Raeden (Rae) Seiko

  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

46 Showing Real Promise

About Raeden (Rae) Seiko

  • Rank
    Feet Wet


    Maggie Q
  • AGE
  • RACE
    Altered Human
  • JOB
    Detective-Sp. Crimes/Narcs/Homicide
    New York City Police Department - 10th Precinct
    Raeden Seiko ('Ray-den Say-ko')
    At 5'6" Rae's imposing personality can at times make up for her more diminutive stature. Her father was Asian and her mother Irish/Italian, making her mixed heritage very evident in her features. Light brown eyes often take an amber hue, particularly when focusing on a crime scene.

    She is almost always dressed to work. Slacks or jeans and a tank under a button up is her go-to look with her piece tucked into the back of her waistband. When she does dress up she is stunning. Just exotic enough to turn heads.
    Behind her back she has been called a Barracuda. The moniker is fairly well deserved. She is a tireless workaholic who believes deeply in what she is doing. The job comes first. She is also fiercely protective of her "blue" family. She opened the gym to give them a safe place to go and has used her position often to fight the take over of New York law enforcement by any private sector including the Vanguard and New World Defense Division. She wont admit it but she has also been known to quietly bail her "family" out of troubles.

    On the flip side, in those rare times she relaxes she is funny and playful. Her wit can be a bit dark and wicked.
    Owner of Precinct Gym - formerly Gotham Gym in the West Village. She rehabbed the gym in 2013 so those on the force had a place to work out. The gym is on the second floor, the entrance a non-descript door with no signs to indicate what is up there nor the cops that might be working out there. The gym is not open to the public, its private and for the "men in blue" only. Its anonymity to the public is her way of keeping the police force safe.

    1988 Jeep Wrangler - black with both a soft and hard top but she prefers to drive it convertible when the weather permits. In fairly good shape it still drives decent even in the New York winters.

    Like many on the force, she has a large collection of guns. The piece she normally sports in the back band of her slacks is her Glock 22.
    While she works with both ARMA and Vanguard she holds no love for either.


    Rae is able to enhance or detract all her natural senses except taste and touch. She can enhance her eyesight to see at microscopic levels, hear heartbeats from meters away, and even determine the chemical composition of objects by smell. Paired with her FBI studies regarding chemical compounds, and micro-biologic structures she at times becomes a "walking crime lab". Her ability is incredibly useful in criminal investigations.

    Rae is only able to super-enhance one sense at a time. The more she enhances one particular sense, the less effective her other senses become. In some circumstances, the other senses shut down all together. For example, talking to her while she is visually inspecting a crime scene can result in no response because she has not heard a thing.

    Magnifying Vision:
    When enhanced, Rae is able to "zoom" into her surroundings. It acts almost like a zooming lens, shifting inward in stages. She cannot magnify from normal to 100x, she goes through several stages of "zooming" in. Because of this she tends to tune out everything around her as the focus gets clearer and clearer. Rae can go as deep as 300x magnification, the equivalent of a fairly good microscope.

    Rae has the ability to enhance her hearing far beyond the scope of normal human capability. She can hear soft sounds and pitches usually reserved for dogs. Her enhanced hearing can block out ambient sounds to focus on a specific source or frequency. As such, she can pick out a single voice in an cacophony of noises. Her acuity can go as far as 500 feet but after that she cannot hear any better than the average human.

    Rae can magnify scents and detect specific people, objects, substances including chemicals, and track a scent from up to a mile away. She can even detect sicknesses by which hormones/smells a target excretes.
    As part of her training pre and post Resonance, Rae is a highly skilled kickboxer as well as a lethal marksman. She puts in time in her gym daily as well as hits the range at least five times a week to ensure she never gets rusty.

    A bit of a health nut, Rae has developed some mad cooking skills.

    Negotiator - as part of her FBI training she had studied multiple forms of negotiations including hostage. When put to the test it turned out she had a natural affinity for the skill. More than once this has diffused a potentially explosive situation. It is also how she has managed to keep the New York precincts a public service and not fall to the private sector.
    Special Agent Seiko. She had fought hard to earn the title. She grew up with little but a strong sense of ethics from her parents. Her dad had made it onto the New York Police force and she had looked up to him for as long as she had understood he protected everyone. He had specialized in narcotics but had an eye on the FBI, an impossible aspiration for one not born in the US. Unfortunately, the man she revered was lost to her just shy of her twelfth birthday in a hostage shoot out. She then spent the rest of her time planning her life with the golden ring being a spot in the FBI that her father couldn’t reach.

    She had dual majored in finance and accounting knowing that it was the best chance for getting into Quantico. She was a gym rat throughout school, always preparing. In college she had actually made time for a relationship. Justin had proposed the night of their graduation and she had accepted. But the happily ever after they had envisioned was short lived. An engineering major he found work in Texas while she made it into Quantico. They tried to make it work at first, but he tried more than she did. Her drive had taken over until she got a letter breaking it off, and that was all she wrote. Seiko had been one of the youngest to get through both the New Agent and Intelligence training, and was a Field Agent only two years before she was given the prestigious title of Special Agent, leading investigations. Even back then she was an animal. Focus was intense as was her dedication.

    Respected and running massive investigations by 2010, Rae was running one in New York when the Nevus occurred and turned her world upside down.

    Losing her mother and her beloved FBI she had to find a new purpose. The world needed protectors and she was at the ground floor of rebuilding the New York Police Department. Asked to be the chief, she turned it down. Seiko was never a desk jockey. Shorthanded, she is the lead detective for Narcotics and Homicide for the 10th precinct.

    It was her first homicide that triggered her Synesthesia. It had been disorienting and yet quickly she understood the value such a gift was giving her. Her studies in the FBI had exposed her to so much that she was a walking crime lab, add her gifts and she didn’t even need to collect evidence half the time.

    Protective of her fellow law enforcement she has found her natural place in the new world.

Profile Fields

  • How did you hear about us?


  • Are you over 18+?

