Young Writers Society

Adam Pierce - Soul Catcher

"Not tha' I wouldn't wanna know you; you seem like someone I'd like to know. Not in a weird way though... I..." His voice trailed off.

“Uh…yeah,” I replied, giving him a crooked smile that made his cheeks flame. “So you’re a Catcher? Me too, I just drove ten hours from Chicago, which sucked ass by the way. That’s the last time I’m going to take in a soul without an Exorcist.” I laughed. “It’s a good thing I found someone in time,” I replied, looking back at the empty hallway. Were people here always like ghosts? The organization was a weird place, if you spent too much time on the inside, you might even lose your own soul to it. Like Amy.

“On the job even when you’re on vacation?” His blue eyes roamed my face, my chest and all the way down to my shoes and shot right back up to my eyes.

“I like work," I answered, trying hard not to stare at him. As the words left my mouth, the hall slowly became a very long addition problem. One at a time, catchers and exorcists filled the emptiness with muttering questions and greetings.

“I wonder how many they called,” One pale looking guy said.

“They’ve probably set up squads if they’re more than four here,” I answered while watching a Latina and a blonde exit the elevator.

Liam released a grin. “That means it’s a pretty big mission, no?”

I couldn’t help the tug at the corner of my mouth. Yes, a big mission is exactly what I wanted and needed. They gave me two months of rest but during that time I felt bored and I couldn’t mix in well with the humans and live a mundane life. I was a Soul Catcher and I thirsted for demons and souls.

We all looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. I mean, even in this crowd I didn’t recognize a single face. Last year, I was partnered up with a girl named Janis Mitch, her powers were pretty good and she never had a problem keeping up with my pace. Usually, the Organization spent time picking out squads and partners to make sure everyone would get along, I just hoped they hadn’t lost their touch.

The hall was silent after a minute, with eyes shifting here and there. Great, there’s already one of those weird uncomfortable vibes going on….

A clank of heels made all our heads turn to the skinny blonde lady behind me. Her razor sharp hair was pulled back in a strict pony tail. Oceanic eyes froze us in our places with a rigid stare.

“Welcome home, Soldiers,” said the machinist, or Amy. “I take it that your vacation was a pleasant one.”

She made it sound like she didn’t want our replies so none of us said a word in return. The thing with the Organization was they knew everybody and everybody knew them but we, Catchers and Exorcists on the other hand, didn’t know each other. She examined each one of us, meeting our eyes for only a mere second.

“Follow me, the Headmaster wishes to speak to you all about your next assignment.” With that, she turned around and began leading us down the hall and into one of the smaller office meeting rooms.

There was an oval glass table with about fifteen leather chairs and a wide window in the front. Amy stood at the end with her arms folded around her chest as she watched us all take a seat under her stony vision. I wondered why she was like that, why she didn’t show a drop of emotion. I decided not to bother my mind with such thoughts for I knew I’d have to take Tylenol later. That’s what thinking about Amy did to one’s mind; you’d only get a headache.

Next to me, Liam seemed to have stolen the spot from another Catcher. He smiled at me and I gave him a slight one in return. Something told me I was going to have to watch out for this guy in particular…It's not like I didn't like him, he seemed like a nice dude but there was something off putting about the way he looked at me.

“There is one missing…” Amy whispered to herself as she jotted something down her little cell phone/portable computer device thing. Finally raising her head she said, “The Headmaster will be here shortly.” And that was all, she left the room.

We looked at each other again. It’s not like we weren’t used to it, it’s just that most of us would probably think some things might have changed around here but…that didn’t seem to be the case. They never once offered us some tea, or at least water. My back slouched in the chair and I drummed my fingers on the desk.

“So…you think they might let us pick our own partners this time?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dmitri Abrams - the exorcist

Dmitri sat reclined on one of the leather chairs and looked around the oval table. He was surprised to see that he didn't recognise any of the faces sat next to him, then again he'd only been working for the Organisation for a year, these guys were probably old-timers.

He heard Amy say something about the headmaster showing up soon before getting up and leaving. As she strutted towards the door, Dmitri swivelled in his chair and watched her leave with a scoundrel's grin across his face. He'd always found something incredibly attractive about the Organisation's tight-lipped receptionist. Maybe it was that body of her's or the way she said his name down the phone...

“So…you think they might let us pick our own partners this time?” one of the guy's asked suddenly, breaking the silence in the room.

"Man, I hope so," Dmitri responded, "my last partner was an ameteur..."

"What happened?" another guy asked.

A little girl died.

Dmitri just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "He got his ass handed to him by a damn poltergeist."

Caleb Sandall - Exorcist

Caleb settled himself down in one of the chairs, and began tracing the wood grain on the table. This was harder than anything Caleb could have imagined. Being back in the Organization's building, after months of sitting here with Ashley. But Caleb couldn't shake the feeling that the Organization was testing him, putting Caleb through his paces before letting him out in the field again.

"So…you think they might let us pick our own partners this time?"

Caleb glanced up at the speaker, before lowering his eyes again. He didn't know what use it would be to pick his own partners. Once the Organization had realized what Caleb and Ashley's potentials were as partners, Caleb had never had to go to these briefings. Caleb had only ever had Ashley. He could only assume that all of the people around him now were relatively new. He wouldn't know who to choose.

"Man, I hope so," came the response from across the table from Caleb. "My last partner was a damn ameteur..."

Caleb froze. Stay quiet. Be calm; They may be watching you.

"What happened?"

"He got his ass handed to him by a damn poltergeist."

Caleb slammed his hand onto the table. "Shut up," he growled, glaring at the kid across the table. He raised his eyebrows at Caleb. Caleb eyed him back, his lips curling at the arrogantly way the kid was leaning in his chair.

"You've got a problem?" the kid asked. Caleb's jaw tightened.

"Yeah, I do. Partners are in to protect each other, help each other, not smirk at the other's failure. If your partner was new to the field, the hell with it. You should have made up the difference, otherwise you are just as pathetic as you claim your partner was."

