001 - The Agent in the Fox Hunt

[beltbucklerebel]

[Considering how foul his mood had been that morning, it had actually turned out to be a pretty nice Valentine’s Day. The time at the shooting range with Bones had calmed some of the hurt and anger aggravated by the holiday...enough that, for one of the first times since ending things with Hannah, he didn’t have to fight to fall asleep that night.

He didn’t even dream. It was as if no time passed at all. One minute, he’d closed his eyes on the red, digital glare of his alarm clock, and the next-

There’s no mistaking the deafening crack of a gunshot. It’s so close--so terrifyingly close--that Booth wakes convinced that he’s been hit.

There’s panic, but there’s no time to indulge. Instead, he is the instant soldier, hands flying to his hip for his gun...only to find it’s not there. It’s not there and everything is wrong and what the hell is going on? He knows he maybe only has seconds to figure it out as he scrambles to his feet (barefoot. Why is he in a battlefield, barefoot?), and moves for the nearest cover (trees? Why the hell are there trees?).

It’s only in the silence that follows, listening to the rapid pounding of his own heart, that he starts to realize that something is very, very wrong. He leans back, trying to stay close to the tree, and flinches as newly added wings protest against the pressure.]

What the-?!

[There might be quite a bit of swearing and arguing happening as soon as Moran catches up with him enough to explain what the hell is going on]

[Later, once he’s calmed down...relatively speaking]

[Moran had directed him towards the village and actual clothes, but that hadn’t made Booth feel any less furious. The voice that comes over the journal is clipped and almost wry, anger audible...but tightly controlled]

Okay. Whatever genius thought that kidnapping a federal agent and playing dressup was a good idea, I’m telling you right now. I’m not laughing. I’ve heard a lot of crazy things coming out of this book...thing...and I’ve had just about enough. No more fairy tales. No more crazy, hallucination-induced, looney-bin stories. I want the truth. Now. And one more thing:

I want my badge. I want my gun. And, if you tell me how to get these wings off, I might not even shoot you with it.

[The agent can be found pacing in front of the Welcome Center, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and fuming as he waits for responses]

[OOC: First tag, chronologically, goes to Sebastian Moran who was hunting in the forest. All other replies will come after Booth’s relocated into town]

Comments

[beltbucklerebel]

Why? You one of these Malwhatsits I've been hearing about?

[herotypical]

What? Oh, God. No. I'm a guinea pig. Just like you. Just a little longer in the tooth.




Figuratively speaking.

[beltbucklerebel]

[that gets the faintest of smiles] Gotta say, your teeth seem normal enough to me.

So why apologize? Far as I can tell, whatever the hell this is, it's someone else's fault.

[herotypical]

[ sorry i flubbed your name. sorry you're upset. sorry i can't be honest.

sorry you're not him. ]

I just...faintly remember how much it sucks, arriving here. I'm sorry you're going through that. My fault or not.

[beltbucklerebel]

Yeah, well...I don't intend to stay arrived for long.

[he has a kid to get back to. A partner. A job.]

[herotypical]

For your sake? I hope you don't.

[beltbucklerebel]

No offense, but that's not exactly inspiring.

[herotypical]

Do you want me to be inspiring or do you want me to be honest?

[beltbucklerebel]

I can't tell you how much I'm hating making that choice.

...Right. Let's go with honest.

[herotypical]

Alright. Honestly.

Here's hell -- but you learn to live with it. Friends help, so don't hold back from making those. Laws are common contract at best and completely inapplicable at worst. The experiments will hurt, shame, and upset you but never forget that you're basically living in a pre-made support group for that kind of thing.

[beltbucklerebel]

And what if I don't plan on "living with it?"

[herotypical]

Give it a month or so and let me know how that plan is working out for you.

[beltbucklerebel]

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

[herotypical]

Believe me, it's not about not having confidence in you.

[beltbucklerebel]

So I'm gathering.

[damn, but he's in a bad mood] Fine. If this place is gonna play Hotel California, where's the manager?

[herotypical]

Under the weather. Or indisposed. Things have been a little uncertain, management wise. [ a shrug. ] They don't talk to us, often. The Malnosso.

[beltbucklerebel]

But they talk sometimes.

[herotypical]

Usually when something's up. A draft, a Shift gone wrong. That sorta thing.

[beltbucklerebel]

Things go wrong a lot?