Recent Profile Visitors

1,038 profile views
  1. Bedknobs and Broomsticks....

    Hands slid into her jeans, cold still biting through to her bones despite the casino bathing her in heated air as she waited patiently for someone to talk to. Hazel eyes slid around the floor. The swanky of New York seemed to have all congregated here to get out of the cold. The casino had rooms above so likely they were camping out here until the ice age passed, stuck as vehicles literally froze into their parking spots. If Lance was smart he stayed in the car and kept it running so the damn thing didn’t freeze. Eyes slid up to the woman as she was addressed by the security guard when she approached. “Ah, here she is. Miss Vasiliev, these two officers are looking for information on one Michael Kleski?” Brow lifted wondering who the second "officer" was. A man standing nearby grinning at her like she was part of the female entertainment. Hazel rolled as she turned back to the Bakkhos security. He is not with me… and you might want to check him because the jacket is pulling on the left side. Firearm under there. The security guards frowned and instantly moved to handle the leering "gentleman" behind her. A brief scuffle leading the guy away to a backroom. What idiot wandered into Bakkhos trying to sneak in a gun? Hers had been briefly flashed to the guard with her badge so there was complete awareness despite it being hidden under her jacket. Hazel slid instead to the woman they had brought down to talk to her. She wasn’t that surprised. What was left of the guy showed a high end suit and some custom jewelry. “I would be more than happy to help you with your inquiries, officers. One small request, though. Can we discuss this matter in one of the private rooms? While we are grateful for the service you provide this city, police presence is not exactly conducive for the type of business we are in. I hope you understand.” As a plain clothed detective she might have been offended by the assumption that she was "recognized" as law enforcement, however she was also making a name for herself in New York as one of the few that really did their job and did it equally for an earthborn or outworlder. A fact that wasn’t winning her a lot of friends and making her face more known. She also had a reputation for not being bribable which had her on several hit lists. Fortunately for the moment Bakkhos was not one of those. Indifferent shrug came with a nod as she followed the woman to a private lounge. It wasn’t the first time she had been to one. Several visits had resulted in a personal conversation with Angelo Gaspari in the past.
  2. Just Another Day at the Office....

    February 7, 2021 - 3pm @Darius Kayne She dropped to the floor for the third time, swearing in several languages under her breath as she watched one burly man in blue get knocked on his ass, thrown completely across the old Manhattan clothing warehouse. This was getting ridiculous. Pushing into a seated position she pulled out her phone, hazel carefully tracking the blunt force object jetting around their crime scene. The minute it was answered she didn’t wait for a hello. Detective Seiko… put me through to Atticus Gale. Eyes kept tracking, a sharp "LANCE" catching her partner's attention causing him to dodge just in time for it to go whizzing past his head. A grumbled thanks was her reward as she listened to the woman on the other end of the line. I understand he isn't there at the moment but I need to be patched through…… Scowl was instant as the high pitched answering dingdong on the other end kept talking. What do you mean you are not authorized?! This is Detective Seiko, we call in Gale when there are artifacts located at crime scenes that need to be secured. This is an arrangement we have had for nearly two years now! She was losing her patience with the woman. Something was going on at Pharos, or had happened to Gale personally. Either answer didn’t leave her thrilled but she still needed this damn thing under control. The woman was sharply cut off. Listen… I could care less about your protocols. Just send over an agent that can deal with a hostile artifact. We got a carved metal mallet with a head the size of a German shepherd flying around my crime scene like its Thor's hammer on steroids. I got a body that seems to have been killed by it and two cops down as it targets every living things in general. Breath paused as she suddenly dropped to her back and rolled quickly, the enormous head of the mallet striking where she had been sitting, shattering the concrete floor into dust and fragments of stone. The old Ferrara Manufacturing warehouse on 39th….. get someone over here now! The sharp tones never shouted and yet the woman on the other end barked a quick "yes M'aam" back at her. She had that effect on people. Phone snapped shut as she scrambled back to her feet as the two foot wide head of the hammer blasted through the side of a concrete pillar, sending shards in all directions like a wild spray of water. Fuck this was just getting better and better. Pharos on its way… just need to keep it from escaping now…. There were groans from the four men still on their feet. They all made a silent prayer that Pharos got their asses there quick.
  3. Bedknobs and Broomsticks....

    “Victim is male, Caucasian, around 250 pounds. Liver temperature is 23 degrees Celsius and estimated time of death around – shit … 8 hours? With this godforsaken weather I might have to adjust calculations, not sure if it’s still 1.5 per hour in this frozen hell.” The hazel eyes flicked towards the tech, long lashes bearing a white haze of frost on their tips. Incorrect. Killed two hours ago at most….. She quietly corrected him, causing him to pause the recorder which was starting to freeze in the unnatural ice age. The kid was called out by the fifth precinct and therefore not accustomed to working with the detective that was a walking forensic lab on her own. She worked with Lance. He had the good sense to stay out of her way until she finished her assessments. The kid was carelessly traipsing over her crime scene, disturbing the evidence in the snow of the alleyway, footsteps marred by his own as he conducted his spell to discover what she had already spotted with magnified pupils. Normally she would have crucified the kid but truth was she had already studied the scene and didn’t need to hang out in the arctic abomination any longer than necessary. “Boss, have something over here!” She frowned at the loud term of authority. One didn’t go throwing out who was in charge in potentially hostile territory, not unless you were a naïve idiot or trying to get your boss killed. She dropped the kid squarely into the first category. She had already turned away, glancing up into a dark window of the second story as she shifted the balaclava back over her lower features to protect against the wind. Hazel studying the iridescent eyes that studied her from above. Empire Casino chip….. high roller one to be precise. He glanced up at her back wondering how she knew that from across the alley. She had spotted it early in her investigation, the glitter of it harsh against the blood stained white snow. So her perp, who was now her victim, was a high roller at the Bakkhos property. That didn’t bode well for them. For the most part she left Bakkhos alone so long as they didn’t pull stupid shit with civilians. They wanted to kill off other mob and gangs she said let them at it. Less criminal activity she had to deal with. She was there to protect the innocent and those didn’t usually get caught up in Bakkhos affairs. But if the "family" was suddenly taking out Outworlders in some twisted form of bigotry…. that was her business. Turning she focused on the bag with the wallet, the license slid into the front window betraying her victims name. Get the body back to the station and start the paperwork. With that she headed back to the car and a shivering Lance trying to keep it running and heated. Door cracked as she opened it, the sheet of ice on the exterior shattering. Fuck they shouldn’t be out here. Slamming it shut she nodded to him as hands pushed towards the vents trying to melt the ice on her outter clothing. Empire casino….. NPC: huh? Hazel looked at him with a quirked brow. NPC:…. ya ok ok… the casino By the time they pulled up to the casino she was almost thawed out, the outter layer of several left in the car when she strode rapidly into the casino leaving Lance to park the car. Hand swiped her coat from her hip, detective badge flashing to the security at the door with a nod. They tended to be pretty respectful the security at Bakkhos properties. I am looking for information on Michael Kleski. As a diamond chip high roller am assuming someone would be available to answer some questions?
  4. Bedknobs and Broomsticks....

