Setting
This is the city's first line of defense against demonic attacks and other occult threats. The brave men and women of the PPDOD put in long hours to keep the city and her residents safe from harm.
The bottom level of the building, below the ground floor, houses the morgue and the autopsy labs, as well as the offices for those in the forensics department. The Occult Division only has a handful of technicians on hand to perform post-mortem examinations at any given time. The basement level also contains several small reinforced holding cells, kept well away from the autopsy technicians and their scalpels (just in case). These cells are reached by a separate set of stairs, and separated from the lab by concrete-and-cinderblock walls.
The ground floor contains the lobby, as well as a large office space with moderately sized cubicles for most of the officers. The evidence lockers are also located on this floor, as well as a handful of offices for the more prominent detectives on the force.
The top floor is occupied by the offices of all of the superiors in the department, although since most of these are shared with the surrounding precincts, they rarely see use.
The bottom level of the building, below the ground floor, houses the morgue and the autopsy labs, as well as the offices for those in the forensics department. The Occult Division only has a handful of technicians on hand to perform post-mortem examinations at any given time. The basement level also contains several small reinforced holding cells, kept well away from the autopsy technicians and their scalpels (just in case). These cells are reached by a separate set of stairs, and separated from the lab by concrete-and-cinderblock walls.
The ground floor contains the lobby, as well as a large office space with moderately sized cubicles for most of the officers. The evidence lockers are also located on this floor, as well as a handful of offices for the more prominent detectives on the force.
The top floor is occupied by the offices of all of the superiors in the department, although since most of these are shared with the surrounding precincts, they rarely see use.
PPD: Occult Division
This is the city's first line of defense against demonic attacks and other occult threats. The brave men and women of the PPDOD put in long hours to keep the city and her residents safe from harm.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
PPD: Occult Division is a part of 
Philadelphia.
4 Characters Here
Phillip Collins [3] Detective at the PPDOD. No relation to Phil Collins, the modern musician.
Teodore Adamaszewski [2] "Okay, if I judge this right..." A loser gumshoe who mostly means well.
Nasir Whitaker [2] Miss New Booty
Amber Haydon [1] Investigative Specialist of the FBI Occult Branch and aspiring Wizard.
Start Character Here »
It was Tuesday. Considering the amount of overtime everyone in the Philadelphia Police Department was putting in, though, all the days had started to run together.
The russet clouds that had settled over the city were making everyone nervous, not that everyone didn't already have reason to be nervous enough. Just a few months ago, Phillip Collins had been entirely certain that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life sitting behind a desk, scrawling his way into an early retirement, but that had been before the city had lost its mind. Now he couldn't think of anything that he wanted to do more, except perhaps slink away to some remote island in the Pacific and stay there until all of this blew over.
But that wasn't an option. The morgues were filling up, the department was down to the bare-bones of its usual operating staff, and even with the Occult Division stretched so thin, Collins knew they were going to have to stretch further. The phones were ringing at least twice an hour, more during the late evening and early morning hoursâpanic, he assumed, was starting to make people see shadows (because Collins preferred not to think that so many citizens were actually seeing Shadows). This was the first break from patrolling that he'd gotten in over a week, and the first time he'd gotten the chance to work on more than three hours of sleep in about that long. He was exhausted.
At least he had reason to linger in the air-conditioned building, he thought, going over the most recent incident report with a ball-point pen and a determined look in his eye. Another missing vampire, it seemed. Despite the public's lack of concern for the less fragile portions of the population, it was the deaths and disappearances among vampires that were starting to weigh on the detective's nerves. The idea of something being able to take down individuals who were functionally immortal with such apparent ease made his stomach churn; even demons had a hard time getting rid of vampires.
All the demons Collins had encountered, anyway. The thought of demons any more powerful than that sent a chill down his spine.
He scribbled a few notes in a tight scrawl, hoping that someone would be able to read them later. A handful of officers had already been sent to confer with the family, but ultimately, the investigation would fall to the response team the FBI had already launched. Collins closed the manilla folder, setting it in the basket at the front of his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long apocalypse.
