Steeler's Office (Invitation Only)

Description: Nothing too showy. A large mahogany desk sits in the middle of the windowless room, a desktop computer resting on the right side with keyboard and mouse. Stacks of paper sit on the left next to a pen holder. A cushioned rolling chair is behind it. The floor is white tile and kept shining. In the back of the room are two bookcases on the back wall, the right side hiding a passage out of the office in case of emergency.

Lobby <---

His chair had been empty for far too long now. Taking a long-awaited seat back in his metaphorical (and somewhat literal, if you really want to look at it a certain way) throne, he gestured to one of the two chairs he had placed in front of the desk for this meeting. "Take a seat," he instructed, pulling a box of cigars from inside the desk and sliding it across the surface to offer the recruit one. It was a bit uncommon for him to treat one of the soldiers with such esteem, but with the crucial nature of the mission at hand, they'd earned a smoke.

He began to explain the situation at hand. "For over a year now, the American and Japanese governments have been arranging an exchange of personnel. As of today, one of our own is being shipped overseas as a show of good faith to our allies. They will take the place of the operative they send over, working in Japan's equivalent to our own branch of the military." He paused to allow the information to process. "In addition, today will be the arrival of their agent. I've personally selected you to escort them to us once their plane lands."

Producing a folder full of information on the recruit -the lip reading "STR"- he placed it on the desk for Claire to read. "I'm sure you'll agree that this is no ordinary soldier we'll be receiving. In addition to acting as escort, you will also be tasked with performing a preliminary physical before this person can be allowed into combat." Pressing the intercom, he spoke, "Send them in." From the door entered three soldiers, clad in dark green uniforms with berets and sunglasses.

"Specialist Kelly, this is Private Mendez, Private Peterson, and Master Sergeant McFinn. They are members of the Green Berets and will accompany you on this mission. All three have been sworn to secrecy - no one besides the people in this room and a select few others are aware of what is happening. While you shouldn't encounter any difficulty during these operations, they will be there in case you do." In truth, he wasn't entirely sure what they could expect going into this. For some time now, he'd heard rumors of traitors within the organization. Whether this was true or not would be put to the test today. Attacking the foreign agent would be a sure way to call the group's competence into question, as well as risk further cooperation with Japan during matters of extreme threat in the future.

"The flight is scheduled to arrive in six hour. For security reasons, it will land at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in North Carolina. You'll be deployed at 15:00 hours, so take this time to prepare however you need. Are there any questions?" They had one hour to get ready for an almost four hour drive to the location. Roads would be cleared to make the best time, but the extra time would be necessary to account for any irregularities. If they could make it back without incident, then the worst would be the tediously boring ride home. They couldn't be too hopeful, though.

Reese walked in with black coffee for the director, nad a sweeter coffee for the new recruit. He knew not many people were a fan of such strong and unflavored coffee as the director. As such he added in a few sweeter things to claire's and made it out of less of a strong kind. Less hot as well. He placed the drinks in front of both the Director and Claire giving them each their own and with a small nod he waited to be dismissed or asked for something else.

"Anything else director Steeler?"

"Thank you sir." Claire said before she took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Director Steeler's desk. As he pushed the box of cigars across the desk towards her. She raised her hand giving the Director a slight smile to refuse it "I'm sorry I don't smoke." Claire said. She folded her hands in her lap as Director Steeler began to outline VWATs relationship with the Japanese Government's own supernatural contingency unit and their plans to strengthen the ties between them through a personnel exchange. She remained quiet as Director Steeler informed her of his choice to send her on this assignment.

"Huh...This isn't so bad, pick up the new recruit from the airport do run of the book physical and that's it." Claire thought as she brought the folder closer and opened it. Her eyes widened a bit as she saw the person in question who would be arriving. She looked at the photographs more notably at the massive metal limbs that took the place of the small arms on the young girl in the picture. That along with the black spine like tail protruding from her back. She nodded her head slowly at Steeler's statement that this was no ordinary soldier. She glanced up as the director pressed a button on his intercom asking for someone to be sent in.

