meadowlarklogs

[Hadriel is an underground city, at least at this point in time; far overhead, the ceiling of a cave lies in the darkness. The city is also mostly dark, the generator destroyed early on in the attack, and the buildings are alien, clearly not made for humans but inhabitable all the same if still intact. Not all of them are, and it’s clear the city is, at least at the moment, a war zone.

Strange-looking piles of metal are scattered through the streets, and approaching one of them will reveal that they aren’t just metal; these are creatures, almost entirely mechanical but still with hints of organic material. Those lying motionless in the streets are dead, but the constant noise from near and far alike indicates that there are many, many more of these creatures elsewhere.

That becomes even more apparent as a pair of the creatures round a corner, one of them appearing as an eight foot tall, vaguely humanoid individual, the other as a massive spider-like monster. Both immediately turn toward the new arrival, although one’s attention seems to divert to something else soon after, but that still leaves one of the two creatures advancing toward whoever is unlucky enough to find themselves in this setting.

If they don’t avoid the Null fast enough, it will fire a weapon from the end of one of its limbs and, if it connects, this causes a powerful and incapacitating electrical shock that means to give the Null enough time to get close. Either way the Null will continue to approach, a short-range laser in its arsenal along with the very simple but still very dangerous simple strength of its metal appendages, and it intends to destroy everyone and everything it encounters.]

[[ooc: For more info on the Null, check out this page and scroll down to the Null section!]]

[The office is spacious but welcoming, desk built into the wall and therefore leaving room for a large chair, coffee table and small couch arranged so that people can talk to each other. Some professionally neutral paintings and prints hang on the wall, with a few little objects scattered around to be played with; a stress ball, little sand zen garden, and a weird squishy, fuzzy toy are in various locations around the room, but within easy reach for anyone who wants them.

The room is empty at first, aside from the person that found themselves there, but soon enough two people come through the doors; neither notices initially that there’s someone else here, beginning their conversation quietly.]

What did you find?

[Lance speaks first, arms crossed, dressed professionally and frowning at the other person he’d come in with; this is clearly a coworker, also dressed in a suit, and although his expression is serious he has an easy confidence that’s a contrast to Lance’s tension.]

Unfortunately, it's nothing we didn’t already know; whoever's behind all this is high up. High enough that they can order the assassination of an agent and have no one question the justification for it.

[Lance sighs quietly at that, gaze flickering toward the door like he's waiting for someone to come through it, before glancing back at the other agent.]

I'm clearing people as quickly as I reasonably can, but I don't exactly have access to the higher ups, and they know how connected I am to all of this. Between the two of us, you're going to have the most opportunity.

[The other agent gives a grin that's clearly more an attempt to project his confidence than anything else, nodding once in determination.]

Hey, you know I'm in it to win it. We'll get to the bottom of this. Or the top, I guess.

[Lance sighs again at that, more dramatically this time, which just encourages his friend; with a more genuine grin, he turns and heads out of the office, leaving just Lance and the new arrival. There's silence for a moment, and Lance turns his attention away from the door and into the rest of the room, gaze finally falling on whoever is present.]

Welcome to my office, I guess.

[He doesn't sound--or look--super enthused by the situation.]

[The Medico-Legal lab is huge, expansive and bright, clinical but somehow warm and alive all at once. Sunlight shines through the skylights, illuminating the forensic platform, as scientists in white coats—and a few in blue—rush around to various places as they do their works.

There isn't really a true second floor to the Medico-Legal lab, but there is a loft with a small lounge area and a railing that overlooks the lab below. It's a perfect place to take a break if you aren't actively needed at the moment, which Lance is not, and so he's leaning on the railing and just watching everyone else run around.

But he glances back when he notices there's someone else up here, offering a faint smile of greeting and then tilting his head slightly toward the break area.]

There's real coffee.

[Enjoy it while you can.]

[Lance doesn't spend that much time at Red Wings overall, usually hiding in his apartment and doing research, wandering around the city with no real destination in mind, or running errands. But he does stop by usually once a week or so, especially if it's near dinner time.

That's why he's there that evening, half paying attention the beer he's ordered but his attention mostly on his implant, keeping careful watch on the network for any sign of something going wrong with the entire Riverstone trip. He isn't sure if he expects it to, but he still feels like he should be ready if it does.]

