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designstudioasa · 9 months

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Creating Productive Work Environments The Key Elements of Office Space Design | Studio AsA

In today’s competitive business world, creating a productive work environment is crucial for the success of any organisation. Employee satisfaction, productivity, and engagement can all be significantly impacted by well-designed offices. It is no wonder that companies are increasingly recognising the importance of thoughtful office design.

In this article, we will explore the key elements of office space design that can transform a dull workplace into a vibrant and productive haven.

1. Ergonomics: Prioritising Comfort and Well-being

One of the fundamental principles of office space design is ergonomics – creating a workspace that promotes comfort and well-being. Employees who are comfortable can focus better and are less likely to experience fatigue or discomfort. Here are a few key considerations for incorporating ergonomics into your office design:

Adjustable Furniture: Provide adjustable chairs and desks that allow employees to customise their seating positions and workstations according to their preferences. This flexibility can help prevent musculoskeletal disorders and promote better posture.

Natural Lighting: Maximise using natural light by positioning workstations near windows. Exposure to natural light has enhanced mood, productivity, and overall well-being.

Proper Ventilation: Ensure adequate ventilation in the office space to maintain a fresh and comfortable environment. Good air quality can boost cognitive performance and prevent the onset of fatigue.

2. Open Spaces: Encouraging Collaboration and Communication

Gone are the days of isolated cubicles and closed-door offices. Modern office design embraces the concept of open spaces, which foster collaboration, communication, and creativity. Here’s how you can create open spaces in your office:

Collaborative Zones: Dedicate specific areas in your office where employees can gather, exchange ideas, and work collaboratively. It could include informal meeting spaces, lounge areas, or even outdoor spaces.

Flexible Workstations: Instead of assigning fixed workstations to employees, they can choose where they want to work. It can be achieved through hot-desking or activity-based working, allowing employees to move around and work in different office areas as per their needs.

Breakout Rooms: Designate separate rooms for small group discussions or brainstorming sessions. Equipped with comfortable furniture and whiteboards, these rooms provide a conducive environment for focused collaboration.

3. Quiet Zones: Balancing Focus and Concentration

While open spaces encourage collaboration, providing quiet zones where employees can find solace and concentrate on individual tasks is equally important. Creating a balanced work environment catering to collaboration and focus is essential. Consider the following for your office:

Private Workstations: Allocate some areas for employees who require a quiet space to concentrate on their work without distractions. These private workstations can be enclosed rooms or soundproof cubicles.

Quiet Rooms: Set up designated quiet rooms where employees can go for focused work or to take a break from the noise and hustle of the office. These rooms should have comfortable seating, soft lighting, and a calm ambience.

Noise Reduction Measures: Implement sound-absorbing materials like carpets, acoustic panels, or plants to minimise noise levels in the office. The concentration and productivity might be affected by excessive noise.

4. Biophilic Design: Connecting with Nature

Biophilic design is a concept that integrates natural elements and materials into the office environment, enhancing the well-being and productivity of employees. Research has shown that exposure to nature can reduce stress, improve cognitive function, and increase creativity. Here are a few ways to incorporate biophilic design in your office:

Indoor Plants: Fill the office with plants and greenery to create a refreshing and vibrant atmosphere. Plants improve air quality and add a touch of nature, boosting mood and productivity.

Natural Materials: Incorporate natural materials like wood, stone, or bamboo in the office design. These materials provide an aesthetic appeal and create a sense of calm and connection to the outdoors.

Views of Nature: Where possible, provide employees with views of nature, whether it’s through large windows overlooking green spaces or by incorporating nature-inspired artwork or murals.

5. Inspiring Colours and Visual Appeal

The colours and visual elements in an office space can significantly impact employee motivation, creativity, and mood. Here’s how you can use colour and visual appeal to create an inspiring work environment:

Vibrant Accents: Use pops of vibrant colours strategically to energise the workspace. It can be achieved through colourful furniture, artwork, or accent walls. However, avoid overstimulation and opt for a balanced colour scheme.

Brand Identity: Infuse your office design with elements that reflect your brand identity. It creates a cohesive and inspiring environment and instils a sense of pride and belonging in employees.

Art and Graphics: Incorporate art installations, inspirational quotes, or visually appealing graphics that align with your company’s values and culture. These elements can evoke positive emotions and stimulate creativity.

6. Technology Integration: Seamless Connectivity and Accessibility

In today’s digital age, seamless technology integration is crucial for a productive work environment. Employees rely on technology to perform their tasks efficiently and collaborate with team members. Consider the following aspects for effective technology integration:

Reliable Infrastructure: Ensure a robust IT infrastructure that supports fast and reliable internet connectivity, sufficient power outlets, and well-maintained hardware and software systems. It allows employees to work smoothly without interruptions or technical difficulties.

Collaboration Tools: Implement digital collaboration tools that facilitate communication, file sharing, and project management. These tools can streamline workflows, enhance productivity, and enable remote collaboration when needed.

Ergonomic Accessories: Provide ergonomic accessories such as adjustable monitor stands, keyboard trays, and cable management systems. These additions promote comfort and minimise strain associated with prolonged technology use.

7. Wellness Spaces: Promoting Health and Work-Life Balance

Recognising the importance of employee well-being, office designs now often incorporate wellness spaces that encourage physical activity and relaxation. Prioritising wellness can lead to increased employee satisfaction and productivity. Consider the following wellness initiatives for your office:

Fitness Areas: Set up fitness areas with exercise equipment, yoga mats, or standing desks. Encouraging physical activity during breaks can improve employee health, reduce stress, and boost energy levels.

Meditation Rooms: Dedicate quiet rooms or meditation spaces where employees can practise mindfulness or take a moment to relax and rejuvenate. These areas promote mental well-being and allow individuals to recharge during the workday.

Relaxation Zones: Create cosy and comfortable relaxation zones with comfortable seating, soothing lighting, and calming decor. These spaces allow employees to unwind and take short breaks, fostering a healthier work-life balance.

In Conclusion

Creating a productive work environment involves an overall approach that considers employees’ physical, emotional, and social well-being. By incorporating the key elements of office space design discussed in this article, you can cultivate a work environment that promotes productivity, collaboration, and employee satisfaction.

#StudioAsA #article #interiordesign #architecturedesign #blog #architecturetips #officedesign #productiveenvironment

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studiodb · 1 year

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How To Incorporate Commercial Interior Design In Your Business?

As a commercial interior designer, you know that the interior of your clients' businesses are often an extension of their brand. But how can you incorporate your commercial interior design skills into your business without having to hire an additional employee?

The answer is simple: by doing everything yourself. While this may sound like a lot of work, it's really not that bad when you break it down into small chunks. In fact, if you follow these steps we outlined below, incorporating commercial interior design into your business will be much easier than ever before!

Checkout here also: https://www.studiodb.co.nz/

Start with the mission statement.

The first step in incorporating commercial interior design into your business is to establish your company's values. This can be done by creating a mission statement and then developing a design plan based on these materials and resources.

Having a clear idea of who you are will help you make decisions about how your company wants to present itself. This can be done by developing a mission statement that describes the purpose and values of your business in one sentence.

Create a list of your company's values.

Before you can create a list of company values, you must first determine what those values are. Values are the things that are important to your business and its employees. They may be expressed as a list of words or phrases, such as "honesty" and "integrity."

The important thing is that these words reflect what's important to your company--not borrowed from others. For example, if one of our clients is an insurance company with a reputation for being honest and fair with its customers, then honesty would be an excellent value for us to use when designing their space (and vice versa).

Create a list of your business goals.

The first step in creating an interior design plan for your business is to create a list of goals. This can be done using the SMART goal setting method:

Specific - What do you want to achieve? (e.g., increase revenue by 10% in one year)

Measurable - How will you know when it's accomplished? (e.g., track sales per square foot)

Achievable - Is this goal realistic given your current resources and capabilities? (e.g., no.)

Relevant - How does this goal align with the overall mission and vision of my company? Do I even care about increasing revenue or customer satisfaction if those things don't help me achieve my bigger picture objectives like employee retention or increased brand awareness among millennials?

Time-bound - When do I expect this goal will be completed by (if at all)?

Develop a design plan using these materials and resources.

Once you have developed a list of goals, it's time to develop a design plan. This means determining what your business needs and wants from its commercial interior design project. You can do this by asking yourself some questions:

Who will be using the space? What are their goals and objectives? What kind of furniture or equipment will they need in order for them to achieve those goals and objectives?

How big is the space and what does it look like now (e.g., boring office cubicles)? Do we want to keep most everything as-is, or can we afford to change things up a bit and give our employees something more exciting than stale white walls and gray carpeting? Is there an area where we could add some natural light or open up some walls between departments so everyone feels less isolated from each other?

Conclusion

With the right commercial interior design, your business can make a great first impression on customers. It's important to remember that you don't need to spend a lot of money on this type of project. You just need smart ideas and some creativity!

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careerplus7 · 2 years

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008245 Housekeeping Assistant II,Full-time,Days - Palos Heights, IL 60463

#HR #jobopenings #jobs #career #hiring #Jobposting #LinkedIn #Jobvacancy #Jobalert #Openings #Jobsearch

Company Description

At Northwestern Medicine, every patient interaction makes a difference in cultivating a positive workplace. This patient-first approach is what sets us apart as a leader in the healthcare industry. As an integral part of our team, you'll have the opportunity to join our quest for better healthcare, no matter where you work within the Northwestern Medicine system. At Northwestern Medicine, we pride ourselves on providing competitive benefits: from tuition reimbursement and loan forgiveness to 401(k) matching and lifecycle benefits, we take care of our employees. Ready to join our quest for better?

Job Description

The Housekeeping Assistant II reflects the mission, vision, and values of NM, adheres to the organization's Code of Ethics and Corporate Compliance Program, and complies with all relevant policies, procedures, guidelines, and all other regulatory and accreditation standards.

Working under general supervision of an Environmental Services supervisor, the Housekeeping Assistant II performs a variety of cleaning and associated functions inside the hospital and performs related duties as assigned.

Responsibilities:

Vacuums carpeted surfaces and damp mops hard surface floors.

Cleans window sills, empties ash trays and waste baskets.

Arranges furniture in patient's rooms, baths, offices, waiting and other public areas as assigned.

Cleans bath tubs, sinks, mirrors, toilets and replaces supplies as required.

Strips unit upon discharge.

Terminally clean patient room and prepares room for admission. This includes the use of a Tent card and toilet seat strip.

Cleans blood and body fluids.

While generally assigned to a specific area, may be dispatched to other areas as needed.

Performs related duties as assigned.

Refinish floors, applying appropriate surface coatings.

Operates electrical and battery operated machines for scrubbing, shampooing and burnishing.

Moves furniture as directed and assists in freight moving.

Washes walls, blinds, lights and similar surface areas and hang cubicles and drapes.

Maintains and cleans equipment.

Upon completion, return equipment to assigned location (i.e. equipment storeroom or janitor's closets).

Keeps janitor's closet and storage area neat and orderly.

Performs all heavy duty mopping and cleaning.

Performs general and heavy cleaning duties in offices, patient rooms, clean and soiled utility rooms, laboratories, public areas and stairways, elevators such as washing floors, walls, furniture, beds, etc., with the appropriate hospital approved chemicals.

Uses ladders and scaffolds as necessary.

Cleans, washes, polishes and scrubs floors using electric scrubbing machine, wet vacuums and/or buffer.

Applies floor finish as directed.

Empties trash chutes and cleans waste containers.

Advises supervisor of unsanitary, unsafe or otherwise unsatisfactory conditions, and defective or damaged fixtures, furniture or equipment.

Collects trash and debris in rooms, halls and stairways.

Removes and compacts general waste and recycling materials. Upon completion of compacting, returns the blade to an in position

Properly disposes of Bio-Hazard waste.

Moves all heavy furniture and equipment.

Cleans rolling stock, furniture, hospital equipment and related items.

Strips, refinishes, and/or shampoos all types of floor surfaces and coverings.

Transports hospital property from area to area or building to building.

Properly utilize the Bed Tracking Program.

Log into the computer at the start of the shift.

Upon commencement of the cleaning process, move the "dirty bed", "clean next", or a "stat bed" and move it to the "In Progress" category.

Once completed, move the bed into the "Bed Ready" category.

Log out at the end of the shift.

Return all keys and pagers.

Overall knowledge of equipment and cleaning solutions is necessary as well as rigid adherence to established housekeeping standards, requires neatness of dress and grooming plus friendly, cooperative attitude toward others.

AA/EOE.

Qualifications

Required:

Sufficient to understand oral instructions.

Sufficient knowledge to gain overall knowledge of cleaning equipment, methods, and solutions.

Preferred:

High School diploma or GED equivalent.

Additional Information

Northwestern Medicine is an affirmative action/equal opportunity employer and does not discriminate in hiring or employment on the basis of age, sex, race, color, religion, national origin, gender identity, veteran status, disability, sexual orientation or any other protected status.

Apply Now: https://bit.ly/jumprecruiter

#career #hiring #HR #Jobalert #jobopenings #Jobposting #jobs #Jobsearch #Jobvacancy #LinkedIn #Openings

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studiodna1 · 2 years

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2022’S TRENDING SMALL OFFICE DESIGN IDEAS - StudioDNA

As more organizations adopt the work-from-home concept, office spaces are rapidly becoming smaller. Smaller offices that are fully equipped and scalable at the same time are the order of the day. Modern workplaces, unlike the conventional office, which had a monotonous setup with a desk and a chair, have better aesthetics that can make your work time more fun.

In this post, we’ve compiled a list of 10 trending Small Office Interior Design concepts that will transform the way offices are looked upon!

1. Minimalistic Design:

Giving these small office renovation ideas a try is one method to adjust to the ‘new normal’ current work lifestyle! Setting up a home office does not necessitate tearing down walls. Instead, clear up the unused area in your living room or bedroom and use that blank wall to hang a few bookcases. Lights, display pieces, and a slim chair that doesn’t interrupt the walkway can all be added.

2. Design for the Inlet of Sunlight:

This office plan can be designed for home offices and small businesses. The idea is to put the sitting in a corner and put the window behind it so that natural light may come in. The table serves as an extension of the main cabinet, which is a great method to maximize the amount of space available. To keep everything organized in one location, opt for a lot of drawers and shelves.

3. Rectangular Design:

This rectangular office arrangement is ideal if you have a limited amount of space. To build this elegant compact office setting, take a corner of the floor. Move the furniture to the corner to make the most of the space available. Choose an island table with rotating chairs. Hide all of the unsightly wires and hang a lovely painting for worktime inspiration.

4. Small-sized Coworking Design:

If you don’t like formal settings, this workplace design is for you! It’s ideal for small groups, especially in fields like design, where individuals engage frequently. For real brainstorming, you’ll need a sofa in the corner to break the ice and a compact desk-cum-discussion table. To make it a dynamic space, keep the walls neutral and add some colourful décor.