    December 15, 2020 2pm - still under the ice age of fae fury event White curled from her lips in thick smoke rings as blue lips pursed staring at the crimson spattered snow. Omenwich was known as a haven for Outworlders and it seems the Outworlder violence had found its way here. Thick boots carefully picked over the snow as eyes magnified the ground to ensure she stayed out of the actual crime scene. Satisfied she wasn't intruding on evidence she released the magnification in time to hear the faint scratch at a window. Hazel lifted in time to see the eyes before the curtain fell away in the window. Residents were skittish. Likely as much by her presence as the crime scene she was investigating. Cops were usually the last any magus helped, so like her precinct family, she didn't have the "fortune" of wearing enhanced clothing against the cold. Instead she had done it the old fashioned way, merino wool long underwear wicked the moisture away from her skin and gave her a warm base layer. On top she had loose moleskin pants to trap the heat inside and a wool sweater on top to do the same. Last layer was a military polar parka that came well down on her thighs, fur lined hood snapped up and tied under her chin which was nestled inside a fleece balaclava that went over her head. She was dressed for the arctic. Yet all that didn't stop the crystals of ice from forming on her lashes as she focused on the crime scene. Fingers flexed in the double layer of gloves as she listened to her partners teeth chatter, they were the only crazies out in the weather. Fingers lifted to pull the balaclava back over her mouth and nose before speaking. Lance... back to your car before I have another body out here. NPC:... am fine.....rrrreally... The unconvincing reply came as she watched his lips flush deeper blue. uh huh...... get going. You need about another two layers before you can survive out here for more than fifteen minutes. Go. Her tone made it evident she wasn't playing. Four officers had died in the last month from exposure. New York couldn't afford to lose any more. As he finally gave up and headed back to the vehicle that struggled to keep running as it was, she went back to the crime scene and the blood spattering as high as fifteen feet on the alley walls. Two victims. She was sure of it. But she only had one body. Something told her there was an Outworlder crime first... but that anyone stupid enough to attack in Omenwich had found themselves on the receiving end of revenge. She suspected her first perpetrator was the body she had now.... not the victim. That body was the one that had been dragged away from the tracks in the snow... winged perhaps based on the drag marks? Again she was acutely aware of eyes on her. Seemed she was the center of attention here.
  5. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

    She wasn’t sure if the other detective was going to make it. She looked a little green. Of course, so did most of the force now out trying to hold back the curious public. To her credit though, Wynn was coming on board the ship behind her, a feat most of the blues below were not willing to do once they heard what was on the ship. There was a faint annoyance in the thought because she knew that while for some it was the horror and stench that kept them away, for others, it was their bigotry against outworlders. World had been turned upside down, come face to face with the future… and yet they hadn't evolved a single iota. Boots hit the rusted metal of the belly, walking the perimeter slowly, feet placed meticulously so that no evidence was disturbed while the eyes began to assess. The frowns from the coroners team were ignored. They never understood how she was so calm in the face of such horrors. There was time to be upset and disgusted later, right now the dead needed her forensic skills. Head tilted as with the lights on she could see things she had missed before, dark lashes flicking up and to the side, clearly tracking some unspoken train of thought. "They must have been in here for weeks, even months." Freighter this size take about five weeks to cross…. saw some rotor damage outside so likely she runnin' slow…. six maybe seven weeks…. The murmur was almost to herself as she crouched near a pile of older bodies, the fester of decomposing flesh showing bones protruding through. “There's no way the guy would casually hang around the dock for someone. Even if we get a good description, who's to say that he isn't wearing a disguise? Regardless, that is the best option. Talking to the dock master, get something, anything out of that guy.” Stepping over a small decomposed body, presumably a child she crouched closer, head tilting the other way as the pupils flushed and contracted, zooming in on what had caught her eye before the left hand went out beside her and fingers snapped. A suited forensic expert came over instantly, they were familiar with Seiko and the fact that if she spotted something, it was worth paying attention. These two were shot. NPC: huh? They were always dumbfounded how she could see these things without autopsies, especially with the severe decomposition of the bodies. Shot… there are at least two slugs in this tanker and I want them. Standing she glanced back to the doorway then to where the two were. Farthest point. Against the wall, likely went first. Likely shot as they were being closed in, probably figured out they were in trouble as they were being locked in. Again the murmur seemed to be mostly to herself. Glancing to the white suit the authoritative tone returned and left no room for arguing. I want the make and model of the weapon before tomorrow noon. NPC:… we don’t even have the slugs you cant…. Well you better start focusing on finding them. Trail would go cold if they didn’t get moving. “Maybe we can get in contact with the Vanguard. They might know something.” Brow quirked at the woman. Was she kidding? Go to the organization that touted "human first"? For all she knew they were behind this death cruise. What better way to start purging the world than set up a false underground railroad and kill the outworlders in droves as they fled persecution. Doubt it. It was all she was saying on the matter as she moved through the carnage once more. With the beginning removals it was apparent they were right around seventy bodies in various states of decomposition. I want to know if any others were shot by the end of the night. Her demand was met with grumbling but she didn’t stick around, moving back up the stairs and taking a deep breath once on the deck again. Being submerged in the festering "coffin" below, the stench on deck seemed almost refreshing in comparison. Hands rested on her hips as she paced the deck looking over the rusted metal looking for more clues. Not the first event like this we seen in New York….. first one of this size though…..
  6. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