Liam moore - Soul Catcher

This place smelt weird. It was really... clean. Now, I was all for disinfectant and what not, but when it leaked into my nostrils and made me want to puke, it got a little too much. The guys were saying something, but I wasn't listening. They were arguing or something anyway. I tapped my fingers on the clear table, the cool glass contrasting with my warm fingers.

I thought back to my journey here. To get me here quicker, I'd cut through a few alleyways. When I was five minutes or so away from the building, I passed a rather peculiar tramp. He was singing to himself, and he didn't actually have too bad of a voice. He should have entered American Idol. They liked sob stories, right? He was a tramp. That was brimming with sob story potential. I would have voted fo-

"Yeah, I do. Partners are in to protect each other, help each other, not smirk at the other's failure. If your partner was new to the field, the hell with it. You should have made up the difference, otherwise you are just as pathetic as you claim your partner was." I heard one of the guys suddenly raise his voice, cutting me out of my thoughts.

Someone needs a hug.

I couldn't help but let out a sudden burst of laughter, causing the guy's head to snap to me. His eyes were narrowed into a pair of thin almonds. The others seemed to be watching the mental guy, glancing at each other now and then. The mental guy's eyes remained on me as he spoke.

"What's so funny, kid?" he muttered.

"Nothing, there's just..." I paused, thinking fast. "There's a lobsided tree out of the window."

Oh, he didn't like that. He stared at me as though I'd just thrown him off a cliff... Well, technically not. If he'd fallen off a cliff, he'd have been dead, or at least paralysed. He wouldn't have been able to pull faces then. Back to topic, Liam, I leaned back in my seat. Back to topic.

"You guys shouldn't joke about things like that," Mental guy muttered, crossing his arms.

If he wasn't so angry, he wouldn't have been so bad looking. He could have done with a shave... but overall, hey, he was pretty nice. I glanced at the seat beside me to see, a natural grin spreading across my face. Not as nice as him. I tilted my head slightly, realising that I hadn't even asked for his name yet.

"He needs a hug," I whispered to him, nodding at the mental guy.

The hot guy laughed beside me, keeping the smile on my face. His laugh was soft, but it had a hint of what you could call mischief to it. He glanced at me, forcing me to immediately turn my eyes to the glass table. I needed to bloody get a grip. Ignoring my mind's wishes, I forced myself to look at him.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked as casually as possible. "I don't think I've asked."

"Adam," he replied. "Adam Pierce."

Adam... It suited him actually. Despite my highly embarrassing greeting, Adam didn't appear to have been fazed by it. There was a goofy grin on my face as I looked at him. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, turning from me. Oh God. Had I said something stupid? I scratched my head, concentrating on the room.

There wasn't anything overly amusing in the room. It was rather bland really. The walls were dull, the floor was neutral, the leather seats were plain and that freakishly calm woman - Amy, I think - who'd just left seemed to match everything perfectly. I clicked my tongue. There wasn't even a lobsided tree outside; I'd just said that to distract the mental guy. He'd probably be amusing to spend time with actually. I hoped he was like one of those crazy guys on movies, throwing tables and such. It could've been interesting.

"Hey, how about introductions while we wait for that chick to get back?" I suggested. "We used to do this all of the time when I were a kid in school. Wha' you 'ave to do is say your name, then say one interestin' thing about yourself. I found out tha' this ginger kid had a third nipple thanks to this."

A few of the guys stared at me, rolling their eyes and such. I need to know when to shut it. Thankfully, the others shrugged, nodding pretty casually. A voice made me turn my head to the opposite end of the table. It was a young woman; a very beautiful young woman, in fact. Her features were perfectly proportioned and her tanned skin complimented them wonderfully. A Latina, I would've guessed.

"Okay, well who wants to go first?" the Latina said, smiling, showing a set of immaculate teeth.

Santana Velásquez | Exorcist

Santana continued to beam as she awaited the first speaker; there was no way in hell she would go first. The latina had thus far dodged the drama and conflict stirred up between a few of them, and she planned to keep it that way. And the best way to do that? Stay silent and happy. It was a lesson she remembered from her time in the academy, how to stay sane in the midst of causeless fighting. And as she gazed down at the table, parts a delicate wood grain and parts a transparent glass, she felt herself falling back into that year buried beneath her new life, concealed beneath all of the amigas and novios she could carry.

Santana closed her eyes as a girl began speaking, and she tuned out the remainder of the world, In her ears, she took in the warm, heavy sound of rolling waves as they enthralled the sand on a distant beach. The radiant sun breathed its throbbing margorita-and-cocoa-butter wind onto her neck, and her eyes were closed. As much as she remembered wanting to take in the beauty of the Miami shoreline, she knew she had a mission to finish, and her partner was well ahead of her.

It was the rarity of the Miami Haunting that had brought them straight out of graduation; Santana and Marcus Swails had been dispatched straight off of the auditorium stage. In fact, Santana still had her graduation gown tucked into the backseat of her Mustang. Santana opened her eyes suddenly as Marcus called out her name. In the distorted air of the beach, Marcus walked towards her, his left hand holding a small black device the size of her Blackberry. “We lost him,” Marcus said, but his words didn’t quite connect; Santana was too distant, too detached. “I have a feeling he’s about to attach to a host, so we need to hurry or else this could get nasty...”

She was far-off, back on a similar beach far away where her family would lie and soak up the sun’s joy. The beach had the same brilliant red umbrellas and women in bikinis and old men trying to cover their chests. She didn’t respond as Marcus spoke, and she followed him idly as he drug her along by the hand. But his touch, she refrained, was enticing and warmer than the consuming hug of a sauna. As she wondered what made her so distant, she realized that it was graduation: the gateway between realms, just as they fought against.

And so she stopped in the sand and tugged against Marcus’ pull. Slowly, he stopped and stared at her through Aviatro sunglasses. His tanned face seemed confused; blond eyebrows rose in curiosity, and Santana looked off to the side, her lips pursed. “What if we are wrong, Marcus?” Her popping accent mixed between the scorching sand and camouflaged them with the sunburned locals. “What if we are fighting against something proper and natural?”

