Episode One: New Taste

Tremor sits at the table, simultaneously eager to find out his future with the organization and anxious to get back to the game he recently downloaded. Star Wars, Knights of the Old Republic was even better than he initially thought it would be, and, despite himself, his mind kept drifting back to it. It was ever so with him when he stumbled upon a particularly good book or game. He sometimes had a hard time letting go off the virtual world for the real.

He quickly and discretely scanned the other faces around the table and wondered what they might be thinking when they spied his. His dark red skin and curved horns, which were less bizarre at Lock than they were out in the world, were, none the less, still a cause of anxiety and embarrassment to him.

He usually tried to cover for this with a sarcastic comment, but given the purpose of the meeting, the last thing he wanted to do was shoot himself in the foot...figuratively speaking. One of many reasons he had left Cap behind. The diminutive AI always seemed to know exactly the wrong time to offer information or comment.

Seeing no point in opening his mouth until someone else had, he takes out his smartphone and continues reading the news article he had started before being called to the meeting. Not as fun as getting back to KOTR, but it kept him in the know (and hopeful helped contribute to his usefulness to the organization). It was about SARS in Hong Kong.

The real world really can be a depressing place... he thought with a sigh.

Naji is practically vibrating in her chair with excitement. That morning she had overslept, due to her excitement that kept her up late or maybe she just liked sleeping to much...hard to say. She missed her bus to get to the Lock HQ and had to run six blocks to catch up to it. Lock had dorms for their agents, but her handler had said they were usually reserved for agents that couldn't handle living openly in the public population. This made Naji think it would be seen as inappropriate to request her own dorm even though it mean no commute and keep her from ever being late. Well...no, that was an overstatement. Naji had no trouble being late to things.

When she got to HQ she was glad she had thought about bringing deodorant with her. The heat was normal, but the run had winded her and she was perspiring a lot more than one usually wants to on the first day of work. She ducked into the ladies a swapped out her slightly damp black tank top for the dark gray one, then put her trademarh hoodie back on and headed to the conference room.

Naji could pass for normal. The only thing that betrayed her supernatural nature was her ink-black eyes when she used her powers. And the Quori spirit that had merged with her to turn her from plain old Sarah Masterson into Naji the wizard, "...quizard?" she mused out loud. 'That's a hard NO.' she thought, that did not sound nearly as cool vocalized as it did in her head. Scanning the table she took in her fellow recruits. First, true company man. Naji couldn't say why, but he looked dangerous. 'Give that one a wide berth until a proper assessment can be made.' A couple of robots. 'So h*ckin' cool!' And then the quiet guy on his phone. 'O. M. G! Is he an actual DEMON! That is so cool! Alright...chill out Nija. He's just a dude, right? He puts his pants...NOPE! Chill...play it cool.' She clears her throat.

"Achem, cool horns, bro." She offers, not sure how nonchalant she is able to come across.

Tremor finishes the sentence he was reading, "...are trying to use pieces of protein to block the SARS virus from attaching to healthy cells," and glances upward from his phone to make sure he was the target of the 'horns' comment. Seeing a young woman regarding him with an expectant look on her face, he replies, "Thanks. I used to hate them but," he flashes a wry smile, "they're growing on me."

The company man's eyes flick briefly over the girl when she speaks. He pays the robots in the room no mind. He was first to arrive, of course. He sits ramrod straight in the chair directly across where the presiding officer will most likely be positioned when this session begins. The man is in late twenties, with slicked back hair, dressed in an immaculate white suit. His white gloved hands rest on the sheathed katana laid across his lap. The mans name is Rodrigo Diaz, and he has been waiting for this day his whole life.

Rodrigo was a foundling, rescued from the dumpster behind Lock HQ by the night watchman. Raised and trained here at Lock, he has never wanted to be anywhere else nor be anything but an agent. He has had limited direct experience of the outside world, and he holds a very dim view of what little he has seen. Having been raised by Lock, the magical and the fantastical give him no pause, and so a world that needs blinders put upon it deserves his scorn at worst, his pity at best. The quip about the horns draws his attention to the tiefling catching the other's eye, Rodrigo nods.

PROWL stands still in a corner of the room, its fourteen optic sensors glowing softly. Its shoulders rise and fall gently in what can only be a parody of respiration - an affectation it took up just this day. Stalking down the halls on its way here the robot earned more than its usual share of stares and shudders. Many in the organization still find it difficult to trust something that was once spying on them. Some even feel PROWL still poses a danger, and should have been destroyed rather than reprogrammed and re-purposed.

PROWL was originally built by Argent Tech, which used to work with Lock in manufacturing their tech. After the two organizations had a falling out, PROWL was given to Lock as a gift to ease tensions, but was really a trojan horse to steal data. When Lock discovered the truth, PROWL was memory-wiped and reprogrammed, and Argent went underground, a mystery to this day.

Jericho is not paying much attention to the other candidates in the room, though he is not entirely ignoring his surroundings, merely focused on the tablet he's brought into the conference room and a few small devices he has scattered on the table in front of him. Unlike the other individual of the constructed persuasion, he is clearly an older model, for lack of a better term, being more visibly arcane in his construction rather than technological.

Jericho himself is a construct of metal and glass, mostly hidden by a large hooded jacket, but he has a few cables snaking out of his forearms to manipulate the devices in front of him, and there are a few pale blue lights glowing all over his body, notably his eyes, the palms of his hands, and one in his torso that is visible even through his jacket. There is a similar-looking device perched on his shoulder in the shape of a large insect.

"Well...yeah...what happens in three minutes?"

An eerie, metallic sound bursts from the back of the room raising the hairs on the backs of everyone's necks. Turning, they see PROWL shaking in a simulation of laughter. "They're growing on me." it parrots. Apparently the robot has just gotten the tiefling's joke.

Tremor raises his eyebrows in surprise at the outburst from the metallic predator then smirks at his comments. That's a very interesting being.

He turns back to face the older man giving the briefing. However this all plays out one thing is certain, it won't be boring.

The tendrils snake out from Jericho's arms, picking up each of the devices he was working on and stashing them somewhere inside his jacket. The director now has his full attention.

"So we hit the ground running. I dig it. What have we got boss man?"

Jericho is already up and leaving before the director finished speaking, his drone hovering behind him as he walks.

"Thank you for this honor, Director." Rodrigo says formally as he secures his badge to his lapel. "As you know, I have worked hard and looked forward to this moment all my life. I will not let you down."

Lightly tapping the pistol concealed in his left sleeve, Rodrigo continues, "Do we have authorization to use lethal force if necessary?"

"Coordinates received. Plotting course.
Mission objectives acknowledged.
Mission parameter pending response to Agent Diaz' query."

Tremor joins the group in leaving the room and heading toward the garage. As he does so, he takes out his phone once more and begins texting;

Tremor: On the move to the garage. Meet me there.

Cap: I haven't finished that download you wanted me to do.

Tremor: It can wait. Get to the garage now and don't be late.

Cap: Fine!

The tiefling sighs and stows his phone. He redirects his attention to the conversation taking place en route.