    Sense of smell was dulled purposefully as she let her ears and eyes take the lead. Partially to continue her observations, partially to protect herself from the gag reflex that nearly every cop on the dock was now suffering from. Since no one really knew or understood her gifts she was simply seen as indifferently cold to such horrors. She noted the coroners had all put on gas masks…. half a brain at least between them. "Cheese and rice" Brow quirked upward at the woman. That was….different. She watched the woman fight the same battle as the others, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the horror that was wafting on the air. "I'd like to do what I can to assist with this case." She blinked at the woman as the team of white suits made past her to head up the plank. Despite what some said of her, the Asian was not arrogant nor elitist. Good hands were hard to come by in the new world and she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Head tilted towards the plank inviting the detective to follow as she herself turned and already started up the rusted support back up to the deck of the freighter. "Where do we begin? Do we have a lead?" Nod was faint as she leaned a hip against the rusted rail to let the forensic teams all head down into the hull. Human cargo, all appear to be outworlders. If I were to bet I would say the ship originated in Ireland and they were promised some sort of freedom. Hand rubbed under her chin as the eyes watched the last team descend into the black abyss, light beginning to glow up the stairs as the white suited city servants set up flood lights inside the container. She had been waiting for that as she pushed from the rail and headed towards the steps, the detective welcome to follow if she could stomach it. Trotting down the metal steps she kept talking. Door was locked from the outside with no windows or access to basics. Looks like they started dying on the way. Survivors tried to pile the dead on one end and from the little I could see, I would say they started cannibalizing the dead in an effort to survive. Head nodded as she hit the doorway and her assumption was confirmed. The flashlight had already highlighted it for her but now with the flood lights in the massive container the bite marks on bones and flesh were apparent. Eyes zoomed in several times looking over details and forcing her sense of smell into dormancy, at least as far as it could go, the stench of death, urine and feces still permeating. The claw marks on the metal walls told the story of their desperation to escape. This was not what they had signed up for. Dock master took cash from a man to dock but the guy never came back. My partner is getting all the details he can from the dock master now. The pile was thicker than she had seen in the dark. Their body count was likely closer to sixty five or seventy. Fuck… Soft swear of near defeat escaped her lips even as eyes didn’t seem to betray any emotions. The world was getting worse by the day and she wasn’t sure there was a way to reverse the rapid decline anymore.
  7. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

    NPC: Play Nice….. The soft whisper near her as Lance passed behind her shoulders was met with a grunt soft in her chest as she signed the coroners release to start removing bodies. She had spotted the detective already as she made her way through the crowd. I always play nice…… They crossed paths often. The former FBI Special agent was now the Detective for special crimes, homicides and narcotics, she often found herself at the same crime scene as the violent crimes Detective. Mostly amicable. Truth be told, the Asian had stepped on more than a few toes from the other divisions when she promptly told them how they were wrong in their assessment of a crime scene. Her forensic gifts made her nearly never wrong and while others respected this, she had a tendency of being a little less than politically correct in her sharing of her corrections of the observations of others. You don’t have enough trucks by the way. The coroner representative blinked at her and glanced back at the four big white trucks. NPC: Really? …….really. His soft fuck came with a sigh as he nodded and flipped open his phone to make a call. Hand ran over the top of her head, pulling back the stray ebony strands that had escaped. Nostrils flared as the winds shifted. Frown etched her brow. Fuck. The breeze was going to carry the stench into the city now, a fact made clear as several on the dock began gagging and covering their mouth and noses. They would have the site-seers in no time now. So much for trying to keep the whole fiasco quiet. As Wynn approached the coroner rep that had just flipped his phone shut the detective listened to the question on her lips. "How many are in there?" Before the guy could shrug her own voice carried over. More than fifty. She watched the man spin around to gape at her before flipping his phone open again and calling in even more reinforcements as he marched back to his truck to gear up for a very long night. Nod was faint but acknowledging. Detective Wynn.
  8. Not all is what it seems......

    She had started walking even as she made the invitation to join her. Either he did… or he took his chances with CDC. At this point she didn’t care, she had done her good deed for the day and was fighting her own exhaustion, not to mention she had a few more hours of forensics on her crime scene before she had the luxury of going home like the other exhausted blues. She was vaguely aware of his steps as he caught up and of a booted set… Lance… and from the sound of their cadence he was still walking on very unsteady limbs. He tolerated the antivirals better than the other blues since like her, he had been forced to take them more often. But he still hadn't built up the tolerance she had. CDC tries to set foot on my crime scene… shoot them… Despite the strain in the sound, she could hear Lance chuckle. The murmur was half under her breath…. Wasn’t really kidding…… Bare feet stepped over the first pieces of debris as she approached the old maritime building. NPC:…hey….. HEY…. Rae! He stumbled to catch up with her, hand snatching her arm as they both nearly lost balance. NPC:…shit Rae…can't go wandering in a bomb site without any shoes… She blinked at him before glancing down at her faintly orange feet. He had a point. Sighing she headed for her jeep instead. Pair of sneakers should be in her gym bag. Hip rested against the door of her jeep as she pulled blue and white sneakers over the stained toes, not bothering with any socks. ”Anytin’ else ah need’a do on yer end right now, or am ah jus’ good to fuck off an’ scrub tis fuckin’ orange shit off?” Hazel lifted to the ARMA soldier, pausing a moment before giving a shake of her head, second heel pulling onto the gunked heel. No…. get your men taken care of…. be sick few days but if they have half a dick they can be workin' by tomorrow already. Banging her feet on the ground as though to fix the sneakers on her appendages but more to feel the earth beneath herself and ensure she wasn’t going to keel over. I have a crime scene still need to finish forensics on.. Head was shaking as she turned away from him, words to herself not to him. Need to get ahead of this damn war….
  9. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