5. Shared Desk Design:

An office design like this can achieve two goals for small businesses: efficient space use and personal contact with coworkers. You may ensure that individuals work together without their privacy being invaded by removing claustrophobic cubicles and replacing them with the design of the same desk. The formal setting can be softened with a small coffee table and a lounge sofa.

6. Movable Cabinet Design:

With the majority of employees working from home, it makes sense for firms to reduce their floor space. Choosing a wide-open hall and converting it into a little office setting is one method to bring everyone together. This can be accomplished by removing the concrete walls and replacing them with glass to save energy. A simple workstation with mobile cabinet and comfortable chairs will suffice! When the sunsets, add some vintage lamps to enhance the atmosphere!

7.Quirky Design:

By channeling your creativity, you can break up the monotony of a standard workplace environment. Take a look at this unique office design that is anything but dull! Teal blue and yellow are bright colours that might help you beat the Monday blues. The amusing wall decor serves as both a utilitarian and a boredom-buster. To save space, choose tiny workstations and seats. For a more personalized look, go for carpet flooring.

8. Rustic Design:

How about doing your work in the woods? You may try it out without having to become a forest-dwelling before it becomes a widespread concept. Replace your shiny cabins with rustic-looking wood tables and shelving. Old, ancient accessories such as rusting tables, archaic storage bins, lamps, and vintage frames should be valued.

9. Color Burst Design:

Make a creative home office setting out of your old study table! This modest office design idea is ideal for those who consider their work environment to be an extension of their eccentric personality. You can choose any dominating colour you want. Add a slew of bright posters, motivational slogans, magnets, and other mementos to make every day feel like Friday!

10.Dual Tone Design:

White and yellow is the new black and white in the office interior! This beautiful compact office setting will make you want to sit in the room only to gaze at it! Every detail, from the quirky lighting to the elegant white cabinets and upholstery, transports us to another world. Adding a splash of black can be enthralling!

For More Details, Visit us: StudioDNA - Commercial / Office Interior Design

#corporate office interior design #office interior design #turnkey interior designers #Best Office Interior Design #turnkey project management #turnkey interiors #best architect in india #contemporary architects #famous architects in india #Interior designers in pune

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tankerramie70 · 2 years

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Entire Home Ventilation Methods For Existing Properties

In addition to the requirements in paragraph of this section the total air quantity exhausted through a spray sales space shall be similar to to dilute solvent vapor to at least 25 % of the lower explosive limit of the solvent being sprayed. Inlet or provide ductwork used to move make-up air to spray cubicles or surrounding areas shall be constructed of noncombustible materials. Where effective means, independent of the overspray filters, are put in which is ready to result in design air distribution across the sales space cross section, it's permissible to operate the booth with out the filters in place. The Particulate & Fumes filter is a specialised filter for production environments that embrace heavy truck and forklift traffic, chopping lubricants, and sulfur . It contains double the quantity of activated carbon filtration to remove particulates from especially soiled air containing oil, exhaust vapor, and fumes. Piping layout is simply as essential because the pipe’s diameter in optimizing airflow and lowering potential issues. Warning indicators should be of a design, development and durability to be clearly identifiable for the prescribed posting interval, and should provide info in a fashion that may be readily understood by staff. The employer must make certain that a pesticide to be used in the workplace is utilized in accordance with the requirements stated on the label and with good utility practice. The employer must be sure that a pesticide for use within the office has been registered and labelled by the manufacturer in accordance with the Pest Control Products Act . If modifications to the chance evaluation are essential on account of the evaluation under subsection , the employer should be sure that the chance assessment is changed accordingly. All other non-disposable private protective gear should be cleaned instantly after use. Each electrical cupboard has an intake fan and filter unit on the underside and an exhaust vent on prime so that the warmth generated by the digital equipment can escape. Combustion gases, together with carbon monoxide, and particles can be back-drafted from the chimney or flue into the living house if the combustion equipment just isn't properly vented or does not receive enough supply air. Back-drafting can be a specific problem in weatherized or tightly constructed homes. How To Clean Vertical Blinds If you are utilizing a double-sided duster, you’ll clean the topside of one slat and bottom side of the one above it as you pass the duster in between. 清潔公司 ’s even quicker to dust the blinds with the slats closed, however remember you won’t be dusting the total slat. Be positive to Shake your cloth exterior typically as you begin to discover it collecting mud to avoid depositing mud back on to your blinds as you clean. It won’t take long before this space sees lots of crumbs, trash, sticky counters,... We have spoken before about how tile is a incredible onerous surface for an office or office floor. Tile flooring are durable, stain-resistant, and maintain a nice look for a few years. This sort of flooring is often seen in bathrooms, kitchens or breakroom areas, and... Open the blinds as this will help you work on each of them with ease. Handwashing is the basic technique for cleaning pleated blinds. After taking them off the window, pour some warm water right into a basin - the temperature can't exceed 35-40°C (95-104°F). All stains and filth should dissolve after 30 minutes. My sister has a lot of window blinds in her house and she desires to have it cleaned as a end result of she will be expecting guests. The Distinction Between Janitorial And Hygiene Cleansing Franchises Food and beverage stains, pen marks and body oils can be unsightly and reduce the longevity of carpet, upholstery, and furniture. Our cleansing crews will go away these areas meticulously clean and sanitized. Establishing a base scope of labor for the custodial groups is important. As stated above, the daytime team members tend to have a extra fluid scope of work as compared to the night custodians. Services offered by janitorial staff additionally ensures that the setting is as wholesome and sanitary as attainable. Nashville, Tennessee could have its fair share of cleansing firms, however they’re not definitely not all the identical. When it involves sustaining your property, equipment, and popularity, you don’t wish to select just any janitorial supplier. You need an experienced staff that’s ready and willing to meet your business’s particular wants. I simply know that the job will get carried out and that we're in good palms. Even if you’re the one one who indicators the dotted line, your family and associates turn out to be part of this journey as they offer their advice, love, and help. Even if they aren’t part of the monetary decision-making course of, they’re those who will be your sounding board and the ones who will rejoice your success with you. 5 Advantages Of Maintaining A Clean And Tidy Workspace Food and Drug Administration are highly efficient at defending vaccinated individuals against symptomatic and severe COVID-19 illness and dying. According to the CDC, a growing physique of proof means that fully vaccinated persons are much less likely to have symptomatic an infection or transmit the virus to others. See CDC's Guidance for Fully Vaccinated People; and Science Brief. Ensure that every one public areas and other practical areas are stored clean at all times. Facilitate provision of extra companies to friends similar to child sitters, hot water bottles, different guest requests. Take cost of housekeeping division in absence of executive housekeeper. As a outcome, they're going to deal with printers, copiers, and other office tools with the same reckless abandon with which you treat your office. It would not take a genius to know that correct group improves productiveness. After all, if things are stored organized, they gained't need to be looked for. While it may possibly hold an exorbitant quantity of information, it can be thrown off by the most discreet of stimuli. This is amongst the reasons that workplace cleanliness is so necessary. Maintaining a healthy, clean mouth is a part of maintaining personal hygiene at work. Frequently disinfect surfaces repeatedly touched by employees or customers similar to door knobs, equipment handles, check-out counters, and grocery cart handles, etc. Others at the facility with close contact (i.e., inside 6 feet) of the employee during this time must be thought-about exposed. Working with gear that's routinely inoperable is both discouraging for employees and displays poorly on the organization’s high quality requirements. Good equipment upkeep practices are centered on consistently and diligently doing the small issues to achieve long-term success and value. 20 Best Home Cleansing Tips For People With Allergies Failure to clean electronics may cause extra than simply health problems. Electronics want air circulate to cool off, or they might be damaged by warmth. Dust prevents followers from properly cooling electronics, resulting in a shortened service life. In addition, mud can find its method into the devices themselves, causing parts to deteriorate and indicators to be crossed. Equipment that sits round may collect mud as a end result of they're not often moved. Even often handled electronics, like cell phones, must be removed from their covers and cleaned on a weekly basis. Before starting the deep-cleaning process, clean any litter on your flooring and vacuum completely. Pay shut consideration to the corners and edges of the room, as nicely as under furnishings, as this is the place probably the most mud could be found. The tops of home windows and cabinets are difficult-to-reach locations. If you clear often, a pillow case is all you'll need to eliminate the mud. Wrap the fan blade up within the pillow case, then pull the pillow case off the fan blade slowly. When you are completed, take the pillow case outdoors and switch it inside out. Knick-knacks make surfaces onerous to clean, so many people will permit dust to build up for longer on those surfaces.If you must have knick-knacks, limit your use. Once the diagnosis is made, your allergist could prescribe medications that can help you manage your situation. However, you can also enhance high quality of life by decreasing the amount of mud in your home. Mold produces fungus spores, which are then released into the air. All houses have mold, but the houses with the largest issues are these with humidity and moisture points. Four Methods Business Laundry Services Help Firms Or smaller containers and packed in a transparent liter sized bag. If the container is more than 3.four oz, you will want to pack it in your checked luggage or it will be confiscated by security. Consider where and the way you are traveling to determine the easiest way to do laundry during your journey. Some objects like a wool sweater ought to be laid flat to dry to maintain it from shedding its form. Of course the downsides of installing a washer or dryer is they're expensive, take up a lot of house, and will require maintenance. For example, cleansing during processing, removal of stable waste and sufficient house in processing rooms are elements which facilitate cleaning. Using the proper detergent is a vital a half of managing an eco-friendly laundry room. WIN Green is free from dyes and fragrances, and it options components that have been sourced responsibly. It is an environmentally acutely aware alternative, and additionally it is great for folks with delicate skin or noses. You won't be able to avoid ironing 100%, however cutting back as far as you can on this energy-thirsty laundry chore shall be another win for the environment. APIC offers a complete collection of clinical schooling and professional growth packages. The ultimate phase of dry-cleaning operations contains finishing, urgent, steaming, ironing, and making any essential repairs to restore the garment. This is the least mysterious process since most dry-cleaning shops have their skilled ending equipment in plain view of customers. A worker makes use of a pressing machine to press shirts in the finishing levels of the dry cleansing course of. As an instance, a typical machine may pump solvent through the garments at a fee of maybe 1,500 gallons per hour. The most commonly used solvent is perchloroethylene, recognized within the industry as "perc." Perc is about sixty nine p.c heavier than water. This year sees Böwe launch its new StarLine PX collection of machines, introduced to complement the Böwe PremiumLine range, successfully giving the company what have to be probably the most comprehensive selection of machines it has ever needed to provide. •A timeframe by which objectives and targets shall be achieved needs to be established. 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Your dishwasher must be ready in your breakfast dishes so they don’t pile up in the sink. Keeping dirty dishes out of the sink will also assist prevent bugs in the kitchen. I used to have a tough time with the “clean enough” thought. Laminate flooring shouldn't be cleaned with soap, abrasives or products that contain abrasives. Even although starting low cost is likely considered one of the big advantages to founding a cleaning firm, it’s worth spending slightly further on insurance coverage, even when it isn’t a legal requirement. To clear your Apple cable, unplug each end of the cable from your device and energy adapter. Beyond removing the fuzz from your dryer's filter after every load, pull out hard-to-reach lint with the crevice tool in your vacuum to suck up particles. Vacuum under, round and behind the dryer as well. Getting rid of expired makeup, skincare and hair products is a quick approach to declutter. They should even be punctual for cleansing appointments and end cleaning in the time frame expected by the client. The intention right here may be good, however it’s a bit like gaslighting your youngsters. A better way to declutter your kids’ room is to invite them in on the process and help them get enthusiastic about it by enlisting them to choose a charity to donate to. Cleansing, Disinfecting, And Sanitizing The construction of the biofilm is not homogeneous; it incorporates a set of quite a few channels and cavities that serve to flow into water, provide nutrients and oxygen. They are intricate, mutually communicating channels of various shapes that supply substances and gases to biofilm-living micro organism. Bacteria in the biofilm kind clusters of cells, which are known as microcolonies. Biofilm structure is diverse, continuously altering in area and time because of external and inner processes. It is understood that EPS manufacturing and hence the related biofilm thickness depend upon the availability of nutrients and whether the biofilm is composed of one or more bacterial species. Tent association might work for some thing like chlorine bleach (NOT EtO!). There would need to be some bioburden kill tests, to know the effectiveness, but I'm certain it might be higher than the fabric masks some are proposing. Outpatient instances are dealt with through telemedicine and triage. The demand of those filters has surged and has undoubtedly overwhelmed provide. The paper surgical masks all of us use may be steam autoclaved. In the office setting we save our unsoiled masks in particular person autoclave pouches and sterilize them on the end of the day. No literature on this, since this has by no means been needed earlier than in our disposable tradition. Institutional limitations may embrace access to HIPAA-compliant photo-sharing, videoconferencing or digital medical information. Additionally, as sources and medical staff turn into extra restricted, hospital-based dermatologists and trainees could additionally be conscripted to different facets of disaster relief.

#清潔公司

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

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Love the amount of crime shows I watched as a child being useful

#in retrospect watching law and order svu as like. a ten year old #wasn’t a good idea but hey. shit happens #im actually writing fhr stuff so that always sticks in my head as these more beat up law and order like. PD stations #where as twc always has a more modern feel to it #high second story ceilings bc it’s a converted warehouse #and the second floor is a lofted space where the captain has his office #and the enclosed offices for the detective and such are along a wall with the large refurbished warehouse style windows in them #and the open area of the office is where the cubicles are with carpet #the front desk area is polished concrete and is visible throughout the whole station #ah shdjdjd it’s a whole layout in my head #the station in the fic isn’t important but the station in twc is. very important LMAO #(it’s in big contrast to how I imagine the Ranger’s headquarters)#which is mostly a stark white walls + polished concrete floors and a lot of glass #with occasional accents of dark wood and greys + Ranger blue #it’s all very. modern art museum in my head #like the talk w Chen in the first book is on this sort of walk/causeway that overlooks four stories down to the main areas below #and out another side is just this partial section of a huge wall that is glass and overlooks the city #and on the higher floors it’s easy to see memorial park #thank you to the number of art museums and the action movies I’ve watched #I always have a picture in my little brain of what a scene looks like and it’s interpreting that scene into writing #which includes the background #but that says something about writers giving enough information to build a picture for the reader #Owen talks

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queen--kenobi · 3 years

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Mineshaft II Chapter I [Been Here Before]

Fic Summary: It’s been five years since the Sarlacc Chemical Plant explosion took the love of your life, Boba Fett, from you. You’ve been reeling in the aftermath, trying to find a place in a world that’s continually shifting. That place might end up being beside a mysterious Mandalorian. By helping him navigate the criminal underground of the city and regain control of the Mandalore sector, you can find stable ground and clarity. You might even be able to find love once more.