She turned in her chair to see three men enter the room standing in a line in their BDU's. Part of her wanted to ask why she needed such an escort but she kept her question to herself. If the director felt she needed them then she'd have no doubt she'd be grateful if she did. She gave the 3 Green Beret operatives a small wave in greeting before turning back to Director Steeler as he outlined the schedule of the agent's arrival and her own deployment time. She glanced at her watch seeing that 1500 Hours was in about 1 hour which meant that was the time she had to go the the infirmary and pack the required equipment for a standard physical examination. "No Sir, No Questions." Claire said standing and giving the Director a salute. "Permission to be dismissed to prepare for the mission?" Claire asked her composure was broken as Reese entered the room with coffee.

She accepted the Coffee Cup from him "Oh, Thank you." She said looking at the cup of light brown colored coffee she was glad that it wasn't straight black, She couldn't drink black coffee it was disgusting.

He nodded. "Dismissed." He intended that comment for the soldiers as well as Fletcher. Taking a large drink from the coffee, he turned back to his computer to see that, in addition to Japan's agent, four more would be arriving shortly. Night Nine had been what he assumed to be a rumor after assuming his position as leader of V.W.A.T., but it seemed like they were just as real as the supernatural creatures they fought on a daily basis. He had to wonder exactly how much help the president thought they needed.

Claire stepped out of the room sipping her coffee with the three soldiers following suit behind her, Her first stop would be the infirmary and then she'd probably pick up her rifle from the armory. If Director Steeler felt that she needed an escort she didn't want to be caught unprepared in a firefight if it happened.

----------> Exit to Infirmary.

Enter from Rooftop Helipad
(posting this here for convenience)
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Traversing the halls with her pack slung over her shoulder and her unit not far behind, Keira was being led toward her preferred destination by one of the office employees after kindly asking if she could show the way. Thankfully, unlike the clinically depressed and unmotivated "Misha" on the helipad, the female employee was nice enough to temporarily leave her work station and oblige them.

She took this time to take in the layout and inside of the base while she was at it, her calculating eyes glancing down every hall and at every door and sign, taking note of their position and their distance from one another, as well as the memorizing the directions and labels as she made a mental map of her surroundings. She didn't do this out of some sort of insecurity or fear of getting lost, it was merely for convenience.

It was a habit she had picked up long ago, and old habits died hard.

Eventually arriving at the suspected door to the office that held the Director they sought, Keira gave a friendly wave of her hand as the Employee left them to their business to return to her own, and continued with the gesture after facing the secretary which was seated outside the office.  

"I believe we're expected, ma'am"

-------
OOC: Not taking full control of said secretary, so....yeah.

(Following Keira)
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It didn't take them long to find someone to lead them to the Director's office and it turned out not everyone was a moody c*nt who was also lazy. Jensen functioned similarly to Keira. He made a mental map of the building as they walked through it. He dotted possible escape routes, firing positions, and defensive positions they could use in case of a foothold situation but he also filed away possible improvised weaponry by their effectiveness and their ability to be used else where. Fire extinguishers, pens, letter openers, conspicuously hid shoulder holsters underneath cheap jackets. He also documents which women were the most attractive for his own personal escapades at a later date.

(Enter from Helipad.)

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Aiden walked behind the rest of the group his eyes glued to the screen of his phone as he carried on a conversation using face time with his daughter. He hadn't been expecting to receive the call but considering Jodie had been using her mother's phone to face time him over and over again for the last 10 minutes he had to answer eventually, And now here he was watching as his daughter shoved drawings she had made in-front of the screen asking for his artistic opinion on each one. "Daddy!? Do you like this picture of a giraffe!? Or Mr.Tiger!?" Jodie said from the small screen as she held up two pictures in-front of the screen one of a poorly drawn giraffe and the other of a tiger with white stripes instead of black.

