It’s Go Time!

[Sister Angeleanna]

Date: March 2nd, Monday Week One
Time Frame: Mid morning
Place: BPRD Garage
Status: Open

A low hum echoed thickly in the stairwell of the lower levels of the bureau, the close confines causing the unsaid lyrics to drift and curl into any open space causing an agent or two to look up as the nun floated past them and down the last few steps. In one hand she carried her infamous wooden case, in the other her bible and folder had been tucked close to her body. In anticipation of the assignment, she had shed the familiar scapular ordained by her order in the privacy of her quarters as it required her to remove part of her cowl lest she tangle herself mercifully in it. The church was not unforgiving and understood the safety of their children. Free of the apron like material, she swayed towards the locker room and smiled at passing agents that were heading up to sleep. It was between shifts and the normally bustling garage was eerily quiet save for the high pressure hose held by one grumbling agent as he washed the floor.

The sister set her case down and carefully placed her bible and folder on the bolted down bench near her locker and opened hers. The door swung open with ease, banging lightly on the one beside it. Angeleanna furrowed her brow and examined the door beside hers, checking for any scraps or dents. Finding none, she made the apology and rested her palm against the cool metal. The assignment had come late to her, she a last minute addition by a hurried scrawled note of Manning when she entered his office to spend the day with her bureau buddy. Already on the second day and the director had excused himself to work on a ton of important things but it was nothing to move the few books and notebook she had been writing notes on to his office where they both could work. The nun noted, Manning drank an awful lot of coffee from the snack room down the hallway.

With nimble fingers Angel pulled the rosary from her belt and though it would only be quickly reunited with her, she pressed a chaste kiss to it and hung on a single hook on the inside of her locker’s door. She followed with the woolen belt the rosary had hung from and folded it with care before noticing one of her boots had come untied. She bent to take a closer look and realized the lace had actually snapped. Clicking her tongue she rummaged through her locker and found the extra set of laces she kept for emergencies and twisted around to set the heel of her boot on the edge of the bench. Balancing on one foot she drew the skirts of her habit to her knee and held it place with her own body as she leaned down and quickly unlaced the broken shoelace. The boots had been only a few days old when she entered the bureau and in the months she had been here, they had traveled to and trekked across places she never imagined and the wear and tear showed their dedication. The sister reached for the new lace and set to weave it through the metal eyelets.

[Frankie Guidicini]

A sleepy suit, just getting off a long 12 hour shift, was slightly weaving through the corridors, heading to his wonderful bed. He stifled a yawn just as the door in front of him banged open, and Frankie Guidicini strode briskly into his path, wearing a black overcoat that reached to her ankles. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. The suit let out a yelp of surprise, and Frankie's severe copper eyes looked at him. Her expression was blank, but "Excuse me," came from her mouth, and she was striding down the hallway, gone with as much warning as she appeared. The suit clutched his chest and caught his breath before continuing.

So far, the laughable Bureau's Buddy Week had not been as painful as planned. Frankie figured since her assigned buddy's work ended in the early mornings (or so he said), that he would be sleeping and, as such, Frankie could do what she pleased without invoking the grating tones of Manning. She passed several other suits and various agents, not meeting eyes with any of them as she descended the stairwell which led to the garage and adjoining locker room. She found the sister with one leg on a bench, lacing up her shoe.

"Good morning, Sister." Frankie said, her tone sounding almost chipper. Frankie walked to her locker and pulled off the overcoat, revealing that her mission garb was underneath. She knew that if she had been seen strolling through the corridors of the BPRD wearing the leather suit that someone would have recognized that something was up. Frankie did her best never to change in the locker room; she found it compromised her modesty too much for her liking. She opened her locker, folded the overcoat, and placed it inside. "I don't know about you, Sister, but I am rather looking forward to the day's events."

[Sister Angeleanna]

"Good morning, Sister."