Assuming that familiar faces and past ghosts don’t make themselves known, that is.

Modern/Crime AU

This is both a rewrite and reimaging of Honor Among Criminals. Some of the things will remain the same, but I’ve added a lot and much of the story will shift.

Pairings: Din Djarin x f!reader, (past) Boba Fett x f!reader

Series is 18+

Chapter warnings: Language, implied and referenced violence, abusive workplace practices, allusions to some body horror but none depicted

Chapter summary: After years of being sidelined due to getting involved with a previous client, you’re finally brought back into the fold. However, a better job offer presents itself, and you’re keen to jump at the opportunity.

The office is almost entirely silent.

The click of your heels on the tile floor seems so loud in the silence, as if you’re disrupting something sacred. Noises from traffic are faint on this floor. The only other sounds are the electrical hums coming from a few safety lights left on and various electronics scattered around the cubicles. It feels sterile, lifeless.

Not that this place felt particularly full of life during the day.

The transition from tile to carpet muffles a lot of your footsteps. The area outside of the offices are carpeted. Silently, you pray. If you’re lucky, the light in your boss’s office will be off. Everyone else is long gone, even those who had to stay late to finish projects in time. It’s hopefully just you. Dealing with your boss is aggravating to say the least. You have no doubt the asshole will saddle you with even more work, work that he has the time to do but doesn’t want to. He makes no bones about the fact he’d rather be playing golf or fucking his mistress than working.

Your upper lip twitches. Pig.

“Shit.” Even though it’s under your breath, the curse feels so loud in the silence. Light filters through the slats of the blinds and around the door. It’s enough light to let you know he’s in and didn’t forget to turn off the lights when he left. You grimace.

Fuck. You have to get these reports to him tonight. If you didn’t, you’d get them to him tomorrow. The bitching and being chewed out isn’t worth it, though.

You stop in front of the door. From inside, you can hear the clacking of a keyboard followed by a soft swear. Okay. That’s good. He might be too busy to spare you any attention. That would be ideal. You shift the stack of papers to your other arm. You knock once.

“Come in.”

Carefully, you open the door and slip inside, stopping it with your foot before it closes behind you. You hold up the papers.

“Here’s the report you asked for.”

It’s not good news. Despite the fact Vader, and the criminal empire he created, died five years ago, things still hadn’t settled down. No one had been able to fill the power vacuum left behind. Instead, everything fractured into trillions of tiny networks and kingdoms. While territories and important names don’t change as often as they did, things are still changing fairly rapidly to the point where the company doesn’t know who to back.

Unofficially, of course.

Officially, the reports are an attempt to understand the rapidly changing crime scene of the city. The reasons vary from wanting to make sure workers are certain sites are protected to wanting to keep an eye on any areas that might be hit hard with crime. You’re sure that someone threw in some garbage about giving money to those communities to help “rebuild impoverished areas”.

As if those places actually had the highest rates of crime. No. The places with the most criminal activity were the rich neighborhoods where buying coke was as easy as buying gum from the store. Of course, that never went into any reports.

Sure, the company gave money. Specifically, the company lined the pockets of whomever ran the drug trade or the human trafficking business or the black market gun sales. None of it actually went to anyone who wanted to do any good in these areas.

Was it hypocritical of you to criticize the company? Of course. Should you leave? You’d love to. The truth of the matter is that you knew too much. If you tried to leave, you have no doubt you’d make the news. Fatal car crash kills beloved member of community. Drug overdose in hotel room. Anything that would get rid of you and not draw too much attention.

Your boss grunts. He gestures towards a corner of his desk. You set it down.

“Do you need anything else before I leave for the night?”

Please. If God exists, you’ll finally be able to go home.

“Actually.” He looks up at you. “I got something I could use your help with.”

Fuck.

His chair creaks as he leans back in it.

“You were sleeping with that Fett guy several years back, right?”

“I was.” You clasp your hands behind your back. It takes every ounce of willpower to not bristle at how he asks it. The relationship had been much more than that. Your boss didn’t need to know that, though, so you press the bubbling rage down.

“So you know a lot about Mandalorians then?” It’s phrased like a question, but you know it’s a statement. He clearly thinks you know everything there is to know.

“A little.” You weren’t being modest. Of course you picked up on some of the culture, but you were by no means privy to everything about it. You had large gaps of knowledge if you were being completely honest.

“Don’t be modest.” Your boss waves his hand.

“May I ask what this is about, sir?” It’s easier to just ignore his comment. He grunts again.

“We got wind of someone new coming onto the scene. Some Mando took control of one outfit. We want you to talk to him, you know? Make sure he knows that if he needs anything, he can rely on us.”

Hopefully he doesn’t see your eye twitch. It’s easy to read between the lines. He wants you to seduce this Mandalorian, make him reliant on you and the company. The fact that even after five fucking years people only think of you in terms of being Fett’s woman makes you want to scream. Instead, you offer him a smile that you hope isn’t too tight lipped.

“Of course, sir.” You couldn’t say no. If you said no, you had no idea what he might do. Besides. Being on an assignment after so long would mean that you’d get out of the office. You’d have some freedom or at least the illusion of it. Everyone in the office knew they had no say in anything. “Do we happen to have a file on him?”

He tosses a manila folder carelessly over to you. Carefully, you pick it up.

“Meeting is set up for tomorrow at 9 am. You remember the drill?”

“I do.” You spent God knows how many years doing similar jobs. Of course you remember the drill. He motions that you can go. You don’t waste any time heading towards the door. His moods are mercurial at best, so he could very well change his mind.

“Oh. One thing.” You stop and turn to face him. “Make sure what happened with Fett doesn’t happen again, yeah?” He laughs to himself. The smile you give him is very tight-lipped. As soon as you’re out the door and out of earshot, you begin cursing that vile man under your breath.

You fucking hate him.

Thankfully, the trip back to your apartment is uneventful. Part of you longs for a house, but that simply isn’t feasible. You move around too much to even consider dropping such a large amount of money on one. The company doesn’t make you move; you suspect they’d like you to stop moving.

It’s more because you never know who or what could be following you.

When you get inside the apartment doors, you stare at the elevator. You linger. Truth be told, going up the stairs sounds like hell right now, but your mind won’t let you.

"Elevators make you an easy target." The memory feels like ripping open a fresh wound. Boba had his back to you, head turned so he barely looked over his shoulder. He engulfed the doorway despite having just stepped out of the metal contraption. "Some of the easiest kills I’ve done were in elevators."

At the time, you taken his words at surface value. They were advice at best and a warning, an understated death threat, at worst. It’s only know that you realize what he was really saying. It was a silent admission that he cared about you. Sure, it wasn’t as romantic as Wesley’s ‘as you wish,’ but Boba had never been one for romance.

With a sigh, you turn towards the stairs. One day you’ll be able to ride an elevator without paranoia. Today isn’t that day. As you trek up the stairs, you silently long for the days of a swanky apartment building. The doorman made you feel more at ease. It made you feel safe and secure. Well, as safe and secure as you would ever feel, which isn’t as much as you’d like.

All that being said, you don’t miss the rent. Or the snotty neighbors for that matter.

Finally, you reach your apartment. The piece of paper in the door jam is exactly how you left it. The lock is positioned exactly as you left it as well. Carefully, you unlock the door and turn the lights on before slipping inside. You shut the door as quickly as possible behind you and lock it.

Carefully, you set your purse aside. As you do so, you scan the room. All the assorted baubles on the windowsill are in place. No footprints from the flour underneath it either. When you check your room, you find the same thing. No broken glass in either place as well. Nevertheless, you place two heavy books on each frame. If someone tries to get in while you sleep, that should make it all the more difficult.

Next, you turn on the TV. It’s some mindless channel. What’s on isn’t important, the noise is. The vents seem good; you check each one by nudging them with a cane you keep by the door. You turn the sink in the kitchen on. The testing strips are on top of the fridge just in case someone tries to change them out. The water tests fine, no acid or anything in it. Next is your bathroom, and it comes back the same.

Okay. Things seem safe enough for you to shower. It’s quick; you have to read the file before you go to bed. Besides, you’ll shower again in the morning so you look nice and presentable for the new client.

You slip into your pajamas as soon as you’re done and dry and head out to the kitchen. Thankfully, you didn’t eat all of your take-out order from the night before so you have something ready made. Most places are closed for take-out at this hour. As you wait for the microwave to beep, you let your boss’s parting words stew in your brain. You grip the microwave handle tighter and tighter the longer you think about it.

Where did that fucker get off? What the hell was wrong with him that he thought he could treat you that way? Sure, yes, you’d been playing meek the past several years because you knew in the company’s eyes you fucked up by getting so close to Boba. At the time, you didn’t care. Nothing could have come between you and Boba, not even God himself.

The microwave beeps rapidly. You rip the door open with more force than necessary. The bowl is hot, making you hiss as you try to get it out before giving up and grabbing paper towels to shield your fingers. Once you're settled in the living room, you snag the manila folder from your bag and go over its contents.

The file has virtually nothing on him, not even his name. He's done a good job of flying under the radar. Either that, or he was one of the kids the Mandalorians took in. You could admire that. They took in kids the system failed and gave them a roof and food and a family.

You purse your lips together hard. Now wasn't the time to get sentimental. You have work to do.

Speaking of Foundlings, you notice that Mando has one. Something nasty twists in your gut. Thank God they assigned you to this Mando; others in the company wouldn't hesitate to use a child against him. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth, one you can't seem to get rid of no matter how much you try.

The file is slim, so there's not much more to glen from it. You sigh and close it. Your head hurts. The dull throbbing radiates from the front of your head outward. It’s especially acute along your jaw, so it’s most likely a tension headache. You let your head fall back and close your eyes. Hopefully this Mando won’t be a pain in your ass.

You listen to your body. It’s clear that you should have gone to bed hours ago. Everything hurts, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. As soon as you’re settled in bed, you pass out.

You dream about him.

The beach unfolds before you. The crashing of the waves lulls you into a sense of security. A lone figure stands down by the water. You know who it is, would know no matter the place or distance. You follow the set of footprints down to him.

He doesn’t have his helmet on this time. You can see his face, illuminated by the setting sun. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but it’s clear he knows you’re there. His jaw unclenches a little, his features becoming a little less stern.

You don’t say anything. You aren’t quite ready to speak. Instead, you look out towards the horizon as well. Huh. You thought that it was dusk, but it might be dawn. The light isn’t draining but slowly flooding the sky. Out in the waters, you can see dolphins. You watch them for a moment.

“Would you...” You speak first. The sudden lump in your throat is hard to swallow around. “If things were the other way around, would you miss me? Like. Like I miss you?”

“Worried, Princess?” Boba’s gravelly voice adds an edge to his teasing tone, but you know it’s not intentional. “I’ve killed a lot of people. Adding who took you would be pleasure. Not business.”

His head doesn’t turn towards you, but you can feel his gaze on you for a moment. You don’t look at him. You can’t bear to look at him.

“I miss you. I don’t...”

“Don’t. I’m an old man. I’m not worth missing.” You turn towards him at that. He looks directly at you. “It’s been long enough.”

You open your mouth to argue with him. How could he say something like that? Sure, it’s been five years, but he was your everything. That doesn’t go away in that span of time. Something stops you, though. The sands shift as if they’re melting away underneath you.

No.

No, you know what happens next. You don’t want to. You won’t live through this again. The ocean begins to turn a strange green, the kind that can only be described as acidic or nuclear waste. The light from the sun becomes blinding.

You’ve got to wake up. You can’t bear to see him die like this again. You slap your open palm against your thighs as hard as you ca-

You bolt upright. Your thigh stings, and it takes you a moment to realize you did slap your thigh. Hard enough to wake you up apparently. For a moment, you just stare at the spot. The only light is coming from your alarm clock, so you can’t see if there’s already a mark. Something tells you there is.

After a long moment, you eventually let yourself fall back. You keep your eyes open for several minutes, not ready to go back to sleep. If you let yourself drift away now, you’ll be sucked back into the same dream.

Once you’re sure it’s gone, you let your eyes close.

The next morning finds you at the designated meeting spot at 9 am. It’s a small park, not too far down the road from a preschool. You idly wonder if Mando’s adoptive son attends it. He could, but it would also be stupid to set up a meeting near your son’s preschool, wouldn’t it? You take a sip of your coffee, doubling checking to make sure you grabbed yours and not the one you brought for Din.

As you wait, you look around the park. A man nearly sprints through the greenspace, no doubt late for work. A couple in the parking lot stand by one car, clearly lingering and not ready to part. A mom helps one of her kids into the swing, the other one clinging to her pant leg. Your eyes are drawn to that one, something deep within your heart being tugged on.

She has a normal life, right? She has two kids, and no doubt has a husband who’s working. She probably spends her nights at home with the occasional girls night out. She might drink wine and tease her husband lovingly when he falls asleep in his chair while they watch a movie. Hell, they probably try to watch a movie together regularly as a bonding activity.

The thoughts turn towards the bitter. You purse your lips. Why couldn’t you have that? Why couldn’t you have a partner to come home to, who wants to watch movies with you and asks you about your day? Why couldn’t you have sleepy Saturday mornings where the two of you just lay in bed and don’t get up until you absolutely have to, and then maybe go do something together and fall a little bit more in love?

Someone says your name.

You jerk your head towards the owner of the voice. A Mandolarian stands in front of you. You know it’s him because of his race suit. It’s all silver, almost chrome. The helmet is the same color. The brown satchel gives you pause; it looks like something more fitting of a professor than a Mando. He’s got a cup of coffee in his hand.

“You must be who I’m meeting.” You go to stand up, but he gestures for you to sit. You scoot over on the bench, and he sits down beside you. After a moment, he holds the coffee cup out to you.

“Here.” His voice is nice. It’s deep without being gravely. You let out a little laugh and grab the bottle of coffee beside you.

“I was going to say the same.” You take the cup from him and hold out the bottle in exchange. After a moment, he takes it, carefully examining it to make sure the seal and plastic wrap hasn’t been broken. “I know you can’t take off your helmet until you’re alone, so hopefully that will still be cold when you get a chance to drink it.Wasn’t sure what you liked. So I guessed.”

“Thank you.” He seems satisfied that you haven’t tampered with it in any way. To show that you trust him, you put your coffee to the side and take a sip of the one he brought you. It’s perfect. Truth be told, it’s exactly the way you like it. Your surprise must have shown on your face.

“You’re not the only one who can do research.” He leans back as he speaks and throws an arm over the back of the bench. You nearly spit out the coffee. “Relax. I needed to know what I was getting myself into.”

After a moment, you nod.

“I can understand that.” You’re not sure how your coffee order plays into that, though. “I was hoping I’d be as hard to find information on as you, but. I guess not.”

“I’ve had more time to dig than you.” He responds. “Did they even figure out my name?”