"Sweetie Mr.Tiger looks nice but why doesn't he have black stripes?" Aiden asked as he glanced up to make sure he was still following his squad mates on the way to the Directors office. "I ran out of black crayon so I couldn't draw stripes." Jodie said pouting. Aiden raised an eyebrow "Where did your black crayon go?" Aiden asked recalling that before he'd left he had bought the girl a box full of new crayons. Suddenly the phone was picked up and a new face appeared on screen more specifically the face of his wife Jasmine. "Her black crayon was put to good use painting the hallway wall with pictures while I left her with the babysitter." Jasmine said. Aiden sighed shaking his head "She didn't..." Aiden said.

Jasmine nodded in affirmation "She did, She for some reason thought that the hallway needed a forest of black trees and clouds." She said. Aiden chuckled "Well...Other than that how are you guys I'm sorry I couldn't call you before take off." Aiden said. Jasmine rolled her eyes "We're fine you know that, I think it should be opposite we should be worrying about you." Jasmine said. Aiden opened his mouth to speak but found himself cut off as Jasmine spoke again. "Ay dios mio! Jodie stop drawing on the wall the hallway doesn't need grass!" Jasmine said as the call was cut off. Aiden smiled shaking his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

As the employee who'd been so kind enough as to lead them to the Director's office left he offered a friendly wave in thanks before turning to the secretary who Keira was addressing and offering a wave in greeting.

Was being super mysterious and analytical by looking through the environment with his own two eyes, fed information by his visual optics to learn that indeed the signs and what have you were there, thus committing to memory the location in question, and the spatial consistency that it'd retain. While everyone were looking around for the environment, Zulu went one extra and noted every peculiar shapely make of the posterior dimensions of every female in sight, Hell, he can tell his squad leader's ass from any other if she was disguised pretty easily. There was a certain type of fluidity that no others can replicate that has to be associated with a woman's butt, iterated easily within the scientific term known as the D4T x AZS equation, colloquially known as DAT ASS. Anyways, so he entered into the office, and made way to the corner, to the left. Hand wrapped behind him, as he passively ponders unto the location, facing the opposite where upon the Director's desk laid, and he likewise should theoritically be facing the squad that made way. Standing to the rest of the left of the rest of the squad that entered as he followed the rest of them, and some other stuff.

BOY does this entire trip feel like it took MONTHS just to compile, but strangely enough, took moments. Talk about weird sensations, as if Keira was innately angry at him for taking this long, when he didn't, and just walked inside in his casual strut. It was sort of distasteful though that Aiden talked to his children and family, doesn't he know that people that showcase and talk with their families most are the first ones to die in movies? Talk about being genre savvy. Yep, Zulu entered the suspected door of the office earlier after opening it by twisting the knob, or probably just opening the lever, or whatever it took to open it and swing it aside, as he gave a salute to the Director, not one to really beat around the bush.

"We're here to see you, sir. My squad leader is, anyways." He said to the Director.

Transfers seemed rather abundant lately. What, exactly, did the higher ups think they lacked so heavily that it required these four characters to join the band? Each of their personal histories read like the plot to a cheesy action movie. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or to just roll his eyes at the superiority complex they would all surely have. He'd learned that the ones with the "best training" or "superior skill" usually had the worst attitudes, and had a high chance of being cut down in the field when they underestimate a vampire. They'd lost enough criminals that way that it might as well be company policy to place, "Don't be a Dick" signs on the inside of transport vehicles. On a related note, they must have lost quite a few recently; the cells seemed nearly empty.

He heard unfamiliar voices outside the office and assumed it to be the new recruits. Straightening his tie, the door opened, revealing four men in suits and dark sunglasses. "Director James Steeler," the one that appeared to be the leader said, standing a few steps ahead of the other three. "We're from the CIA. We're here on orders to investigate the base and your...organization." The pause was obviously due to some sort of disapproval, possibly even disbelief at the concept.

"Why wasn't I informed?" the director responded, a frown visible on his face at the notion that the government would go behind his back and order an investigation without any reason.

