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Post by Ylanne on Sept 4, 2019 18:39:08 GMT -6
"Yeah, I mean, I want your help. I trust you. I know in some ways the director does too." Ahmad sighed, closing his eyes and folding his hands on his chest. "The trouble is, Johannes is right too. Since you don't work for the bureau anymore, you can't be involved with any bureau work. Probably we shouldn't even be having this conversation... But here we are."
They didn't live too far from downtown, so the drive was mercifully short.
"I'm going to have to talk to Khayyam about it. I'm so not looking forward to this."
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Post by demikara on Sept 4, 2019 18:45:58 GMT -6
"I'm your wife. I'm pretty sure you and I have had several conversation we're not supposed to have." She knew that was was true. She parked in the garage and smiled to him. "Hey. she'll be fine. Let's get you cleaned up at least, and some decent food in you." Then he could go back to work. A wicked grin danced about her lips and shed snickered.
"And hey. Don't worry about needing to be dropped off. After all, you took the wrong car." And she was never going to let him live that one down.
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 4, 2019 18:50:36 GMT -6
"... I know. I figured that out about halfway to jail." Ahmad shook his head as they walked into the cozy house together, quickly stepping out of his shoes and kicking them into the shoe corner where a small pile of both of their shoes and boots and sandals had accumulated. "How could I be so fucking stupid?!"
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 6:20:58 GMT -6
Aerilyn slipped out of her shoes and into her house slippers. She was honestly wondering the same thing. How had he managed to get the wrong car? He must not have been all the way awake yet. It had been an expensive mistake to make too, but at least they had the money for it. That had been the important part. Aerilyn made some money at Gambit's but was well aware for the bulk of their bills they relied on Ahmad's job. Hers was a god deal less steady, even if she did find the work a lot more interesting than she had found being a bodyguard.
"Mistakes happen." The aeromancer pointed out. "Maybe you weren't awake enough yet, or something." She shrugged. "I'll get something together for dinner real fast. Go wash up."
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 9:43:33 GMT -6
The house was sold as a three bedroom with a simple layout for a couple or new family, but Ahmad's favorite feature was the semi-private sitting room off the master bedroom, which he'd reconfigured as a gaming den that currently housed over five thousand different games - board games, video games, tabletop gaming manuals, and everything else he could possibly get his hands on. The walls were crammed with cheap bookcases holding all the disks and books and boxes, from the floor to the ceiling on three of the four walls of the space. Sunlight streamed in from the fourth, now a warm glow as the sun had long since passed its zenith earlier in the day. Ahmad paused in the doorway here, glanced over his shoulder, then quickly logged into the gaming console, running through a few checks, before shutting it down again and heading into the bathroom.
The two of them liked their comforts, but valued practicality above all else. In this at least, Ahmad knew he would never be mistaken for the bourgeois political class.
The shower produced steaming hot water at high pressure, in a perfectly sized stall so both he and Aerilyn could turn without banging their elbows into anything, which meant it was perfect.
When Ahmad was done, twenty minutes later, the entire bathroom was filled with warm mist that covered the mirrors and blanketed him.
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 9:53:14 GMT -6
Aerilyn was not a master cook by any means, but even she could manage something she just had to stick in the oven and putting together a salad. Besides, there really wasn't enough time to manage anything elaborate. The fact that she had halal pizza ready to go by the time he was out of the shower just made her grin. That, a salad, and some tea would serve for dinner tonight. He had to get to the office regardless. She looked up, hearing the shower end and grinned, swerving them both a slice of pizza and setting the table.
It wasn't the most nutritious meal out there, but it would do tonight. She wondered if she could pick up a few more hours at Gambit's tonight, even with having to not come in today. Probably not.
"Dinner's ready!" She called out and peaked around the door to their room. "Just pizza tonight though."
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 10:00:38 GMT -6
"...oh no. You cooked?" Ahmad poked his head around the bedroom doorway, still wrapped in a towel. He sniffed cautiously, then decided the pizza's aroma was acceptable. The door shut again as he made his way to the closets - two large, long closets, one for each of them - and began rifling through the heap of clothes. He settled on an Invader Zim shirt and skinny slacks, throwing on a hoodie at the last second, before thumping down the stairs.
"I just hope she's not dead this time. Either murdered or... or... " Even at home with Aerilyn, he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. As if speaking the words would create a self-fulfilling prophecy.