Marcus could tell that the stress was slicing at Santana’s skin, so he took her hand in his and smiled, showing his perfect teeth. “Santana, we are doing the right thing; trust me.” His words were soft, easy and fluid like a cold brook in the mountains. “Our entire lives have led up to this one point, and we must prevail.” His own accent, light and boyishly southern coated her ears and pulled her out of the stagnant lull, if only for a moment. “So please, Santana, prove with me what wonderful things we can accomplish together.”

And so Santana did help him. The two tracked the demon until nightfall and finally took the soul into the afterplane without a hiccup. And when Santana placed her hands over his chest to free the spirit, she lingered as the soul took flight. It was no secret to either of them that they were drawn to one another; the rumors said that it’s why the academy chose them as partners through their finals. But as Santana’s fingers pressed against Marcus’ chest, she could feel his rhythmic heart—his core—and imagined herself as the proprietor of such a power.

And when Marcus lowered his head and breathed so gently—so carefully—on her neck, she couldn’t help but to feel his finite power over her. When they kissed that night, tucked beneath the cloak of a dark side-street alley, she gave him that tiny bit of control.

It was when they returned to the Organization that she lost that power for what seemed like eternity.

“You are hereby placed on probation for contemplated truancy,” a woman spoke as if she were made of stone, composite and unfeeling in her judgment. “We will contact you shall we need your services once again.”

Santana didn’t even fight back then. She had no point in fighting because they were right; there was something in her, something minuscule and compact that prevented her from trusting their cause. And as Santana felt herself being sucked out of the past, she caught the words of the blond woman as she re-entered.

“The Headmaster,” she said, her voice just as cold as the night Santana left, “will be with us shortly.”

**If no-one posts soon after, I will edit this so that it's not so rough. **

Rena Lowe - Exorcist

In life, Rena knew that there were two types of people. There were those who had enjoyable plane journeys, and those who got stuck between the flabby guy with greasy fingers and the old woman with a constant supply of furry boiled sweets. For her entire life, Rena had been part of the latter group.

"First time in America, dear?" asked aforementioned old lady, waving a brown paper bag in Rena's face. Catching a whiff of stale cat, she smiled politely and shook her head.

"No, it's not. I come here occasionally for business and suchlike." Please leave me alone. I'm tired, cranky and five hours ago I killed a demon.

The old woman tutted. "You young women, obsessed with work and 'business' when you should be starting a family. Imagine, if you were young in my day you'd have at least two children by now! Three if you'd gone and got yourself a husband early."

Yes, because despite my early twenties appearance I'm really thirty-five ... "Really? Do you have family, then?"

"That's who I'm visiting dear. A new grandchild's just been delivered. That's what's important, you know. Family."

You smell of cat. "How right you are! I'll keep that in mind. Starting a family and whatnot ..." Rena trailed off, seeing the old lady's eyelids drooping. Sitting back in her seat, Rena turned on the small, in-flight television and plugged in the tinny, plastic-y headphones that an air hostess had handed to her with a similarly plastic-y smile. Now, what were the movie choices ... Austin Powers, Gone With the Wind and Casablanca. Great. The same movies as last time.

--

"You're twenty minutes late." The guard looked down at a dishevelled, slightly sweaty Rena with a familiar bland look on his face.

Rena snatched back her I.D card. "Not in England, I'm not."

"No. In England you're five hours and twenty minutes late."

Shit. She walked on and heard the guy chuckling quietly. Oh well, it was hard to think of a good comeback after a sleepless 7 hours listening to Fat Guy and Old Woman snore in different octaves. Autotune that noise and you'd have an internet meme straight away.

Rena was nervous now, she had to admit as she ran her fingers through slightly greasy hair. It would be nice to make a good impression on her future partner - maybe one that wasn't of a very short, travel-stained girl who couldn't even banter with a security guard or turn up to a meeting on time. But, then, at least this way they'd know what they were getting themselves in for.

Taking a deep breath, and for the least time trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her t-shirt, Rena stepped out of the elevator at level 6 and started as she immediately collided with an immaculate blonde woman - Amy. She was formidable, and known for her flawless organisation skills and the haughty expression that marked her face like someone had scrawled it on with Sharpie.

"You're late." Ah, that voice. It was like broken glass floating in a bucket of icy water - sharp and cold, basically.

"So I've heard. Care to tell me where I am supposed to be?"

"Through there." Amy's perfectly manicured nails gestured at an office door. "The Headmaster will be arriving soon, if he isn't there already."

"I get the picture, Amy."

With a huff and frenzied tapping on her personal organiser, Amy was off and Rena was left outside the door, behind which the Headmaster may or may not have been starting to tell her fellow team-mates what this mission was all about. And, despite the jet-lag, that was something Rena really didn't want to miss.

Pushing open the door, Rena grinned as she entered the room. Faces turned to her, and one was mercifully absent. "Thank God, he's not here yet." She flopped down in a seat and nodded to those around her. "I'm Rena, sorry I'm late. But, hey, if they only paid us better I could have got a private jet here early."

Nice one, Rena. Great joke to start us all off.

Headmaster Carver | Organization Headquarters

His feet quickened on the polished floor as he whispered through the corridors, making his way to the office room. Eight agents were waiting for him, eight soul catchers and exorcists all ready to prepare themselves for battle, a stupid war amongst demons that were going to take over the world if the realm remained open for any longer than a year. The world of the living would perish alongside the purest of souls which would never see the light of the afterplane. With this thought ticking in his head like a time bomb, Headmaster Carver opened the white door and entered the cool room.

The eyes of the catchers and exorcists met his. “Welcome home, agents.” He smiled at them, hoping that they wouldn’t read the uneasiness in his mind. “I take it that you have had a good vacation?” His eyes roamed to Bridget. “Well, most of you. A few of you are actually clean out of training no? Well, I hope you’re excited for this new mission because it’s of grave importance.”