"We couldn't risk someone else finding out. What we're about to tell you stays in this room. No one on the base can know a single thing about what was said here." One of the men stepped forward, placing a briefcase on the table and taking a handful of documents from inside. All of them were reports and various documentation about V.W.A.T. "Those papers are from a time before you took command of this organization," the lead explained. "Before you came along, this branch of the military had been defunct for several years. We know you sent in reports wanting an explanation, and all we were able to tell you was that it was confidential.

"That has to change now, though. The reason V.W.A.T. was closed in the past is because the former director was corrupt. I don't claim to believe in whatever hocus-pocus you people fight, but the fact remains that he and several other high ranking members were making pacts with your targets. The country was in a veritable war with itself to try and reclaim this base. When it ended, all of the traitors were dead." He paused his exposition drop to breathe, audibly and without poise. "We thought so, at least. We've recently learned that some of them may have survive. There's nothing conclusive that they've returned to the base, but we want to cover all our bases just to be safe."

"I assume you felt the need to tell me this now, rather than with a simple phone call, because you suspect someone might have overhead us," Steeler commented. What the man was saying made sense, in a way. This was certainly worth keeping confidential, considering it was nearly a second Civil War within the country's military.

"Exactly. We cleared you of any suspicion already, since you were overseas during the conflict." The other man retrieved the documents, the director only having finished reading a few. Placing them back in the case, he closed it once again and return to the other side of the room. "If you find anything suspicious, I request that you inform one of us before taking action. We will remain at the base for a total of four days. Afterwards, the base will be cleared for the time being. We'll take our leave now."

As irritated as he was with the condescending tone of the man and their unannounced intrusion into his office, it was a worthy matter to put on his list of priorities. He was, however, going to go about this matter in his own way. Solving things by himself was V.W.A.T.'s way, at least the one of the present. "Understood," he told them, hoping it would make them leave quicker. All four gave a slight nod before exiting the room, the lead staying a bit longer. He would need to find them a room (preferably only one as a bit of payback) to stay in during the next four days.



It was about an hour later when a similar situation presented itself, with more unfamiliar voices coming from outside. Four more people walked in, replacing suits with various articles of military fatigue. THIS was the group he was expecting. "You're all here. I'll keep the introductions short, since we all have better things to do with our time. Your records speak for themselves, so there's no point in questioning your fortitude when I tell you this: Vampires are real. You will be fighting them. Don't die. Are there any questions?" Since the encounter with the CIA agents, he had spent the time before this meeting collecting a list of reliable agents to trust with the information he'd learned. It had left him a bit tired and frustrated, so his capacity for dramatic speeches was a bit lacking.

The N9 squad leader had entered the room with her men in tow, duffle bag still slung over her shoulder and lazy smile on her lips; but her posture was that of a military personnel stood at attention, not a flaw or inconsistency being visible. Once inside, her mind went to work analyzing and evaluating the person they would be calling Director from now on. She could tell from his demeanor the kind of man he was, but the body language he currently exhibited showed small bits of frustration and exhaustion- miniscule things which were easily spotted by someone of Keira's background.

These quick and acute observations made the greeting and introduction they were given expected, and she was somewhat thankful it was frank and to the point.

However, unlike most people who would surely be put off by the idea, the existence of vampires, to her, was irrelevant, as she didn't particularly care either way. The evidence for them was obvious enough, as an organization of this sort wouldn't exist if they didn't, especially considering how the US government greedily operated with it's precious funds. It could be a vampire, werewolf, sasquatch, or lochness monster for all she cared, just so long as it could bleed. If it could do that, Night Nine could kill it.

Keira's half-smirk quirked a bit as she spoke, "No, sir, just point us in the direction of any targets you have and we'll erase them." Night Nine weren't here to ask questions to things they could figure out on their own. They weren't here to ponder the existence of beings once thought to be nothing more than fairy tales, which was something she had no doubt at least one of her squad mates was doing. They were here, regardless of what each of them thought, to eliminate any target they were given; like a pack of elite wolves. The only difference being that their claws were made up of knives and their teeth were high-caliber bullets.