The door to the tiny office creaked open, and Nasir slid through the crack, looking like the cat who'd gotten the canary. "You aren't going to like what I have to say," he said, smug grin never fading, "but hear me out."
The detective sighed. "When do I ever like what you have to say?"
This seemed to be good enough for the little demon, who seemed entirely too pleased to be delivering unfortunate news. "You know our little hospital problem? I think I've solved it."
Collins could feel the color fading from his face at little more than what he could imagine Nasir's solution to the problem was. The city's major hospitals were finally starting to lose their nerve regarding the other half of the vampire situation, threatening to cut off their cooperation with the Occult Division unless they posted officers in all of the city morgues currently handling the body count. There weren't enough officers in the Occult Division to maintain regular operations and post guards to each of the hospital's morgues, and no one hospital had enough room to accommodate the growing body count. For a moment, Nasir looked almost sympathetic, but Collins had been around him long enough to know that the expression on his face one of disappointmentâhe'd wanted to deliver the news himself, and here the detective was, looking as though he'd figured it out already.
The disappointment faded, and the smug grin seemed to return. "There's a Raker floating around Philly right now who owes me a favor, and a particularly skillful pair of hands possessing a facility much needed by the PPD just happens to owe him a few favors themselves. Now, I haven't talked to them directly, but given my recent orders from Downstairs, I'd say that even non-IFA demons are expected to contribute when possible. That's handed down straight from Her Dark Ickyness herself."
Detective Collins blinked at him. "You want to enlist the Joneses."
On the list of things that were immensely bad ideas, Collins was well aware that trying to cooperate with the proprietors of the Jones & Jones funeral home on Broad street sat near the top, just under jumping off of cliffs hoping that one could fly. Desperate times called for desperate measures, sure, and they might have been the only building in Philadelphia capable of holding all of the bodies that had accrued so far, but Philadelphia hospitals had yet to withdraw their services. Wasn't going to the Joneses already something of an extreme measure? "Can they be trusted, do you think?"
Nasir shrugged. "No more than usual. But you've got to admit, they're damn good at what they do, and they're the only ones who have the space. Besides, that takes our waking vampire problem back down to zero."
Collins shook his head. "Those two will just kill them all over again until they stay down," he said, with an air of finality. "And they might owe someone a favor, but they won't share their space with the police, and even they did, I don't like the odds of them snapping on one of our men downstairs." Nasir's face fell dramatically; that was a very real possibility, and one he hadn't considered. "I'm going to talk to the gentlemen upstairs and see what they have to say about our hospital situation before I leave this afternoon. I don't advise making that suggestion to them."
The demon had moved on from his brief (and somewhat uncomfortable) realization, and was now picking at some stray fibers on his woolen slacks. "Hm? Oh. Sure, I hadn't thought it through, that's why I ran it by you first. Billy's kicked me out of the basement, actually," he said, looking a mite guilty. "Anything you need me to do up here?"
The detective rolled his eyes at his partner; at least he was the same as he'd ever been. "You could fetch me some coffee," he said, wondering if there was enough coffee in the western hemisphere to finish what needed to be done. "And somebody who's willing to work on these reports, while you're at it. I notice the stack on your desk is suspiciously untouched."
The demon grinned sheepishly and fled. Collins sighed.
Yep. It was going to be a long, grueling apocalypse. And he was going to fight it tooth and nail every step of the way.
The russet clouds that had settled over the city were making everyone nervous, not that everyone didn't already have reason to be nervous enough. Just a few months ago, Phillip Collins had been entirely certain that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life sitting behind a desk, scrawling his way into an early retirement, but that had been before the city had lost its mind. Now he couldn't think of anything that he wanted to do more, except perhaps slink away to some remote island in the Pacific and stay there until all of this blew over.
But that wasn't an option. The morgues were filling up, the department was down to the bare-bones of its usual operating staff, and even with the Occult Division stretched so thin, Collins knew they were going to have to stretch further. The phones were ringing at least twice an hour, more during the late evening and early morning hoursâpanic, he assumed, was starting to make people see shadows (because Collins preferred not to think that so many citizens were actually seeing Shadows). This was the first break from patrolling that he'd gotten in over a week, and the first time he'd gotten the chance to work on more than three hours of sleep in about that long. He was exhausted.
