Eleanor's Room

The room is furnished much the same as every other barrack; thin, twin bed shoved against the far wall, leaving only a small space between it and the adjacent wall for anyone to maneuver. A pain, neatly appointed desk sits nearby, the accompanying chair seemingly less comfortable than regular issue, and it's surface houses only a laptop and a few stacked, tidy piles of files and books. No colorful pictures adorn the walls, not posters or riotous art to break up the monotony of smooth grey and stark white. A shallow closet, barely large enough to hold a handful of hangars and a few pairs of shoes; all it does contain are a few bare hangars and a cardboard box marked "Kitchen" in bold, black pen.

A lone chest of drawers sits on the single bare wall, a stack of four compartments, each containing an assortment of underwear, men's t-shirts, oversized sweaters and one drawer dedicated to fuzzy, loudly-colorful socks.

However, as with most things about this woman, the room doesn't tell all at first look. Under the bed there is a large, rather flat lock box, filled with her armor and six magazines of spare ammo. Beneath the desktop, her handgun rests in a holster, setting neatly in a rack alongside two magazines. A set of small knives awaits in one of the carved-out books. In the closet, behind a false panel, there rests her remarkable suit, hung neatly on a small rack. In a shallow compartment in the headboard of her pathetic bed, her long knife sits patiently waiting her return.

Nowhere is there a place for her specialized weapon.

It is always, without fail, on her person.

However, there is a time or two in which her "toy" must be used for other things.

On each side of the door, at head, waist, and ankle height is a specially designed "hook" for the garrote. Once strung across, the monofiliment provides another line of defense. It will slice through the door, and anything else coming through it.

<----------Infirmary

The trip took little to no time, as where she started and shere she wanted to go had only a hall and a doorway between. The spy checks the next comment coming out of her mouth as the medic decides to tag along, because it couldn't be helped at this point; the woman was, for lack of better wording, glued to her now, and she needed to make sure they all made it out alive.

Shoving past a gaggle of soldiers as they poured out of the barracks on their way to quell whatever was about to happen, Eleanor had enough time to formulate a secondary plan for all this mess; if it came to those measures, however, someone was going to definitely be dead.

The blonde punches in her code and swings the medic into her room, darting in afterward and immediately setting to work. She turns back to the door, and zips out her garrote, stringing it across the doorway at ankle height; there would be no way for whomever forced that door open to know such a thing was waiting for them, as the filament was far too thin for anyone to see without very, very close inspection.

"I need you to grab that case out from under the bed, and enter the code 2211212." She talks while setting about her next task. Her hand snaps into the closet to open a hidden compartment, displaying her suit and mask, and she whips it out onto the back of her chair. She strips out of her shirt and shucks her boots as the medic opens her specialty armor case.

The box opens with a pneumatic hiss, and her specialized armor is ready for wear. "Put on the chest piece. It won't be fitted properly to you, but it will stop almost anything thrown at you, so I think it's a fair trade."

By now, the spy is completely undressed from civilian clothing, and slipping in to the skin tight, elegantly designed suit. Thus far, all of her movements have been precise and sure, and at no time has the blonde operative shown any sign of panic or unease; this is well within the realm of normal to her, and her reactions spoke of that. It especially do her no good to panic now, seeing as how she had another life to take care of besides her own. With that in mind, she takes a second to glance over at the medic while zipping up the last section of her suit.

"How're you doing? Enjoying the change of pace?" Her words are light, but sincere; if nothing else, she needs to know how the woman is holding up.

<------ Infirmary

Claire followed Eleanor down the hall towards wherever it appeared she was heading. The halls were filled with soldiers and guards are scrambling to regain some sense of order in the chaotic mess VWAT's base of operations had become. As they stopped at one of the doors she watched keeping an eye out for danger as the Eleanor put in her code for her door. She yelped as her arm was abruptly grabbed and she was swung into the room the very instant the door had opened.

She watched as Eleanor seemed to set some sort of safety measure up at the bottom of her door. In the dim light cast from the emergency lighting Claire couldn't exactly get a good visual on whatever it was Eleanor had placed but whatever it was it seemed the other woman thought it was an adequate defense against any would be intruders.

She watched as the woman moved over toward her closet and nodded as she was ordered to find some sort of case from beneath Eleanor's bed. Claire quickly nodded holstering her sidearm on her belt before getting down to her knees beside the bed and sweeping her hand across the floor trying to find the case in question. It didn't take long for her hand to come across the case's smooth surface. Pulling the case from it's hiding place Claire quickly set to putting in the code Eleanor had mentioned.

Once the last digit had been punched in she heard a hiss as the case opened revealing a set of armor that seemed completely foreign to Claire. She looked toward Eleanor as she ordered her to put on the chest piece of the armor opening her mouth to insist that Eleanor would likely need it more. But after a moment she shut her mouth it was obvious Eleanor had way more experience in this sort of thing than Claire herself did if she believed that Claire would need the armor then there wasn't much grounds for argument.

After a brief struggle to slide the chest piece over her head slipping her arms through the holes meant for the wearer's arms. Like Eleanor had said the armor felt a bit awkward feeling a bit tight in some areas while loose in others as if it were designed specifically for the person who owned it. Though there was no questioning the feeling of safety that wearing it gave her. She glanced toward Eleanor who was still in the process of changing out of her civvies feeling a bud of guilt forming in the pit of her stomach. "She didn't have to give me her armor, She probably needs it way more." Claire thought.