Jensen followed his squad leader into the office of Director Steeler. He listened to the Director's short and concise speech, making noted of defensive and offensive points in the office. Office wasn't large enough to survive a fragmentation grenade or a flashbang but it would work well enough to defend the large hallway they just came from.

"Roger sir. Our job is to make dead things stay dead. And dying ain't really my style sir."

On the outside Jensen was just as calm and collected as always with his Paul Bunyan beard and tactical sunglasses but on the inside Jensen was confused as all hell. He had been told all his life that the monsters under his bed wasn't real but here comes the not so expected contradictory statement from a man who apparently runs an entire unit of the [s]rudest[/s] best the US of A has to offer to fight these creatures.

Some bunch of stuff that were said would not exactly kindle his interests much so in his grey matter, and yet it is the pivotal importance of this briefing that he actually tuned in to listen, with thoughts queueing up as to why the fact when he is sleepy, he suddenly is thinking of deep introspective things? Anyways, he asked if they had any question, only for Keira to queue in and go on that there is none, for an absolutely unknown foe that are mostly gilded in legends and myths. N9 was made to fight against humans, the best of the best to exterminate them, and then pops up something that they weren't exactly trained for, but could very easily adapt to. Still... no questions on the best way to kill them? It's not like that maybe a headshot wouldn't work, or for that matter of fact that there may be unknown variables involved to suggest that perhaps it would be better to be educated than not in this instance as a result of it being pretty crippling.

Good thing he read Bram Stoker's Dracula once before, but was it really factual? It seems that the precipece of fate delved forth to dip an unwarranted trespass into realms unknown without foresight or knowledge to know better than it should in an attempt to play up the elite angle, confidence a great boon but nonetheless crippling an aspect had it been perhaps done so to actually stem the tides of efficiency, that maybe just maybe it were better to be the idiot scholar with the dumb questions than to be the haughty warrior dead, red with lead all over their putrid rotting carcass.

"Since vampires are real, what would it take to kill them? Stakes? Garlic? Or maybe just go old fashioned and make new orifices with bullets?" He asked, keeping about a modicum of modesty in his tone that his other compatriots seem to otherwise veer off from with confidence and bravado, "Considering they may actually vary from legends, and a mistake in the field can be lethal a mistake, sir."

Still... it was hilarious how he brought it up SO CURTLY without any distinct build up. Just superimpose the facts to the face without any much due explanation, and then to tell them they are meant to kill boogeymen by a man that oddly looks like Ron Perlman from the movie Hellboy, which is weird, there was NO WAY the Director was Ron Perlman. It must've been Zulu's imagination, as it felt as if fates themselves had thought he would take on another eternity to act out, but instead, was faster to the draw than buttbo-- Aiden on acting out his way. Shuffling over in a subtle strafe to the untrained eyes, wouldn't notice, as he inched to the side of the door frame, turning about slightly to the side as his peripherals caught sight of it, so he can make an exit ASAP to shoot up some werewolves, maybe it'd be fun if they attacked. Something tells him that Keira would love that, maybe. She was a hard woman to read.

The news seemed to go over well enough with them. It was clear, though, that the one in glasses seemed to be the smartest of the bunch. Rather than blindly assume superiority in the field, he wanted to know how to kill the vampires in the most efficient way possible. "Removing the head or piercing the heart are the only sure ways to kill them," he replied to the question. "The limited amount of testing we've been able to perform shows that garlic has no affect on them. Sunlight can range from fatal to useless depending on how strong it is, and they can't cross large bodies of water directly.

"Fire burns them and can kill them if it isn't extinguished fast enough. They sink in water and can't swim. What people consider "blessed" objects can hurt them badly, as does silver. Other than that..." He finally took a short pause. "Their powers are what you would expect: Strength, speed, senses, sometimes shapeshifting. Some have other unusual skills and, for whatever reason, most know how to fire a gun. If all else fails, shooting them enough WIll kill them in most situations. Anything else?" He looked to each of them for confirmation, especially the blond who had remained entirely silent during the meeting.

