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Jamal Morrison Lebrun

Director, National Police Agency

0 · 763 views · located in Parliament's Chambers

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Ylanne

Groups

Originally formed after the Tripartite Occupation of Terra, the TNG once controlled all of Terra. Currently, the TNG's jurisdiction includes most of Terra's territory, but not the entire world.
Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

Image
Photo Credit: Shavar Ross. If you do not want your image used here, kindly inform me and I will remove it promptly.

History

Born in 1945 in Washington, D.C., Lebrun served in the United States Marine Corps from 1963 to 1968, seeing combat in the Vietnam War. After an honorable discharge, Lebrun attended Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts, where he studied criminal justice. Upon graduation in 1972, Lebrun attended law school at William Mitchell College of Law in St. Paul, Minnesota. After earning his J.D., Lebrun sought employment with the FBI as a Special Agent.

Lebrun worked in the violent crimes division in San Francisco, California before a transfer to Miami, Florida and the organized crime division two years later. After six years in Miami, Lebrun was transferred to Denver, Colorado’s violent crimes division. He was a member of the SWAT team there. In 1989, Lebrun was promoted first to a supervisory position and later as Assistant Special Agent in Charge in Dallas, Texas. In 1996, he was appointed Special Agent in Charge of the Dallas field office before an appointment in 2001 to a Deputy Directorship in Washington D.C.

After the dissolution of the United States, Lebrun worked as a consultant to the NPA under Haima’s administration. He is the permanent appointee replacing Interim Director Thomas Sanford. Lebrun’s appointment was announced on 16 July 2011 C.E. by the Ministry of Justice.

So begins...

Jamal Morrison Lebrun's Story

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First appeared a dark blue car with government plates speeding along the highway. At first glance, it looked like any ordinary car, although its plain appearance hid reinforced metal alloys and blast proof plating underneath the car. It appeared to be alone, although that too was not the case. There were two armored choppers on standby, out of sight, as well as more vehicles not yet visible behind the first. It slowed as it approached the empty field and the ship docked in it. Inside, Lebrun leaned forward to tap his driver on the shoulder. "Don't pull too close," he said in his low, gravelly bass, watching the scene unfold through the heavily tinted glass. His fingers slid over the warrants in his hand.

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The rest of the NPA's tactical vehicles came into view along the road, three armored trucks carrying special operations units, a mobile communications base, an ambulance, and several support units, all marked with official insignia and bearing government plates. They shimmered in the heat, as if the metal vehicles themselves could melt under the July sun. Lebrun's driver slowed as they came within one hundred metres. In the blue car with the tinted windows, Lebrun sat between two armored and armed men, and was himself wearing body armor beneath his long blue overcoat. He was well aware of how dangerous Guatrau could be. Already they saw the Hadante soldiers around the area.

"Stop here," said Lebrun. The driver obediently idled about fifty metres away. One of the NPA agents opened the door first, stepping outside the car and standing beside it with his weapon at the ready. Lebrun followed, gathering his coat about himself as he stepped into the scorching heat. He squinted, pushing his glasses up his nose with his free hand, and then turned toward where the Aschen were preparing to leave. He showed his hands for a moment, to show that he was unarmed, and began to approach, the paper clearly visible.

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"The Hadante Sovereignty?" Lebrun gave a low, almost inaudible chuckle. Sweat glistened on his forehead under the summer sun. "Our government ordered all foreign entities to disassemble any official or military assets throughout the system, months ago." His voice was low and soft, although the syllables in his speech clearly, articulated. Lebrun spoke slowly, deliberately. "I am Jamal Morrison Lebrun, the Director of the National Police Agency. I have a warrant for the arrest of the Guatrau, and a warrant for the detention of Mr. Miles Hagan, under the authority of the Honorable Sisavang Khamtai, Minister of Justice."

Lebrun adjusted his glasses again, blinking at the officer who had accosted him. "I'm afraid your operations here are quite illegal, but that's beside the point. I'd much rather we do this without anyone getting hurt."

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"Unfortunately, I must execute the warrant. I'm afraid I can't recognize any Hadante decrees because we are standing on Terran soil, and I am here in my official capacity as a representative of the Terran National Government." Lebrun folded the warrants again, resting his fingers over the paper. "I deeply regret the possibility of an international incident, but official status or position does not exclude an individual from culpability or the hand of justice." The NPA's tactical vehicles had arrived by now, grouping about around Lebrun's blue car. "I'd rather Mr. Fazekas and Mr. Hagan come quietly, officer. No one wants to get hurt."