A wave of mutters echoed through the room as the Headmaster picked up a remote and pressed the power button. From the ceiling in the front of the room, a black screen descended in the size of a projector. Amy quickly scooted to the right and flicked off the lights, leaving the room to the white screen that now displayed itself.

Carver walked around the oval table and stood next to the screen. With another press of a button a picture of the world map appeared on the once empty white space.

“As you all have probably heard, there has been an increase in demonic activity,” he announced. “New rifts have been opened in Beijing, London, Paris, almost any city in where there is a large accumulation of people.” With another press, the map now displayed three red dots. “These are the locations in which we expect new tears to open up next, although that is just our best estimate.” He clicked again. “These are all the rifts together, including old ones that have recently become active again.” Another click. “Only nine of which do we have power over. Squads and camps have been set up to eliminate demons before they rise to the world of the living. In the past, that had been our answer to the problem. Find the rifts, open a base and kill anything that comes out. However, we can’t watch the rifts forever. We must close them.”

Adam stopped tapping his fingers along the table and lifted his eyes to me. Adam, he was one of Carver’s best students, a man worthy of the name Soul Catcher but ever since his loss during his last year in training, he had become fully concentrated on the killing aspect rather than the catching. With a flash, his eyes made it to Amy and then back at Carver.

“So,” he said. “Are you saying we’ll be looking for a way to close the rifts instead of killing these demons?”

From behind, there were a few other murmurs. “Although that is what I would like for you to do, that isn’t the mission that you’ve been assigned,” Carver replied lowly. “You will be split into two squads, both squads will be sent to Europe, one to investigate the rift in London and the other to investigate rift in Paris. You job is to kill, kill all the demons you see and also…find out why they the demons are suddenly coming out in vast numbers. If you have any information, report to me immediately.” Carver nodded in Amy’s direction as she pulled out a plastic container which held eight oblong devices. Amy carefully handed each one of them the black object.

“This is your GCD, global calling device. Yes, not a very interesting name but you’ll be able to contact any member of the organization on it as well as receive data on almost anything,” Carver explained. “Keep this with you at all times for it’s also a method of tracking, if something happens to one of your squad members, you’ll be able to locate them using this.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “As for your teams…they are as follows. Squad 589, pair one: Adam Pierce and Dmitri Abrams. Pair two: Liam Moore and Santana Velásquez. Squad 741, pair one: Bartholomew Matthews and Rena Lowe. Pair two: Bridget Collins and Caleb Sandall.” He pushed the paper back into his back pocket. “If you have any problems with your assigned partner or squad, see me personally.”

"You have two hours to get to know your new team members." Amy stepped forward, her icy eyes lingering over the eight members. “You will all be taking the Organizations private jet to London. After squad 589 lands, 741 will fly to Paris. Remember, you have two hours before departure.”

“Where is the…jet?” Dmitri asked, scanning Amy top to bottom.

“The helicopter on the roof will take you to our personal runway.”

“We have our own runway? Since when?” Rena asked, scratching her head.

“For a long time,” Amy answered, leering at the tardy one. She then took a step back, allowing Carver to say his last words.

“Good luck to you all and don’t make any reckless decisions. Remember your task and contact me if you need anything.” He took a concise minute to silently pray for each of his pupils “Stay safe."

Adam Pierce | S.C | Sq. 589

Amy was about to leave the room. Quickly, Adam rolled himself off the chair and blocked her path by sticking his foot on the wall in front of her.

“Hey, you can’t leave without at least asking how I am,” he said showing off a smirk.

Like bullets, her eyes shot up at him with utter displeasure. “I did. I asked if you had a nice vacation,” she answered.

“No, you said that to everyone. Not me.” He cocked his head to the side and studied her emotionless eyes. “What happened to you? You used to be…well, more alive.”

“I’m simply working,” she said. “Like you.”

“Working doesn’t mean you lose your personality,” he countered back. “And don’t bring the past into this. You know that I had to work during that time and couldn’t expect me to blow off my mission because of…your birthday.” The last words tasted like vinegar on his tongue.

Something caught in her throat and she shifted her eyes away, squaring her shoulders. “Let me pass. I have nothing to say to you and I would appreciate it if you stopped behaving this way. It makes me feel like you regret your decision.”

He scoffed. “Regret? Why would I regret anything?” However, he made way for her and she didn’t give him another second to say anything and stormed out of the office. With a sigh, he turned around and watched as everyone got up and tried to introduce themselves to their new partners, eating at any information each one had. Things like what kind of soul weapons they had or what their specialties were. Slowly turning he knew that Liam and he were going to be teammates but he didn’t know the other two, well… he knew one.

Walking up to his squad he extended his hand to who looked like Dmitri. “I guess we’re partners,” he said.
Dmitri flashed a smile and nodded. “Suppose so.”

Adam squeezed his hand a little more tightly than normal. He caught Dmitri looking at Amy more than once today and he didn’t like the look he gave her. Amy was what he called a hundred point girl, well she was anyway. She was everything you needed and wanted but things changed and people changed, misunderstandings took place and soon enough he was walking on the result. Even so, she was special and he couldn’t trust just anyone to her, let alone have anyone have their eyes on her. Deep inside of him, there was a slight ribbon that couldn’t untie itself.

“So, what kind of soul weapon do you use?” Dmitri asked, pulling his hand away but showing no sign of hurt.

Adam raised his wrists, facing away, and slide out his wristblades. “These.”

“That’s pretty sweet,” he said with a nod.

“What’s yours?”

“I can control a demon.”

“Oh, really?”

Dmitri smiled and closed his eyes; once they opened his eyes had become pure white, gleaming with soul light. He flicked them shut and opened them again. “Only if they stare into my eyes.”

A crack of a smile pulled up on Adam’s lips. “That will come in handy,” he said, remembering the many times he found it difficult to extract souls when the demon was still conscious.

Adam then turned to Santana. She had a body that could give a man a hundred fantasies in a matter of minutes, eyes that could capture hearts and a smile that could break them. Even so, Adam didn’t receive any luscious fantasies nor did his heart accelerate. This was a good thing on his part. He didn’t need any complications, especially concerning women.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” He winked. But he couldn’t help the flirt inside of him. “What do you do?”

