i believe most people are inherently good;

[apostatised]

Who: MARTEL, Stephanie Brown, Hellsing employees, semi-open.
What: Candlelighters in the library, and Integra slipped Martel’s leash.
Where: The Blessed St Brian; Hellsing Guild Hall.
When: The day after Integra's announcement.
Notes: Library patrons are free to talk amongst themselves in reaction, if they so desire.
Warnings: Violence.

Academic politics aside (Martel is well aware of the fact his colleagues aren't above aiming him at some of the professors like a guided missile) and the periodic mishaps in the high security ward sections, working at the St Brian tends to be more low-key than Hellsing's training grounds. It's a library. Quiet goes with the territory, and all the moreso when considered in comparison to that which he's accustomed to. There are days he finds he prefers this, taking his piece of the scholarly life on his own terms, avoiding the trappings of the faculty. There are days the quiet is a saving grace in this afterlife which isn’t, when he finds himself soothed by the familiarity of intellectual pursuits and the incongruous stillness he’ll never quite be accustomed to.

Today is not one of those days. Today is one of the other days, where the ticking of the clocks strikes too loud against his sternum, where the stillness feels sluggish and grates on him, where he feels like a dulled knife left too long in its sheath, rusted and forgotten and rendered obsolete. A restlessness builds into irritation-- so he’s already in a fantastic mood when he discovers the tampering. He almost misses it - nothing seems changed, at first glance - but for the unfamiliar magical signature that shouldn’t be there. By the time he’s taken a close enough look to realize what it means, he’s already moving, reflex action, catching Steph by the shoulder: “We have a small problem. Make sure the library’s exits are closed. Do not alarm anyone.”

It’s authoritative in the manner of habitual command, and it is so easy to slide back into that; so easy because he was so fucking good at it, and so accustomed to being obeyed that he doesn’t so much as break stride to ensure she’s doing as she’s told. If she’s not, she’s fired, so there’s that.

Seeking out the other mind in the library is a risky maneuver, he’s aware; there’s always the possibility of being recognized and tracked, the possibility that the operative is anticipating this precise move and prepared to entrap him, the possibility of a hundred thousand other things he can’t prepare for because the possibilities in Baedal are infuriatingly infinite. More pressing, though, is the awareness that the options are ‘capture or kill’, not ‘capture, kill or embarrassingly balls it and let the bastard slip through your fingers’. He only has so long until they realize he’s boxing them in, and hostaging the entire library and combing through them one by one is not an option for any number of reasons.

Got you, he thinks, when he touches the edges of something that matches the books under his arm-- finds him, withdraws without leaving an impression. He’s at a table on the other side of the library, killing time (waiting? for someone else-- no, clock-watching, up to something? he’ll explain himself to Hellsing--), unaware of the doors being locked, the vents being checked securely, and Martel stalking him like prey.

The most efficient thing to do would be to come from behind, disable him, and remove him from the building.

Martel, who has had a long goddamn day and would quite like to see the little bastard run, drawls out in the most bland way, “I believe you mislaid these.”

The first blow catches him in motion, propels him bodily into the hard wooden end of the nearest stack; Martel is considerate enough to his workplace to ensure he only hits wood and doesn’t keep tumbling down the aisle where he might overturn books. Knocking the man’s feet out from underneath him, it isn’t necessary to slam into his chest when he kneels down, braced hard and smiling through his teeth at the familiar sound and feel of ribs cracking beneath his knee, pressure easing just before he’d have gone straight into a lung.

(It takes practise, that kind of fine control-- but he’s irritated and on edge and he doesn’t pull it quite fast enough. Internal bleeding is going to be a real bitch.)

His hands free for the moment, he produces the badge he keeps on him in case of such emergencies and flashes it, obligingly. “You are being taken into Hellsing custody for terrorist action. This show of courtesy is for the benefit of our concerned onlookers, and not, I am afraid, indicative of any mercy on my part. Do bear that in mind.”

When he forces him back, Martel’s expecting it, rolls with the motion and regains his feet at speed; the locked door (good girl) does half the job for him, but he catches the back of his neck and shoves him forward into it regardless, achieving an ugly (and probably dangerous) head injury and the sweet, temporary release of unconsciousness.

“Stephanie,” he says, conversationally, as he unlocks the door with his free hand, “have someone clean that up. Forward any inquiries from the library to Hellsing; I’ll be in Sobek Croix for the rest of the evening.”