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"Two men, General," reminded Lebrun, waving the warrants. "I have two warrants, one for Mr. Fazekas and one for Mr. Hagan. I do not make the decision to refrain from executing those warrants. Typically, I would ask one of my agents to do that, but I felt it would be prudent to do it myself. I thought I would afford Mr. Fazekas and Mr. Hagan that respect." He cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "The crimes for which Mr. Fazekas has been charged are rather serious, and actually, include threatening the safety and security of our world. I'm sure you would wish to pursue any individual who made and carried out threats against your government on your world."

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"I'm sorry that I can't allow that to happen," said Lebrun. He turned back toward the NPA units, tucking the warrants into his coat. He signaled with two fingers. "Deploy those choppers," he said into the microphone taped to his shirt, tapping a finger to his earpiece as he strode along the empty field sweating under the weight of the armor and his coat. "And scramble some military spacecraft from Ft. Veritas." The armored choppers appeared within seconds over the farther hills, guns trained on the spacecraft. "I need to talk to the Minister," Lebrun grunted as he approached.

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Lebrun only paused for a moment as he strode away. "Don't shoot to kill," Lebrun ordered, still speaking into his earpiece, adding, "shoot to disable that Al'kesh from taking off. And someone radio the Tal'dorians and brief them on the situation. We cannot allow them to escape." Meanwhile, the TAF at Ft. Veritas was in the process of scrambling military spacecraft from Terra's small navy to intercept the Al'kesh if it made it to orbit or higher.

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"This is Special Agent Joe McGaw of the NPA," said one of the head agents in the mobile communications unit. "Two suspects are trying to leave the planet in an Al'kesh leaving from outside Wing City. Suspects claim to be from the Hadante Sovereignty. We have warrants for both."

"Patch me in," said Lebrun as he came closer. "This is Director Lebrun. Requesting assistance in disabling that Al'kesh and apprehending both subjects, the Guatrau, Mr. Fazekas, and Mr. Miles Hagan, before they leave the Terran system."

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"Commander, I am not a member of Parliament, nor am I Minister Khamtai, who gave me these warrants," said Lebrun, stepping inside the mobile communications unit. His image would flicker onto the Long Night of Solace's visuals. Lebrun was a studious-looking man with graying hair and round glasses perched on the end of his nose. "Perhaps unfortunately, I am also not General Ranida. My objective, to follow my orders, right now, is to stop those two from escaping our system, because the likelihood they would be extradited from Hadante is negligible if not zero. Ranida is deploying TAF vessels in pursuit, but it would be easier to intercept than pursue."

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Sisavang Khamtai's thin, short figure and moon-shaped face appeared on the screen beside Lebrun's weathered features. "Parliament would not approve of such measures, Commander," said Khamtai in his clipped English, "and in any case, it's far too fast to convene an emergency session to take a vote. If you would issue a verbal warning to the Al'kesh but refrain from engaging it, I would appreciate it. There is a small chance, however tiny, that they will surrender. Either way, when Parliament convenes tomorrow, I will bring the matter forth. I'd rather not start a war two weeks into our session."

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"Heard, understood, and acknowledged, Commander," said Lebrun. "I will be in touch with the Minister." McGaw cut the connection, and Lebrun adjusted his coat again. "Tell Ranida, McGaw. I'm heading back to Government Center." His face contorted in disgust as he stepped out of the mobile communications unit and headed to his own car. "It's all about politics. Khamtai could learn from Drulović." He climbed inside along with the agent who had been waiting outside. "Take us back," he said, settling into his seat, thoroughly depressed.

The setting changes from Dead End to Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom

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Jamal Morrison Lebrun shook his head. Dressed in a black suit and gold-colored tie, Lebrun figured he looked presentable. "If you want someone to come in a tuxedo, Arianne, you should have asked someone on a date. Not an escort." He chuckled, his soft, low voice speaking at a slower pace than Drulović. Lebrun emerged from the white van, folding his arms. "And speaking of style, you're the one who chose to come in a government car. Now that's a mite out of place." The two headed up the steps toward the front entrance, Lebrun offering Drulović his arm.

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"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Lebrun, but the music sounds delightful and I'd like to dance," said Drulović to Lebrun with an almost impish smile on the older woman's face. She adjusted the scarf draped around her shoulders again. "Entertainment has been rather lacking for quite a while."