“Call me sweetheart again and I’ll whip you,” she answered with a thick accent.

“Aye…” He raised two fingers in a peace sign. “Will remember that…Santana.”

After everyone gave their brief, needy introductions and discussed some mission details, they decided to head to the gearing room to change into their hunter gear.

“Hey guys,” Liam called to the other squad. “We’re headed down to the gearing room and we’ll meet you guys on the roof when we’re all ready to take the helicopters to the runway, mkay?”

The other squad agreed and continued on with their discussion. Adam hated the Soul Catcher ‘outfit’. It was all black leather and heavy boots with a truck load of belts and buckles. Not to mention the weapons belt that felt like you were carrying a child around your waist. However, in time he had gotten used to it and quit his complaining when he knew that no one was listening to him.

The gear room was one place, there wasn’t a woman’s gear room or a man’s gear room it was just one big gear room and if you felt ashamed of stripping in front of people then you’d go to the stalls in the back. Mostly…it was the women who went to the stalls…
_____________

Changed to third person just because. =P
Also, if anyone wants me to redo the team thing, let me know and I 'might' change it according to how badly you need it.

Liam Moore // S.C // Sq. 589

I was literally going to end up becoming a fundamentalist at this rate. Just when I thought God was being a complete jerk, he surprised me. Not only was Adam in this whole demon hunting thing, but he was in my squad. I watched him as he stopped Amy from leaving, lifting his foot up onto the wall to do so. I watched them carefully, failing at my attempts of lip reading.

There was a sudden tap on my shoulder, but I just shrugged it off, my eyes still glued on Adam and Amy. Another tap. This time, I smacked the person's hand off with my own.

"Hey!" a woman spoke harshly.

Rolling my eyes, I spun around in my seat. "What?"

It was the Latina chick. I had to jolt my head back to avoid staring into her... peaches. They had to be fake, surely? Either that, or she had some kind of unnatural growth on her chest. I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. I had to be polite; this was my partner.

"Oh, hey." I smiled, standing up. "Santa, is it?"

"Uh... Santana," she corrected me quickly.

I started laughing. "Oh yeah! Close enough. I'm Liam."

I was so gonna call her Santa. I held my hand out for her to shake. Soon enough, she shook it, a pearly girn on her flawless face. I tilted my head slightly, watching Santa as she flicked her hair back, standing straight. She was awfully beautiful. If I ever did decide to try the whole straight thing, she'd probably be a good chick to try it out on. In fact... I may just have some fun with this. I grinned casually back at Santa, leaning against the wall. I spat on the floor, just for dramatic effect. I'd seen all of the hard guys do it oin the movies.

"Where are you from 'en, babes?" I asked, my one hand in my pocket.

My sudden attempt of flirting appeared to please her, despite her snapping at me for calling her babes. She so liked it really though; her eyes said it all. She was probably used to it. She started speaking, a melodic accent in her voice, but I didn't really listen. I just nodded, glancing at her chest every few seconds. Dang, I'm good at this. Once she'd stopped speaking, I looked into her smouldering eyes.

"We better get our outfits sorted out 'en." I nodded my head at the door, spitting on the floor again.

I hadn't realised that Adam and Dmitri were beside us until now. When I saw Adam glance at me for a second, my hard guy act just fell flat. I grinned cheesily back. Idiot. I mentally kicked myself. He soon turned to Santa. He started flirting with her then. I had to literally chew up my tongue just to avoid saying anything. For the second time, I inwardly whacked myself. What did it even matter? He was probably just like the rest of the jerks I'd liked.

“Hey guys,” I shouted at the other squad, interrupting Adam's flirting. “We’re headed down to the gearing room and we’ll meet you guys on the roof when we’re all ready to take the helicopters to the runway, mkay?”

What happened next was... interesting.

I was innocently having a discussion with myself about fruit in the gearing room, finding my bag to stuff my t-shirt into, when there was a tap on my shoulder. I swore I was going to have a bruise there at this rate. I turned to the side and there Adam was, sitting beside me. In his boxers. I quickly raised my eyes up back to his face, feeling my cheeks instantly reddening.

"Uh, you alright?" he asked, smiling.

I simply nodded, stammering a little. His chest was as bare as a baby's naked arse, small particles of sweat sliding down it. Then again, perhaps that wasn't the best comparison. I watched as some sweat ran down his chest. It was hot in here, I supposed. Although, there was more than one reason for that now... Oh God, he was nice...

"Can I look in my bag for a second, dude?" he asked, nodding above me. "I can't remember If I put my shoes in there. I have crap memory."

I glanced upwards to see his bag dangling off something that was sticking out of the wall. Still unable to process any words, not even retarded mumbles, I nodded. Adam stood up and before I could do anything else, he was right in front of me. Well, not him exactly. Don't stare at it, Liam. I hastily turned and stared at the wall beside me. If Adam was a dwarf or freakishly tall, I wouldn't have had this problem. But oh no, he had to be a normal height.

Jesus Christ, what was taking him so long? Just find your fricking shoes already before I- Oh crap. I glanced down at my crotch, my entire body freezing. Not now... I grabbed my t-shirt from beside me, hurriedly placing it over my thigh area.

"Uh, I gotta go a second. I feel a bit sick." Making complete sure that Adam didn't see anything, I jumped up, accidentally nudging him slightly. "Sorry."

I heard him call after me, followed by a call from Dmitri, but I didn't respond. Instead, I just sped walked out of the room, half naked. Great.

Dmitri Abrams - Exorcist - Sq. 589

Dmitri rummaged through his bag and looked at the all-black exorcist uniform. It was the ugliest damn thing he’d seen...ever. Making a mental note to suggest a few trendier ideas for their uniforms once he got back, he started shredding his jacket and shirt before looking around. He wasn’t all that surprised that the girls were undressing in the back stalls...a little disappointed maybe, but not surprised. He never understood why women had a problem with getting naked in front of strangers, then again, maybe it was just him...