As Eleanor turned to face her Claire tried to put on a strong front "I'm alright, Don't know what to expect yet. But experience is the best teacher right?" Claire said giving the operative a small smile.

There was a lot of steel in the medic, that was for certain, but there was still a waiver in her voice, in her posture when she spoke. For now, though, it was good that she was trying to keep up her spirits, even if it meant telling a slight lie.

Now fully dressed - sans mask - the spy makes her way to the armor case as well, pulling out custom thin harness straps and her holster.

"A good teacher, maybe, but usually a brutal one." she says, strapping on her gear and inching to the headboard of the bed. While tightening a strap along her thigh, the woman gives a slight hip bump to the corner of a panel board. Instantly, a hidden niche pops open to reveal her long knife. Without missing a beat, she snatches it from its resting place and sheaths it at her waist.

"That stack of books on the desk," she jerks her chin in their general vicinity, "go open the larger blue one."

Inside, there are three small, plain, deadly looking knives, balanced for throwing and gutting alike. "Just in case your bullets run out faster than bodies."

The spy smiles again, though this time the act was different: where before she had been comforting, now there was more of an edge to her, something harder and less amiable. Completely dressed, Eleanor grabs up her handgun and spare mags, holstering the former and stowing away the latter. She maneuvers around the medic to open the lone drawer of the desk, and retrieves two small earbuds. The blonde pops one in a pouch, but hands the other to the medic.

"I don't know who might listen in to radios and comms, so take this. It communicates with myself and Cole." She picks up the eerie mask, and taps the glass-like surface. "I'll be able to hear you with this, and I won't need the external speaker to communicate."

Flashing one last dark smile, Eleanor pulls up the suit hood and clicks the mask in place, sealing her off from the rest of the world. An odd, otherworldly stretch ripples through her, loosening joints and freeing up muscles; it lasts only a second, but afterwards, something not at all like the cheerful spy stood before the medic. She chooses to ignore the mess going on with the special little watch, forgoing instructing Reese to hide, since the man never followed orders or sense. Instead, she responds to Cole on their comm, assuming the man had bothered to remember it.

"On our way, sunshine."

Moving to the door, Eleanor unhooks her garrote and zips it closed, stashing it in an unseen section of her belt. She then taps her ear to remind the woman of her new earpiece.

"You won't need to speak up. A whisper will register." Her faceplate turns to the door, and her head cocks for a moment, listening to what may or may not be outside. "Stay close. I can see in the dark, so if I tell you to move, do it."

Hearing nothing from the other side of the door, she turns back to look at Claire. "Trust me, Doc, and we'll get out of this with a few scars and a great pub story."

With that, Eleanor opens the door and exits, heading for her rendezvous with Cole.

--------->Fourth Floor Door

Claire closed her eyes taking a deep breath as Eleanor spoke. Claire couldn't deny that the woman's word held some weight to them. Months ago she'd thought that revenants were just some sort of diseased human only to discover their true nature in the worst of ways. Through the massacre of all of her former co-workers and witnessing one of her best friends getting devoured like some sort of buffet for zombies. Claire shook her head clearing away the painful memories before turning her head to look at Eleanor who was now reaching behind the headboard of the bed for something.

She quickly got to her feet as the operative spoke gesturing with her head for Claire to pull a certain book from the pile on the desk. Walking over to the desk Claire picked out the book in question and opened it revealing a set of knives. Claire's eyes widened a bit wondering what other deadly objects Eleanor could have hidden in various recesses scattered around the room. As she reached out to pick one up Eleanor's voice spoke up behind her with a phrase that made her shiver a bit at the thought of it. Claire wasn't a hand to hand fighter she was much more accurate with her gun than her own fists. And the thought of going up against a bunch of crazed rioting convicts with a knife in hand shook her resolve a small bit.

She looked toward the operative to nod confirming that she understood what she was given the knives for. But once her eyes met Eleanor's own she could see the change in her once comforting smile. Claire couldn't exactly put her finger on what had changed and a small part of her reminded her that she probably didn't want to know. Before she could think more on the operatives change a small earbud was extended out to her. Taking it Claire put it on making sure it was secure before nodding at Eleanor.

Claire could feel anxiety assaulting her mind as if ticking off the seconds until they'd need to leave the relative safety of Eleanor's room. But once more she shoved such thoughts out of mind steeling her resolve. "I can't freak out, Not now..." Claire thought. As she looked toward Eleanor she was met with a smooth glass mask rather than the face of the woman she'd been speaking with earlier. Somehow Claire felt that putting the mask on had almost turned the operative into a completely different person. It certainly felt that way to the young medic.

Stowing away the knives she'd been provided with Claire followed as Eleanor headed toward the door watching as she disarmed whatever she'd set up at the foot of the door. As Eleanor tapped her ear and gave her a slight rundown of the earpiece's functions and a few orders. "Understood." Claire whispered testing if the earpiece would indeed to as Eleanor described.

As Eleanor turned back before opening the door to speak a small smile appeared on Claire's face at the other woman's reassurance. "If we make it through this drinks at that pub are on me." Claire whispered as she followed the other woman out the door into the hall to wherever their destination may be.

--------> Fourth Floor Door