    Hazel watched Lance talk to the harbor master as she rested a hip on the railing, continuing to breathe deep the fresh air. This cross the pond shit had been spilling to their shores for about a month now but nothing of this magnitude. New York tended to be a bit more of an accepting melting pot, but recently the tension that was floating from Europe had bled into the city. Dumb asses were starting to take sides, random violence was on the rise per the department but the reports looked a lot like targeted violence to her. The city was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Eyes had been focusing on the small marks on the metal deck… claw marks by the looks of them. The magnification was over thirty times and Lance's voice was missed the first time. Huh? NPC:…I said our harbor master's pretty shook up. Not planning on coming over here any time soon. Best he remembers was two guys from the ship. Overweight middle aged Caucasian, maybe five foot eight or nine and a tall lanky Asian in his late twenties. He was used to repeating himself when she was studying a crime scene. The kind that can just blend in and vanish in this city. NPC: Pretty much… This shit hits the news…. NPC: I know…. can expect some protests…even possibly riots… yeah….. Sigh was soft in her chest. Between the virus crimes she had been investigating and the growing divisiveness with this damn earthborn purists movement… sleep was a luxury the force was starting to severely lack in. Hazel flicked to the four white vans coming up to the dock… coroners were here. Hip pushed from the railing to head down the plank to meet them. Best they had a bit of a warning before walking into this mess. She was worried the powder keg was already sitting next to a lit match.
  10. Not all is what it seems......

    "Not today." A tired smile played at the corner of her lips. She suspected what thoughts were dancing through his head. The feeling was mutual. She would blow up the whole damn block before she let the CDC take her out. Besides. There was a healthy fear of the woman in many of these street crawling scientist wannabes. They had had their share of run ins with the detective and most were pretty damn clear on whose criminal jurisdiction this was. Brow quirked as she pushed herself up from the bench and this time followed the soldier out the semi. Right into the damn spotlights of the drones. Frown darkened her brow as she watched him exit with his hands up, far too many guns leveled at the man. Fuckers were doing their job before… now they were pissing her off. As she reached the bottom of the stairs a guy was holding her cleaned weapons. She noticed the solider's were not "ready" yet. Now she was losing her cool. The still hot, cleaned metal was snatched away from the gloved patsy. Her badge clipped onto the waistband, its weight threatening to drop the slouched gray fabric off her cut hip as her knife was balanced a moment in her palm with a deep breath taken before being hurled. Several screams erupted as the blade rammed into the giant spotlight that was half blinding the soldier and herself. Now white suits were scrambling. The bulb exploded in a spray of orange sparks. Bodies were clamoring back as Francis charged her only to fall off his feet as the gun leveled at his face with a speed that didn’t seem hampered by the anti-virals. They wouldn’t have been so impressed if they had known she had been aiming for the cable not the light and that the speed of her aim had bile now percolating up in her throat. Fuck she felt like shit. Raise a gun on my man again and I will remind you who has criminal jurisdiction here… Frraancissss. His name was drawn out in a hiss that dared the man to push her. ….and give him his weapons before I lose my temper. Growl was half under her breath but already one of the lab-coats was skittering off to the chamber to get the metal things the soldier had left behind in the truck. All now hot to the touch having been sanitized. Confirming every gun had been lowered and the ARMA soldier was no longer being treated like a nazi-camp hostage, she finally lowered her own weapon. She waited only a moment for him to get his things then brushed past the shoulder of a stammering Francis towards the original crime scene and all her men and the ARMA crew who were all laid out still from the anti-virals. She let the CDC have the Z-body and the apartment blood bath below. The original crime scene was hers and she had her men to look after. Come on…. It was the only invitation he was getting to get back to their own as she moved past the line of stunned white coats into the dark of the alley beyond, heading back to the decimated pier.
  11. Not all is what it seems......

    She wasn’t very clear headed but she suspected the ARMA soldier was even less so. Her investigations had exposed her several times in the last two years to the potential multi-viral so this wasn’t her first rodeo with the damn anti-viral cocktail. Didn’t make it feel like sunshine and rainbows either. The pauses the soldier took along the way told the detective much. He was fighting an instinct to lash out to the CDC. Considering the number of people beginning to show up with their badges patched on their shoulders, it would be a really bad idea. They were either scared to death by all the viral incidents over the last two years, or they were scared the number of events were going to expose them. She still wasn’t sure. Right now she needed ARMA boy to keep his cool. Even through her haze she picked up on the reluctance to ditch his clothes. Didn’t seem to be from some misplaced sense of modesty, more likely attachment to the belongings. The drop to the floor came alongside her own as they were doused in decon. Any illusions of some sexual allure evaporated as both war torn bodies fought to regain their feet and some dignity. As she fought to get back to her feet the shadows blew out to the sides of the truck forcing her to dodge back to the ground. HEY… watch it would you!.... She nearly lost her footing. Fuck… she had no desire to be split apart by the ARMA soldier. The only bright side was the speaker was damaged in the process. The swears that the CDC was trying to blast over the intercom at their truck being damaged was coming out as mere static. She permitted herself a faint grin despite the nausea building in her gut. ”I fuckin’ hate civvie pox.” On that…. we agree….. Her own soft grumble came as she waited for him to join her in the rinsebox. When both were past the doorway she slapped the red button and again they were struck by a million jets of liquid, only this time it was clear. Both hands planted on the wall, she allowed herself the crutch as she let the decon flush of her skin, one hand tentatively letting go the steel to squeeze the length of ebony hair, orange spurting from the dark locks like a bad dye job. Took her three days and six showers last time to get completely rid of the damn stuff, and that was when she had been strong enough to try and scrub her skin while in the rinse box. This go around… she would be lucky if her showers weren't orange for a week. As the pressure finally reduced she dared to let the wall go and lift her face to the falling streams, hands scrubbing to get some semblance of normal before the water died out completely. Feet padded slowly, fatigue finally sinking into every anti-viral soaked muscle. The wood bench beyond the door was sunk onto with a soft slap of wet bare skin as she leaned to the side wall to pull open the locker, the stack of gray sweatshirts and sweat pants pulled from. A set was dropped next to her for the soldier as she worked to get a leg into a pair of sweatpants of her own. One size fits all meant she was a bit lost in the fabric, the cuffs needing to be rolled up to avoid tripping and she had to tie the drawstring up hard over her hips and it still slouched down. As he made his way into the last chamber she nodded to the clothes on the bench next to her. Welcome to the Viral Wars… There was something very ominous in the seriousness with which she spoke the words. Wet hands opening up the sweatshirt to pull over her head, hem sliding down over her scarred ribs before she pushed her arms through the sleeves and slopped her wet hair out the back of the neck to soak down her back. Already there was trace orange showing up on the gray fabric. She hadn't lied. It would take forever to get rid of it all.
  12. Not all is what it seems......