Liam was sitting on the bench next to him. Adam was naked and looking for his shoes. While Dmitri pulled on his uniform, he couldn’t help but notice that Liam looked a little...flushed?

Dmitri had to backtrack for one second.

Nahh... he told himself as he cocked his head to the side and watched Liam fight to keep his eyes off Adam...I must be losing my mind. Then suddenly, Liam accidently grabbed Dmitri’s t-shirt instead of his and quickly covered his crotch with it.

What the hell? Did he just-

"Uh, I gotta go a second. I feel a bit sick," Liam suddenly got up and ran out of the room.

Adam raised a brow in confusion. “Liam, you alright, mate?” he called after him.

“Man, that’s my t-shirt!” Dmitri called as well.

But Liam was already out of the room. Adam just turned and stared at Dmitri.

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” he asked, seriously confused.

Then it hit Dmitri like a hammer to the head. He had to fight to stop himself from rolling on the floor and laughing till he cried.

“I think you should put some clothes on,” he told Adam with a look of seriousness, “before you give that guy a seizure or somethin’...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dmitri threw up his hands in the air in defence, a scoundrel’s grin across his face. “That’s all I’m saying...” he said, before putting on the rest of his uniform.

Bartholomew Matthews/ Soul Catcher/ Sq. 741

I watched Amy leave after that skinny guy with the messy hair tried to stop her. My curiosity was aroused, but I managed to ignore it. Instead I turned to Rena, the girl who had come late and my partner this year.

"Bart Matthews," I said, holding out my hand. She shook it, smiling. I was glad, as I'd learnt last year it was tough to work with a cold partner.

"Hey Bart," she said. "You new? I don't think I've seen you around before."

I grinned. "Not new per se, I was here last year. But I didn't er...I didn't quite complete my assignment."

She looked at me quizzically, but before she could say anything I said quickly, "So you were late, eh? Where d'you live?"

Rena sighed, and ran her hands through her short-cut hair. "Over in England," she said. "The flight to D.C. took ages."

"England, eh? I thought I heard a familiar accent in your voice. I'm from London myself."

She smiled again. "I guess that's one thing we have in common then. We're both British. Makes me wonder why we had to come all the way here just to go straight back to London." I laughed, and she seemed happy about that.

Some guy in the other squad turned to us. "Hey guys," he said, "We’re headed down to the gearing room and we’ll meet you guys on the roof when we’re all ready to take the helicopters to the runway, mkay?" He didn't sound American either, but he'd left before I had a chance to ask.

The other pair started to get up and Rena said to me, "We'd best get to the gear room too."



The girls had gone to change into their uniform in the stalls, while me and the other guys changed in the main room. I sighed when I saw the leather. Leather was so...tight. Not to mention it made me feel like some sort-of DC comics superhero. And the first one that sprung to mind was, well...Catwoman. Definitely not manly.

I've been watching too many musicals.

Santana Velásquez | Exorcist | Sq. 589

“Dios miyo,” Santana complained as she held up the uniform. Whatever she saw in her hands looked forty times worse in the mirror. Bridget turned her head to see the point of complaint and just chuckled. “Bridget,” Santana cried, “it looks like Lady Gaga threw up on a sadistic hooker.” The other girl giggled profusely. Santana pursed her lips together and instinctively looked over her shoulder before pressing one of her still-manicured fingernails against the fabric on the shoulders. “There is nothing wrong,” she said, “with pronouncing my individuality.”

“You know, Santana?” Bridget sat down beside the Latina and grinned. “You’re absolutely right!” The blond nodded to Santana. “You know, it’s a shame that we’re not on the same squad,” she said, her eyes watching the floor. “I think we could have been good friends.”

Santana bit off a piece of stray thread and admired her work. “You are right, Bridget,” Santana mused, clearly up to something. “But let me leave you with a parting gift.” She grabbed the other girl’s uniform and began working on it just like her own. When she was finished, the two quickly changed into their new outfits to judge the finished products. Santana cocked a hip to the side and winked at herself in the mirror. “Less atrocious than before?” she asked.

“Astoundingly less atrocious,” Bridget replied, beaming.

Santana winked to her friend and pressed her hand against the doorknob to the stall. As she stepped out into the main room, she struck a model pose and cleared her throat subtly. “What do you think, chicos?”

Oh, she loved the power she had over their eyes, like telekinesis to an old psychic. Her favorite phase of their reaction--after the staring and the clearing of throats and the shuffling in their seats--was when they tried to pry their eyes away like nails from aged oak. “Definitely Cat Woman,” one of the boys she didn’t know quipped, and she smirked.

Santana searched the room, noticing one fewer boy than she expected. “Where is my darling partner in crime?” She sucked on her teeth several quick times in a rapid-fire tsk tsk tsk and walked closer to Dmitri and Adam, the latter of whom was swiftly getting dressed. “Aaaaadam,” Santana soothed. “Where is my dear Liam?”

Dmitri stifled a laugh.

“He’s,” Adam’s voice wandered off. “Uhh, sick.”

Dmitri let go of a breathy chuckle, turning away from the two to look in his bag for something--anything--to give him an excuse.

Santana sighed and turned towards the door, determined to find him. Just before she got to the exit, a pssst from back in the stalls caught her attention.

Santana rushed back to the changing stalls, sticking her head into the room where Bridget had joined Rena after she had left. “Sana Ana,” Rena whispered. “Help me out here.” She held up her uniform, nodding to Bridget’s custom work. Santana just grinned and sat between the two, puckering out her lips as she began her work.

“It is sad, girls,” the latina said, “that we will not be working together directly.” She chuckled. “We could have had lots of fun together.” Santana winced as she tugged her nail against a lump of material that did not want to give way. And as she tugged, the tip of her nail popped right off into the leather. “Oh,” she said, eyes wide. “That cannot be good.”

“What do you mean?” Rena raised an eyebrow.