At least he had reason to linger in the air-conditioned building, he thought, going over the most recent incident report with a ball-point pen and a determined look in his eye. Another missing vampire, it seemed. Despite the public's lack of concern for the less fragile portions of the population, it was the deaths and disappearances among vampires that were starting to weigh on the detective's nerves. The idea of something being able to take down individuals who were functionally immortal with such apparent ease made his stomach churn; even demons had a hard time getting rid of vampires.
All the demons Collins had encountered, anyway. The thought of demons any more powerful than that sent a chill down his spine.
He scribbled a few notes in a tight scrawl, hoping that someone would be able to read them later. A handful of officers had already been sent to confer with the family, but ultimately, the investigation would fall to the response team the FBI had already launched. Collins closed the manilla folder, setting it in the basket at the front of his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long apocalypse.
The door to the tiny office creaked open, and Nasir slid through the crack, looking like the cat who'd gotten the canary. "You aren't going to like what I have to say," he said, smug grin never fading, "but hear me out."
The detective sighed. "When do I ever like what you have to say?"
This seemed to be good enough for the little demon, who seemed entirely too pleased to be delivering unfortunate news. "You know our little hospital problem? I think I've solved it."
Collins could feel the color fading from his face at little more than what he could imagine Nasir's solution to the problem was. The city's major hospitals were finally starting to lose their nerve regarding the other half of the vampire situation, threatening to cut off their cooperation with the Occult Division unless they posted officers in all of the city morgues currently handling the body count. There weren't enough officers in the Occult Division to maintain regular operations and post guards to each of the hospital's morgues, and no one hospital had enough room to accommodate the growing body count. For a moment, Nasir looked almost sympathetic, but Collins had been around him long enough to know that the expression on his face one of disappointmentâhe'd wanted to deliver the news himself, and here the detective was, looking as though he'd figured it out already.
The disappointment faded, and the smug grin seemed to return. "There's a Raker floating around Philly right now who owes me a favor, and a particularly skillful pair of hands possessing a facility much needed by the PPD just happens to owe him a few favors themselves. Now, I haven't talked to them directly, but given my recent orders from Downstairs, I'd say that even non-IFA demons are expected to contribute when possible. That's handed down straight from Her Dark Ickyness herself."
Detective Collins blinked at him. "You want to enlist the Joneses."
On the list of things that were immensely bad ideas, Collins was well aware that trying to cooperate with the proprietors of the Jones & Jones funeral home on Broad street sat near the top, just under jumping off of cliffs hoping that one could fly. Desperate times called for desperate measures, sure, and they might have been the only building in Philadelphia capable of holding all of the bodies that had accrued so far, but Philadelphia hospitals had yet to withdraw their services. Wasn't going to the Joneses already something of an extreme measure? "Can they be trusted, do you think?"
Nasir shrugged. "No more than usual. But you've got to admit, they're damn good at what they do, and they're the only ones who have the space. Besides, that takes our waking vampire problem back down to zero."
Collins shook his head. "Those two will just kill them all over again until they stay down," he said, with an air of finality. "And they might owe someone a favor, but they won't share their space with the police, and even they did, I don't like the odds of them snapping on one of our men downstairs." Nasir's face fell dramatically; that was a very real possibility, and one he hadn't considered. "I'm going to talk to the gentlemen upstairs and see what they have to say about our hospital situation before I leave this afternoon. I don't advise making that suggestion to them."
The demon had moved on from his brief (and somewhat uncomfortable) realization, and was now picking at some stray fibers on his woolen slacks. "Hm? Oh. Sure, I hadn't thought it through, that's why I ran it by you first. Billy's kicked me out of the basement, actually," he said, looking a mite guilty. "Anything you need me to do up here?"