Lebrun laughed, smoothing down his tie with his hand. "Anytime for you, Arianne," he said, and escorted Drulović to the dance floor. She slipped her fingers around his, and tried to wrap her hand around his waist, fumbling for a moment before she was able to make the movement. Wordlessly, the two slipped into a slow waltz across the dance floor, unassuming in their simple, quiet movements and less-than-ostentatious dress.

"It feels strange," said Drulović with a small, sad smile, looking up at the taller man. Lebrun raised an eyebrow. "I imagine it's been at least ten years, maybe more, since I went to a party without a weapon. How strange. It's nice, though, Mr. Lebrun."

Lebrun shrugged. "Perhaps you find it so," he said, guiding the two toward the rest of the guests on the dance floor. "And please, call me Jamal. We're practically having a date, Arianne, not sitting at a closed-doors meeting." Drulović's smile faded at that, but her fingers gripped Lebrun's hand more tightly.

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Lebrun watched Drulović slip away into the crowd of guests. He looked around again, glancing at Yuuna, the woman who had just entered the ball. At least, he thought, they weren't nearly as late as Drulović had seemed to suggest they would be. He drifted to a nearby table, taking an empty seat at the white-clothed banquet table. After a moment, Lebrun reached for an apple from the centerpiece, taking a small bite. The fruit crunched between his teeth, and he suddenly did feel entirely out of place. The other men were dressed in ornate costumes or well-tailored tuxedoes, and he was wearing the same suit he took to meetings and funerals. Well. That was a depressing thought for him. Lebrun chewed slowly, watching the younger men and women dance and chatter with one another. Maybe it had been a mistake to come.

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Drulović reached for a pear from the basket of fruit, carefully biting into its skin. Yellow gave way to a gaping white hole in the fruit as she chewed. "You didn't have to come with me, Mr. Lebrun. I only wanted company. You look miserable." Drulović rolled her eyes, offering a half-smile between bites of the pear.

"Miserable? Arianne, I have several emergency situations, one of which involves you, to which I ought to be attending. I chose to come." The hint of a smile played with the edges of Lebrun's lips. "You really should be careful, Arianne. You did arrange for security from the Bureau, yes?"

Drulović visibly drooped, rubbing her fingers along her jaw before looking at the pear in her hand. "Mr. Cranford won't let me anywhere without them, Mr. Lebrun. Whatever happened to a quiet night out on the town?" Her eyes were drawn to the confrontation between security and Ray, and her smile further disappeared. "If you'll excuse me a moment, Mr. Lebrun." She rose, heading toward the two.

Lebrun ate the rest of his apple, watching Drulović go with mild interest.

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Jamal Morrison Lebrun straightened his tie again, feeling once more rather underdressed. "I'm starting to believe you about that tuxedo, Arianne," said Lebrun, shaking his head. "This suit is usually fine for meetings, but I look almost shabby next to some of these guests."

Drulović rolled her eyes. "Oh, what did I tell you, Mr. Lebrun? But no one listens to me anymore," she added with mock derision. "Parliament is convening in less than two hours. I was invited to go, although I imagine in Mr. Cranford's eyes, 'invited' is another way of admitting that there's no way to keep me from his chambers. Oh well." They headed in the general direction of the door.

The setting changes from Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom to Dead End

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"That's General Netan I see," said Lebrun to Drulović, nodding toward the man as he spoke, "and Governor Georgiou and her cabinet, and Governor Maynard and his aides," he added, nodding to Kayana, and then Maynard as he appeared with two aides, sitting beside the Tal'dorian. "I don't know why Guatrau thinks he can send a representative here after his... stunt." Drulović sat silently beside Lebrun, occasionally jotting notes in a small notepad in what appeared to be Cyrillic script.

"Hear ye, hear ye," cried the chief officer. "Parliament is now in session."

Toomajian rose to the podium at the dais. "In our session today, we have a special address from Minister Khamtai." He nodded at Khamtai, the short, thin man with the moon-shaped face rising from his seat and coming to the front of the chamber, where there was a microphone for him. "The Honorable Sisavang Khamtai has the floor for ten minutes." Toomajian seated himself on the dais.

"Thank you, Mr. Speaker," said Khamtai in a clipped, Asian accent. "I come before Parliament today to request appropriate sanctions against the Sovereignty of Hadante for harboring two fugitives, one of whom has been indicted by the United Coalition of Organized Nations for treason, and the other whom has been indicted by our courts for various counts related to attempted murder of a government official, our own Director Drulović."