Comments

[controlledvariable]

Steph hadn't even second guessed the order to close the exits; she's used to dealing with orders from Bruce, and later Babs, plus she knows that Martel is Hellsing and wouldn't ask her to do something without a reason. She'd moved quickly and carefully, locking every door and window, and checking the vents to make sure no one could get out through them (it's a Bat thing). A few people had questioned her, but she'd quickly assured them it was a security check, nothing was actually wrong, and the doors would be re-opened in a few moments.

She doesn't look for Martel, because it might result in her getting in the way, but it's not hard to hear the commotion when it starts and she follows it to see Martel slamming a man into one of the locked doors. She's curious about who the man is, but she can't ask later.

"Yes, boss," it's a little more formal than she usually is, and she's holding herself differently; she's in Batgirl mode. But it does mean that as soon as Martel is out the door, Steph is sending one of the other librarians to find a cleaner, and sending another to unlock the doors and windows. She stays near the scene to field any questions.

[studious_snake]

Jay had been in the library, reading up on the history of engineering in Baedal as well as Kavan and his role in all of it, when the commotion started. Jay, not being the type to want to get involved with something like that, sinks down in his chair as much as possible, trying to be as invisible as he could. Not knowing why exactly this was going on, Jay was a bit nervous about the whole affair. Once the man left, taking the bleeding and unconscious man with him, Jay glanced around, as if though he was wondering if another fight would be breaking out. He stayed, though, hoping that someone who knew what that whole fight was about would start gossiping and satisfy his curiosity.

Noticing Steph, he shot her a questioning look. She'd certainly seemed like she knew what was going on before. He'd give her the option of ignoring the look, though, if it wasn't something she was willing to share. After all, he had some things he was keeping from her, and wouldn't want to start a precedent of pressing too hard for information.

[controlledvariable]

Steph holds up a finger in a gesture to wait and mouths one sec in Jay's direction. The cleaners just turned up, and she has to give them instructions about what they need to do, and she gives them a few pointers on how to get blood out of carpets. Once that's been sorted, she walks over to Jay.

"Sorry about the commotion," it's the same thing she's said to anyone else who's approached her, but there's a hint of wryness as she addresses Jay.

[studious_snake]

"What was that about?" he asks in a quiet tone, figuring it wouldn't exactly help matters if everyone heard his questions.

[controlledvariable]

"I honestly don't know," her voice is low as well, not quite a whisper, because that draws just as much attention as talking loudly, but she'd like to keep everyone else thinking she knows what's going on, "Martel works for Hellsing, so I imagine the man he just took in is a criminal."

She figures it can't hurt to share that information, Martel did flash his badge after all.

[studious_snake]

He nodded. "I figured."

He'd been curious about what the man had done, why he was being taken away, but if Stephanie didn't know, she didn't know, and he certainly didn't blame her for cooperating. He'd have likely done the same, figuring it would be easier to sort things out after than demand answers in the heat of the moment, and not wanting to get in trouble with any branch of the law in this place.

[controlledvariable]

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," she gives a reassuring smile, the same she's been giving anyone else but it's a bit more genuine now. She trusts Martel, and Hellsing, to take care of things.

[studious_snake]

Jay relaxed a little, smiling slightly back. "I hope you're right, since so many things here are something to worry about." And yet so few were anything that anyone could actually do anything about, at least from his perspective.

[controlledvariable]

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Everything's fine here," Her tone of voice doesnt change, but her expression does; she's giving Jay a warning look, her head cocked slightly to the side to indicate all the people around.

Steph likes to think the library is a safe place, but it's also a public place, and anyone could be around and listening. It's important that she keeps a low profile after her run in with the militia, and she wants to head Jay off before he says anything potentially dangerous.

[studious_snake]

He really needed to adjust to living in a police state. The idea of needing to watch what he said on this level was not something he was used to, but he picked up on the cue given by Stephanie's expression.

"I know. I'm just overstating mundane stuff, like locking the keys in the car," he lied, a lie hinted at by the fact that he did not have a car.

He figured she realized he meant more along the lines of the sort of things that were on the CiDs as of late, barring the latest one that, despite the murder, actually bothered him less than some of the others, but it was best to seem like he was overdramatic than draw the attention of the militia, if even a comment like the one he'd made before was treading into dangerous territory.