The detective rolled his eyes at his partner; at least he was the same as he'd ever been. "You could fetch me some coffee," he said, wondering if there was enough coffee in the western hemisphere to finish what needed to be done. "And somebody who's willing to work on these reports, while you're at it. I notice the stack on your desk is suspiciously untouched."
The demon grinned sheepishly and fled. Collins sighed.
Yep. It was going to be a long, grueling apocalypse. And he was going to fight it tooth and nail every step of the way.
Coffee makers always reminded him of the beakers in chemistry class; which, he was sure, contributed to his utmost care when it came to handling the stuff. An explosion of coffee would surely be no less than unpleasant. and surely scald the skin tissue right off his face. Perhaps by some off-chance mercy of a particularly humorous God in the clouds, that would be the bane of their current pest problem, and all they had to do was plant coffee bombs all around town.
... No, wait, Nasir didn't seem particularly averse to grounded beans. Drat.
Humming out his disappointment in a lone, idle tune, Teo watched the black streams pool into puddles, ripples giving way to rolls of steady steam from each mug. His was a bright lime green, tall with a rounded handle, with some form of neat script proclaiming fame or adoration of so-and-so location. In a manner one might be able to call "expertly," he swayed from side to side, avoiding fellow suits who were nose-deep in some case or other. The mugs sloshed gently, but Teo didn't spill a single drop. This was an accomplishment that took practice. The occult division was much busier than drug & vice, filled to the brim with furious stomping feet and ruffling paperwork, photographs of mutilated cadavers and telephones that rang so hard they may as well leap from their respective desks into the wastebin. He predicted one to go off as soon as he arrived at his destination, in fact. Dwelling too near to the wall nearly caused Teo to collide with the infernal field agent, which would have been a bad, bad turn-out of events (although sufficient research material to test his coffee-bomb theory). Smiling widely, wryly, Teo gave Nasir something of a talk-to-you-later shrug and sidled past him into Collins' office.
"Busy day, everyday," greeted the younger detective, "they should'a made that the motto at the academy, huh?" He slid one steaming cup across the wooden desk--either a subtle way of saying "Thanks for watching my ass that one time, buddy" or "Don't scream for the superiors just yet, I'm only slacking off a little bit." Who could claim it wasn't a bit of both? Unable to help himself, he craned his neck meagerly to get a glimpse at what his senior was working on. Vampires. Great; there was so much talk of those buggers lately, it was discomforting. He imagined Collins must be having a fair amount more stress about the matter though--why, was that a white hair he spied? Before he could open his mouth to share some useless comment, the phone rang--as he'd thought. Without entirely thinking (or asking permission), he swiped it from its receiver, nestling it between ear and shoulder as he toyed with one of his suspenders.
"Y'ello, Collins' office."
When he heard the voice of a woman on the other line, he half-expected a damsel in distress, complaining of a long lost brother and beseeching his department's aid in a long lost mystery. The fantasy was quenched and stomped into dust soon enough. He recalled hearing complaints around the precinct about the FBI, the strain in the foreheads at the very mention of the acronym. Swiveling his back to Collins to ignore any protest, Teo continued, "The good detective has stepped out for the time being, ma'am. Bathroom break. Very sorry! Couldja leave a message?"
... No, wait, Nasir didn't seem particularly averse to grounded beans. Drat.
Humming out his disappointment in a lone, idle tune, Teo watched the black streams pool into puddles, ripples giving way to rolls of steady steam from each mug. His was a bright lime green, tall with a rounded handle, with some form of neat script proclaiming fame or adoration of so-and-so location. In a manner one might be able to call "expertly," he swayed from side to side, avoiding fellow suits who were nose-deep in some case or other. The mugs sloshed gently, but Teo didn't spill a single drop. This was an accomplishment that took practice. The occult division was much busier than drug & vice, filled to the brim with furious stomping feet and ruffling paperwork, photographs of mutilated cadavers and telephones that rang so hard they may as well leap from their respective desks into the wastebin. He predicted one to go off as soon as he arrived at his destination, in fact. Dwelling too near to the wall nearly caused Teo to collide with the infernal field agent, which would have been a bad, bad turn-out of events (although sufficient research material to test his coffee-bomb theory). Smiling widely, wryly, Teo gave Nasir something of a talk-to-you-later shrug and sidled past him into Collins' office.
