She laughed as yet another baffled person clambered out of his car and looked at his engine with confusion, wondering why his car had suddenly stopped working. She had done this several times over the past few hours, but it was starting to loose its appeal. She leaned forward intently, raising her palm in the air. She wondered...

She felt electricity begin to crackle at her fingertips and grinned, not stopping it. Soon, the sparks grew into a surge of power that shot right at the man. He crumpled on the spot, and she laughed again. So easily taken down, he was. This sort of power was incredible!

She retreated back from the edge of the rooftop and descended the stairs of a fire escape three at a time, finding balance and agility much easier as a perk of the magic. She reached the ground and strode over to the man, looking at him curiously. She wondered how long it would take for someone to find him.

"Hey!"

She turned. Evidently, not long. A group of four teens, accompanied by a younger girl, stood on the sidewalk, their eyes wide. 

"Oh, my god!" one of the girls, a red-head, said, rushing forward with her hands clasped over her mouth, "Is he okay?"

"That's an excellent question," Jordan said, her voice distorted and echo-y, "One that I'm afraid I don't have the answer to."

"Shit, we need to call 911," the girl said, already digging in her purse. Jordan watched her curiously for a moment.

"I'd rather you don't," she said, smiling dangerously.

The girl looked up, phone in hand. Her expression was one of confusion.

"Wait, what's wrong with your voice?"

Jordan shrugged, and without warning, raised her hand and pointed her palm at the red-head. The girl's eyes and mouth opened with shock, and her thumb pressed the 911 speed-dial as Jordan's hand released its power. The black magic coursed through her with a loud crackling noise, and the impassive intern instantly turned to her friends, who had approached after their friend. She shocked all three of the other teens, but allowed the little girl to run. She was above hurting children.

She looked at the phone of the red-head, which had fallen out of her hand. She picked it up and put it to her ear, listening for a moment.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?"

Jordan smirked, amused.

"Everything is fine, miss. It was a mistake. I apologize."

"Nothing is wrong, then?"

"Nothing at all, miss. I really am sorry for the inconvenience."

"Are you sure? You don't sound so-" Click.

Jordan hung up the phone, tossing it to the floor. She then stalked away from the crime scene, not even checking to see if man and the teens were still alive. One thing was for sure, though.

She had certainly gotten the hang of her powers. She couldn't wait to tell Grey.