This whole "out" supernatural thing is weird. Maybe Toronto had its own supernatural community, but he hadn't known about it, definitely. He certainly hadn't known that the international law enforcement community knwe about him and had its eye on recruiting him. He'd thought he was just going to work with the feds until his first briefing.
That was when the word technomancy had been used.
With all the trouble in London, that was where Spike had been stationed by his very strange branch of NATO. A 'Special Ops' branch that, apparently, was staffed by supernatural beings and oversaw international relations and incidences. And apparently there was trouble enough in London to warrant a small presence.
And, well, he was still in training.
Which, for the most part, meant blending in. And trying to ignore how much he missed his team.
"Oh, c'mon. Not today. Don't do this today."
But, no, the ATM is not working.
And no one looks too closely, so…
Spike acts like he's inputting his PIN again. But, really, his mind is searching the code, finding the error, and--
"Bingo."
Out comes his card and the money he wanted to withdraw. Easy.
"That's a good girl," he says with all due affection to the machine.
Choose Your Leaders
"Thanks, but -- yeah. Not able to vote. Sorry."
Elections.
It's kind of… nice? At the same time that it's really, really weird… to know that the supernatural community is just the same as the mundane one when it comes to that.
Lots of politicians, lots of lying, and lots of promises. Not specifically in that order.
And the supporters are even worse.
Currently, he's trying to dodge a girl giving out 'Support Norrell' buttons.
"Not registered, not a citizen. Sorry!"
Fire Festival
Okay, a party? A party, Spike can handle. Especially when it's pretty damn tame. Nothing illegal so he doesn't even have to call and check in. After all, he's got a pretty long leash with things that might possibly be relative to his surveillance job, which apparently this Beltane celebration is.
Whatever.
All he knows is he's had good drinks, and someone, at some point, put a flower crown on him. Which he doesn't really mind.
"Gotta admit," he offers, laughing, "the only part that makes me nervous about this whole thing," he'd already said it was his first time at Beltane, "is the whole 'fertility ritual' I heard someone mention. What's that about?"
What Angel Wakes Me…
Today? Has been a good day. Ever since that woman on the subway had helped him pick up his bag, things have just been going his way.
The barista gave him a free coffee, the first taxi he hailed stopped for him. It's just been a good day.
And he's ending it out at a club.
Work hard, play hard.
Especially when working hard is sitting at a desk and reading memos all day long. Or doing routine programming without the coding. Definitely not what he's used to or what really feels like making a difference. But booze and music help.
Michelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti - Flashpoint - meta human
This whole "out" supernatural thing is weird. Maybe Toronto had its own supernatural community, but he hadn't known about it, definitely. He certainly hadn't known that the international law enforcement community knwe about him and had its eye on recruiting him. He'd thought he was just going to work with the feds until his first briefing.
That was when the word technomancy had been used.
With all the trouble in London, that was where Spike had been stationed by his very strange branch of NATO. A 'Special Ops' branch that, apparently, was staffed by supernatural beings and oversaw international relations and incidences. And apparently there was trouble enough in London to warrant a small presence.
And, well, he was still in training.
Which, for the most part, meant blending in. And trying to ignore how much he missed his team.
"Oh, c'mon. Not today. Don't do this today."
But, no, the ATM is not working.
And no one looks too closely, so…
Spike acts like he's inputting his PIN again. But, really, his mind is searching the code, finding the error, and--
"Bingo."
Out comes his card and the money he wanted to withdraw. Easy.
"That's a good girl," he says with all due affection to the machine.
Choose Your Leaders
"Thanks, but -- yeah. Not able to vote. Sorry."
Elections.
It's kind of… nice? At the same time that it's really, really weird… to know that the supernatural community is just the same as the mundane one when it comes to that.
Lots of politicians, lots of lying, and lots of promises. Not specifically in that order.
And the supporters are even worse.
Currently, he's trying to dodge a girl giving out 'Support Norrell' buttons.
"Not registered, not a citizen. Sorry!"
Fire Festival
Okay, a party? A party, Spike can handle. Especially when it's pretty damn tame. Nothing illegal so he doesn't even have to call and check in. After all, he's got a pretty long leash with things that might possibly be relative to his surveillance job, which apparently this Beltane celebration is.
Whatever.
All he knows is he's had good drinks, and someone, at some point, put a flower crown on him. Which he doesn't really mind.
"Gotta admit," he offers, laughing, "the only part that makes me nervous about this whole thing," he'd already said it was his first time at Beltane, "is the whole 'fertility ritual' I heard someone mention. What's that about?"
What Angel Wakes Me…
Today? Has been a good day. Ever since that woman on the subway had helped him pick up his bag, things have just been going his way.
The barista gave him a free coffee, the first taxi he hailed stopped for him. It's just been a good day.
And he's ending it out at a club.
Work hard, play hard.
Especially when working hard is sitting at a desk and reading memos all day long. Or doing routine programming without the coding. Definitely not what he's used to or what really feels like making a difference. But booze and music help.
Wildcard
Surprise me.