The nun glanced up, giving a small shake of her head to move the thick veil from her line of sight. The voice was unmistakable and the crinkles of concentration around her eyes shifted into the familiar lines of a smile. “Miss Francesca! Good morning!” She knotted her laces once more time and tugged the edges of her calf high boot before dropping it to the ground as she straightened. She made sure the heavy skirts of her habit were modestly in place before shifting her attention back to her boot and wiggled and arched her ankle, testing the strength of the new lace. Satisfied, she cleaned around her and brushed the bench clear of anything that may have come off her boots. Tossing the old shoelace into a nearby trashcan, she clapped her hands a few times to dust them off.

"I don't know about you, Sister, but I am rather looking forward to the day's events."

“I am too,” she declared after mulling over her words and moving past the light surprise of the modern day wear the fellow agent had adorned. It was quite a change from the normal dresses and she was certain she had never seen the other woman in anything form fitting. She gave one last clap of her hands and absently dusted them on the side of her habit before reaching up to touch her rosary as she passed it. “I am greatly humbled to be apart of this. Would you believe Director Manning - he’s so busy - graciously added me to the roster when I made my morning visit to him.”

She passed by the deceptively older looking woman and gently laid fingertip along her shoulder in quiet unsaid words of her joy of seeing her again. She patted twice before moving on to where their gear was stored. “Such a good man,” she added quietly as she took in the line of belts hanging up, a single name printed on a plaque above each one. “He works so hard.”

The bureau had been generous to give her one of their belts during her stay and she remembered the ordeal of assigning her one. They needed a surname and the day she entered the convent she had dropped all of her worldly ties. Maxwell was just an personal adoption and after several minutes of: What’s your name? Sister Angel. The whole thing. Sister Angeleanna of the Order of Divine Mercy and Grace. No, what’s your full name? Ah, Sister Angeleanna. No, your full name. That is my full name. Your whole name. That… is. Your last name! Oh, well my birth certificate states it’s Fairbanks but I have used Maxwell in my youth and many documents have been signed as that in the past, if you’d like I can -. Never mind, Sister! The nun looked up at the simple ‘Sister’ on the plague above her belt and smiled a toothy grin.

[Frankie Guidicini]

Frankie was quiet, adjusting her sleeves and the leggings of her suit. Along the sides of the arms and the front of her legs were small, plastic rimmed rectangles. She pulled the leather and adjusted it so that her thorns would not get caught or slice through the suit when -- if they were ejected. Angel spoke of Manning who, by the sounds of it, was shunning his Bureau Buddy duty as much as the others wanted to.

“Such a good man. He works so hard.”

Frankie did not snicker or snort at this -- So far she had not had an unpleasantries with the director, but she had heard stories. With one last adjustment of her suit, she straightened up and joined Angel. "Yes. Her certainly does seem devoted to his job." There, that was neutral and not negative. Right? Frankie pulled the belt that read, "Bones" from it's place and buckled it about her waist. The moniker "Bones" had actually been given to her by a young suit named Ron when she first arrived at the Bureau in the seventies. He was a Star Trek fan and after observing the white thorns that ejected from her limbs, he was the one who started calling her that before she was sent to Russia.

Her eyes went over to the sister's own gear, christened simply 'Sister,' and Frankie could honestly not thing of a better title for her. 'Mother Superior' would seem mocking, as would probably most anything else. Maybe no Gabriel, after the archangel, but no... Frankie bent down to grab the specially-made boots that would accommodate the spur on her heel. She pulled those on as she said, Now since we want to be quiet getting out of here, I was thinking of taking something less...cumbersome. I saw that a moped is in the garage. It was left here by one of the former suits, a gent named Myers. I think it'll do the job well, and be discreet of us not to raise to many eyebrows or looks."

[Sister Angeleanna]

"Yes. Her certainly does seem devoted to his job."

“And rightly so.” she added. The nun reached for the red emblem belt and touched the edge tracing the shape of fingers that grasped the hilt of a sword and admired the craftsmanship that had gone in the durability of the simple attire. She gathered hers and with one quick movement, swung it around her waist and caught the edges to clasp and tighten it. “Oh dear,” she muttered to herself when the ends didn’t quite reach and with a quick fumble loosened the belt a little and it snapped together. She rested a hand across her midsection and patted it, deciding she needed to cut down on the starches and follow with more vegetables. She tugged on the edges of the heavy black tunic and pulled the tail end of her veil that hung low on her back from being trapped against the belt. She crossed the room back to her open locker and reverently removed her rosary and attached it to the bureau belt and it hung in its familiar spot over her left thigh.