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 10:13:43 GMT -6
"I put a frozen meal in the oven." Aerilyn corrected. "And I can cook. Boxed meals." And not much more than that. She wrinkled her nose. "I mean. I don't mess up the boxed meals too often." And she thought she did a decent job with the ones she did make. It was just a matter of following the instructions. Doing much more than that was a bit out of her purview. But she had made something more substantial than sandwiches so she ahd done a good job, as far as as was concerned.
Still, on the note of what could have happened, her shoulders slumped. "I hope they're just holding her. I don't know why they would, but I'm hoping they're just holding her this time, not hurting her." The older woman have been through so much. The fact that she was going through this again was horrifying.
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 10:42:51 GMT -6
Ahmad ate the pizza like he hadn't had food in days, though in reality, he had had a sandwich at the jail in the afternoon, two thin slices of roast beef on one flimsy slice of cheese, hanging limply between two slices of white bread that was no doubt overly processed. All in all, not that bad, just, kind of bland, and not that filling.
"I guess the biggest problem is who the 'they' is here," he replied. "Can't tell if it's organized crime, or a foreign power, or who knows who else. Opportunistic kidnappers who mistook her for a different person entirely. Which would honestly be both better and worse, at the same time."
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 10:47:33 GMT -6
"Organized crime might not be too bad. They'll be sadistic, but less than a foreign power." When you were rooting for the mafia, there was a problem. Someone opportunistic...wouldn't we have heard some kind of ransom demand by now?" Hopefully it was just something like that. Something worse was terrible. "I know you probably can't tell me, once you find out, but would you be able to tell me if is a worse-case scenario, do you think?" There were always questions when it came to clearances, and it often came down to a judgement call. Something vague like that though, that should be fine.
"Have some salad too. It's pretty basic, but you need some kind of vegetable." Though that was always tricky. Vegetables were always a tricky sort of food to prepare. Salad was the easiest way of doing it at lease.
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 11:13:42 GMT -6
"I mean," Ahmad said between mouthfuls of pizza, "if she got kidnapped by people who think she's someone else, the ransom demand must have gone to whoever THAT person's friends and family are."
Abruptly, Ahmad pushed the pizza box away and reached for a bit of salad. He speared a cherry tomato and piece of lettuce with a fork, eyeing it suspiciously. "I'll tell you what I can," he said glumly. "Mostly. I'm worried she's dead."
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 11:19:54 GMT -6
Aerilyn fell silent at that. Dead. That was. That was a worst case scenario. She didn't know what to do about that. "She just can't be. She's tough." she'd survive. Aerilyn pushed her plate away and managed a weak smile. Dead. That was...Aerilyn hoped not. She had too many dead in her background as it was. She liked the director and didn't want to add her to the list. Suddenly she couldn't finish her meal. "...let me know if that's what happened." There would have to be a funeral.
That...that was no something she wanted to think about.
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 11:58:51 GMT -6
As he ate some of the salad, Ahmad's comm pinged several times. He glanced at it, accepting notifications from several different games, then opened the messages streaming to his encrypted work email. Suddenly, Ahmad paled. He switched the thing off like turning it off could disappear whatever message had arrived, could remove it from sentient knowledge and history as if it had never happened at all.
"...I've got to go." The fork clattered to the floor.
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Post by demikara on Sept 5, 2019 12:26:31 GMT -6
"Go. I'll clean up." That was not the face of good news. "If you aren't home by midnight, I'll swing by with a sandwich for you." He'd have to let her in, but at least he wouldn't be working on an empty stomach. She couldn't do much for him right now, but she could do this. Please let the news not be...not be of her death.
Though in some ways, that may be a mercy. She didn't quite think her husband was up to be the director in truth just yet though.
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Post by Ylanne on Sept 5, 2019 12:47:24 GMT -6
On the other side of Terra, but not too far from where Aerilyn and Ahmad fussed over boxed pizza and wilting salad, a pair of women lay still on a concrete basement floor, blood pooling around their skulls, matting their hair entangled together in a sticky dark red mess that stank of iron and fear. One was dark-skinned and one light, and one was older, in her fifties or sixties, and the other younger, in her twenties or thirties. The bodies were still warm.
Arianne Drulović knew this, because she sat crouched on the floor, holding one of the women's hands tightly in her own, her cheeks moist, but mercifully hidden, cloaked in the darkness of the room.
They had been alive, breathing, each screaming and pleading for the other, less than ten minutes before. The old woman had known them both. She'd seen them nearly every day for the last three years, Leilani Bhayana beaming with pride that her daughter Aarti had begun a new family tradition of service. And now their tradition would end with sacrifice.
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