Santana laughed nervously, her full lips pursed together against her teeth. “You mayyy find a razor blade somewhere in your uniform later.” Her eyes trailed off as she continued to carefully slit at the thick leather.

Rena’s face drained of most color, but she maintained her composure. “That’s...alright...” She mustered, and grinned to Bridget. “I can’t believe it, Bridget!”

Bridget nodded. “We’re gonna be Soul Catchers!”

“Demon hunters!”

Both said together, “We’re gonna save the world!”

“Girls!” Santana grinned, stifling a laugh. “I feel like I’m in a musical right now.” The two others laughed, and Santana handed Rena the finished uniform. “Now,” she said, standing up. “Let’s give those boys palpitations of the heart!”

Bridget jumped up and grinned. “All of the adventure and risk of a dangerous mission,”

Rena grinned. “And now we’re doing it in style.” The girl pulled on the customized uniform and grinned at her form in the mirror.

“And to think,” Bridget pondered, eyes wandering into the mirror at her own image. She just smiled at what she saw. “Yesterday,” she took in a deep breath. “I did everything by the book, and probably still will.” She grinned to the girls beside her in the mirror. “But who knew the book could have so many points of adventure in it?” She nodded to herself, and Santana grinned.

“Let’s go, chicas...the world awaits us saviors.” Bridget pressed her hand against the doorknob and the three stepped out into the main room and struck poses...only to find Liam as the only other person in the room.

Their expressions melted. At once, the three broke their poses and wandered towards the door, leaving only Santana and Liam in the room together.

The Latina leaned against the door frame and smiled to Liam. “I heard you were sick,” she said.

“Aye,” he muttered hesitantly. “Sick with my own lack of self effin’ control, right?” He staggered to the side, pulling a shoe onto his left foot. He sighed. “Aren’t you gonna go with the rest, Santa?”

Santana grinned and sat down on the bench behind him, shaking her head. “No,” she assured him, folding her hands in her lap. “You are my partner, and I will wait for you.”

She looked up to Liam who had a blank expression on his face. He just stuffed his old clothes into a bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Alrigh’,” he nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

-- -- --

The two stood on the rooftop, staring at the chopper that would sweep them away to the runway. Santana’s eyes were wide and her knees were locked. “Liam...” She fumbled for his arm. “I don’t know about this thing.” Her accent bled through her words and she shook her head.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, San’a, it’s fine.” He grinned and nodded towards the chopper. Santana shook her head again.

“I’m not getting on that thing.” She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Her hair blew back in the wind of the chopper’s blades, and she felt like she was on a runway.

“Fine then,” Liam said, and ran to the chopper. Was he really going to leave her alone?

Santana hugged herself and shook her head again at the chopper as if arguing with the thing, distracting herself as Adam and Dmitri jumped out with Liam, running down to grab her. Santana’s eyes grew wide, her limbs grasping for anything to restrain them as they hoisted her over their heads. ”No, Liam! That thing has no doors! That thing has no doors!”

The Latina sat in the back of the chopper with her knees buckled against her chest with Dmitri holding her shoulders with his right arm. She was determined to stare only straight ahead, and was deathly afraid of anything else. Continually, she muttered some sort of Spanish prayer.

Caleb Sandall | Exorcist | Sq. 741

Caleb stayed carefully silent as the rest of his squad zipped and buckled themselves into the uniform. It was almost methodical, the way he expertly slid his weaponry and electronics into the gear belt. Everything had its place, tucked and locked in. From the looks of it, standard exorcist gear hadn't changed much since Caleb was last in field. Caleb spotted a few knobs and whistles that he did not recognize, but mostly the equipment was the same.

Caleb glanced up and saw a rather petite blonde watching him from just outside the door. He straightened and walked towards her.

"You are Bridget, then?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. Caleb had the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading him. "Caleb Sandall? I feel like I've heard that name before."

"Probably nothing," said Caleb quickly. "I've been out of commission for about a year." Bridget narrowed her eyes, and Caleb could see the question forming. "So," said Caleb quickly. "Your Soul Weapon. What form does it take?"

Bridget held up one of her hands slowly, her eyes still narrow. "My nails," she said. Caleb saw her nails begin to glow and lengthen.

"I see," said Caleb. "Mine is spittle. Do you find that your Soul Weapon seems brittle at all to you?"

"Brittle?" Bridget seemed to have been snapped from her train of thought. "What do you - ? No, they don't seem brittle."

"Hm," said Caleb, glancing over her soulder. "Well, as a matter of precaution, you'd best let me do the bulk of the fighting. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

Caleb closed his eyes and sighed. It seemed like his partner would be one to ask questions. And Caleb had been hoping for one of the strong, but silent types. "It is for your own protection, Bridget. You look like you are fresh out of training."

"And if I am?" she replied defensively. Caleb opened his eyes.

"That isn't the point," he said firmly. "You are new. You do not have the kind of experience under your belt that I have. This isn't a game."

"I know that. But don't treat me like a child. You said you haven't been in the field for a year. Wouldn't you be out of practice, then?"

Caleb gritted his teeth. "You are missing the point. This will all be much easier for you if you just listen to me, follow my guide. I am an Exorcist. It is my job to protect you."

"Are you implying that Soul Catchers are weak? Because we are going to have to work as partners in this. We'll have to depend on each other's stengths. Trust each other."

"Exactly. So trust me when I say that any rule I set is for your own good. You are just a kid. I don't expect you to know what to do yet," Caleb glanced at his watch, ignored the flushed face of the blonde in front of him. "It is getting late. Shall we go up?"

**Ach. This is really rough. Let me know if I've made any glaring errors. Oh, and JabberHut - Feel free to have Bridget knock some sense into him. He's being a big self-pitying jerk.

(Sorry for my sudden absence! Fortunately. I didn't miss too much. Just, you know, the good part. Thanks for carrying Bridget, guys. )

Bridget Collins | SC | S741

Caleb Sandall rang a bell as his name was read next to Bridget's, but Bridget couldn't place it right away. She studied him briefly in the room before looking away. It was rather disrespectful to stare. Nonetheless, she'd probably never remember where he heard his name. And that can be embarrassing if he was some hotshot exorcist.