"Busy day, everyday," greeted the younger detective, "they should'a made that the motto at the academy, huh?" He slid one steaming cup across the wooden desk--either a subtle way of saying "Thanks for watching my ass that one time, buddy" or "Don't scream for the superiors just yet, I'm only slacking off a little bit." Who could claim it wasn't a bit of both? Unable to help himself, he craned his neck meagerly to get a glimpse at what his senior was working on. Vampires. Great; there was so much talk of those buggers lately, it was discomforting. He imagined Collins must be having a fair amount more stress about the matter though--why, was that a white hair he spied? Before he could open his mouth to share some useless comment, the phone rang--as he'd thought. Without entirely thinking (or asking permission), he swiped it from its receiver, nestling it between ear and shoulder as he toyed with one of his suspenders.
"Y'ello, Collins' office."
When he heard the voice of a woman on the other line, he half-expected a damsel in distress, complaining of a long lost brother and beseeching his department's aid in a long lost mystery. The fantasy was quenched and stomped into dust soon enough. He recalled hearing complaints around the precinct about the FBI, the strain in the foreheads at the very mention of the acronym. Swiveling his back to Collins to ignore any protest, Teo continued, "The good detective has stepped out for the time being, ma'am. Bathroom break. Very sorry! Couldja leave a message?"
Setting
0.00 INK
Katie didnât want him to go to Philadelphia. That wasnât the only thought rattling around Ted Harrisonâs brain as he and David drove from their hotel to the Occult Division, but it was the biggest one, and therefore prone to make the most noise. He hadnât even gotten the whispers of an assignment yet when, while listening to the news after theyâd put the kids to bed, sheâd looked up at him and said stubbornly, âWhen they ask you to go to Philly, say no, Ted.â Of course, he couldnât exactly refuse to do his job, but he did agree that whatever was gearing up in the city was going to be nasty. Now, sighing as he rolled down the car window, he was much more concerned with the weather. Of course vampires couldnât die of heat exhaustion, but he certainly could, and it was rare you found a city more muggy than D.C. in the summer. Heâd let David drive (an honor heâd allowed only after theyâd been partners for almost three yearsâaround the time heâd earned the right to be called something other than ârookieâ) and they rode in silence, the only sounds the bebop on the radio. Ted didnât really care for it (and he wasnât positive David actually liked it either) but his partner was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and might have been humming, so he didnât ask to turn it off. It was better than silence, anyway, and they didnât have too much to talk about.
And Ted was worried that Katie was worried. He hadnât really wanted to leave her alone with their two children, but sometimes that was all you could do. On his mental to-do list he added calling her when they clocked out for the night. Adding to his ever-growing list was about all he could do now, without the police reports on hand and with the sun still up. Even if sun caused them no harm, most of the vampires who lived in the big city were halfway to nocturnal. He thought sourly of some of the more seedy places heâd fished sources out of in his past and wondered briefly how different his life would be if heâd chosen to be an accountant. Heâd probably keep a more regular sleep schedule, that was for certain.
***********
Everyone knew the vampire response unit wouldnât make it to Philadelphia until next week. Everyone knew that, but as Janine Wilder smiled widely and choked down a desperate, panicked sound of surprise while reading the two badges in front of her, she concluded that sometimes everyone was wrong.
âAgents Harrison and Harrison,â she mumbled through her teeth, a weak attempt at humor forced through her harriedâthough admittedly also a plasticky sort of congenialâvisage. âThatâs funnyâthe Philadelphia agent we spoke with suggested no one could arrive until next week at the earliestâŠâ This weak protest quickly fell away and she shuffled through some papers at her desk. âAnd youâre working in conjunction with the Special Occult Branch?â The telephone at her desk rang, clattering noisily on the hook.