You shake your head. He makes a small noise.

“Good. That means I’m doing my job.”

“Can I get your name? Since you know so much about me already, it feels like a fair trade.” Across the park, someone sits down on a bench. Something inside your gut twists in on itself, so you look at the man even as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Din. It’s Din.” He responds after a moment. You repeat him. His name rolls easily off your tongue.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” You hum.

“So, where is it?” Din looks at you. You arch an eyebrow and look at him, confused as to what he could be talking about. “People usually bring something for the kid to butter me up.”

Huh.

“I didn’t bring anything.” You shift, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t believe in bringing people’s kids into this.”

Din doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to; you can feel his silent approval.

“I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“How did you get my coffee order right?” You frown. “There’s no way you could have known the company would have sent me.”

Din doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks out across the park. His visor stops at the woman by the swings. He seems to be weighing his words carefully.

“Fett picked and chose his company carefully.” Din begins hesitantly. Your eyebrows nearly shoot up into your hairline. “If he let you get close, he saw something in you. I wanted to see for myself.”

You purse your lips in a thin line. Despite your best efforts, it’s abundantly clear you’re agitated by that. The man has been dead for five years, and people you don’t even know define your worth by him. It makes you sick.

“I’m not interested in you because you’re Fett’s girl.” That makes you snap your head back to face Din. His visor is trained on your face. The tinted panel makes it impossible to see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I don’t care about that. I want to work with someone who has integrity.”

Integrity. You roll the word around in your brain. He thinks you have some sort of moral compass. The thought makes your lips twitch. Usually when people say that, they make it sound like an awful thing, as if it’s inconveniencing them. He clearly wants that.

“I want someone who won’t try to screw me over.” Din looks back out across the park. “I know the company can do so on its own. It doesn’t need help.”

That makes you snort. “I’d be stupid to do so.” You take a sip of your coffee. “I don’t like to cheat people out of what’s theirs. Not if I can help it.” God help you, you’ve had to do so before, and you still hate yourself for it. “Besides. I don’t want to die an interesting death.”

“Agreed.” He’s turning his head as if he’s still just looking around the park, but you can tell he’s noticed the man across the way and doesn’t like him either. Something about the way his shoulders tense tells you as much. “I’d like to die in my sleep.”

He sounds as if he knows he won’t die in his sleep, as if he’s already resigned himself to die a bloody death. It makes your heart sink.

A thought occurs to you, one that makes you purse your lips.

“So. Did I pass your test?”

Din sighs. “The kid is the most important thing to me.” It’s easy to understand what Din is getting at with that. His kid isn’t a chess piece, isn’t some sort of pawn in this twisted game. You nod.

“I wouldn’t do that to a kid.” You sigh and tilt your head back. “The world can be cruel enough as it is. No need to bring a child into this so early.”

“I have a Creed. That Creed means everything. It was around before I was born and will continue after I die. My son will pass it on. It is the Way.” When he turns to face you again, a steel edge creeps into his tone. “I won’t deal with anyone who doesn’t respect it.”

You nod.

“I understand.” The words carry a lot of weight behind them, so much unsaid. “I...

I get it.”

That's not to say you haven't done terrible things; you know you've done reprehensible things, ones that sometimes keep you up at night. It still doesn't mean you don't have a moral compass. You don't cheat people out of what's theirs. You don't deal with traffickers and rapists. If you can find an alternative solution to the default of murder, you push for it. You never, ever involve children in any of your dealings.

You know you haven't exactly made the world a better place. You can pray you haven't made it extremely worse.

Din tilts his head. The change in angle makes the chrome gleam even more, right on the edge of blinding. He's regarding you, silently deciphering something.

"I get why Fett liked you.” The respectful tone is the only reason you don’t get up and leave.

“Now look who’s trying to butter someone up.” You try to go for playful. The bitterness seeps in despite that.

“Boba isn- wasn’t a kind man. He cared deeply about you, though.” Din looks up at the sky for a second. “I knew him to be ruthless and domineering. I only saw him being gentle around you.”

Oh. “I never saw you when he held court.” You try to keep your tone even. If he was part of the Court, that would explain a lot. The knowledge makes you feel a little more secure; he knew this because he had a connection to you, not because he spent the past several days creeping on you.

“I make it my job to go unseen.”

You make a noise. “Probably made your job easy. I was... wrapped up in him.”

Din doesn’t comment on that. He just looks at you for a long moment.

“I don't want to work with your company." His tone is authoritative despite how quiet it is. A steel edge that leaves no room for questions lies underneath its "I want to work with you."

You grimace before you can stop yourself. "I... I'm afraid that's not possible." You hope he understands, that he can read between the lines. He looks back out towards the park.

"I have a safe house. I can put you up in there until we get you a new identity. I know several people who have complexes that you'll be safe." He takes a moment to scan the park. "You'll be safe. I won't let them hurt you."

His register dips towards the end of the sentence. You're not sure he's conscious of it. It sends a delicious thrill through you. To say he means those words is an understatement; you get the distinct impression he'd kill anyone who tries to harm you.

It's nice, feeling wanted like that again.

It's your turn to look out at the park. The two of you are silent for several minutes.

"I'll pay you whatever you want." Din's voice is soft, almost deceptively so. You turn your head to look at him. "Name your price."

You swallow hard.

"What..." Your mouth suddenly feels dry, cotton-like. "What would I... what would my job be?"

"I need someone who knows everything. Knows the ins and outs of as many groups as possible and can negotiate with these groups."

"I can do that."

The two of you retreat to a nearby breakfast place. It's Din's choice, so you know he trusts them. This is further cemented when the hostess leads the two of you to a room past the secondary dining area. It looks for all intents and purposes like a special seating area, the kind a couple might be able to reserve. You know better.

Before the two of you begin to hammer out the details, the hostess produces a shoebox lined with tin foil. Din drops his phone into it. After a second, you drop both your company phone and regular phone in. She closes the box and places it on the far side of the room.

"Can't be too careful." You nod in response to Din's words. No doubt your soon to be former employers bugged both phones.

The negotiation doesn’t take nearly as long as you thought. It mostly consists of you asking questions and clarifying things. Din clearly wants you to work for him; he doesn’t seem to mind that you want to cover nearly everything. Eventually, you’re satisfied.

The plan is for you to get several bags together when you get home from work. Din will collect you. Once you’re safe with him, you’ll officially resign. He’ll have people there ready to move all of your things as you go with Din to the safe house. To be sure everything goes smoothly, Din has given you a list of fake demands to give them. Both of you know that if the company thinks you’re leaving for even a second, they won’t hesitate to shoot you.

The threat looms over you as you make your way back to work. It settles inside your stomach, making everything feel heavy and awful. You nearly don’t go back, wanting nothing more than to call in sick. That would just come off as more suspicious, though. So you force yourself to make your way to your boss’s office for the last time.

“Absolutely not.” Your boss leans back in his chair after looking at the napkin you’d scribbled the faux demands on. You raise an eyebrow. The two of you had kept the part about Din wanting to work with only you in case your boss happened to listen to the conversation in the park before you got back to the office.

“He said it’s the only way he’ll work with the company.” You counter. “I thought that you wanted this contract.”

“Look, hon.” You have to actively fight the urge to snarl at that. “He just wants you to work for him because of well... You know.”

“No, I don’t.” You keep your voice calm and level. Even then, it’s easy to tell that your boss is close to a line. “Do enlighten me.”

“Don’t be like that. Come on. You know as well as I do that the moment you started your...” Your boss pauses to wave his hand in the air in a vague manner. “Thing with Boba Fett that people would only see you as a way to get to him. If he ever comes back, of course.”

“I see. And is that the company’s official stance?”

Your boss pauses. Surprisingly, the main part of the office is silent. You’re pretty sure that if someone dropped a pen, you’d hear it loud and clear. “Well, no, but-”

“Thank you.” You interrupt your boss. “This has been very enlightening to me.” You lift your chin. Your back is ramrod straight.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that!” Your boss says. You ignore him, opting to walk out of his office. “We see you as more than that! You’re a good employee!”

The minute you step outside, all of your coworkers in their cubicles begin suddenly working. The sounds of keyboards clacking all at once is deafening. At least no one cleared their throat. You make your way back to your office, closing the door behind you and locking it with a sigh.

How did you let it get this bad?

The urge to collapse into your desk chair is overwhelming, but you can’t. You’ve got too much to do in a short amount of time. Under your desk, you’ve kept a stache of cardboard boxes, most of them folded up Banker’s boxes. On your way over, you spent time figuring out what you wanted to take home and what you didn’t. It was difficult; you knew whatever you left the company would throw out. It had taken a lot of thought.

Eventually, you get everything that you want to take into boxes. You wait for people to begin to file out for lunch before you begin moving the boxes to your car, making sure to take the back hallways and corridors. You’ve been in that office for several years, which means that you have multiple boxes.

Your paranoia increases with every step, and you find yourself double and triple checking to make sure that no one is following you or that anyone who cares doesn’t see you. At one point, you duck into a bathroom you’re so sure that the footsteps behind you are following you out to the parking garage.

It’s just past lunch when you finish. For a long moment, you stare at the paperwork on your desk. The files and documents could be useful. After a moment, you reach into your purse. Din had been kind enough to provide you with a burner phone, citing that he didn’t want any calls you made to him traceable. You’d drawn the blinds earlier, so it’s easy enough to snap some pictures. A knock on your office door makes you look up, pocketing the phone and closing the files.

“Come in.” Your boss opens the door and steps inside. He at least has the decency to look sheepish, head ducked slightly down and curled in some. His acting class must be paying off. For a second, you buy it. That is, until the thought that he might just be doing this because he saw you lugging around boxes. More accurately, one of his cronies might have seen you.

“Look. I think you might have taken what I said the wrong way.” He begins. You smile at him. From the look on his face, he clearly noticed the smile was more teeth than anything else.

“Did I?” You arch an eyebrow. “Go on. Tell me what I misunderstood.”

The inflection you use takes you by surprise, but it makes sense. God knows how many times you had heard Boba use that tone. It’s the tone he used whenever someone tried to claim that he misunderstood something or that maybe he was the one who made the mistake, not them. The slight lilt at the end makes it very clear that whatever the person says next, they best consider it carefully.

Your boss blinks. His mouth hangs slightly open. You realize then that he’s never heard you stand up for yourself. He had fallen into the same trap that everyone else had; he had assumed because you had morals that you were a pushover. The mistake in this case was yours.

You let him believe that he could push you around for too long.

“Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t ha-” You hold up your hand. Your boss’s jaw snaps shut with a click.

“Here is what’s going to happen.” You drop the syrupy sweet tone into something dark, something you’ve hidden away within you. “I’m going to send this email I’ve written. It’s got you, HR, and your boss all copied on it. I’ve packed my things in preparation for moving into your office. I know for a fact that they’ll want to give your job to me once I send this.”

It’s a bluff. It’s a very risky bluff. Maybe if you act like you’re coming for his job, he won’t consider that you’re leaving.

“You’re lying.” He counters. His face is pale. You shake your head.

“Oh, no I’m not.” You chuckle. “If I were you, I’d go ahead and run to my office so I can get started on packing.”

“Oh, come on.” He counters. “You’re being unreasonable. It was a joke!”

“Was it?” You tilt your head and grin at him. He stutters for a second. “Get the hell out of my office.”

Your boss blinks. He looks at you before scuttling out and mumbling something under his breath. No doubt he’s cursing you out. You don’t pay him any attention; you’ve got more important things to do. Once you’re sure he’s gone, you fish your phone out of your pocket.

“I didn’t think you’d call so soon.” Din answers on the second ring. In the background, you can hear a child blabbering.

“I’m taking a half day. How soon can you be at my apartment?”

“I can head over right aw-” He stops. The babbling increases. “Hang on one second.”

He doesn’t mute himself, so you can hear the conversation. Well, more accurately, you can hear Din’s end of the conversation.

“No.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Because I sa-” He sighs. The babbling changes to something close to a wail. “Okay. Okay, we can do that.”

The ensuing cheer nearly makes you snort.

“Sorry.” Din sounds exhausted. In the background, you can make out something that sounds like chanting. “I can meet you there as soon as possible. After I stop at McDonalds.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Want to be on my tag list?

Tag list: @ben-is-a-hoe @rebelpitstop

#Text #Din Djarin x reader #Boba Fett x reader #Din Djarin x you #Boba Fett x you #Reader insert #Crime AU #Modern AU

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noonachronicles · 3 years

Text

The End of the Fxxking World - Pt. 10 ~Spoiler~

Word Count: 1.4k

For the anon that asked, thank you for your patience!

Warnings:

THIS IS ONLY A SPOILER.

THIS IS NOT PART 10 IN FULL.

Almost an entire thirty minutes passed as you stood around the corner from the entrance of the abandoned building. The entrance that sat directly in front of the old antique shop where you’d left Baddie. You watched and watched and watched a little longer. The door, the front windows, the windows in the office upstairs. You looked for shadows and movement. You looked for him, but he didn’t seem to be there. You waited as long as you thought was smart. While you wanted to make sure you waited long enough that you would see him if he was there looking out on the street for you, you didn’t want to wait so long that he would get curious about where you were and would actually come looking. It was an incredibly delicate balance.

When you were near certain he wasn’t lurking near a window and wouldn’t see you sneak into the building, you took your shot and moved around to the front of the and through the entrance. It was an office building, which was obvious from the inside, though you weren’t entirely sure what kind. To the right was a set of glass doors that opened up to what you could see was a cafe. Along the back wall were three elevators. And to the left there were desks and offices and conference rooms.

At your feet you could see recent tracks in the thick layer of dust on the ground. Following them with your gaze you reached three dead Lurkers. They were spread out on the ground near the front desk. They’d been killed by a blade, that was obvious, but it made figuring out who had been there that much harder because everyone used a blade for the most part.

With a sigh you looked down at the trail that was left in the layer of dust on the ground. It was a little chaotic and hard to follow at first but then you had it. Whoever it was had dealt with the Lurkers as soon as they came in. From what you could tell they moved to the small cafe area, likely looking for food. An opposing set of tracks made it obvious they’d moved back into the foyer, and through to the offices on the other side.

You followed the tracks from there. It annoyed you at first. The way the path zigged and zagged around the desks like whoever was here had all of the time in the world. You couldn’t tell where they had been going, what their intentions were. Not knowing what the end goal was made you itch. Then you realized you knew exactly who would be so casual in their movements and your heart began to race.

As you moved around you tried to see the space the way he would have. The details he’d have noticed as he walked through. It was an incredibly open space. Any rooms that were enclosed were done so using glass walls. There weren’t any cubicles, only communal desks with computer setups. According to business cards you'd found on several different desks this place had been a publishers office.

