in_over_his_head (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_over_his_head) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
srwu2015-02-22 12:12 pm
in_over_his_head) wrote in srwu2015-02-22 12:12 pm
Entry tags:
An Inspector Arrives (No not THAT kind of Inspector, get rid of the boss music.)
1)
[When Calvin and the 13th Genoace Unit arrive unceremoniously with the team that went to retrieve them the exit they made from their machines was... less than graceful. Calvin steps out of his machine looking like he hadn't slept for days. His uniform was a mess and he stumbled a little as he slouched out with a heavy looking pack to which he tossed to the leader of the 13th... who reacted too slow and ended up falling over. The other Genoace pilot who just hauled himself from his machine was pale and scrawny and was currently hyperventilating before making thorough and judicious use of an inhaler. The command car that was with them? Parked with its driver asleep at the wheel.]
... Great... Sorry about that Luther.
[A grunt of exertion was his reply as he was handed back the bag. He leaned noticably. Whether the contents really were that heavy or he was just exhausted or both it was hard to say. Still, he just facepalms and lets out a somewhat despondent noise.]
2)
[Later after having everything from his OSI office sent to him, Calvin was now in his room - which looked like a detective's office rammed head first into a bedroom and a witch doctor/paranormal expert's hut, though admittedly a lot of the objects were repaired with duct tape due to less than careful handling by the people sending them. The Investigator himself was at his cramped desk, trying to decipher a large slab of stone inscribed with a flowing and elegant script that was nigh on indecipherable. Along with him were several books, a pot of coffee, a kettle of tea, and a hellish abomination of the two in a mug that he was drinking in order to smash his brain awake so he can focus on his work. After a good five hours he had this to say.]
I can't understand a single thing on this stone. I've looked up every ancient language on record and even looked up texts from some people I know with a fascination with the Occult. Nothing.
[He sighs and leans back on his chair, glaring at the dim lights on the ceiling and leaning back on his chair mug in hand. Then he falls over and spills everything on himself and has the stone land on him.]
Argh!
[When Calvin and the 13th Genoace Unit arrive unceremoniously with the team that went to retrieve them the exit they made from their machines was... less than graceful. Calvin steps out of his machine looking like he hadn't slept for days. His uniform was a mess and he stumbled a little as he slouched out with a heavy looking pack to which he tossed to the leader of the 13th... who reacted too slow and ended up falling over. The other Genoace pilot who just hauled himself from his machine was pale and scrawny and was currently hyperventilating before making thorough and judicious use of an inhaler. The command car that was with them? Parked with its driver asleep at the wheel.]
... Great... Sorry about that Luther.
[A grunt of exertion was his reply as he was handed back the bag. He leaned noticably. Whether the contents really were that heavy or he was just exhausted or both it was hard to say. Still, he just facepalms and lets out a somewhat despondent noise.]
2)
[Later after having everything from his OSI office sent to him, Calvin was now in his room - which looked like a detective's office rammed head first into a bedroom and a witch doctor/paranormal expert's hut, though admittedly a lot of the objects were repaired with duct tape due to less than careful handling by the people sending them. The Investigator himself was at his cramped desk, trying to decipher a large slab of stone inscribed with a flowing and elegant script that was nigh on indecipherable. Along with him were several books, a pot of coffee, a kettle of tea, and a hellish abomination of the two in a mug that he was drinking in order to smash his brain awake so he can focus on his work. After a good five hours he had this to say.]
I can't understand a single thing on this stone. I've looked up every ancient language on record and even looked up texts from some people I know with a fascination with the Occult. Nothing.
[He sighs and leans back on his chair, glaring at the dim lights on the ceiling and leaning back on his chair mug in hand. Then he falls over and spills everything on himself and has the stone land on him.]
Argh!
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