The city of Philadelphiaâs only tax-funded defenders against unorthodox threats (that is to say, non-human, or at the very least non-mundane) were swamped. Normally the Occult Division had enough spare time to pick up the normal police work in their area as well, but the cityâs increased security meant the small staff of officers were struggling to find the manpower for the extra patrol cars demanded. Janine was one of three secretaries who managed complaints, visitors and helped file incident reports, and they could barely keep up with the constant calls about suspicious activity and paperwork flooding the office. The sudden influx in supernatural eventualities was leaving everyone a little strained, and even those who often did complex jobs were forced to take up extra work. All of this compiled together meant that not only had she been doing eight separate things at once when the agents arrived, it also meant she had absolutely know idea if any of the reports necessary for their investigation were completed. She bit her lip and reached for the phone.
âIf youâll excuse me for just a second, agents? I can get you both a cup of coffee in just a moment.â She raised the receiver to her ear and brightly asked the caller to hold, assuring them someone would assist them shortly. Hurrying best she could, she slipped on her shoes while she opened the intercom to Detective Collinsâ office. Janine was rather fond of Phil, but didnât particularly envy him. The brunt of the paperwork for the vampire cases had fallen to him, though she wasnât entirely sure why.
âDetective Collins?â She began nervously, âTwo agents from the Special Occult Branch are here to pick up our reports on the vampire problem.â There was no way the police station would have them all completed, given the sheer volume of reports to file over the past few weeks, she knew that much. It was all she could do but sincerely hope they were at the very least somewhat presentable.
And Ted was worried that Katie was worried. He hadnât really wanted to leave her alone with their two children, but sometimes that was all you could do. On his mental to-do list he added calling her when they clocked out for the night. Adding to his ever-growing list was about all he could do now, without the police reports on hand and with the sun still up. Even if sun caused them no harm, most of the vampires who lived in the big city were halfway to nocturnal. He thought sourly of some of the more seedy places heâd fished sources out of in his past and wondered briefly how different his life would be if heâd chosen to be an accountant. Heâd probably keep a more regular sleep schedule, that was for certain.
***********
Everyone knew the vampire response unit wouldnât make it to Philadelphia until next week. Everyone knew that, but as Janine Wilder smiled widely and choked down a desperate, panicked sound of surprise while reading the two badges in front of her, she concluded that sometimes everyone was wrong.
âAgents Harrison and Harrison,â she mumbled through her teeth, a weak attempt at humor forced through her harriedâthough admittedly also a plasticky sort of congenialâvisage. âThatâs funnyâthe Philadelphia agent we spoke with suggested no one could arrive until next week at the earliestâŠâ This weak protest quickly fell away and she shuffled through some papers at her desk. âAnd youâre working in conjunction with the Special Occult Branch?â The telephone at her desk rang, clattering noisily on the hook.
The city of Philadelphiaâs only tax-funded defenders against unorthodox threats (that is to say, non-human, or at the very least non-mundane) were swamped. Normally the Occult Division had enough spare time to pick up the normal police work in their area as well, but the cityâs increased security meant the small staff of officers were struggling to find the manpower for the extra patrol cars demanded. Janine was one of three secretaries who managed complaints, visitors and helped file incident reports, and they could barely keep up with the constant calls about suspicious activity and paperwork flooding the office. The sudden influx in supernatural eventualities was leaving everyone a little strained, and even those who often did complex jobs were forced to take up extra work. All of this compiled together meant that not only had she been doing eight separate things at once when the agents arrived, it also meant she had absolutely know idea if any of the reports necessary for their investigation were completed. She bit her lip and reached for the phone.
âIf youâll excuse me for just a second, agents? I can get you both a cup of coffee in just a moment.â She raised the receiver to her ear and brightly asked the caller to hold, assuring them someone would assist them shortly. Hurrying best she could, she slipped on her shoes while she opened the intercom to Detective Collinsâ office. Janine was rather fond of Phil, but didnât particularly envy him. The brunt of the paperwork for the vampire cases had fallen to him, though she wasnât entirely sure why.