    Back of her arm wiped over her lips as she let her eyes focus once more. Deep breath came with difficulty but she straightened up and was on the move once more. They needed to stop it. Shotgun was hoisted by the action, snapped up and down with surprising strength for her size, the gun snapping up and down to engage the shells. Pace was still unsteady but at least she was managing a fairly straight line as the creature came into view, feet spreading slightly as the gun snapped up and trigger was pulled in a fluid motion. Its shoulder snapped back. Shit…. missed its neck. A blast from her gun properly along the spine of the neck could decapitate but fucked if her aim was not as straight as it could be at the moment. A thunk of fabric against immovable wall caught her attention. The soldier…. she was mildly impressed he was upright. Glancing back to her prey the swear erupted from between her lips. She had taken her eyes off it and now it was missing. It was getting stronger while they were getting weaker. Where the fuck had it….. The shadow dropped from above and slammed into the soldier sending both tumbling down into the basement window of an old apartment complex. Too fast! She had tried to take aim but had run the risk of killing the guy as easily as damn Z infected. Shit… Foot hit the door to the right of the window, the metal stairs taken quicker as adrenaline began to burn at the effects of the triple antiviral. Jaw flinched as shots rang. She should have left him behind. Now she risked them both being contaminated. Small flashlight was pulled from her belt, flipped around to rest along the barrel of the shotgun as she flicked it on and moved down the corridor towards the room that now held the growls and swears of a life or death battle. It all happened so fast, the infected thrown back as shots were fired, her small light whipping around the corner, ebony blade making a haunting arc that seemed to interrupt when confronted by her small light. The fuck? Her own gun went off nearly beside the soldiers head as she blew a part of the neck clean away, blood spattering the entire basement, nothing was sacred, not even the saviors as she felt the moisture hit her cheek. The kick of the gun tossed the small light upwards and the gap in the blade solidified once more as her feet waivered, stumbling to the doorframe. Slop of a bloody body part smacked the concrete ground. Whatever she had seen in the shadows had taken the final bite out of the head and sent it flying. The basement became very quiet except for the labored breathing of the two "soldiers". Shotgun was lowered to hang from her left hand as the small light took a sweep of the place. Eyes drinking in the damage. Well….. that was a neat trick…. Hazel slid to the side to look at the ARMA man, her light going over him looking for the tell tale sign of bites, seeing only tears in the clothing. Seemed he had avoided a direct bite at least. Lips parted only to clamp shut as the buzz from her radio had Lance frantically trying to figure out where she had gone. Fingers pulled the small CB from her hip, clicking it on. Cease and desist…. target is neutralized but…. Glance to de Luc almost had an eyeroll with it. …but we have been contaminated. NPC: Fuck… that means… ya… I know….just be sure no one gets in here without a hazmat suit on. Small box was reset onto her hip as her head hit the doorframe, eyes taking a moment to rest. Luck… you ever been on the receiving end of a CDC rape? As if on cue those damn sirens could be heard. Fucking CDC. She always wondered if they actually made anything better, or if they were the sinister shadow behind all this. After all, who else had access to the nastiest chemical and viral shit the world had to offer than those that "cleaned" it up. She didn’t even have time to push off from the doorframe when the boots came tromping down the stairs, the headlights on their hoods blinding as their white suits haloed in the light. Squinting she yanked her arm away from the first one. Touch me again and will pop a hole in your pretty white suit. Instantly she was released. ARMA wasn’t the only group she had run-ins with. She had a reputation with the CDC as well. As two spilled into the room to begin "cleaning" up the infected she glanced back at de Luc and inclined her head to follow. Lance was frowning on the other side of the barricade the CDC had put up around the apartment complex. She shook her head slightly so he knew not to make a fuss. The semi was already there. Well shit… weren't they just efficient little beavers. NPC: Detective Seiko. The voice behind the white mask was recognized instantly. Captain Francis Calhoun. He went by Frank….she knew he went by Frank. She made a point of calling him Francis. Francis. She could almost hear his brain burn. Metal stairs were dropped at the back of the semi which she climbed with a bit of a wobble. Fuck that antiviral was killing her still. White gloved hands opened the metal door for her which she barely acknowledged as she vanished inside, the dim lights of the long container barely lighting the walls. Steel coated every inch. Hazel glanced over her shoulder at de Luc as she slipped her shield off her belt. I aint got all day to fuck with the CDC, Luck….get a move on. It was half said to get the guy moving, half to throw off the idiots in hazmats that were actually pointing guns at him. That was the CDC for you. Comply with their rules or they popped you for "the safety of the city". Bunch of shit. As the guy joined her the steel door was shut, the big bolt locking in place as she opened the steel door of a locker on the left, a matching one was on the right for him. Metal you wanna keep goes in the first locker, all yer clothes go in the second. Her gun was put into the first locker with her shield, the radio on her belt as well as a blade before the rest started coming off. Shirt was peeled off over her head and tossed into the second chamber, hand catching the locker door to steady herself as eyes closed a moment before the boots were slid off and tossed inside followed by her jeans. Black underwear and bra followed without hesitation, all chucked inside with a grumble about being her good jeans. As she closed the door and spun the handle horizontally to lock it, the flames licked up inside with a roar. It was an incinerator. This was a decontamination truck. Bare feet slapped on the metal floor that was covered in small holes as were the walls and ceiling. Dim light betrayed the woman was no desk jockey. She might be petite in stature but muscles carved into her limbs, she didn’t own a cop gym for no reason. Scars littered the leanly muscled form, knife wounds, gun shots, a nasty starburst on the front of her left shoulder where an explosion had burned her. She lived on New York's streets, not behind a desk. Hand rested on the wall near a large red steel button waiting for the soldier to catch up, feet slipping to shoulder width apart to help brace herself. Come on Luck… freezing my ass off and got a crime scene and report to get back to. The moment he crossed into the ten by ten metal chamber she hit the button. She probably should have warned him. He would get over it. Almost instantly the orange liquid shot out of every perforation of the metal at nearly the velocity of a fire hose. Like needles embedding in the flesh it hit from above and all sides, including up from the floor, dousing them in the decontaminate. Despite bracing her feet , the anti-virals coursing through her veins left her unstable and she dropped to a knee under the blasting streams. Over a speaker that damn voice came on. NPC:… stand please Detective Seiko so we can be sure you are completely….. Snarl cut him off. Suck my dick Francis. Instantly the click of the speaker being shut off gave her enough satisfaction for a smirk as she pushed back up to her feet against the onslaught of orange fluid. She was convinced he snapped pictures from whatever camera they had in here. Kept pictures of orange liquefied men and women up on his wall over his bed to masturbate to. Dick. Nearly two minutes. It felt like an eternity before the pressure softened and finally dissipated to dripping streams from the ceiling leaving the two slathered in orange liquid. Her normally ebony curtain of hair looked like she had been playing in clay mud. Aint you glad you came to see what was going on at the docks…. Hand slipped over her face to swipe away as much orange from her features as she could before bare feet walked over the metal plating, thick door sliding open to reveal another ten by ten metal room with the same holes piercing every corner and angle of the room. This one's just a rinse…. She waited for him, hand near the button on the wall as eyes closed a moment against another wave of nausea. Sad part is… you will need about four more showers at home before damn orange decon gets out of every damn crevice. Hand cupped the button, waiting to press until he passed through the door. Well this had been a "special" day.
  13. Not all is what it seems......