Keira had no need to ask any such questions. They had already received gear from VWAT on their way here; particularly special ammo. Keira couldn't tell the difference between them and ordinary ammo, though, she didn't know they were blessed nor did she care about them. However, it was obvious, at least to her, that such things would be all they would need to preform their job properly, otherwise they would have gotten more than that; all they had to do was properly aim.

Zulu's inquiry was understandable though, especially from a tactical standpoint. He was traditionally their pointman, so him having as much info as he could get on the target they would be going up against was only logical since he was commonly the first one inside. Regardless, the information wouldn't go unheard, though many of the ways to kill them seemed impractical and ridiculous to Keira. Honestly, they were more trouble than they were worth.

Removing their head? Setting them on fire? Drowning them? Sunlight? None of her team carried swords, nor flamethrowers, nor a lake, nor sunlight; especially since they traditionally operated at night. The only thing that seemed combat-applicable outside of specific circumstance was piercing their heart; things that could be done with simple knives and bullets. She reasonably assumed headshots would do just as well.

Luckily, it seems her intuition was right once again when he said shooting them was generally the best bet, which further solidified her previous standpoint on the bullets they had earlier received. It seemed shooting them was a lot more ideal than the other - overly complicated - ways of dealing with them.

"Despite how impractical most of those ways are, sir, they're good to know for when we want to pull off an action scene from a Blade movie. However, I think we'll just use those fancy new bullets we received on the plane. They are blessed, if my hunch is correct."

She shrugged her shoulder to adjust the strap of her duffle bag. She wasn't an expert of blessed weaponry, she didn't even know such crap existed, but she was able to put two-and-two together rather easily. However, she noticed that Aiden was being rather quiet, and had been for a while now, but it was probably for the best.

Jensen remembered his High School education about sunlight as the director talked. Normally his High School years didn't help him much on his job, other than knowing how to tackle someone in a way to make sure they don't get up for a while.

While Keira was talking, he pulled the magazine from the magazine well and easily removed one of the rounds from the magazine. Placing the magazine back in the rifle, he looked at the round again. Definitely lighter than a normal 6.8mm round.

He pocketed the round as he thought about it. Might be a silver/steel alloy as the penetrator. Could be a silver alloy for the jacket as well. He didn't know for sure but they'd find out eventually. As soon as they could get out on a mission somewhere. He wanted to badly test his combat skills against a supernatural creature of the night, despite the fact that some foreign armies would say they were supernatural creatures of the night.

Vampires, definition being bloodsuckers of the night that sparkle when day time comes forth, and tend to have an obsession with pubescent three year old girls as they remain pedophiles. Redacted. Such definitions are not truest in that form in that they are varied in aim and in capabilities. What sets them together be their love for stalking the night, and many of them being romantics, or trying to retain a semblance of humanity, or so Zulu figured from the Anne Rice novels he often laughed and mocked. Anyways, so the director made it a point that the best way to kill a vampire was a cumbersome manner, then the simplest manner as well. To use silvered bullets, but those were by no means to his stretch of imagination enough by his speculation. Perhaps staking them or double tapping to finish them off are the best. Whatever the case, he had even further inquiries running through his mind, a last one to tender before they should be out in the field, on Director Steeler's dismissal of the four figures about and abundant in his office room.

He opened his mouth, by laxing it asunder, before shutting it up once more. He figured out the answer to his own inquiry that he need not assail the Director with another question, for now, his involvement here was done in questioning. Whatever to produce out of this stay was to come out of the Director most probably, or Keira herself. Either ways, get shit done, lock and load, and get out. No rest for the wicked anyways... well, actually he is perfectly rested, having slept quite well on the plane while the rest of his team were doing whatever the monkey antics they'd love to do in their spare time, not keeping track of a primate's cultural inhibitions really. Oh Zulu the racist, or was it just being fanciful and merry in thoughts?

