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

[voice]

[metalbends]

I just got dragged back here after being home for a year. I'm not exactly feeling optimistic at the moment.

[voice]

[beltbucklerebel]

Dragged back?!

[oh, that so isn't good news]

[voice]

[metalbends]

Yep. [Emphasis on the p.] The 'noses sent me back a few months ago, but now I'm here again. That happens sometimes.

[beltbucklerebel]

[this just got better and better. But she's a kid...and he's a cop. The caustic edge drops from his voice, turning to something more genuine and a lot more serious]

...you remember anything from how they got you here? Voices? Things you saw?

[metalbends]

Nope. Not at all. I just woke up here. Underground.

[That was nice of them. It's just lucky she has the skills to get herself out.]

[beltbucklerebel]

Woah, wait a minute. Underground?

[.....that sounded eerily familiar. And not in a good way]

[metalbends]

Yeeep. They're just lucky I happen to really like dirt.

[beltbucklerebel]

Do you remember anything beforehand? Any burns on the back of your neck?

[sorry for the oddly specific questions, Toph, but being buried alive has very different connotations for the agent]

[metalbends]

[Huh. She didn't see that one coming.]

No. Why would they do something like that? It's not like they're firebenders or anything.

[beltbucklerebel]

Firewhatsits?

[metalbends]

Firebenders. [Oh, you people not knowing your benders.] People who can control fire. We have 'em in my world.

[beltbucklerebel]

....what do you mean.. "control fire?"

[he's not going to like this answer, is he? He knows it. And yet, he still asks]

[metalbends]

They can create fire and control it with the movements of their body. We've got a few of them here if you want a demonstration.

[beltbucklerebel]

[....]

I'm thinking no.

[metalbends]

Eh, suit yourself. Most of them are huge dorks, anyway.