People had been here the day of the invasion. You could tell not only from the ancient dried out coffee mugs, but also the upturned chairs. The pencil holders tipped over on their sides, their contents spread out over desks and across the carpet. And the blood. So much dried up blood. You could practically hear the screaming echo through the empty office. The sound of absolute terror that rang through the streets those first couple of weeks would never leave you.

Finally you reached a hesitation in the trail. A hallway that was tucked away. There was a set of bathrooms on one end and on the other side, three more dead Lurkers. One of them had fallen in front of a doorway, holding it open. It looked like the Lurkers had been trapped in a stairwell and whoever had been there had released them. You pulled the flashlight from your backpocket and switched it on, the light following up the first set of steps. With a deep breath you stepped over the pile of Lurkers and into the stairwell.

The door to the second floor was already open when you got to the platform. It had been propped open and the sunlight was shining in. The layout up there was completely different from the first floor. Still the same style, open desks, glass walls for all of the offices. However up here there were shelves everywhere, filled with books and the desks were covered in manuscripts.

You weren’t entirely sure how to get to where you needed to be. The monotonous style of the glass and maze-like setup of the desks made your head spin with misdirection. It was lucky, you thought, that whoever had been there had left a trail. Bright yellow post-its were stuck against the walls every yard. Looking closer you noticed that they all had hand drawn smiley faces on them, in green pen ink. It was smart, you thought, once your eyes had adjusted to the dark it would be pretty easy to see the little squares. Whoever had been here last night wouldn’t have needed their flashlight to follow their path back. And they wouldn’t have wanted to use it if they were worried it was something Baddie might see.

Once at the end of the path, on a large glass pane, there was an entire smiley face made out of the sticky notes. Again each one had a little face drawn on it but they were all different. Swirls for eyes on one and a wavy mouth on another. You couldn’t help the way it made you smile.

“Baekhyun…” you muttered under your breath as your fingers moved over the little yellow notes.

It was him. You were so certain now that it had to be him. No one else would have even thought to do it. You could picture him so perfectly. Standing in the empty room, a stack of post-it’s in one hand and a pen in the other from where he’d taken them from a desk downstairs. He’d probably been bored and decided to leave something. Stuck up here because the street was filled with Lurkers.

If he’d seen you in the window maybe he knew you’d try to look for him. Maybe he knew you’d find it and he figured it would make you smile. If he knew about Baddie, that you were stuck with him, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave an actual note with any pertinent information in case you weren’t the one that found it. But he’d be thoughtful enough to leave you something like this. He’d be thoughtful enough to leave you something hopeful.

You plucked one of the post-it’s from the wall, your favorite one, the one with the hearts for eyes, and pressed it against your chest.

“Please be you.” You begged over and over again until finally tucking it into the inside pocket of your jacket along with your pictures.

There was a renewed hope inside of you but it was coupled with a severe doubt. You were certain that whoever had been here was Baekhyun but you were also sure that you’d do anything for him to be alive and to be with him again. You knew it would be too easy for you to delude yourself into thinking just about anything was a sign that he was alive. You were desperate for it to be true. You needed it to be true more than anything. Even just trying to imagine the worst brought you to a horribly dark place and you knew you’d never survive if that was your reality.

Letting out a deep sigh you tried to breathe out all of the heaviness in your chest. You kept moving down the hall until you saw the broken windows. Going into the office space you noticed a stack of books on one of the desks. Several of them were opened. You took a minute to read a few of the pages, realizing that a couple of them were marked with green ink.

Your favorite highlighted passage had been in a book, a collection of poems. It had been circled so vigorously the pen had torn through the page.

‘No mountains, nor sea,

no thing of this world

could keep us apart,

because this is not

my world…

…you are’

#teotfw #Byun Baekhyun scenario #exo scenarios #Kpop scenarios #thank you for your patience #I'll have the rest up asap!

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Crane Team (Formally Justice) Part 2: Equal Under the Law

This short story follows the MC (Now named Yoko Uesugi) and Crow in the creation of the Crane Team. In Book V, there is a team in the Executive Board that is composed of both Hydra and former Devil Clan members called the Crane Team. This immediately impressed me because these people were killing each other months before the events of Dragon Raja V and now they’re working together. How did this team come together? Well, that’s what this story is about.

Months ago this floor was a tightly secured ‘Access Only’ floor. The only way to get through to it was if you knew the special code, had the correct key card and strict ‘need to be there’.

No one who didn’t need to be there was there. It was the living area of the most dangerous person in the world, Erii Uesugi. Her body had been deteriorating and without regular injections of a special serum made from the blood of dead slave fetuses she would have gone mad with raging dragonblood and destroyed Tokyo. So the area had looked like a sterile hospital full of medical equipment and monitoring machines.

But that was all cleared out to make room for Yoko and Erii. Now it just looked like a regular spacious two bedroom apartment. There was a study full of books and a gaming area full of games. There was even an air hockey table to play on. There was a full kitchen of bright white cabinets, a large silver fridge and professional grade black stove.

Erii was quite adept at making bentos.

At this moment, she was carefully using a paring knife and crafting roses out of pickled radish and settling them next to bird shaped rice cakes. She would start working on the bentos the night before, pickling all the vegetables and deciding on the shapes and the flavor profile. Yoko made sure to take photos of the bentos and post them online to the Nightwatcher Forum. Those were some of her most popular posts. When she had time, she would post videos of Erii’s delicate white hands crafting the temaki or onigiri.

But in those posts, Lu Mingfei was strangely silent. Yoko had thought this man loved Erii but perhaps his feelings were mostly performance after all. Yoko felt bad for Erii but men were like that sometimes. They get caught up in a moment but once they were back to their regular routine, they would forget their feelings.

Erii closes the bento into a large black wooden box and ties it with a red ribbon then presents it to her with a deep bow. Yoko bowed to accept this gracious bento gift. “I’ll be back home soon if things go well.” Yoko says. “Will Erii be studying today?”

Erii’s soft crimson eyes blink at Yoko and she nods. She writes on her notepad. “Ganbatte.”

“Itte kimasu…” Yoko bows one more time and makes her way out.

As soon as she steps out onto the hall, Yoko is flanked by two armed guards in dark trench coats. Even though this place looked like a regular residential floor, it was still a high security area. The reason was simple. Yoko was wearing long sleeves and black gloves, with black stockings under her black skirt. Yoko was covered head to toe because her skin was covered in scales.

Yoko’s eyes were black because of her black colored contact lenses. Without the contacts, the bright red-gold of a dragon king flowed from her eyes. The weight of the authority and majesty in those eyes would fall on everyone. Yet Yoko was not a dragon and she was not a dead slave. She rested somewhere in-between. Her humanity was a smaller percentage than should be possible for a Hybrid without losing their sanity to their dragon side. But the White King’s blood had the element of Spirit which restrained the inherent violence in a dragon’s blood. That’s the only reason why Yoko could still behave as a human.

Unfortunately, if anyone else found out what a creature was living in Genji Heavy Industries they would be appalled. Few people knew Yoko’s true condition and those that did kept her carefully guarded.

Yoko stepped into the elevator and the floor rose to one of the main office floors. Besides her bento box, Yoko carried a satchel full of reports. The purpose of her job today was to address the injustices going on in the prison systems regarding the Devil Clan. So she was headed to meet up with Hayato Miyamoto, the lead of the Hydra’s legal department.

The legal department was expansive on the 25th floor of the building. They ran the largest and most prestigious law firm in Japan, courted and sometimes bribed judges, and made sure that the organization stayed above board as much as it could as a Yakuza organization. When it came to purchasing property, paying taxes, and trading goods, the legal department made sure to make even the most illicit transactions look clean.

The legal department was full of racks of books and reference works. They were so crammed on this floor, that the bookcases had to be on a track system. When there was no space needed between bookcases, they would contract and stack together so as to make the most use of the space. There were also long wooden tables with elegant lamps with green glass shades. People sat and typed on their laptops. There were also separate cubicles where people spoke on the phones.

Executive Board members rarely came to this floor. When the paralegals and secretaries saw the dark trench coats and heavy pistols of her escorts, they couldn’t help but stop and stare. Yoko feels out of place on this plush carpet, walking through like she was being escorted to court herself.

The door ahead opens to a main office. It was carved with rising koi fish.

Hayato Miyaomoto is a thin man in his early 40s in a grey pinstriped straight suit with tortoiseshell glasses in front of sharp black eyes. The escorts stay outside. Hayato leans over the desk in a bow and Yoko returns it.

“Please sit down, Ms. Uesugi.”

“Thank you. And thank you for seeing me.”

Hayato sits across from her in his thick leather office chair behind a heavy wood desk. He frowns deeply. “No need to thank me. I don’t have much choice. Clan Chief Sakurai Nanami pushed me into this audience.”

Yoko dips her head a bit. “Then, I won’t waste time on niceties. Several months ago, the evidence of crimes of the Devil Clan were leaked to legal departments around the country. Once the evidence was in front of the judge over half the Devil Clan was thrown into prison. However, many of the procedures were hasty and without proper discretion.”

Mr. Miyamoto frowned. “This is irrelevant. So long as the evidence was not falsified, there is no need for discretion.”

Yoko glances up at him. “If it were anywhere else, I would agree. However, this is Japan. In Japan, the police have far more discretion than in other places. Once the evidence is in front of a judge, it should have already passed through the local authorities. However, in many cases, this step was skipped. Many crimes that never would have made it to the level of the courts were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and many of the defendants did not have time or resources to even gather a legal defense.”

Hayato watched as Yoko pulled out a thick file. She opened it up and pulled out a mugshot of a young man who looked no more than 16. “This is Shouta. Shouta was prosecuted for pickpocketing in a mall. CCTV evidence was sent to a judge. He was arrested and sentenced to ten years in prison. In a similar case with a Hydra man of similar age, the police let him go with a warning and informed his parents. The purpose of these arrests had nothing to do with the crime, Mr. Miyamoto. It had everything to do with shutting down the Devil Clan. It was not done with any regard to the lives it would destroy in the process.”

She pushed the photo forward. “I’m not asking you to break the law or ignore it. I’m asking for the cases to be reviewed through the lens of Hydra justice. We cannot allow there to be two separate legal systems, one for Hydra and one for Devils. If someone can be released from prison as a Hydra, they should be released as a Devil.”

Hayato glanced down at the paper. Shouta’s last name was Miyamoto. Hayato sighed deeply. “How many cases do you want me to review?”

“457.”

“What?!” Hayato looked to be about to spit curses.

“Those are the ones I have managed to gather.” Yoko’s eyes narrowed. She understood his reluctance. After all, Devils were barely people in the eyes of the Executive board. They just wanted to get them out of the way and suppress the plot to resurrect the Light King. There was no thought to the future consequences. The fact that the legal department would have to back track and work with the courts to undo this massive injustice was certainly unforeseen.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the staff…” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m afraid that’s going to be an issue on your end. Every day these people remain in jail, there is less and less of a willingness for reconciliation. If the Devils and the Hydras can’t be treated equally under the law then all we have left is a return to vigilantism. The clock is ticking.”

“Vigilantism…” The man’s eyes turned cold.

Yoko faces his stare with a direct challenge. “Would you argue that the rush to violence against the entirety of the Devil Clan wasn’t vigilantism? All it took was a cursory association with the Devil Clan to receive a death threat! If staff is truly an issue, I’ll request the Clan Chief for a budget and I will hire a staff to handle the paperwork. However, it has always been the challenge of the legal department to deal with the messes of the Executive Branch. This is no exception.”

“You come here and speak so boldly…” Hayato shook his head in dismay.

“I have to be bold because there is simply no time to waste. Without systemic support, these feeble talks between the Hydra and the Devil Clan will break down under the weight of their frustration.”

Hayato thumbed through the profiles, each one with a hybrid in prison. “Very well.”

“Good. Every one of those people has an anxious relative waiting for news. So I will require weekly updates on each case.”

Hayato gritted his teeth so hard, Yoko could hear them crack.

“They have no trust in the system. Once this first batch is successfully resolved, the constant need for updates between reports will slow down. But this will be a long journey. But in the end, a united Japan Branch will be worth it. The dragons will take advantage of infighting again if we let them.”

“We?” Hayato looked at Yoko over his glasses.

“Yes. Even though I was once the wife of Ruri Kazama, I am a member of the Japan Branch. Officially. I consider you my partner in this.”

#Dragon Raja

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rose-director · 4 years

Text

Blooming Roses, part 1

Content warnings:

Masks

Face covering

Momentary loss of breath

Neural connection

Hypnotic theming

Corporate setting

Cyberpunk

Description:

A new hire at Rose Cybernetics is given their final interview.

~2800 words

Story:

The megalithic building stands proud against the concrete and glass towers beside it, making mortals of titans. Sheer, elegant, imposing; the structure kisses the sky, inspiring awe in those who observe it. This effect becomes overwhelming in its courtyard, where these same observers are rendered ants in a temple of giants. You let a breath fill your lungs, feeling it sweep out through your anxious smile. Here it is. Rose Cybernetics.The sliding doors of the atrium open with a hissed breath as you enter. You knew that the company did its best to impress its visitors, but if the scale of the building hadn't already set an imposing stage, its lobby would finish its show. Seeming as though it was open to the air, the 'ceiling' of this enormous space rests comfortably at the top of the building itself. From this, a tiered array of circular floors wrap along the outer walls like a serpent's coils. Light permeates the structure from a myriad of sources, all carrying a natural hue that - if what you've heard is accurate - mirrors the color of the sky outside. The sterile whites and greys of the building carry accents of saturated color across its industrial carpeting and in stripes along its walls. Of a similar color set, furniture that seems more like modern art gives the entire area an almost organic quality. The structure itself, though, is complemented in its unique qualities by those within. Figures all around you work busily, writing on whiteboards, collaborating in clusters of various sizes, darting from group to group, and delivering items as though their need was known preemptively. Interestingly, these forms all appear dissimilar from each other. They represent myriads of body types, clothing styles, and gender presentations, yet they all wear a sleek cover across their faces; a brushed, dark curve that obscures all facial features while displaying imagery of its owner's choice. Pulling your attention from your surroundings, you return to your task. A desk labeled 'check-in' sits at the atrium's center, and inquiring there seems to be the place to start. "Hello, welcome to the Rose Cybernetics Center! How can we help you?" The person at the desk carries a spritely, delicate voice, and their words appear across their faceplate as they speak. Almost as if understanding your hesitation, the words 'she/her/hers' flash across her screen. "I- um, hi," You've practiced this interaction many times before, but trying to get words out when you're already off-beat is a bit like trying to tame a tiger while wearing rollerblades. The staffer looks at you again, tilting her head curiously in a motion that dangles her blonde ponytail against her shoulder. It's unsettling to interact with someone with no face, yet looking into her faceplate is somehow calming all the same. Rippling waves of various colors splash across the black of her display, soothing cool tones that remind you of northern lights. You take a breath to settle your heart, acclimating yourself to the unusual sight, and try again. "I'm here for my in-person interview. I-I heard that you'd be expecting me?" Even without seeing her face, you get a good sense of the smile under her faceplate as its colors take on a gentle warm hue. "Of course, applicant 3B90, right this way." The staffer stands and walks out from behind the desk, as another worker wordlessly takes her place. You find yourself unsettled by the exchange; it almost felt more mechanical than human. Suppressing a shudder, you follow the staffer as she leads you to one of the elevator wells built into the side of the building."If you don't mind, um," you speak, immediately cursing the way your words always drift away midsentence. "How can I help you, applicant 3B90?" The warmth associated with her smile appears again, easing some of the anxiety in your chest."It's ah. Sydney, please. What's your name?" "Oh, I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm GIU-2CE5, but you can call me 2C if you like!" As with all of her words, these too float across her display, as does a small '^-^' emoticon afterward. Having gotten more accustomed to the way she emotes, you see the way her tone seems to perk up at the opportunity to share this particular bit of information."Sure," you say as she guides you into an elevator and presses a button for one of the middle floors, "that's your employee number, or um. Whatever, but how about your name?" She pauses for a moment, and you can see her faceplate's slow visualization stutter briefly as she thinks. "Nope, but 2C's my nickname!" It's painfully clear to you that she likes that 'nickname' at least, and you doubt you'll get further on this line of questions, so you let it go with a sigh. "2C it is, then." Okay, maybe it *is* a bit cute to see her get excited about something so simple.The elevator dings and she leads you out through its doors, grabbing your hand to pull you along. The contact is startling, but you don't seem to mind too much as you shrug and let the enthusiastic girl drag you along. On these lofted floors, full glass windows look out on the open atrium while the walls of offices and cubicles emerge, finally welcoming you into something more familiar. She pulls you into an office, empty except for two chairs and a small cabinet, and gestures for you to take a seat. You comply, settling into a piece of furniture that has no business being as comfortable as it is. 2C takes the opposite chair, crossing her legs. "Okay, Sydney, I'll be conducting your interview! Let me know, and we can go ahead and get started." Hearing this surprises you. Sure, you keep an open mind when it comes to most things, but getting interviewed by a front desk greeter for a network administration position is almost surreal. "Alright, so what is this, exactly?" 2C's 'smile' flashes again, and she cheerily explains the Rose Cybernetics hiring process. You know most of this stuff already; the company runs a series of difficult online challenges that lead the way to their application portal. From there, you don't need to submit a resume (thankfully, since yours is in desperate need of some TLC), but they do ask you to solve a problem in realtime over an internet call. If you've shown your skill, they speak with you in a brief remote interview to learn more about you as a person, then give you one final in-person meeting. This last interview, to your knowledge, is a formality; they'd already told you to bring everything you needed to move in, after all. It's at this point where the details get fuzzy, though. As much as you've searched for information about what this would even be, you'd found nothing but missing links and dead-ends. "This meeting is a different kind of test! We're going to hook you into our internal network for a moment, and see how you take to it." She reads your confused look, and the waves on her display bubble lightly, almost in a light giggle. "What do you mean? Will I have a laptop?" You watch as the laughing effect grows. She holds up a hand as if to ask for just a moment, then stands and walks over to the cabinet. Sliding out a slim, black box, she strides back over to you and places the box in your lap. It's blank, unadorned, and made of showy cardboard. You start removing the lid, suction keeping the base from falling as it slides slowly, and an idea of what might be waiting inside dawns on you. Tossing away the newly-liberated lid, you stare directly into the item you'd been expecting and dreading; a faceplate, returning your stare.Just above the glossy covering, embedded into the packaging foam, a small bolt-like object sits ominously. You've already seen the faceplates, but this thing..? It makes the whole situation even more concerning. "Don't worry about that receiver - for now, just put your faceplate on - I bet you'd look so cute! Oh, I'm so excited, I get to see what your display shows before anyone else!" 2C's demeanor is a confusing thing; her screen jumps and reacts to her mood, and so does her voice, but her body language and physical responses - while present - are significantly muted. Her posture is almost perfect, and her movement is unsettlingly smooth. Just one more uncanny part of this business, you suppose. Considering your current situation, you catch yourself worrying about the results of this interview again, for very different reasons this time. Your eyes widen with anxiety, as your heart beats faster in your chest. "Sydney, look at me, okay?" her faceplate's coloration shifts back to those comfortable blues and greens. "Putting the faceplate on won't do anything permanent." Her hand is holding yours. "It'll press against your face, make a tight seal, and beam everything its cameras pick up into your eyes once it starts up." She's holding both of your hands now. "When I press the receiver to your neck, it'll let you control the faceplate with your mind, just like I do!" Her display wiggles in a playful pattern for emphasis. Her hands are soft, reassuring. "Once you take them off, it'll be back to normal, okay? Just a taste now, that's what this interview is for." You nod, thoughtlessly. With 2C's hands still holding yours, you reach to the faceplate in your lap. Her reassurance pools in your chest, and after slowing your heartbeat with a couple of deep breaths, you press the dark shape to your face. It's cold, almost like your face is pressed against a window, and begins to shift against your skin. You can feel it exerting a suction force, and for a terrifying instant, you realize that you can't breathe. As you try to pull in a breath, a refreshing current of air wafts in through its respirator, and your brief panic recedes. At first, your vision is blank. Another few deep breaths go by, and imagery starts to flow back into your eyes. Dim at first, most likely to keep you from being immediately overwhelmed, slowly building until your surroundings resolve around you again. You've needed glasses, apparently; the world around you appears sharper now than before, and much more detailed. Looking over at 2C, a small blurb of information hovers over her head. It's a single word; 'contented.' You'd figured that she was just good at reading emotions, but this was cheating!"H-have you been reading me from your s-screen this whole time?" you stammer. "Oh, no, not quite. That info comes from your receiver. I'm just good at guessing!" The panel shifts to 'proud,' before progressing to 'flirty.' You're about to comment on it, when she decides to continue. "By the way, that faceplate looks so so cute on you!" Your cheeks redden, and you're, surprisingly, thankful that the unlit display is covering your face. You still have almost no idea why the company would require wearing these things, but the anonymity is surprisingly refreshing. "O-okay, I've handled the mask-faceplate-whatever, I'm good to keep going." 2C's faceplate lights up a monochrome green as she tilts her head, and you see metadata confirming that it's posed as a question. You nod again in response, and she stands up to walk behind you. Your anxiety builds at the thought of a person directly behind you, but it subsides as chilling metal touches your skin. The mechanism's electromagnetic fields warp your thoughts, pulling at them as though they were elastic. The tension builds and builds as your mind becomes a coiled spring, the receiver forcing it ever tighter. The force, the pulling, the pushing; it feels like everything that makes up your mind is about to explode. "Relax," 2C's voice cuts through the swirling forces and mental struggle, "just let go, let the flow of information sweep over you.” “Relax.” At her last word, your entire being stalls, before sinking into a state of extreme ease. All of that tension, so overwhelming moments ago, courses through your body, letting you accept this new pathway for information to travel through. As you pick up the pieces of your consciousness, you shake your face from the empty stupor it carried a moment ago - thanking your mask once again - and actively sift through the data streaming into your brain.The Rose Cybernetics building is already impressive from a visual perspective, but looking at it for what it is, the glowing connected consciousnesses of every mind in the structure lighting up before you, you feel your jaw drop automatically. Your gaze returns to 2C, whose current emotions register as 'pleased.' [You can talk to me like this now, you know.] The thoughts sound like her voice, and you jump as you hear them. [It's strange to start with, I know, but this is how we all communicate here; much faster.] Realization dawns on you, and without prompting, your thoughts pour through the connection between you. [How do I respond- oh wait I'm responding now this is amazing but hard to control how do I sto-] flows out of you, in combination with a variety of related emotions, images, and half thoughts. You spend the remaining interview time experimenting with this paradigm shift in interaction, communication, and existence that's somehow both entirely new, yet confusingly familiar and natural. After only a few minutes, it feels as though 2C understands you on a deeper level than anyone you've ever met, just as your understanding of her reaches that same depth. She explains that for the sake of getting you used to this, she's the only one linked to you. She shares - with enthusiasm - that after you've had enough time to acclimate to this shift, you'll be able to open connections with anyone and everyone in the entire facility. Her excitement bounces through your mind, and you can't help but let that positivity bubble up until it begins to play across your faceplate, too. Your display is a lot less abstract than 2C's; instead of the amorphous waves against a black background, your faceplate decorates itself with images of the cosmos. Galaxies, nebulas, constellations, all proudly used to emote in a way that words never could. It feels freeing, strangely enough, wearing a screen like this. It's a window, you think, glasses for the mind. You can feel 2C thinking to herself, the sign to expect a burst of new information broadcast from her mind to yours. As you do, you can't help but think just how cute she is! So excited over being called 2C; of course, if someone called you 3B90, you'd probably melt too. It's confusing to you, looking back, why you thought that names were so important. After all, designations are just so much more convenient! [You were broadcasting that, 3B,] 2C's smug feeling drips between your connection. Your blush returns to paint your cheeks bright red, and you notice another - somewhat less innocuous - response between your legs. She waits, perfectly aware of the effect her words carried as she feels it flowing through her mind from yours, before continuing. [I think that our interview was a success! Come back tomorrow, and we can get you fitted with a permanent set.] [I have to take it off?] [It'll be alright, just one more day.] Through your mental link, she sends you more feelings of relief, complemented by a physical hug. She looks up at you for a moment questioningly, before you nod gently, confirming your begrudging acceptance as she pulls the receiver away from your neck. With all that meta-information gone, you squeeze against her even tighter to compensate. As your mask falls away, you feel strange; naked even. Leaving the office room, stepping into the elevator, and giving your goodbyes to 2CE5 all serve the singular goal of making you feel that much more alone. For a brief moment, you consider just how strange it is to be feeling these things at the hand of your new employer, but at this point, you're in far too deep to do anything but shrug. "Before I- um... go, will I see you again?" you stumble out the question, mouth once again failing you. 2C's smile lights up her faceplate again - stars, it's so beautiful to see - and a giggle creeps out too. "I wouldn't be too worried about that, 3B! After all, I'll be your new supervisor!" Hearing your designation excites you in a way that feels almost enchanting, and you blush deeply in response. The part of you that might have questioned why she of all people would be your supervisor remains muted, as the excitement of the prospect tingles down your spine. Only a few hours ago, you would have scoffed at yourself, but now you can't help but be excited; tomorrow is your first day at Rose Cybernetics.

#droneplay #what do you mean this isn't a self insert story totally not hahahahahaaaaa #sometimes you just gotta wear a faceplate bc hhhhh

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written-in-flowers · 4 years

Text

Lineage: Pt. 1

Pairing: Marcus x OFC

Genre: Assassinscreed!au, drama, action, romance

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Marcus always thought he was a nobody with no special skills. Then he starts seeing a symbol on a door and meets a girl with more secrets than he can count. At King's Dominion, Marcus learns more about himself than he'd ever guess. (Assassin's Creed/ Deadly Class crossover)

Disclaimer: This work is completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. All Deadly Class character are created by Rick Remember, nor are mine. The events within never took place. Thank you.

*Please do not translate/repost/use without my permission. Thanks.

AO3 link!

*****

Remember, Maelyn: Nothing is true.”

“Everything is permitted.”

“Now go.”

She slipped quietly from the air duct. Soft-soles touching the carpeted floors, she stared around at the office space. Dozens of cubicles filled the dark room, computers turned off and not a soul in sight. Large windows showed the San Francisco streets outside; the city buzzed below the twenty-three story building. The cars resembled toys on a tiny race track; the lights became fairy lights along the roads. She stared down for a moment to admire the view, but then quickly looked away. She needed to stay focused; she didn’t have a lot of time. Maelyn scanned across the blocked off desks to see the glass doors at the end of the room. Behind them she had a view of an empty office. His office. Pulling a bandana over half her face, her hood covering the top half, Maelyn grabbed a sticker sheet. She unstuck one of the yellow happy faces, jumped and plastered it to the security camera right above her. Carefully, she went through the room doing this until she reached the door.

He’ll have security alarms put in place. Brown eyes gazed up the doors where two red dots faced back at her. She knew if she opened the door, it’d sound the alarms and guards would be all over her. The thought of being caught tickled her nerves. Swinging her backpack in front of her, Maelyn took out the glass cutter that she stuck on the door. Extending the handle, she pressed it on the exact point then began gradually cutting a hole. Opening the door will trigger the guards, but not cutting through it. From her reconnaissance, there's one guard at the end of the hall outside and more downstairs. It will take them less than ten minutes to catch her. Once she’d cut a hole wide enough, she crawled through; doing her best not to touch the locked doors. When she finally got inside, she scanned around. Sleek furniture, fake potted plants and photos decorated the room. Above a fireplace in a lounge area she saw a picture of a balding man in a black suit. Dark beady eyes matched his hair, and his olive skin made him stand out to the background. She supposed he’d asked the painter to straighten his nose and thicken his lips.

Sergio Montoya was the new CEO of Abstergo Industries. This also made him a Templar Master; though sources and information point to him being a Grandmaster. Maelyn’s blood boiled at the sight of him. She clenched her fists until her gloves stretched tightly over her knuckles. She’d kill him one day. She’d make him pay. Her father told her Assassins did not use their skills to fulfill personal vendettas. Her mother would’ve wanted her to stick to finding Pieces of Eden and keeping them from Templar hands; not go chasing a man so out of reach. Still, the idea of slitting his throat flashed across her mind.

Unfortunately, tonight she wasn’t in his office. No, tonight she’d entered the office of William Washington, a Templar working in Abstergo. Her father said despite being lower in the ranks, he’d been entrusted with “classified information; strictly need-to-know”. She’d need to break into his office-which she’d done-and find those papers-which she will.When she spotted his computer behind her, she rushed for it. Her watch read ‘12:40 am’. Damn! In twenty minutes, the guard will do his patrol round the floor. She needed to act quickly. Turning on the computer, she grabbed a floppy disk from her bag and slid it inside. Quickly, she skimmed around various files but found nothing of value. Then she found the classified folders. This should be easy. With a few computer commands, backdoors and viruses, she found a folder titled “Project Blue 45” and “Project Gold 67”. They required passwords to be downloaded. She then remembered the numbers she’d been given: 524687. She typed them in, and she gained access. Washington made this far too easy. It worried her but only for a moment. Her curiosity wanted to open the files so she’d have an idea; time pressed against it. She saved every folder she found into the disk.

