circle7 | how about some baddie screen time

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how about some baddie screen time

The Seventh Circle was a mess when Joel and Quelorie arrived. (Just the way the Commander liked it, really. All the easier to scoop it up into their palms, and drink from it what they needed.) Information was being leaked and tossed like chicken feed; intel soaked up from the double agents by the ones who shouldn't be hearing it; incorrect information sent back to them. And the puny Circle members not at the center of the Seventh were none the wiser.

What pleasant chaos, Joel thought. Though it was a shame that they had to wear the Circle uniform while present. (Teal wasn't his color.) He couldn't help but wonder if this was how the double agents of Circle Seven felt, hiding in plain sight.

The waiting room was circular (fittingly) and quiet while the Commander and Quelorie waited for the agent they were to meet with. They were to receive intel on the weak points of the other Circles, as well as the ones who would help with further infiltration. A large file, Joel was sure.

"So," he spoke up, sipping the coffee they were served. "What do you think of the Circle?"

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"What else should we check?" Quelorie asked. An innocent question on the surface, though what she really meant was something closer to 'what other stuff can we test out and explore while possibly running into trouble or other such hijinx?'

"The map did say there was an information storage room around here," he said, pulling the tablet out again. The map popped right back up, and as Joel said, there was a room exactly one step forward and to the left labeled 'INFO STORAGE'. He looked up to the door on their left. "Oh, excellent."

Quelorie tapped her ID on the panel next to the door, and just like when they'd passed through the checkpoint it beeped and the droopy opened. She looked towards Joel, waving a hand in the direction of the entrance. "After you, Commander."

Joel stepped inside, giving an impressed look around despite the dark. Only a pale bar of light bordered the ceiling, lightly illuminating the room. Computer screens lined the walls, separate stations set for each. Oddly, though, one of the screens was lit. Joel held his hand out in signal to keep Quelorie from advancing, tilting his head to assess if someone was there.

Not a beat after their footsteps stilled, a voice sounded from the high-backed chair in front of the furthest wall, silhouetted only by the single screen above and a little to the left of it, where what looked like the surveillance camera right outside this very doorway, the one that Quelorie and Joel had been standing in front of not even moments prior, now displayed an abandoned hall.

"I heard you two caused some trouble out there," said a deep, feminine voice, two feet unfolding before the click-click of boot heels hit the metal floor. "Usually in the art of information, it is better to be discreet, but maybe that's now how things are done on Gladsheim."

As soon as Joel signaled her to stop, Quelorie reached for her gun. She didn't draw it immediately, waiting to assess the threat level before acting rashly. (Again.) She paused, tentacles tensing, as she heard a familiar voice. Even so, she didn't release the hold on her gun, nor did she relax.

Joel's hand fell, and he clasped them both behind his back. The voice was familiar, but they had never met her face-to-face. She was very careful about concealing her identity. In the center of all that information, he imagined it was a great advantage to remain anonymous.

"Pleasure to finally meet you," Joel said with a smile.

"It would have been more pleasurable without the weaponry," said the woman.

A high-gloved hand reached out from behind the chair and tapped something idly on the input board before it, a rapid procession of keys and symbols that didn't even display on the screen, let alone give moment for pause. At least thirty keys must have been pressed before the hand was withdrawn, and the screens on the far wall all lit up at once, replacing the drab image of the Seventh Circle hallway with a myriad of screens all depicting, in some angle or manner, bits of Gladsheim. The surveillance infiltrated even as far as the entryway outside the Gladsheim War Room.

The chair turned around.

The seated woman, half-cast in shadow, didn't even allow her eyes to gloss over Joel. They slid directly to Quelorie. "Put the gun away. Weapons aren't allowed in this room."

Quelorie's glance flitted to Joel and then back to the woman before she released the grip on her weapon. She didn't take lightly to being threatened, and she knew that a threat was exactly what those images were meant to be. We're watching you. We have eyes in the depths of your organization. Don't fuck with us. But Joel seemed to know her, and that was enough reason for her to stand down (at least for the time being). Quelorie didn't relax, however. Her body tensed like a coiled snake, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Joel laughed, landing a hand on Quelorie's shoulder.

"Easy, Quelorie. She's not against us. It may not look it, but we're likely outnumbered."

"We're all Gladsheim here," said the woman, pushing off her seat. At full height, she stood more than a head taller than Quelorie and, despite her womanly figure, cut an intimidating silhouette. The Circle leaders were all possessed of a certain authority, turncoat or not.

As she approached, her features fell out of shadow. There was an eyepatch covering her left eye and the pupil of her remaining eye had a slitted pupil, like a reptile. Her coloration wasn't entirely human either - there must have been some sort of Angaryan in her heritage, considering the almost-greenish tint to her skin and hair. The woman crossed her arms over her ribs and came to a stop a few paces away.