[Ellie appears different, in the nonwaking world. She's still as she sees herself; her hair cut choppily, not quite long enough to touch her shoulders. Flannel and jeans and chucks, a walking one-woman armory with a laden backpack.

She isn't bruised, but the missing fingers are fresher.

Ellie stands at the top of the platform, momentarily breathless, before she recognizes Lance. Slowly, she walks forward, placing her hands on the railing amid the greenery, standing next to him as they look down on the lab platforms below.

She watches the people move with wide eyes.]

... I really hate coffee.

[She says it very softly, and slowly looks up at him, her eyes searching his. It's not the first time she's entered someone's dream, but this place... isn't what she expected.

But he fits here.]

[The difference in Ellie's appearance--and her presence in the first place--isn't the only thing that indicates to him that this is a dream; part of him knows, inherently, that he can't be here. He hasn't been home in over two years now, and probably never will be again.

But that's the same reason that although he knows, he's letting himself ignore it. There's no harm in allowing himself to stay in this illusion for a little while.

So he just gives a quiet laugh at Ellie's comment, turning his gaze back toward the people below them.]

Okay, no coffee then. There's other drinks too, I think.

[Not that he usually ever goes for them, but he knows there's tea and water, and maybe something else. Depends which interns are around and what they've stocked it with; if Fisher's around it's probably full of energy drinks he absolutely doesn't need.]

Welcome to the lab, by the way. Not exactly where I work, but I end up here a lot to consult on cases.

[A ghost of a smile flickers across Ellie's face -- Lance always takes her in stride, even if her stumbling across some literal part of his mind has to be uncomfortable as hell.

It looks like a nice part of it. It's so carefully detailed that it must be a real place, even down to the people on the lower level. Each one of them have detailed faces, enough that Ellie could likely recognize them if she saw them again. Even the low hum of sound, the strange but clean mixture of scents. She doesn't go for a drink. Instead, she rocks on her heels -- she's wearing battered, faintly water-stained chucks.]

... a lab? With cases?

[Ellie closes her fingers along the railing, turns to look at him, searching his eyes, mindful of where she is. Is he bearing with it, or does he want her to see?]

Should I have been calling you Professor instead?

[His gaze flickers back toward her at the fidgeting, letting her make eye contact, though what she might find is mixed; he really isn't sure how he feels about this. The part of him that's aware this is a dream is not pleased with someone--even someone he likes so far, such as Ellie--seeing anything he didn't plan to reveal, but of all the situations or settings she could've seen this isn't exactly one he's too upset by her knowing about.

So he's inclined to just go with the flow of the dream, enjoying it for what it is and letting her see something fun and positive in a setting she's probably never experienced before. Not many people get to see a forensics lab, after all, even in a dream.

Her last comment earns another quiet breath of laughter and a shake of his head.]

No, wrong fancy title.

[But he doesn't offer the correct one, pushing off the railing to straighten up.]

But yeah, with cases. We solve murders most of the time; do you want to see some of the lab rooms?

Edited 2020-10-20 04:54 (UTC)

[The corner of Ellie's mouth twists at the expression she finds there. Her nod is a little bob of her head, barely there, almost to herself. She doesn't ask despite the curiosity burning through her -- Lance's discomfort cools it considerably.

She wouldn't want him rifling through her brain, either.

Murder, though -- that brings her up short.]

Yeah. If you want to show me.

[She steps towards him, picking up the thread he's offered her.]

You help solve murders?

[ Glimmer slides into the barstool next to Lance, drink in hand along with a basket of deep-fried 'wings' that are actually cauliflower. The young woman smiles and she studied Lance for a long moment before she speaks. ]

You... Look like you're really worried about something. Or at least super focused. Someone arguing on the network again?

[ Glimmer speaks with levity, though the concern for Lance is genuine. Playing it off as a joke just makes it a bit less complicated if Lance doesn't want to talk about it. ]

[Lance is aware enough of his surroundings that he isn't startled by her appearance, dragging himself back to the present enough to give her a small smile in greeting. At her comment, though, he gives a breath of tired laughter and rolls his eyes, not at her but in keeping with the light tone of the conversation.]

Someone's always arguing on the network, but no, it's mostly calm right now. I'm just concerned about the whole thing with Riverstone.

[He doesn't mind admitting that, because it's something on a lot of people's minds, so it's a safe enough thing to be honest about. But he does notice what she was trying to do, and appreciates it.]