He shook his head to Director Ron Perlm-- Steeler, "No sir, that is all for now."

Then he listened to what Keira had to say, and found it peculiar how Sasquatch wasn't exactly gung ho, but in fact delving into realms of introspection as he looked upon his bullet item in his hand, one that was silvered. His was similar, but Zulu could tell the rounds he carried were jacketed in silver, as he had inspected far earlier than everyone else back on the plane, before he slept nary a worry in the world.

(If Keira exits, Zulu auto-exits after her.)

"The bullets are blessed and contain silver," he confirmed. With everything covered, he prepared to dismiss the group. However, the blond man who had remained silent up until this point began to convulse, a low grumbling noise coming from his mouth. A high-pitched squeal came from his mouth as he bolted out the door as fast as his body could take him, tossing weapons and upper body clothing as he ran. Punching a decorative tree as he made his shirtless way down the hall, the only audible speech escaping his lips being, "My ass!"

The director blinked, unsure of how to react to such a strange situation. "I don't know what that was, but take care of it," he ordered, having more important to matters to attend to than a lackluster recruit. He'd be disciplined by his own group if he assumed right, so there was no point in him taking action for the moment.

Well, that was that. They had the gear they needed, a laundry list of impractical ways to kill vampires, and four highly trained monsters to use it all. Now they just needed a target to use it all on. She guessed they'd be given one as soon as they were able to set up their bunks. However, Keira's trademark smirk had all but vanished as her brow quirked up, casting a glance toward Aiden who, for some reason, had utterly began freaking the fuck out.

Not one of his usual quirks, that was for sure.

Keira observed for a few moments, watching the blond sniper punch a decorative tree, strip his upper clothing and weaponry off, and run down the hallways like a blabbering idiot. This was not how N9 operated, nor was it how they acted. There was no excuse. Casting her gaze back toward Steeler for just a moment, she turned toward the door. Maybe Misha on the roof had a point; Aiden was a dumbass apparently.

"I hope you have a spare bed in the medical area, cause it's going to be occupied for quite a while," which was all she said, her voice lacking the typical carefree tone as she exited the room while tossing her duffle bag to Zulu. She hoped an explanation wasn't necessary with what he was supposed to do with it.

After discarding her gear, she suddenly bolted down the hall in massive strides, easily covering the length of the hall in a matter of moments and converging on Aiden from behind. Upon reaching the blond, her arms rose up and lashed out in a sinister choke-hold - her right arm wrapped around the snipers throat while her left locked it in place. Never having been a merciful type, more pressure was put on the mans airway that what might have been needed, but she really didn't care.

Moments of futile struggling were quickly subdued as his body feel limp, having successfully and quickly been choked out but a less than amused Keira, who let his body unceremoniously fall hard to the floor. She cast a glance toward one of the passing employees and asked if he would be so kind as to take the annoyance to the medical area, and when he agreed to do so she would then catch up with Zulu.

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EXIT with everyone.....that escalated quickly.

The display from before was rather unprofessional for a group of people who seem to consider themselves above everyone else. They were being shipped out to a mission soon enough, though, so whether or not they were just a lot of fancy gear and big egos would soon be decided. He had more important things to attend to at the moment, indicated by the confidential envelopes he had sent out to five individuals on the base.

The first to arrive, as expected, was a man named Lieutenant Gary Stu. A tall fellow with dashing good looks, he strolled into the office in his usual nonchalant fashion, a mysterious cloud of sparkles surrounding his head. A luxurious spindle of turquoise and blue hair fell down his back as he brushed several locks from his aquamarine eyes. While so far from regulation he would normally be turned away at the base's entrance, no one ever seemed to question his choice of hairstyle, nor his unconventional white suit and ascot he chose to wear in place of a uniform.