"Can I help you with what you're looking for, Foster?"

Quelorie finally managed to calm down when she felt the familiar weight of Joel's hand on her shoulder. If this woman was an ally, then it was best to cooperate with her. Of course, that didn't mean she would trust her.

"Not at all, Daijia," Joel said pleasantly, dropping his arm once Quelorie had relaxed. He rather openly admired the leader, fascinated by the parts of her that were clearly Angaryan. It wasn't a common sight on Gladsheim; other races or mixes thereof. "I was merely verifying the information given to us. Though I can't recall seeing you labeled on the map."

"Being the leader of the Seventh Circle allows me some benefits," Daijia replied, smiling wryly at Quelorie (what a jumpy, curious thing). She raised a hand and cradled her chin against the back of her wrist, the inner eyelid of her right eye blinking lazily. Usually, her more reptilian characteristics were unnerving to those less accustomed to non-mammalian races, but surely in the presence of friend and fish, no one would mind. "When you are the last one people report to, no one needs to know where you are."

It afforded her a certain level of protection within the Circle territory, which was both hers and her enemy. The problem with being a mole was that you were the first one the enemy would try to stamp out. It made things infinitely easier if they couldn't immediately find out where you were.

"But you can rest assured that all the information given to you is correct. More so than the information being relayed to the First Circle, in fact. I've looked over everything that made it into your possession. It should be particularly helpful in the next few Circle raids."

She stepped a foot closer.

"How is that going, by the way?" Daijia asked, in the manner of a person who never really needed any answers. "I hear that the smuggling of weapons has been going well of late. The First was in a bit of a tiffy over that. They sent their new doctor to the Dead Moon, you see. Stumbled right across one of our transporting hubs."

"Thank you for the personal confirmation," he said, first of all.

"And yes, we're still a little compromised, regarding that. Given that the First Circle was directly involved, we can't exactly skew the information the recon party ran into." The commander rubbed his brow irritably at the reminder. Something bothered him about her phrasing, though - why mention some doctor?

Joel dropped his arm, crossing both at his chest. "Why would they send a newbie doctor to Eurydice?"

Both eyelids blinked - one vertically and one horizontally.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you didn't know yet," Daijia said, brow knitting, as if the concept of not knowing something were troubling in it of itself. She raised her gaze, looking back and forth from Quelorie to Joel before finally settling on the human.

"I assume they wanted him to acclimate himself to his new job. Their new doctor, you see, was accustomed to a more...rigid regime, though they found him trying to escape that life on a little planet in the middle of nowhere-space. I thought you might have been familiar with him - the Circle's new doctor with the mechanical arm."

"You two have been looking for him, no?"

Quelorie glance shifted from Daijia to Joel at the mention of the doctor. Although it hadn't really been one of their priorities as of late, she remembered Joel saying they needed to find a doctor with a mechanical arm. It seemed this woman would be even more useful to them than she'd realized.

The commander's arms fell, his eyes wide. He stepped forward, each step punctuated under heavy boots. Joel's expression had grown dark.

"The doctor - Bentley Foster - is in the care of the First god damn Circle?"

"Yes, or the other way around, depending on how you look at it," Daijia said, nodding once, very slowly.

"So he is basically untouchable," Quelorie offered helpfully. "At least for now."

"Silence, Quelorie." Her insight did nothing to soothe Joel's growing anger. He raised a hand to head again, trying to reason himself into calming down. Rationally, he knew that finding Bentley was a minor mission on Gladsheim's part. Their allies in the Circle would not know much about it. There was a tight lid on it as it was. They probably didn't know why they needed to find him. Well, apart from Daijia.

"Why wasn't I informed of this sooner?"

"Why didn't you find out sooner?" Daijia replied, raising a brow. "Bentley Foster is not of concern to Gladsheim's goals."

"He's a fugitive, carrying a very important, stolen piece of Gladsheim machinery. There are several charges against him."

"He is carrying his arm," she clarified, inclining her head impassively. "Which is also not of great concern to Gladsheim. It was and is still not my responsibility to keep a tab on Bentley Foster. I am telling you of his whereabouts now because we are working together."

Joel was effectively silenced himself, and after a pause, he stepped back by Quelorie's side. Quelorie had likely never seen the commander so tense, back rigid and proper, hands behind his back again.

"Apologies," he said, and though he was clearly still bothered by the matter, he couldn't afford to put a strain on their relationship with Daijia. Joel knew that it was lucky Daijia even knew of Bentley's presence within the First Cirle. Everything around it was airtight.

He smiled politely. "If you acquire any other information on the doctor, I will take it upon myself personally to compensate you for it."

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Is it boss lady time?

yes after this and lol "the droopy opened"

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resisting urge to put 'gorram' instead of 'god damn'

ACVODAD

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