“Now since we want to be quiet getting out of here, I was thinking of taking something less...cumbersome…

The Sister turned around to face Frankie as she tucked dark brown leather gloves into her belt, laying them flat to fold over a pouch and out of the way. “Is there no one else coming?” She then systematically went through each pocket, one had a small bag of herbs, another had a small reliquary on a chain with what she guessed was a strand of hair and found one full of peppermint candies. She pulled one free and held the red and white striped candy towards her companion.

“Peppermi- did you say moped?” The almost childish glee couldn’t be held back as she lofted a bush brow and grinned suddenly.

[Frankie Guidicini]

“Is there no one else coming?”

"If so, they better get here within the next thirty seconds because we're leaving irregardless of any tardiness." Frankie straightened up and wiggled her toes in her boots. They were a bit tight, and the opening at the back would probably be shredded wider with the ejection of her spur. Oh well.

“Peppermi- did you say moped?”

A slight smile couldn't help but tug upwards at the corners of Frankie's mouth at the sister's question. Her eyes glistened with excitement, and Frankie was amused that her eyes would betray such emotion at the thought of riding a moped. "Yes I did." She responded, taking one of the candies. "Not the best vehicle for March weather, but I think it will do nicely." She paused, unwrapping the cellophaned candy before saying, "I was going to drive, but you may if you wish." She finished unwrapping the candy and placed it into her mouth. She pushed the wrapper into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled the moped's keys from the only pocket on her suit. She held them before Angel, temptingly. "And if you are ready, the keys are yours."

[Sister Angeleanna]

"If so, they better get here within the next thirty seconds because we're leaving irregardless of any tardiness."

The good sister nodded her head as she went back to checking her belt, the grin still in place. She made sure previously opened pouches were snapped closed and pulled out a small flashlight, clicked it on and off to check the battery and rearranged the contents of another as something sharp poked her through the canvas. Very nearly ready, she thought and glanced briefly at the simple wooden case she had set on the floor underneath the bench.

"I was going to drive, but you may if you wish."

“Oh,” she looked up, the surprise evident in her tone and she laughed a bubbly laugh and rested fingers against her cheek in nostalgia. “I haven’t driven one those since I was a teenager, though there was that one time in Prague…” She trailed off at the jangle of keys. “Well, that was a little adventure unto itself. As much as I would love to, thank you sister but I graciously decline.” Then as an afterthought, she added. “For the safety of us both. I don’t need to accidentally drive us into a ditch.” The nun chuckled good-naturedly at herself as she unwrapped a candy she had curled her ring finger over it while she finished checking her gear.

Angel picked up her case, set in on the bench and unsnapped the locks. “But if we’re going to ride in public, I needn’t carry anything extra.” She bowed her head and flipped open the case to reveal a paladin’s weapon passed onto to her by the holy church. She reached for the wood scabbard attached to the lid of the case and attached it to the bureau belt beside her rosary. It was a mixture of feelings every time she cracked open the plain wooden container and she lightly rested her fingertips against the line of silver that ran the length of the blade. Her eyes fluttered closed and she trailed her fingers up the leather bound handle and with both hands, nudged it free of the cloth that surrounded it and lifted it up. The weight of it was surprising and it was a weapon befitting the middle ages and in simpler times, it was all that was needed.

“O Almighty and merciful God,” the whisper of prayer was loud enough to be heard within the high walls of the garage. “who hast commissioned Thy angels to guide and protect us.” With careful precision, she slid the sword into its sheath and felt the familiar shudder as the metal guard hit the scabbard. “command them to be our assiduous companions from our setting out until our return.” She rolled her palm over the pommel engraved with a cross and pulled free the leather gloves she had previously tucked into her belt. “to clothe us with their invisible protection; to keep from us all danger and having preserved us from all evil, and especially from sin, to guide us to our heavenly home.” With one final tug, to pull the gloves into a proper snug fit, the nun closed the case and slid it into her locker and pulled free a heavy grey trench coat and slid it over her shoulders, carefully pulling her heavy sleeves through and pulled the edges around, effectively concealing the sword and belt within it’s own bulk. “Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

“Ready,” she breathed and turned to her companion.