As the disk downloaded the files, she stepped up to the nearest wall. He won’t have the safe sitting out in the open. Like most of his kind, he’d keep it hidden. Quietly, she knocked along the wooden walls. Each knock sounded thick and sturdy. She crossed over picture frames and wall accents until she reached a family portrait. She rapped her knuckles on the very center and heard an echo. Her heart raced as she felt along the edges and found the opening. This is it. Behind the portrait sat the safe. He might only have extra money there. He may have nothing at all. In this day and age, Templars used computers and other technology to protect their information. Still, one can never be so sure. In her bag, she took out a stethoscope and went to work.

“I’m telling ya Gordy, there ain’t nobody here!” a voice echoed inside the nearby office. “The place is empty!”

Maelyn gasped, closed the portrait and ducked down beside the desk.

“Just check it out! I thought I saw a shadow up there!”

A shadow? How? She’d covered all the cameras.

“You’re seein’ things! If somebody were, we’d see ‘em by…” the guard’s high voice suddenly stopped. “Gordy,” he said seriously, “Call the cops. I think we’ve been robbed.”

“Been robbed?” a voice said over a walkie talkie. “What do you mean? Somebody’s there?”

“I mean there’s this big ass hole in Mr. Washington’s office door! I’mma check it out.”

Maelyn’s heart began racing again. Pulling out a long bamboo stick from her coat, she slipped a small pink dart inside. She listened for the sounds of jingling keys and footsteps. It’d have to be a split-second move. Most Abstergo guards carried actual guns. She jumped when the lights suddenly turned on. In the window’s reflection she saw a heavy set man in a white and blue uniform. He looked about the room with his hand on his gun.

“I know you’re in here,” he said, “There ain’t no way outta this office except through ya little hole in the door. Come on out nice and slow and we can-”

Maelyn took her chance. Standing up from her hiding spot, she blew a dart right into the guard’s neck. The man stumbled around in pain, clutching at the dart before his face fell still and he tumbled to the ground. She watched him a few moments while she reloaded her dart then moved to the safe. In a few twists and turns, the safe cracked open. Inside she found more documents and vanilla folders. She took them all and stuffed them in her bag. She’ll have a chance to look at them later; the elevator bell sounded in the main room. Several footsteps moved closer and closer to the door. They’d be on her at any moment. She emptied the safe: all the folders, all the papers and a small lock box in the back. She spotted one guard coming from the shadowy office right as she ejected the floppy disk.

“Hey you! Stop right there!” a guard called out, raising a gun at her.

Another pink dart shot across the room into his neck. Just as a group of Abstergo guards ran inside, she reached to her belt and retrieved a pair of small balls. She only had three darts left; certainly not enough for five guards.

“Freeze!”

Maelyn smiled, “Okay.”

One spike to the floor and the room went up in smoke. No engaging. No killing. Gasping, coughing guards blocked her entrance; she can’t go back the way she came. She rushed to the window behind her and gave it a hard kick that shattered it.

“What the hell am I doing?” she thought to herself, going right to the window sill. She looked down to the roads below and saw a large truck coming down the street. The height alone made her feel uneasy, but then a soft voice sounded in the back of her mind.

'Jump. Never hesitate. Let the eagle guide you.'

“There’s nowhere for you to-to-to go!” the guard gasped. “Put down the-the backpack!”

Stretching out her arms, she closed her eyes and jumped. Her body rolled mid-air; cold winds blew through the inside of her leather coat. The dump truck drove on through the streets, passing the buildings around it in the dead of night. She kept her eyes shut as she dived and rolled through the rushing air down the tower. She won’t hit the ground. She never did, but she still braced herself. Right as the truck reached a stop light, the driver never noticed a small figure fall right into the back of the truck.

“Ugh!” Maelyn groaned, seeing the mounds of trash around her. The rancid smell of hot garbage filled her nose; something dug deep into her back through the bag. “Gross….” she groaned, knowing that scent won't come out. She gazed up at the tower as the truck drove onwards. At least she wasn’t still inside.

Sitting up, she saw the truck turn down fifth and main; two blocks from the Bureau. A sense of relief went through her in a sigh. She’d done it. She’d really done it. She steadied her breathing as she opened her backpack. Through the papers she found the box. A regular metal box, it didn’t seem very important. However, being in the hands of Templars, it must be. There didn’t appear to be a combination or even a keyhole. Washington must’ve thought nobody would get through his safe. He’d be severely punished for this blunder. Maelyn knew she should leave it alone. It might be something dangerous. However, she couldn’t resist popping the latches open.

Her heart stopped. Her eyes widened as she stared down into the box. On several sheets of blue velvet laid a small golden sphere. A golden sphere covered in intricate lines. The Apple. She studied the tiny inscriptions going around the lines of the Apple of Eden. They’d found it. They’d hidden it. This can’t be the actual Apple. There’s no way the Templars would keep something so precious in a safe in their offices. The masters will know. As the dump truck made another stop, Maelyn stuffed the box back into her bag and climbed over the side. The driver never noticed her.

****

“Dios mío. Could it be? No. It mustn't. Maelyn, how did you come by this?”

Moments after her escape, Maelyn now stood in Master Hector’s study in the Bureau. She’d immediately asked to see Master Hector, an elderly man with a dark beard and green eyes. One of the oldest assassins alive, Master Hector knew more about The Apples of Eden than most; he’d even seen some of them. If anyone can tell the real from the fake, it’ll be him. She stood at ease in front of his desk. In a dimly lit office decorated with Assassin artifacts and maps, only they spoke.

“It was in Washington’s safe, Master,” she replied. “My father suggested I take a look in case he held any other information there. I didn’t think much of it until I opened it.”

He gave her a knowing smile, “Of course you’d look.” He held The Apple up to eye level, closely reading the words etched into the gold. “Yes. Yes, this is it. The inscriptions are written right into the gold instead of over it. It weighs lighter than it looks. Maelyn,” he looked at her, “Do you know what makes the Apples of Eden so special?”

“They’re created by Isu during The First Civilization. Each one gives the holder supernatural abilities like mind-control, extensive knowledge and negates The Staves of Eden,” she said as if reciting from a book. “Which one is this?”

“From the writings, it is the sixth one discovered by Ezio Auditore de Firenze, a nobleman from 16th century Italy. He hid it in the vault underneath the Basilica di Santa Maria in Aracoeli. The Templars must’ve broken in to claim it.”

"How could they?" Maelyn asked. "It's supposed to be guarded, no?"

"It was. I will have to contact the order there. See if anyone knows anything. It is odd, though, that they kept something so precious this thinly protected."

"There were more guards than usual," Maelyn answered. "They tightened security in his office and on his computer. It wasn't hard, but still strange. Perhaps they thought us not knowing made it safer."

"Hm, that might be. They certainly knew more than we considered," He nodded to the papers around him. "If they found any more, they may have recorded it.” He met her eyes again, “You’ve done well tonight, Maelyn, but I suspect this is not over. You’ve taken something important from them and they will not stop until they find it.”

“I’m not afraid,” she stood straighter, holding her head high. “Let them come. I’ll fight them.”

He chuckled, “Ah, the hubris of children.” He called forth a cloaked servant who took the box and left the room. “Go now. Rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Master.”

She bowed and left the room. Outside she met a tall, broad man leaning against the wall. People told her she looked like him with her narrow nose and black hair. Instant relief returned at the sight of him. She beamed brightly as he embraced her.

“Good job, honey,” her father said, hugging her tightly to him. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

“It’s not like it was hard,” she shrugged. “It was in-and-out, remember?”

He laughed, releasing her, “It was. But many things can go wrong during an assignment. You must always-”

“-Be vigilant,” she rolled her eyes, “I know, Papa.”

“Alright then,” he kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go grab some pizza, yeah? I think we both can use a night-in.”

“Master Garrard,” a man in a long black cloak opened the doors, “Master Hector would like a word in private.”

“Be right there.” He looked down at Maelyn, “Wait for me by the car. I won’t be long.”

“‘Kay’,” she nodded.

He kissed her cheek and left into the study. For some reason, as she stood in the long hallway lit by gas lamps, a terrible feeling swirled up in her gut. She went back down the hall to the elevator that’ll take her above ground. She should be happy. She successfully completed an assignment and got a Piece of Eden back. She did well. But, as the elevator took her upwards, she could not get that nagging feeling out of her head. The Templar Order will know soon-if not already-that somebody broke into their building. They’ll know at once what this person took and will track them down to get it back. She knew what Templars did to people who crossed them. They’d done it to her mother. Flashes of a lifeless pale corpse went across her mind, but she shook them away.

Reaching the city now, she breathed in the warm breeze from the bay. The Bureau is located right underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Coming up through the monitor booth underneath, she stared around the dark area. It must be after midnight now, yet she saw cars still zooming through the bridge. She put her hands in her pockets and breathed in the air. The quietness gave her a place to think. She already felt the soreness of her jump climbing back through her, though she pushed the feeling away. What will they do with the object now? They can’t keep it at headquarters. It’ll make them an easy target and the Templars will find them. They’d need to stash it somewhere safer and away from Templar eyes. She guessed they’d put it somewhere secure and deep down, like a temple or tomb specially protected.

She went to the parking lot where she found her father’s car. She leaned on it when the flapping of wings caught her attention.

“Arno, there you are.”

A large brown and white eagle landed on top of the car. Wide eyes looked at her and the bird made a soft call. “Been hunting?” Maelyn asked, petting Arno’s soft feathers. “I hope your hunt was as good as mine. I found a Piece of Eden,” she said, the bird staying still as she stroked him, “Master Hector says it’s a really rare find, but we’ll have to be careful.” She slid onto the hood of the car and Arno flew over to her other side. “It’s a game of catch with them, you know? All these pieces and staves change hands constantly. One day the Brotherhood will have one, then the next day, The Templars will have it. There’s no guarantee it will stay with us long unless we hide it somewhere safe.” She stared out over the water, taking in the inky blackness carefully moving in waves. “I just hope we keep it this time. If the Templars gained control over any of the pieces out there, they could control the world. They say they’re doing it for the benefit of mankind, but that’s not true. Mama used to say it all the time, ‘Templars are wolves in sheepskin’. You remember that, right?”

Arno, named after one of her ancestors, had been a birthday present from her mother. Not all assassins had pets, but she’d told Maelyn that Arno is special. Touching over his delicate feathers, seeing his strong body, she can feel that. “I miss her,” she said softly, more to herself than Arno. “She would’ve been proud of me tonight. I know it. She would’ve wanted to celebrate too. She’d make a cake and tell me how great I did.” The vision of her mother’s wide beaming smile made her eyes water. She blinked back the tears and said, “But she’s not here now. Montoya took her away.” The bird shifted slightly and brushed his wing on her thigh. She stopped her petting, but kept him close. “He captured her and broke her piece by piece...at least, that’s what Master Hector said. He said they’d built an Animus to see into her genetic makeup and sort of like project it into a 3D simulation. They’ve used it on dozens of Assassins to gain information on the apples, the staves, and any other number of pieces.”

They’d found her weeks later. Bruised and broken with injections and markings all over, they must’ve tortured her for days. Her father said they throw out the people who become crazed by the Animus. The Bleeding Effect, he called it, when they can no longer distinguish reality from the simulation. It’d been on Montoya’s orders that her mother became a subject. Her connection to a well-known Assassin made her a priority, they told her. Maelyn liked thinking her mother fought. She fought until the very end when they put a bullet in her head.

“Hey kiddo,” her father appeared out of the darkness, his frame silhouetted by the parking lot lamps. “Ah, I see Arno’s found you. He can follow us home then. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

That terrible feeling in her gut came back.

****

King’s Dominion Atelier of the Deadly Arts. Maelyn heard of this school only twice in her life: when her parents talked about her general education and through a friend. Camila said King’s Dominion was a school for assassins, but not assassins of The Brotherhood. ‘Regular’ assassins who are guns-for-hire; “problem solvers” as her father pointed out. A lot of them come from affluent families, but he told her some are like her.

“Kids with no affiliations to criminal organizations,” her father said in the car. “They’re chosen perhaps due to other connections or their abilities. You’ll fit in just fine.”

“I doubt that.”

The pair of them drove down into Chinatown, where she saw several small stores lining the narrow streets. She didn’t understand. Only a day ago, she’d been praised for her efforts in her assignment. Now, they’re sending her away to a dumb boarding school. The Brotherhood of Assassins is where she belonged. She is meant to be with them; it is her home. She thought back to The Bureau: an underground headquarters full of Assassin research, training and history. She already missed the crisp air inside; the portraits of famous Assassins on the walls. She longed to be in the library where she’d read about their history and artifacts. This new school will have nothing for her. Maelyn crossed her arms, slumping into her seat. Her father noticed this.

“It won’t be so bad,” he reassured her. “Master Lin is a good friend of mine and of The Brotherhood. His family has run the school for decades; you and the Apple will be safe there.”

“How can we be sure this ‘Master Lin’ won’t turn on us and give the Apple to the Templars?” she questioned, still sour-faced.

“Because he has no love or sympathy for Templars. We’ve hidden things there before and he never handed them over then.” They parked outside a butchery where chunks of meat and pig parts hung on display. He faced her, “Listen, this is only temporary until we can find a more secure place. You’re going with the artifact so you can protect it. With all those well-connected kids in there, there’s no guarantee The Apple will be safe.”

“Can’t we put it somewhere else? What about Ellen? She's all the way in New York; they wouldn't find me there if I got a different nam-"

"-that's too risky" he cut in. "The Templars can uncover you and the artifact at any time, especially now. King’s Dominion is secure and unknown to them. Master Lin’s family has kept it that way for a long time.”

“So it’s like a safehouse?”

“Precisely. You’ll be safe and be getting a decent education at the same time. Now come on, we can’t keep him waiting all night.”

The two of them climbed out of the car and walked into the butchery. It smelled of meat, blood and something that wrinkled her nose. Stern faces looked at her from behind counters, but she pretended not to notice. She didn’t like the sound of this school. If the Knights Templar can discover secret safe houses around the world, they can surely find a high school. But her father said it was safe and she trusted him. It isn't her first time in a school. She'd attended elementary and the Brotherhood had its own education program for initiates. But Maelyn preferred her home friends, her mentors and classes. The thought of being taught by strangers and having to make friends made her uneasy. She shouldered her bag when they reached a counter. Her father said nothing to the small, bald man; he simply pulled out the chain from around his neck and the portly man nodded to the back.

“This way,” her father led her towards a workshop behind plastic curtains.

“What did you show him?”

He pulled it out again. Made of silver, the Assassins symbol hung from a thin chain. Resembling the bottom of the eagle’s skull, it was a V-shape with a curve underneath. “They all know what it means,” he said, tucking it back under his shirt. "It identifies us to them. Sort of like a backstage pass."

“When will I get one?”

He smiled, “When you’re inducted into the Brotherhood. Don’t be so hasty, sweetheart. You still have much to learn.” He then muttered in French, “The pride of children.”

“I heard that,” Maelyn rolled her eyes.