    Brow quirked at the "pep" speech that the ARMA soldier delivered to his men. Hardly what she would call inspiring to victory. Two of them had turned fairly green and they hadn't even taken the anti-viral yet. ”Sir, te entire squad is takin’ antivirals now an’ whoever comes to first will be yer point of contact for te rest of our stay here in infection city.” A sense of humor. Rare thing in a soldier. Her knuckles were white gripping the roll cage of her jeep as her gut tied in knots. It didn’t really get any easier, just more survivable. His men were taking theirs and he was already hurling. Just another fun day in the city. Free hand moved to rub over blurry vision as movement caught amber eyes. What was…… Head shook to clear the fog and focus as debris seemed to breath before flipping upward and a form staggered upright. Shit… The swear slipped her lips as she recognized the stagger. Zombie. How the HELL had it survived the blast?!? Her knees were still weak as she watched it cringe in the sunlight, staggering blindly before spotting the crevice between buildings and moving quickly to take shelter. One of his soldiers was still upright and armed, having just taken the triple dose. An infected…. you need to hunt it down…. He looked at her with saucers for eyes, the color having drained as the antiviral took effect. npc: Fuck that….thats the difference between us…. we aint about to be stupid like you dumb…. He didn’t get the word out, her own words snarled, cutting him off as she snatched the front of his shirt and yanked him right up into her face. Once more the small detective had an enormous presence when she wanted to. NO.. the difference is I took an oath to protect and serve…. you took a comicon pledge to play the hero when the bad guys are puppets on a stick… Fist released the idiot with a violent shove, already sick he toppled over and began to spew across the concrete deck. Worthless… Word sweared under her breath even as she swayed violently. She was in better shape than them… but not by much. Hand slid to the box on her hip, the button pressed to ignite her headset, connecting her to the other blues. Roll call of the upright… NOW… Several groans came over her earpiece but so did two weak "ya"s before Lance chimed in as well… Npc:…upright… if you can call it that.. …we have a hot Z attempting to leave the quarantine zone… heading north to the east river bikeway….. slipped between the ferry terminal buildings…it does not cross FDR… do I make myself clear….it does NOT cross FDR… destroy… any means possible. Several fucks came over her earpiece as she almost fell to her knees bending over to pick up the Arma phone, the rampage of the antivirals beginning to have full effect. Flicking the damn thing off mute. Detective Seiko… need a quarantine of the peninsula, everything south of the stock exchange… need CDC…. She hoped his call was to someone of decent intelligence who would take her words seriously. The phone was tossed aside once more as she began to move back to the jeep, albeit a bit lacking in a straight line before she paused and looked at the man she had let stay on site. She had pegged him for a good soldier.. had she been wrong? His men were all writhing on the ground. They wouldn’t be able to help either. Shit… two fucked up detectives and two fucked up blues against a damn zombie. They needed more hands. Luck….either you're a soldier or you aint…. pick one. Turning she pulled a shotgun from her steel trunk. Time enough to hurl on the way. With that she headed towards the rubble and the gap between buildings where the zombie had skittered for cover. It was disoriented in the daylight, as part of an experiment it likely hadn't seen the sun in quite some time. It made it slower. But… it wouldn’t stay disoriented long. Her stagger made it to the small alley between buildings in time to slap a hand to the wall and empty the contents of her own stomach over the ground. This needed to be a damn short hunt or it would get stronger and they all would be hitting their knees as the antivirals took full effect. Fuck…. this was going to be one hell of a sloppy hunt….
  14. Not all is what it seems......