[controlledvariable]

"Oh, right," she smiles, obviously grateful that he picked up on her hesitence and changed the topic, "I can't count the amount of times I had to break into my car back home."

It's plausible enough for Jay, who's a little older than her, to have a car in Baedal, but it's unlikely that someone like Steph would be able to afford one. It's a lie anyway, she never really drove back home. She only got her license because Tim let her learn with his car.

[studious_snake]

He nodded, closing his book and setting it on top of another book he'd gotten. "I'll probably just check these books out and head home, unless you have anything you have to take care of, first?"

Anything being something along the lines of damage control with the other patrons, but even though anyone spying surely wouldn't expect him to not know about something that just happened, he suspected from her earlier warning look that it was probably best to act less concerned about events that he saw than he actually was.

[controlledvariable]

"I've still got a couple hours left of my shift," She'll probably end up staying pretty late anyway, with Martel gone she'll need to make sure everything is properly in order and she did promise she'd do unpaid overtime.

"I can do those for you though, if you want?" She holds her hand out for the books, to save Jay having to wait in a line. This is probably a slight abuse of powers, but Steph isn't botehred.

[studious_snake]

"Thanks." Jay hands her the books and gets up, ready to follow her over to the desk if she had to scan the books like they did in the normal libraries back where he was from, though he didn't know. The mishmash of technology was a bit to get used to in Baedal, and it was always a surprise to discover what did and didn't exist in this place.

[controlledvariable]

They do have to scan them, although Steph has suspicions that the scanners might include some sort of magic, because overdue books sometimes just turn up, even when the borrower hasn't returned them.

Baedal is weird.

With the books scanned, Steph hands them back to Jay with a smile, "If I hear anything from Martel, I'll let you know." This is... possibly not true, she'll decide whether to pass on the information depending on what exactly that information is.

[studious_snake]

"Thanks," he said, taking the books. And he believed her, though he also figured that there was a good chance that Martel wouldn't tell Stephanie anything, so he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't get an update. "I'll see you around."

With a quick smile and wave, he headed out.

[boomvox]

Jae is not thrilled with showing up at the library for this reason while someone he knows is working, but it's when he's free and he's put it off long enough.

He's been inside for approximately two and a half minutes when all the exists are sealed and a particular tone of tension falls over the building. Feeling instantly awkward, Jae, sporting politely toned-down (but nonetheless not exactly mundane) garb, slides into a study table and clutches a book, attempting to look busy.

... And then his would-be tutor breaks someone in half and carries them bodily out of the library.

Jae leaves a note on Martel's desk, evades Steph like a pro, and vanishes into the fucking aether.

Hellsing

[indiscreet]

She is all the way out in Flyside when she gets the call from Nuala, yanking her out of daysleep even as the sun sets. It's hardly ideal, taking the train all the way out to Sobek Croix, but she's not above cutting corners with her own speed if it comes to that. The need for urgency saves her the discomfort of having to ask herself if the sense of eagerness she feels is simply at the opportunity to do her part against the Candlelighters and further prove herself to Hellsing, or if it's at the use of Majesty itself.

The staff at the Guild Hall meet her in a hush, and she's escorted down unfamiliar corridors, heels clicking briskly at the tiles and hem of her dress swaying above her knees. (It seems an impractical indulgence; it isn't. Her form of mental manipulation is more accurately described as emotional: it is about beauty, enticement. And besides, she can run in heels.)

They take her to the basement, where she's only half-surprised to find Sir Hellsing waiting -- after all, someone's going to have to record what she learns, and she's never demonstrated this aspect of her ability to anyone at the Guild but Nuala (and even then, "demonstrate" might not have been the right word for it). It's the fact that Sir Martel is there too which startles her; she's not certain if it's her he's here to observe, or the Candlelighter. She greets them both with a deferential nod.

"Sir Hellsing. Sir Martel." Then a pause, and a meaningful glance at the other man in the room, so helpfully strapped to a bed and looking distinctly worse for wear. "I'll have better luck convincing your ...guest to accept what I can offer him with a glass for something to drink, and perhaps a knife to help with my own preparations." It's less awkward and far less messy than ripping into her wrist with her own teeth -- and likewise more convenient to offer the injured man a glass of wine than it is to try to press a bloody wrist against his mouth.