Ah, yeah. I thought about volunteering but...

[ She trails off and shakes her head. ]

Hadn't figured out my power yet. And I wasn't sure I'd be helpful. Plus I've kind of had my fill of weird labs and stuff in my life.

[ There's a wan smile at that. She pops one of her deep fried veggies in her mouth and chews. ]

Any news on that?

It's probably for the best. I don't think the initial trip is necessarily going to be dangerous, but I also find it hard to believe there won't be a catch to all of this.

[So he's glad she's not involved.]

But no news yet, no. Not about that, anyway; you said 'hadn't' in regards to discovering your power. Did you find out what it is?

[ Trevor is never lucky when it comes to being attacked -- but this is not at all the kind of thing he's used to. Monsters, demons, vampires, that's his bag. This? This is absolutely beyond anything he could have dreamed. It seems more like the technology in Meadowlark but alive, and he's so stunned by what he's seeing that he doesn't react as quickly as usual. Once they begin advancing, however, that's familiar. He dives to avoid the energy weapon, rolling and coming up with his whip in his hand. He doesn't know if he's a brilliant idea to attack something electric with something metal, but it's all he has on him. ]

That's close enough!

[ He calls out as he whirls into motion again with the whip, managing to catch one of the spider-creature's appendages with it and yanking savagely to see if he can tear the limb off.

It doesn't work. ]

Well, shit.

Yeah! Uh, this new girl, Ellie? She accidentally threw a dart at me.

[ She makes a show of reaching for his beer, as if she might flip it into his lap. Her hand, despite seeming entirely normal, instead moves right through the bottle as she was nothing more than a projection or some sort of spectral being. Drawing her hand back, she giggles. ]

I just kinda turned it on to avoid getting darted in the hand. So I've been practicing.

[ This is an interesting encounter, to Drake. It calls back to the corruption in his own law enforcement agencies, in a way, though he doesn't know if that's an accurate guess. Just as easily it could be an outside force. There's just something about how Lance says he's clearing people, like he's doing so directly. But Drake's curiosities are interrupted as the other agent leaves, and he's alone with Lance who's noticed his presence.

Sorry, buddy, he didn't mean to be here. He gives a somewhat sheepish smile, knowing this drill by now. What it's like to have someone in your head without your consent, seeing things you'd rather stay private. ]

It's nice. I think -- I never had an office.

[ He gives it another look around... he wasn't lying, Lance has made the otherwise sterile room a comfortable air. Drake's smile broadens to something more genuine. ]

I had the water cooler?

[At least it could be worse; Lance knows Drake well enough not to be too concerned with him finding out about what was going on at home. So although he's displeased with the situation in itself, and he doesn't quite manage to offer a smile in return, his expression does relax a bit.]

Thanks. Yeah; thankfully, being a psychologist means an office is pretty necessary.

[So he was never stuck out in the general bullpen with everyone else, which he's glad for. And at the last comment he does finally manage a faint smile, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering a little further into the room and away from the door.]

Though the watercooler can definitely be kind of like a psychologist's office in its own way.

Making it feel comfortable isn't. You did good.

[ He takes a step closer to the little zen garden, curiously. It feels like almost a personal touch as much as something to warm up the room, and he wonders how Lance chose things to outfit the place. In the end, though, he doesn't touch it, reaching for a stress ball instead and giving it a couple squeezes before tossing it to Lance. ]

I always thought it was more like a gossip column, but you're coming at it from a different angle.

[He could say that he'd be a horrible psychologist if he couldn't manage to make an office feel welcoming, but he won't; he'll just take the compliment, offering a small smile in return and pulling his hand from his pocket quickly enough to catch the stress ball. He should probably get one of these in real life, honestly.]

I guess it depends on your coworkers.

[It could easily go either way, but on the subject of coworkers...

Lance idly throws the stress ball up and catches it in the same hand a few times, thoughts partially still in the setting of the dream and partially in the awareness of what's actually going on, so even though he logically knows the conversation with Aubrey--or one like it, at least--has already happened long ago he's still kind of dwelling on it.

So his gaze goes distant for a a few seconds, mentally going over the situation still at hand in this dream's place and time, before he remembers to drag himself back to the present; he shifts awkwardly on his feet, unsure if he should address the actual subject or just stall until one of them wakes up, but eventually--]

That was um, my coworker, Aubrey. He just transferred into this office and picked a very tumultuous time to do so.