âDetective Collins?â She began nervously, âTwo agents from the Special Occult Branch are here to pick up our reports on the vampire problem.â There was no way the police station would have them all completed, given the sheer volume of reports to file over the past few weeks, she knew that much. It was all she could do but sincerely hope they were at the very least somewhat presentable.
Eleven years of partnership with Nasir should have prepared Collins for this sort of behavior, but he assumed there was some unspoken taboo involved in braining a coworker that wasn't a perpetually irritating demon. With violence struck from the list of options (and to be perfectly honest, Collins didn't have the energy to shout about anything at just this moment), he settled for narrowing his eyes and turning down the corners of his mouth into what he hoped was a very effective frown.
âGive me the phone, Teo,â he grumbled, somewhat halfheartedly. Whoever was on the other line, Collins was fairly certain that they would only add to his already unholy mountain of paperwork, and he wasn't sure he could handle that at the moment. Grateful as he was to be out of the heat, he was starting to feel as though if he ever saw another ball-point pen in his life, it would be far too soon.
Still, duty was duty. Though he would have preferred to see Teo chuck the phone out the window than answer it himself, he made to reach for the receiver tucked against his shoulder. He might have made it, too, if a familiar voice hadn't crackled over the intercom at that moment. âDetective Collins?â Miss Wilder sounded like she'd been caught unawares, which was enough to make him nervous. Janine was prepared for just about anything. âTwo agents from the Special Occult Branch are here to pick up our reports on the vampire problem.â
Collins stared for a moment in abject horror at the papers currently strewn about his desk. The reports he'd already reviewed would probably keep the agents busy for a little while, but with as little time as he'd had to work on them, it had taken him several weeks, and the stack was a little over half finished.
What Collins needed for himself, he decided, was a good sulk. There wasn't much he was going to do about that now, but it was good to be decisive about these things.
âOn second thought, you go ahead and take that call,â he said, creaking as he stood. He was starting to feel considerably older than his thirty-five years; the abnormally dry heat was doing him no favors, and hours behind his desk had reaffirmed his suspicions that a desk job was certainly not for him. At the moment, his quaint apartment seemed a million miles away.
âTell them I'll be downstairs in a moment, Janine,â he said, leaning into the intercom. Then, tucking in his white cotton shirt and making sure his sleeves were buttoned, the disheveled detective picked up his coffee started on the trek down to the building's front desk. He would have to thank Teo later, even if the little weasel had intercepted what was likely to be an important phone call. There probably wasn't enough coffee in the western hemisphere to keep him from losing his grip on sanity over the course of this thing, however long it would last, but the first cup was a step in the right direction.
It was easy to see that the Philadelphia Occult Division was viciously understaffed. Though there had to be less than thirty people in all currently occupying the small brick building (and David was sure he was being generous with his estimate), the floor above them seemed to be bustling with audible activity. The floor around them, come to think of it, wasn't much better; a handful of officers and a myriad of secretaries rushed through the tiled front office, digging through filing cabinets that looked like they'd be in need of a good re-filing by the time all of this had blown over. Agent Harrison had been to the headquarters of Philadelphia's finest before, and as far as he could remember, they were typically more organized than this.
He might have felt sorry for the bastards, if it hadn't been for the fact that WAM was like this the majority of the time.
âTop brass figured you folks had enough on your hands and sent us along ahead of the storm to see what we could do,â he said amicably. While he knew that large-scale involvement on the part of any branch of the FBI would probably have been resented in a city police department, he had no urge to start that struggle early. âYou won't even notice we're here, Janine.â
This was not entirely true, but David was sure a little white lie wasn't going to hurt anyone, at least as far as this particular matter was concerned.
Nasir had nearly run into Collins on his way out, a cup of coffee for each of them in hand, and had looked rather crestfallen to discover that someone had already provided the detective with sufficient caffeination. He had a suspect, of courseâand as he rounded the corner to Detective Collins' office, he discovered that his suspicions were quite correct. There sat Teo, receiver to his ear and his own cup quite full.