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"I signed two arrest warrants," explained Khamtai, blinking occasionally as he spoke, "allowing for Miles Hagan, indicted by the Coalition, to be detained for extradition procedures, and allowing for the Guatrau, or Fazekas, as he is apparently known, to be arrested for trial on the charges filed against him." He paused, reaching for a glass of water and swallowing. "I asked Director Lebrun to serve those warrants, but in the process, both fugitives escaped offworld to Hadante, where extradition is highly unlikely if not impossible."

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Toomajian glared down the dais at Netan. "Sit," he said sharply. "Minister Khamtai has the floor. Minister, you may proceed," he said to Khamtai, who rested his hands on the podium, leaning forward as he faced his fellows, occasionally staring daggers at Netan.

"It is a well-known fact that the Guatrau posted a price on Director Drulović's head," said Khamtai, "and that he himself commanded an army -- " Khamtai glared at Netan with undisguised enmity -- "to launch a full scale attack on Wing City while attempting to have the Director murdered. These deplorable, heinous actions are violations of our sovereignty and gross atrocities against civilized diplomacy and our society at large. The extradition of both fugitives must be demanded of Hadante; if they refuse, it is clear that they will be in the wrong. I ask my honorable colleagues to draft a resolution to take action against Hadante. Thank you."

Toomajian looked at Netan. "The Honorable General from Hadante is recognized for five minutes," he said with obvious reluctance.

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Khamtai rose again, and Toomajian let him. "We all know that the Aschen Confederation no longer exists. Langara no longer controls Hadante. Fazekas has controlled Hadante for years now; it's no surprise he is seizing power in the absence of Langara's presence. The former guards who used to oversee Hadante almost certainly have no power anymore. You, sir, are grand-standing, and you know it." All the while, Drulović watched with mild curiosity, her hands folded in her lap. Lebrun beside her seemed visibly upset.

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"Sovereignty?" Cranford's voice boomed in the chamber as the Prime Minister stood, towering beside Toomajian, who stepped aside for the white-haired man. "Your manipulations are brilliant, General, but misplaced here. Sovereignty is no excuse for harboring criminals and murderers. If your world is to be shaped into a sovereign world and a force with which to reckon, it certainly can do so without Guatrau's corrupt demagoguery or Hagan's money." Khamtai nodded to the Prime Minister, visibly seething.

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"As deplorable as all of your actions are, it is Minister Khamtai's courts that choose to issue indictments," said Cranford, leaning over the podium to stare down at Netan. "Not yours. Not mine." He sat down again.

Khamtai glared at Netan again, his eyes narrowing. "The interests of justice will not be constrained by the power and influence of those who wish to escape it. That goes directly against the very principle of it."

Lebrun folded his arms, whispering to Drulović beside him, "They'll issue a resolution, but nothing will come of it." Drulović's brows furrowed closer together as she added another note in her notepad.

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With his round glasses seated on the bridge of his nose, dark blue suit, and grayed, receding hairline, Jamal Lebrun could have been a university professor waiting for his students to arrive to class. Instead, the NPA Director stood between two armored NPA agents on gravel baking already in the morning sun, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he waited for the transport from Hadante to arrive outside Wing City. Fazekas would be arriving soon. There were several NPA vehicles waiting on the tarmac, but only the three men were visible in the harsh, bright light.

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Prosecutor Ramin Fereydoun had been waiting at the Superior Trial Court, housed in the same building as most of Khamtai's courts, a renovated and restored building that had been in use before the Occupation. The witnesses had been subpoenaed and escorted there in anticipation of the proceedings. Lebrun's job was to escort Fazekas and his attorney from the mammoth, pyramidal ship to the court. He pushed his glasses farther up his nose, a frown settling on his features as he watched the enormous vessel. "What in the name of God is that thing?" he breathed to one of the agents flanking him.

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"Terms?" Lebrun blinked, sliding his hands into his pockets. His frown deepened, accentuating his jowls. The heat was stifling, although it could have been rivaled by August in D.C. "Mr. Fazekas, no one is permitted to carry weapons inside our courthouse, including me. Your men may accompany you there, but they cannot take their weapons into the courtroom." Lebrun spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if to lend it particular significance -- or to suggest it. A few drops of perspiration rolled down the Black man's forehead, the midday sun burning down on all of them. "It's a fifteen minute ride from here." Lebrun nodded toward Wing City's towering skyscrapers, and the city walls that seemed to stretch from miles. They looked close enough to touch, but Guatrau's ship had landed far enough from the city (so it would have room) that they would have to drive into town.