Any thought of her partner slipped her mind when she was in the locker room. Santana was extremely wonderful to talk with, and Bridget would sorely miss her company. The other girls were also lovely. Still, it's rare for Bridget to not get along with someone. Usually this was because Bridget kept quiet until she had something to say, was reading, or was thinking about something.

She triple-checked that her ring and necklace were on and looking presentable, but the hardest thing she had to do was part with her books. She had borrowed them from the library just that night, and now she'd probably never get to read them. In fact, she'll probably return with a hefty fine to pay. It would be the first fine she would have ever paid for. The thought of such a punishment made her anxious.

Fortunately and unfortunately, the thought was put out of her head when she ran into Caleb on her way after Santana and the helicopter. Being separated from her new-found friend, Bridget hid her disappointment and smiled at Caleb. His eyes made her uneasy straight away. The conversation wasn't taking a very good turn, in her opinion. He seemed irritated to be placed with a new Soul Catcher. Yeah, she was new, but she wasn't bad... at least, she's seen worse. She thought. That one guy wasn't very good, anyway. One swipe of his Soul Weapon, and half the room was demolished. That's considered bad, right?

"Exactly. So trust me when I say that any rule I set is for your own good. You are just a kid. I don't expect you to know what to do yet. It is getting late. Shall we go up?"

Bridget's mind swam with uneasy, anxious, and worried thoughts. If she had a heart attack due to high blood pressure, it wouldn't be a surprise. Caleb was already turning around for the helicopter, but Bridget spoke up.

"Caleb! Hang on." He spun, still looking annoyed. In fact, she wasn't sure if she made it worse or not--he was that unreadable. She took a deep breath. "I don't want to be a burden on our partnership. I tend to not do a lot of muscle work anyway but more strategy--"

"I don't see where this is going."

Bridget couldn't help but make a small, friendly smile. Caleb's expression lightened a bit, which only led to a mixture of annoyance and confusion now. "Don't worry about me, that's all. I've a feeling we're going to be just fine."

"As long as you follow my rules, yeah," Caleb said. He seemed to take advantage of Bridget's calmness now, going off on this same subject. It was like she pressed the GO button, but the STOP was no where in sight. "You're new, inexperienced, and completely ignorant of what this situation is all about, so let me give you the very first rule: I give the rules. You don't know anything and are, therefore, unqualified to make any sort plans or assumptions about how we'll function. I can already see me doing the dirty work and you feeling the need to intervene because you can't stand to see your partner get hurt. We're not going to have that. You're going to stand in the corner, let me do the fighting, and then take the soul when I say 'readysetgo.' You're small, weak, and blonde. No good can come of that."

Bridget nodded, her cheeks flushing. Deep down, she was severely hurt by his words, but she tried not showing it. Granted, she couldn't control the blush, but the speech was enough to tell her they'd have a rough start to their friendship. "I'll keep that in mind when we come across our first demon."

"Good." He glanced back at the helicopter and muttered, "It's time we've loaded the helicopter. Come on."

Bridget watched him walk away. She wondered what was really going through his head. He didn't seem like an arrogant jerk, just... well. There were a number of words she could fit there: worried, frightened, annoyed, protective--the last word made her giggle inside. She wasn't someone worth protecting. Most of what Caleb said about her were more true than false--though maybe she was over-analyzing herself again. She had a bad habit of doing that.

She readjusted her staff, and fingering her necklace, she followed Caleb into the chopper.

Adam Pierce | SC | Sq. 589

The helicopter finally landed in front of what looked like a large warehouse. The door opened and Adam stepped out, his feet welcomed the touch of concrete. The same could have been said for Santana, who seemed to have a green face as she carefully climbed off and slowly began to compose herself. He wondered why on Earth she didn’t get onto the copter in the first place, was she really afraid of those machines or height? He gave Liam his luck for figuring out this chick was going to be a difficult task it seemed. Speaking of Liam, the kid had been giving him weird glances throughout the entire ride. Maybe he had something to say to him, if so, Adam needed to corner the guy and get it out of him.

Dmitri pulled a bag over his shoulder and adjusted his belt. “So how long do you think the flight will be?” he asked, keeping pace as they made their way inside the hanger.

“I don’t know, a few hours. I have a gut feeling the Organization’s jet is going to be pretty fast,” Adam answered with a smile. “Let’s hope it’s not too long, I might air sick, if that’s even possible.”

The floor was slick white and as they entered the chilly hanger, a black jet waited for them inside. A few other men surround the jet dressed in pilot uniforms with the classic “O” symbol over this chest.

“Ah, welcome agents,” a tall man said. “Just set your things inside and we’ll leave as soon as we finish up the last minute checkings, alright?” he smiled.

The others nodded and began making their way to the stairs. As soon as Bridget made it up to the door of the black jet, a cry roared. Adam snapped his head around and looked out the vast opening. “Well, that doesn’t sound like a good-to-go,” he muttered.

Another piercing screech had all the catchers and Exorcists drop their things and run immediately back outside along with the pilot. From the sky, two large demons were making their way down.

“You can’t let them destroy the jet,” the pilot whimpered. “Its the last one we have that’s nearby.”

Bart laughed from the side. “Well, I guess it’s time for us to get to work then, huh?”

Adam nodded. “I’m just hoping they’re not holding any souls.” He turned towards Dmitri. “Let’s see exactly how well we can work together then.” He whistled towards Liam and San “Guys, we’ll take the bad boy on the left.” He turned towards the other squad. “Take the right one.”

The demon’s wings sounded like heartbeats against the wind. Adam lowered his eyes and watched the demons as their feet landed away from them. The demons were a dark red color with black uneven strips running around their bellies. The heads were long and thin like a komodo dragon. With a snarl, they began running, their feet hammering on the ground. The first demon leaped into the air.

Adam turned to Rena who was gaping at the large elephant-size demon in the air. "Watch out!"
_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Dodgy post but I thought I'd start something...