The office now contained two people and three cups of coffee. There was a certain amusement factor to that, Nasir supposed. âWhere's the old fart headed?â he asked, flopping into Collins' chair (since his was already occupied). âDoes he have time to take a break? Looks to me like he's already behind as it is.â He didn't envy his partner in the slightest; paperwork had never been Nasir's forte, nor his favorite thing, and this much of it positively gave him the chills.
âGive me the phone, Teo,â he grumbled, somewhat halfheartedly. Whoever was on the other line, Collins was fairly certain that they would only add to his already unholy mountain of paperwork, and he wasn't sure he could handle that at the moment. Grateful as he was to be out of the heat, he was starting to feel as though if he ever saw another ball-point pen in his life, it would be far too soon.
Still, duty was duty. Though he would have preferred to see Teo chuck the phone out the window than answer it himself, he made to reach for the receiver tucked against his shoulder. He might have made it, too, if a familiar voice hadn't crackled over the intercom at that moment. âDetective Collins?â Miss Wilder sounded like she'd been caught unawares, which was enough to make him nervous. Janine was prepared for just about anything. âTwo agents from the Special Occult Branch are here to pick up our reports on the vampire problem.â
Collins stared for a moment in abject horror at the papers currently strewn about his desk. The reports he'd already reviewed would probably keep the agents busy for a little while, but with as little time as he'd had to work on them, it had taken him several weeks, and the stack was a little over half finished.
What Collins needed for himself, he decided, was a good sulk. There wasn't much he was going to do about that now, but it was good to be decisive about these things.
âOn second thought, you go ahead and take that call,â he said, creaking as he stood. He was starting to feel considerably older than his thirty-five years; the abnormally dry heat was doing him no favors, and hours behind his desk had reaffirmed his suspicions that a desk job was certainly not for him. At the moment, his quaint apartment seemed a million miles away.
âTell them I'll be downstairs in a moment, Janine,â he said, leaning into the intercom. Then, tucking in his white cotton shirt and making sure his sleeves were buttoned, the disheveled detective picked up his coffee started on the trek down to the building's front desk. He would have to thank Teo later, even if the little weasel had intercepted what was likely to be an important phone call. There probably wasn't enough coffee in the western hemisphere to keep him from losing his grip on sanity over the course of this thing, however long it would last, but the first cup was a step in the right direction.
It was easy to see that the Philadelphia Occult Division was viciously understaffed. Though there had to be less than thirty people in all currently occupying the small brick building (and David was sure he was being generous with his estimate), the floor above them seemed to be bustling with audible activity. The floor around them, come to think of it, wasn't much better; a handful of officers and a myriad of secretaries rushed through the tiled front office, digging through filing cabinets that looked like they'd be in need of a good re-filing by the time all of this had blown over. Agent Harrison had been to the headquarters of Philadelphia's finest before, and as far as he could remember, they were typically more organized than this.
He might have felt sorry for the bastards, if it hadn't been for the fact that WAM was like this the majority of the time.
âTop brass figured you folks had enough on your hands and sent us along ahead of the storm to see what we could do,â he said amicably. While he knew that large-scale involvement on the part of any branch of the FBI would probably have been resented in a city police department, he had no urge to start that struggle early. âYou won't even notice we're here, Janine.â
This was not entirely true, but David was sure a little white lie wasn't going to hurt anyone, at least as far as this particular matter was concerned.
Nasir had nearly run into Collins on his way out, a cup of coffee for each of them in hand, and had looked rather crestfallen to discover that someone had already provided the detective with sufficient caffeination. He had a suspect, of courseâand as he rounded the corner to Detective Collins' office, he discovered that his suspicions were quite correct. There sat Teo, receiver to his ear and his own cup quite full.
The office now contained two people and three cups of coffee. There was a certain amusement factor to that, Nasir supposed. âWhere's the old fart headed?â he asked, flopping into Collins' chair (since his was already occupied). âDoes he have time to take a break? Looks to me like he's already behind as it is.â He didn't envy his partner in the slightest; paperwork had never been Nasir's forte, nor his favorite thing, and this much of it positively gave him the chills.
- 4 posts here • Page 1 of 1