The record of this accomplished young man spoke for itself, most likely the reason for the lax dress code. He was the youngest soldier to ever graduate from the United States military, to begin with. On his first mission to Iraq, his entire squad was killed by a group of four vampires, all which swiftly died by his (bare)hand. Afterwards, he was recruited to V.W.A.T., rising through the ranks at an unprecedented speed and becoming best friends with nearly everyone on the base.

Frankly, the director couldn't stand him. He was more like a parody of a real person than an actual human being. Everything about him was too perfect. It was sickening, but, for whatever reason, he knew in his gut this man could be trusted with the sensitive task at hand. He gave a slight nod when Stu entered the room, but refused to speak until the other four he'd called for had arrived.

Reese walked in to the office and saw that the commander was busy already with a few new soldier, soldiers, and not prisoners it seemed, by the lack of guards that Steeler had with him when dealign with these people, and the fact that none of them wore any collars. For this he was grateful, he never much enjoyed working with the prisoners, some of whom had tried to attack him once or twice, but perhaps smarting off to prisoners who were sent here because there were murderous lunatics wasn't the best of ideas in the first place. He heard that he was giving to them a briefing of what they fought and how to kill them. Very important Reese new, so he made as little noise as possible. Carried in his hand was a cup of coffee for Steeler the way that he liked it made, which was of course black. He wasn't sure if he wanted it but it couldn't hurt, and if he did it would save him the trouble of having to get one later his boss. With but a quick salute he took his place against the wall and stood there waiting for this to be done, and to receive his orders.

====>Mess Hall

Opening the door to the office, Brandon entered the room shortly after Fletcher. His experience with the secretary had been brief to say the least. A few mission details here and there but that was nothing to give the archer any overly negative opinion of the guy. Stu, on the other hand, was quite close to the top of Cole's shit list. The guy was an absolute joke from his manner of dress to his supposed service record which Brandon still considered to be utter bullshit. The worst of it though was the one sided friendship that Stu had decided to concoct over the course of their relationship. When a guy was so disgustingly loved by so many it must have been unthinkable that somebody WOULDN'T fawn over Lt. Stu. Frowning deeper, Cole turned his gaze to Steeler.

"Here I am, sir. What's all this about?" he asked, getting right to the point.

Roy entered the office after receiving his invitation, though he was a little late indeed getting to the place. As he decided to attempt to bring back all forms of blood and bodily parts of the gremlins that he could for the scientist in their department to study, while Roy didn't honestly car about their study, he did know that if he gave it to them it might just make his story a little bit more believable. Besides, if someone were to look outside, he was sure they would see signs of a struggle. Regardless, he didn't put it past Steeler to chew him out for it. Roy mentally went over a list of excuses and ways to tell his story in the best sounding light for himself while he changed in to less dirty, less bloodied clothes. Roy made his way swiftly when that was done to the office, and when he opened the door he saw that there was already a myriad of different people there. There was the archer Cole, a new person by the looks of it, and the secretary. Roy hadn't had a lot of time to get to know them but he sure that he wouldn't despise them. Being quite the easygoing fellow. Roy entered the room with a salute to Steeler, and hearing Coles question he waited patiently for the answer, or the rebuke as it might be.

<------------Mess Hall

She had been in the middle of peeling an orange when the call had come in, so naturally the blonde had continued her dinner on the way to Steeler's office. Managing to keep the rind in one hand the the freed ball of goodness in the other, Eleanor pulled off individual sections with her teeth, not notcing the odd looks garnered on her trek.

As she slipped into the office just behind Cole, the spy was quick to note the others in the room, namely Lt. Stu. What strangeness had been going on in Steeler's mind when he'd sent for that man was beyond her knowledge, but she knew from experience Stu had no problem swinging his charms on her.

So she smiles at him, and hands him her left-over orange bits.

"Trash can, please."

Of course, she very well could have stepped around him, but it was more fun this way. Besides, Cole was being frumpy again and she was more than a little miserable about it.

Upon hearing her partner speak, she turns her attention back to Steeler, and awaits his response.