[Frankie Guidicini]

"...I graciously decline. For the safety of us both. I don’t need to accidentally drive us into a ditch.”

A smile lightly danced on Frankie's lips as she envisioned herself, possibly with the splinter of some tree sticking through her leg, and Sister with her habit coated in mud climbing up from the medium on the side of highway. "Alright then, Sister." Frankie absentmindedly fiddled with the keys as the nun opened up her wooden case, revealing her sword inside. It was an awesome, if old, piece of weaponry. Sometimes Frankie could almost feel jealous that her companions would wield impressive weapons, as with Sister's sword and Hellboy's Samaritan. But then again, having your weapons with you at all times no matter what you did was a bit of a boon.

Frankie was about to urged for both of them to leave when Angel suddenly broke into prayer. She contritely bowed her head and folded her arms, suddenly getting a flashback to being scolded during mass by her father for pulling the ribbon's in her governess' hair. Frankie breathed in deeply at the sudden memory and bowed her head even lower, if possible. "Amen." Her lips murmured at the closing of the prayer. To add to the effect, she crossed herself, which she hadn't done in years. Her head raised up just as Angel gave her the go-ahead.

“Ready."

"Then let's go." Frankie lead from the locker room, the keys in her hand. The garage floor was mostly empty except for the vehicles with the fake cleaning service's logo on them. Hardly anyone else was supposed to know of the departure of the two agents, so this was good. Frankie's eyes looked straight ahead at their destination: the lone moped wedged between two vans near the bay doors. Upon reaching the moped, Frankie kicked the stand from under it and began leading it towards the bay door closest.

Frankie heard the treble of a young male voice. "I-I-I...uh...Agent G-G-Gui-- Sister!" She did not turn to look at who spoke, but kept wheeling the moped. The slapping of shoe soles against the concrete echoed in the garage and suddenly a young blond suit appeared in the moped's path.

"Agent Maxwell, Agent Good-a-chini..."Frankie's eyebrow raised as he butchered her last name and he blanched. "I-I-I don't have anything on the schedule leaving the garage this morning." He said by way of explanation for why he had stopped the pair. "Did you get authorization?"

Frankie's eyebrow arched higher. "What's your last name?"

"Wright."

"Well, Wright, I think you're new. And I think that the next time you decide to stop two Bureau agents from leaving this garage, maybe you should take into account just who they are and what they can do to you before you can even blink." Frankie's height was not impressive, but the glowering look she was giving this man would have made milk curdle."

"Y-y-yes m'am. Enjoy your time." He seemed to take his first breath for the whole exchange and stepped away.

"Open the door for us, won't you? And you didn't see us." Frankie didn't look at him for this exchange either. A squeak told Frankie that he would comply. With the whirring of some gears, the bay door opened and Frankie wheeled the moped outside to the brisk and cold March air. Frankie swung one leg over the moped and held it upright as Angel took a seat behind her. A helmet hung from the one of the handles and she passed it to her comrade."Hold on." Frankie said. She inserted the key and turned the moped on. A buzzing sound radiated from the engine, Frankie cranked the handle, the engine whined loudly, and the two buzzed out of the above ground entrance of the BPRD with frightening speed.

[Sister Angeleanna]

"Then let's go."

The nun nodded firmly and followed the other woman’s purposeful stride, quickly picking up the folder she had left out that detailed the assignment. She took a peek inside, rereading what she had already read and closed it to keep up with her partner. She admired her tenacity and spirit and smiled at the retreating figure slip between the vehicles and reappear with their ride. At the second voice that reverberated in the eerily quiet garage, she turned to see a young man running in their direction and she tipped her head in a greeting. She amiably took a step back as Francesca quickly took charge of the situation. It seemed to be a simple case of mix up and easily a forgivable slip.