    It wasn’t her first time on the triple dose. The last year had already seen her have to take it five times. These experimental incidents were becoming far too commonplace. Around the investigation zone, several of the blues were starting to look quite green. Any antiviral tended to make a person feel like crap for a couple days, the triple dose was like getting a pox, the flu, mono, yellow fever and an allergic reaction all at once. While her system was more used to the experience than others, it didn’t stop the speckle of rash to creep up the opening of her shirt to flush her neck as several beads of perspiration erupted across her brow. Unlike many of the others, she was still thinking straight. Confusion was taking too long in the Arma soldier's expression. He needed to get with it or his team was dead. The hospital. She recognized the shift in his stance instantly. So. Arma did know something about that little near-catastrophic event. NYPD and Arma had not really been sharing much with either over the whole CDC taking over a hospital on lockdown for an unknown "outbreak". Be interesting to find out what both sides knew, some holes might be filled in. His wide eyed expression betrayed full understanding had finally sank in. ”We need four, and if everyone at the site might be infected I need to make a few calls.” She nodded as she closed the metal case and pulled it out of the big trunk box to expose a similar larger black case beneath. She had six, it was her personal stock and she hated to deplete them but she wasn’t going to get blame for dead Arma on the premises either. She would spare the four from her own. Ears fixated a bit on his call. She wasn’t ready for him to trigger a citywide panic either. ”O’Connor, ah need yah to bring everyone over ‘ere. Te entire squad is takin’ triple anti-virals. Te rest are takin’ combined and us two are taking the six in the truck individually. ‘ave Reed bring ‘em over.” Least Arma for the most part kept themselves stocked. She listened to his Emergency call as eyes flicked to the men now getting within earshot. Their anxiety was showing. The potential for a powder keg was escalating. Shit. She had forgotten about "Dozer" and the dipshit she had arrested. At her hip she rolled to the private channel and pressed down the button, soft click at her ear confirming. Lance… make sure Dozer is covered and the precinct there. The soft "shit" on the other side said her partner had forgotten as well. Arma's conversation wasn’t going as smoothly. ”The alternative is me calling out the same message on the emergency, public channel and it causes a panic. A full review can be done afterwards, once we prevent people from dying.” Brows furled. Do that and I will make sure Arma is never again in a 'PD jurisdiction. Words were only half under her breath. Considering that all of New York fell in a 'PD jurisdiction it was the equivalent of saying they would never "work in this town again". She didn’t give a shit who was at the top of the organization. She wasn’t letting stupidity drive the city into a complete panic. She knew he was making a point with whomever was on the phone but her firm expression made her own point. It wasn’t a joking point either. Eyes flicked to the nervous crew as she opened her second box while he finished up his call. What a complete clusterfuck. And now paperwork would need to be in conjunction with Arma. ”Detective, did you have enough extra or are we going to have to improvise and call some in?” Head shook as she pulled out four of her six spares. No I got it covered. Hand held out the liquid gold as eyes scanned over the scene, knowing the next call was one that had to be made but shit if she wanted to make it. You know no one can be allowed to leave until we get CDC out here to test the air and site…. It wasn’t really a question. More a statement of fact. She had even less love for the CDC than Arma. She always felt they were operating in a dark zone. CDC got their hands on all the worst of the worst viruses and diseases. They alone could probably wipe out the rest of the world's population. Hardly reassuring.
  15. October 27 Stench putrefied the air as she walked over the carcasses stacked thick in the cargo hull. Unlike her partner who had been forced to scramble back outside for some fresh air, she was blessed with senses that could pick and choose their focus. At the moment her sense of smell was turned off as much as she possibly could, letting her eyes focus where the large flashlight highlighted and studying the scene. Even so, the smell was stomach turning. The Anda was a small cargo ship, the windowless belly of it meant for metal cargo containers not the decimated human cargo she now picked her way over. She was up to forty bodies and the count was still rising. A week ago the harbor master had been asked to let the small cargo vessel dock a couple days while they got resupplied. The captain had paid cash and then never came back. When the harbor master decided to step on board this morning he was struck by the scent of death and instantly knew he had a problem. Which was why she was here, the basic blues that had come to investigate couldn’t handle the extreme nature of the loss of life. It was a pit, a black hole of stagnant air. The door had been padlocked shut from the outside leaving the victims trapped with little air and no food or water. From the decay she suspected they hadn't made the trip across the ocean, dying miserably somewhere along the way. Some were stacked against the far wall, likely by those that were still alive and trying not to wallow in rotting flesh. Death had come in waves. She pitied the souls that had been the last to go. They had been refugees.. she was sure of it. Skeletal remains of horns, wings, even tails peppered the more human looking dead. If she had to bet, they were all outworlders who had latched onto some swindlers promise to get out of Europe. It wasn’t the first signs that the registration violence was making its way to their shores. Boots carefully picked her way back to the single steel door, trotting up the stairs to the rusty deck to take a deep breath of fresher air, nostrils starving for something other than the oppression of death. Npc:…I've never seen anything like it Lance's voice quaked as her cool expression flicked to him. She didn’t rattle. Its what made her so good at her job. There is likely more but I got a count of fifty nine…. they are stacked at the back so hard to get a full count till we start pulling them out. Eyes flicked to the harbor master, poor guy was pacing along the dock unwilling to come close to the vessel. I suspect all outworlders… likely promised a better life here… "immigrants" coming to the "new world"…. probably paid a small fortune to end up in a metal coffin. Npc: Fuck…. Ya….that about sums it up. Going to need his full statement.. don't trust the blues to get this one right. Npc:.... sure... am on it He pulled out his notepad and trotted down the plank to the dock below, thankful to be off the floating cemetery.