[No, not 'just', he realizes belatedly; it was over two years ago for Lance that this happened, but the dream feels like it's the present and that's very confusing.]

[ Drake wasn't going to push the subject, but since Lance brings it up he now has the ex-cop's full attention. Aubrey. The name gets filed away, along with Lance's discomfort about the tumultuous time. Instead of asking a prying question he chooses one that's more leading, more relevant to their situation than the memory itself.

He does understand that Lance means 'just' as in context of the memory, at least. They're both no stranger to this kind of thing. To the blurry confusing quality of dreams and memories being shared. ]

This has been on your mind? Him or what you guys were talking about?

[Despite bringing up the subject himself, he feels the sudden urge to avoid the questions--as general and considerate as they are--on sheer habit. But there's no reason to, especially not since he already told Drake how it ends, even if he'd never given any real context that would connect the dots between Lance's death and this conversation.

So he sighs quietly, resting his forearms on the back of the couch and casting another brief glance toward his door just in case before looking back at Drake.]

What we were talking about, yeah. I mean, all of my friends too--Aubrey included--but... Yeah.

[He always misses his friends, but the subject is what's been coming up for him a lot, and he knows he should probably elaborate a little more.]

We recently found out that there's some sort of corruption going on high up in the FBI, beyond the normal, expected amount of corruption in a governmental organization.

[He says it with dry humor, even though the situation is definitely not funny.]

[He watches her reach out toward his drink, not entirely sure what she's doing, but she's not being sneaky about it--the opposite, really--and nothing he knows about her indicates she's going to do anything bad or even annoying. So he doesn't make any move to stop her, and then when he hand passes through the bottle everything suddenly makes sense.]

That's really cool.

[He says it genuinely, grinning a bit, because who doesn't want to be able to phase through stuff? That's awesome. But wait a sec, back up--]

How did Ellie accidentally throw a dart at you?

[That's not normally something that happens accidentally.]

[ Agent Plant stands in a (maybe surprisingly, to some) very respectable suit that displays him as the right brand of person to be where he is — this building, this department, this office. He's waiting with the casual patience of somebody in no particular hurry, irreverently meandering around Lance's office like he he's got the permission to.

This bored-looking wandering manifests in a few little ways:
-tossing the stress-ball up and down until he almost drops it, looking back to see if anyone noticed, then quietly placing it back onto the desk.
-curiously raking at the sand of the zen garden with the little wooden rakey thing.
-plucking up the squishy fuzzy toy and tugging at the little strands with too much entertainment written in his expression.

Believe it or not, he is listening. He sharply catches every word even as he idly fidgets, though his back's to the conversation so he's a little surprised when he's addressed. He pauses with Squishy McFunball stretched out, looking up like he's been caught for a second before he absently tosses it back onto the desk. ]

Sounds like something's buzzing back at the honey farm.

[ It's a statement, but it's a question. Dumb as all his little interactions may have been up until now, there's a serious shift in his brow.

Not even remotely apologetic about the prying. ]

[He gives a small smile and a tilt of his head toward the stairs as the answer to her first comment, responding to the second as he leads the way down to the main floor of the lab.]

That's my job. Part of it, anyway.

[He has a lot of jobs, really.]

My friend Booth and I handle the legal side of things, and the team here handles the evidence. Together we're usually able to figure out what happened and who did it, and most of the time why it happened too.

[Lance is only very vaguely aware of Dean until the conversation is done, not aware enough that it disrupts the illusion of the dream but still enough so that he notices he's playing with the various objects strategically placed around the office. That isn't a problem--that's what they're there for--but it's interesting.

And now that they're alone, Lance takes a better look at Dean, and there's that weird knowledge that this is a dream while still feeling immersed in it. So although Dean looks like he belongs here, and the part of Lance that's still very in the dream thinks he does, the rest of him has to comment--]

Nice suit.

[It's flat, clearly an amused comment that's also very self-aware in that Lance is dressed the same. Still.

But as for what Dean actually said, Lance glances back at the door cautiously before returning his attention to the other person in the room.]

The FBI is corrupt. Who would've imagined?

[It's also flat, but very unamused this time.]

[Open]

Alien cyborg fight | Hadriel | Cw: Violence

Conspiracy | FBI Office

Break time | Jeffersonian Lab

Catch-all | Red Wings

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