"Open the door for us, won't you? And you didn't see us."

The nun furrowed her brow in a mocking frown at her partner but the hard lines instantly melted into a soft upturn of sudden understanding and she casually titled her head to hide the growing smile. She turned back and raised a hand to garner the anxious man’s attention. “Thank you so much Agent Wright, would you be so kind to take this for me to the good director?” She held out the folder just the man was about to retreat to do as he was told and absently took it, tucking it under his arm before backing up. “I think Director Manning is in his office,” she called after the retreating figure.

The first touch of cold made the nun breath in deeply, winching at the cold air hit her lungs. She coughed once behind a gloved hand and took another deep breath of air. The smell of engine oil and gas mixed with the fresh crisp air of trees and grass, mixing with that peculiar smell that reminded of her rain on asphalt. She rested a hand on the pommel of her sword and moved it aside to walk freely after Frankie and studied the moped. It was smaller then she remembered them being and good heavens, were they really going to fit on it? She was a awfully tall women and the seat didn’t seem big enough for her backside, though she was sure she had enough cushion to last the trip to the city.

Angel wrapped her coat tighter around her frame, gathered the folds of her habit and hiked the black robes up revealing the hem of the white dress beneath before setting herself comfortably behind the shorter woman. She nudged the sword, twisting her belt so that it didn’t end up jabbing the two of them and stared momentarily at the helmet handed to her. “Oh dear,” she muttered and a odd laugh followed before she placed it gingerly over her head, careful to not crush the carefully pinned veil and coif. A quick adjustment of the straps so they laid smooth and she snapped it closed with an audible click. There, that wasn’t so -

"Hold on."

-bad. The sudden pull of the moped sent the nun to hug the woman tightly, squeezing her around the waist. A surprised sound, she wasn’t quite sure what exactly the sound was, escaped and she squeezed her eyes shut against the wind as they dashed up the incline of the garage and into the open air and around the building. They slipped through the gates and onto public roads as several guards watched with shared bemused expressions, especially at the trailing laughter that seemed to emit from the nun. She couldn’t explain the bubbling laughter that seemed to well up from her very toes and she had no qualms in expressing the genuine merriment of racing down the street. The death like grip slowly loosened and she switched to one hand while the other came up to hold the helmet that was now keeping her veil from blowing off.

[Frankie Guidicini]

Frankie's chestnut locks streamed back, flapping like a flag in a hurricane of wind. The cold air stung Frankie's skin and made her eyes water as they merged onto I-95 out of Trenton. After turning onto the New Jersey Turnpike, Frankie's fingers were a bit numb around the handle-bars. Angels' grip around her waist was impressive, and Frankie wondered what a sight the pair would make riding on a moped on the Jersey Turnpike. She grinned into the cold wind.

They pulled into the parking lot for the Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park about an hour later. Frankie's fingers were completely numb, but after warming them with her breath and a hiccup of a acid or two, they were as good as new. "Next time...overcoat." She thought to herself as she waited for the nun to dismount from the moped, and she stiffly followed suit. She turned to Angel. "It's under the bridge, right?" She asked, crossing her arms and tucking her hands in for warmth. She had not been to the Troll Market before, but she was very excited to be going there. She had heard stories or at least rumors of stories of this place, and since she had spent most of her life spying on the mundane human world, she was eager to get a peak of the fantastic world.

The pair found their way to the door through a few allies and a meat storage freezer. While they had been warned of the complex combination lock, there was no need to fret, for they were able to slip in behind a pair of seemingly normal teenagers who, upon entrance to the Troll market, changed into one huge unidentifiable creature in the blink of an eye. Frankie's jaw dropped once they entered and saw all the fantastical beings and trolls that populated the marketplace. She closed her mouth, realizing she would appear unseemly gaping like a mouth-breathing idiot. "So." She turned to her comrade, "What are we to do again?"

[Sister Angeleanna]

//Heading to Troll Market: Like tragedy and laughter at hand//