Suddenly a panel in the wall opened up and a cloaked monk stepped out, gesturing for them to enter. Her father bowed, urging her to do the same, and they walked through. The narrow passage turned down to a flight of stairs; the air around them getting colder. They must be going underground. Is the school underground? She’d never considered that before. But then they went up again, reaching a small antechamber leading outside.

“Papa?”

The monk led them outside into a small courtyard where she saw it. Four stories high, the school reminded her of a castle with high rooftops and large wooden doors. She saw another building off the side of it, where she assumed she’d be staying. Her stomach churned again looking up at the tall trees. How can a place like this remain hidden? Surely people have come across it before.

Her father turned to her and grinned, “Welcome, Maelyn, to King’s Dominion.”

#deadly class #deadly class syfy #deadly class fanfiction #deadly class imagine #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez #marcus lopez imagine #marcus x ofc #deadly class aesthetic

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

Today Or Yesterday

CHAPTER 3

Summary: It’s been five long days of working the case. When reader and Gibbs finally get a solid lead, things don’t turn out as hoped.

Words: 3,025

Warnings: gunshot-related injuries

Notes: thank u for all the support this series has been getting!! im really happy yall are enjoying it

Part 2 Part 4

Five days into the assignment, and you weren’t quite used to working in an actual office yet. The transition from cubicles to street music did take a bit of time to get used to - the New Orleans office was unlike any other federal building you’ve ever seen. But being back in the Naval Yard, surrounded by constantly ringing phones and orange walls and coldly polite agents who only talked about whatever is important to the case...you were missing home. Missing your team. Missing Dwayne.

Bishop and McGee were great. And it was nice to be around Ducky and Abby again. But it was hard not to compare them to your friends in New Orleans. They just reminded you that you weren’t home.

Fortunately, the case itself was keeping you busy enough so you can’t think about the team and Dwayne. Days were spent piling through old cases files and witness testimonies and chasing leads that went nowhere. By the time you got back to your hotel, you were just too tired to be homesick.

But not nearly exhausted enough to forget about Gibbs and the situation with him.

Over the last five days, neither of you have spoken to each other outside of what was necessary for the case. You asking him if you could take one of his agents with you somewhere, or Gibbs consulting you about a little detail here and there. And as much as you wanted to tell yourself that it was okay, it still hurt how he never really met your eyes.

Despite the environment and the homesickness and Gibbs, the work of the case had you running around all day. Down to autopsy for insight on the murder weapon, then to Abby for test results, and now staying glued in the bullpen to fish for a new lead. Jumping between McGee and Bishop’s desks and not paying much attention to anything else. Especially not Gibbs coming out of the elevator and making his way over.

“Yes, ma’am.....no, ma’am....” you mumble into Bishop’s phone. Come on, just hang up, you got other things to do. “Thanks for your help, ma’am. I’ll call back if I need anything else.” As if.

You quickly hang up the phone before the woman on the other side tried to drag out the conversation and you swiftly turn on your heel back toward McGee’s desk. But you weren’t counting on Gibbs being right there - you crash into him from the side, the styrofoam cup of coffee getting knocked from his hang and falling to the ground, instantly staining the carpet black.

You step away from Gibbs instantly, staring at the spilled coffee, mouth falling open to apologize. But the Marine is on you instantly, and when your gaze rises to his, there’s nothing but anger in his hard eyes. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?” He snaps out, hand shaking to rid it of spilled coffee.

Immediately, any impulse to apologize dies down, and rage takes its place. You square your shoulders up at Gibbs; what the hell was his problem? “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not like I’m running around, doing fifty different things to try and find us a lead!”

“How about you let my agents worry about finding a lead,” Gibbs barks back. And when he takes a step closer, trying to seem intimidating, you don’t back away. You stopped being intimidated by him a long time ago. “We were doing just fine without you!”

Your hands curl into fists, and for a brief moment, there’s an impulse to lash out and slap that angry look off his face. As if he’s totally justified in being so pissed off. But before either of you could do or say anything, a soft, familiar voice says Gibbs’ name.

The both of you look over, and Abby is standing on the edge of the bullpen with McGee by her side. His eyes avert away instantly, but Abby keeps her sheepish look. Gaze switching nervously between you and Gibbs, wondering what to do next. It’s not until he utters a sharp “what” do they both scurry over. McGee is still having trouble looking up, but to her credit, Abby’s looking both you and Gibbs in the eye. She’s never been the type to shy away from Gibbs when he was angry, and still, you can’t help but admire her fortitude. She was no less scared of Jethro than you were.

“Uh, McGee and I have been combing through the suspect’s phone, looking at emails and text messages and phone calls...” Gibbs starts nodding his head - a sigh for Abby to get to the point. She chances a glance to McGee before continuing. “We found a number to an old motel just outside of town. I called, and they said they’ve rented a room to a man matching the description of our guy.”

Instantly, Gibbs moves past Abby toward his desk. “McGee, call Bishop and Torres. Tell them where we’re going, and to meet us there,” he spouts, getting behind his desk and grabbing his gun.

“Yes, Boss,” McGee replies, and he hastily walks off with Abby in tow.

You watch them leave, glance to Gibbs, and then walk off towards your little desk in the corner to retrieve your coat and gun. Finally - a solid lead. Actual witnesses, and he didn’t even know you and the team were coming. And yet, the small amount of excitement that started rising in your stomach died out when you heard Gibbs speak up: “What the hell are you doing?”

The coat was half-on. A single arm pulled through the sleeve when you looked up in surprise. And with a deep frown, you tugged the rest of your coat on before facing Gibbs. “I’m coming with you guys,” you answer him plainly. As if you wouldn’t tag along on the biggest break-through in years.

But Gibbs started shaking his head. Padded out from behind his desk and turned to walk away toward the elevator. “No, you aren’t. You’re staying here and-”

“Dammit, Jethro!” Your loud shout froze him. Whirled him around to face you, and for the second time in just five minutes, the heat of his glare hit you hard. But now, you were just as pissed as he was - trying to keep you here, as if you were just an observer on this case. “Vance brought me here to help. I’m not a member of this team, not anymore. You can’t boss me around, and you can’t tell me I’m not coming along to arrest this guy. I’m going, whether you like it or not.”

The words just spilled out without you meaning them to. And you knew, somewhere deep down, that yelling and reminding Gibbs that you weren’t his to boss around would only make things worse. But he just had this way of pushing you and saying things that pissed you off. And you remember clearly that behavior as one of the things that made the relationship hard, at times.

He stands there for a moment, glaring hard until he finally sighs, and you can see him give in. “Fine, but you follow my orders,” Gibbs says, his voice tense.

Of course that’s the ultimatum. “Fine.”

The ride to the motel was long. Quiet. Insanely tense, and not even Torres and his quips helped with that. It was a relief to finally step out of the car, even if the view made you pause.

When Abby said the motel was old, she wasn’t kidding. It looked like the type of place you wouldn’t want to walk around at night; dirty walls, dull paint job, dark hallways in the middle of the day. A window in one of the rooms was busted, and the only effort to fix it is with a trash bag and some duct tape. If the suspect was looking for a lowkey place to hide out, he chose a pretty good spot.

Abby had gotten the room number over the phone, so when Bishop pointed it out, Gibbs immediately made his way towards it. The team follows, and as your hand reaches to settle on your gun, Gibbs glances at you over his shoulder before motioning with his head to the corner of the building. “Go around back. Cover the bathroom window,” he orders lowly.

You stop instantly. The reflex to argue comes up, and you quickly snuff it out and huff, turning and making your way to the side of the building without another word. It’s not worth another fight; not right now. You just wanted this case wrapped up so you can get back to New Orleans. Back to Dwayne.

The back of the motel is no more prettier than the front. A long stretch of wire fence, interlaced with weeds and grass. Debris and trash litter the ground, despite the fact there’s a dumpster several yards away (though, to be fair, it doesn’t look like it’s been used lately.) After a quick glance around the area, you turn and set yourself in front of the window.

Even from the back, you hear when Torres knocks the door down, followed by Gibbs shouting “NCIS!” in the room. And you can’t help but stiffen. Hoping this guy tries to jump out the window so you know he isn’t shooting at Jethro or any of the others. He was a pretty dangerous guy, so the possibility is there.

But nobody tries escaping. The bathroom door opens, and that tells you the room was empty. Dammit.

With a frustrated huff, you turn to start making your way back around the building. But a noise stops you in your tracks, head swiveling around to where you just stood. The noise had come from the dumpster. Much too big to be a raccoon. If it’d been an animal, you definitely would’ve heard it by now.

Slowly, with silent steps, you circle around the dumpster to get a better look. You don’t dare to breathe, and it doesn’t occur to you to call for back-up.

In hindsight, maybe you should have. Because after another foot or two, you find that the noise came from the man you were here to arrest. He stands as soon as you’re in his line of sight, and for a split second, it’s a little daunting that such a prolific killer - a man who’s gotten away with murder for years - was standing right there.

But the hesitation was only slight. “NCIS, hands up!”

The words were out, but your weapon wasn’t. Before you can even get it out of the holster, the man had his arm outstretched towards you. He was holding something small and black....it wasn’t until that small, black object flashed and a loud noise snapped through the air did you realize it was a gun, and he’d just fired it at you.

A sharp, hot pain exploded in the middle of your thigh. A pain so strong, so intense, you fell to the ground and let out a scream. Faintly, the sound of footsteps running against gravel could be heard, but you were much too focused of the piercing, unbearable pain spreading through your leg. And when you look at it, even though your hands are gripping your thigh, the sight of deep red blood has you closing your eyes tight.

You can’t seem to focus on anything. Not calling for help. Not speaking through the mic in your ear. The only thing your body could decide on was squeezing your thigh and writhing back and forth in the dirt.

But Gibbs didn’t need you to call out for him. He heard the gunshot, and he was the first to reach you. Your limbs are going numb, and not in a good way. But even then, you feel his hands on your thigh. Removing yours and replacing them with his own, and the action has you opening your eyes to look at him.

And for the first time since getting to DC, Jethro isn’t looking at you with anger or some cold indifference. He’s concerned. Scared, even. And you don’t know whether or not that’s supposed to make you feel better. Maybe it shouldn’t, because judging from how Gibbs seems to feel about you now, he wouldn’t look so worried if he thought the wound wasn’t serious.

“Stay awake, alright? Medics are on their way.”

You hear his voice. Understand his words. But you were starting to lose feeling just about everywhere, even the gunshot wound that Gibbs was leaning his entire weight on. And the last you see before everything goes black are those pale blue eyes.

Everything seemed so....heavy when you woke up. Your head. Your limbs. Especially your eyelids, because it seemed damn-near impossible to open your eyes, despite being very awake. But despite the weight of sleep pulling on your very bones, the uncomfortable stiffness of your leg is almost immediately noticed. Very sore and mostly bound with bandages to the point where moving it was out of the question.

It took a few more attempts before your eyes finally open. Blinking against the light, but at least you succeeded in something. Though, opening your eyes and catching a murderer were leagues and leagues apart.

Somewhere on your right, the page of a magazine is flipped. The noise startles you, even if it was small and coming from Gibbs lounging back in a chair. The sight him just sitting there, not even looking up from the magazine that he’s holding far away from him, makes you think you might be dreaming. “Jethro?” You asked, voice hoarse and it shocks you.

He just nods once, finally closing that damn magazine and looking up to you. His own eyes blink a couple times; his eyesight must be getting worse. “How do you feel?”

“Uh, stiff. Sore.” You try to move the injured leg, but all that happens is a jolt of pain making you wince.

Again, Jethro nods once. “Bullet nicked an artery, so the doctors had to do a lot of stitching. Ambulance came just in time; it was a close call,�� he explains. When you look to him, you find his eyes flickering up from your leg.

Yeah, you remember him on top of you. Hands on your leg, trying desperately to slow the bleeding. He obviously succeeded. The knowledge makes your eyes drop away from his. “You saved me,” you mumble out.

Gibbs is silent for a heartbeat. “Of course, I did. You think I’d just let you die?”

No. No, you didn’t. Despite the tension and anger between you two, Jethro was a good man. An even better agent. The thought of him letting you bleed out just because you annoyed him wasn’t even on your radar. You were still just reeling from everything that’s happened.

After a few moment, Gibbs suddenly stands up and fishes into his pocket. Pulls out his old dinosaur of a phone and hands it over. When you blink at it and look up in confusion, he motions with it. “King’s been calling over and over. He’s worried sick; you should call.”

Dwayne was worried. That fact that you didn’t even think to call him until now made you guilty, but you take the phone from Gibbs. He walks across the room while you dial the number, and Dwayne answers on the second ring. “Gibbs? You got news on Y/N?”

“Hey, Dwayne. It’s me.”

Instantly, he lets out a hard sigh of relief. Dwayne takes a second to say something to someone; you assume he’s relaying the news to the team. The thought makes you smile, but hearing his voice return only widens it. “Sweetheart, I was worried sick. McGee called and told me what happened. That you were in surgery and nobody knew how bad it was. And even after Gibbs said you were fine, I wasn’t gonna feel any better until I heard it from you.”

If there was ever a moment you desperately wished he were here, it was right now. You can’t help but lean your head against Jethro’s phone, as if that somehow makes you closer to him. “I’m fine, just a little sore. Nothing some TLC can’t fix.” Dwayne’s cooking would be better than any medicine the hospital could give you.

“Funny you say so, ‘cause I’m flyin’ up to DC tonight.”

Instantly, the smile vanishes from your face. Your eyes move up to look at Gibbs across the room, wondering if he knew before averting your eyes away. “Dwayne, you don’t have to come up here...”

“Actually, cause you’re outta commission, Vance says y’all need another New Orleans agent up there.” He pauses for a heartbeat. “Plus, yeah; you were shot, baby. I’d be flying up anyway.”

Despite the shock of the news, you smile at his words. Sometimes, his stubborn selflessness was too good to be true. “Alright,” you mumble. “See you when you get here.”

“You will,” Dwayne says. A stern promise before he says goodbye and hangs up.

That’s when Gibbs makes his way back over, taking his phone when you offer it back. And you figure he already knows about Dwayne’s arrival; Vance surely would’ve informed him, by now. Still, you chance a look up at him. “Dwayne’s coming up to help on the case.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Strangely, he doesn’t seem all that excited that his long time friend to coming to DC. That they’ll be working a case together, like the old days that Dwayne used to tell you about whenever Jethro was brought up. And now, you’re too tired to ask him about the lack of enthusiasm. Evidently, five minutes was too long to stay awake, in your condition.

Gibbs notices how your eyes flicker with exhaustion. “Go on. Go back to sleep,” he urges. And if sleep hadn’t been pulling so hard, the way his hand feels on your arm when he gives it a small pat would’ve felt a lot stronger than it did. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And you trusted him on that. After all, he did just save your life.

#ncis imagine #ncis new orleans x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #dwayne pride x reader #ncis nola x reader

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