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Post by warriororiana on Sept 10, 2008 23:15:06 GMT -7
Time: 9:00 am
Date: Aug 10
Place: Entrance to BRPD
Status: Open
The cabbie wouldn’t even look at him as he unfolded his seven foot frame from the too-small interior of the cab and stepped to the front door to pay for the ride. The cabbie was scrupulous in looking anywhere but at him. Typhon supposed he didn’t want to get caught staring, perhaps afraid that the mountain of a man standing outside his door might take offense. Typhon reached into one of the dozens of pockets in his huge trench coat and produced his wallet. He waited patiently, and silently for a few minutes while the cabbie fidgeted before realizing that Typhon needed to know the amount.
“Uh… t-t-twenty f-four…”
Typhon calmly handed the amount to the cab driver without comment and then turned to face the building he’d arrived at. As buildings went, it was fairly normal waste management plant… which was, of course, in direct opposition to what Typhon was told happened on the inside. Well, he would see for himself momentarily.
He stepped to the small intercom panel and pressed the button. A brusque voice answered, “Yeah?”
Typhon blinked. Not exactly what he’d expected. “Agent Typhon Coluber,” Typhon rumbled. His voice was deep, rough, and gravelly. The whirl of gears met his ears and a moment later, what was clearly and optic scanner appeared. Typhon blinked again, and then placed his eye against the tube…
“Come on in, Agent Coluber,” the voice said, and the gates swung open.
Typhon headed into the building, looking around with interest. He wondered how far the façade of waste management continued. A moment later he was greeted by a guard, “Agent Coluber. We were expecting you. You’re prompt, aren’t you? Watch your elbows.”
Watch his…? Typhon, ever literal even when confused, tucked his arms in close to his body. And not a moment too soon. The floor shifted, dropping a small amount, and Typhon looked down. It wasn’t all of the floor… just the portion he was standing on. A circular piece decorated with an odd design. And it was slowly sinking. Typhon looked up at the rapidly disappearing lobby, and then down around himself. It seemed like the rumor mill had only scraped the bare surface of the oddities in this place. Maybe the other rumors were true too…
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 12, 2008 0:56:06 GMT -7
Due to a slight electrical interference made by a new arrival a day or so before, a couple of the lights in the BPRD had gone out in the lobby/elevator area. Not just the bulbs, mind you, but the wiring too. So Tabby, standing atop a ladder and wearing long-sleeved denim shirt, jeans, a utility belt, gloves, hair pulled back into pigtails was fixing it. She swore, sometimes she was more of a handyman than anything else at the BPRD. Not that she was complaining. Not every farm girl from New York got to work so close to the realm of the fantastic, or fix their weapons as a matter of fact.
Tabby replaced the cover of the set of lights she had just fixed and was getting ready to climb on down when the elevator came down suddenly from the ceiling. Tabby stood and watch as a huge hulk of a man rode the elevator down. When it finally stopped, Tabby saw that she was only barely taller than the man when she stood on the ladder. 'New guy...' She thought to herself. She looked to see if any of the suits were there to greet him, but no dice. Well. It looked like she might be the welcoming party.
"New, right?" She asked the man, climbing down from the ladder . The man dwarfed her by like two feet. She found herself craning to look up at his eyes with her blue ones. "I'm Tabby Whitman, also known as Tech Chick. I guess...I'm the welcome wagon." She pulled off a glove and offered her hand to the man.
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Post by kitsunenokoi on Sept 12, 2008 1:14:53 GMT -7
Typhon took a cautious step off of the strange elevator-like contraption and looked around in interest. He could already tell that this place was huge… and apparently he was expected to explore it on his own.
Then again, perhaps not. “New, right?” a red-headed woman in a denim work outfit asked him from her perch on a ladder. She climbed down. “I’m Tabby Whitman, also known as Tech Chick. I guess… I’m the welcome wagon.” Pulling off a glove, she offered her hand.
Typhon took it gingerly, doing his best to make sure he didn’t crush her hand in his. He was afraid that it made his handshake seem weak and uncertain, but better that then wounding someone. He didn’t think a trip to the hospital was a good first impression. He had to admit, he was rather mixed in reaction. Tabby didn’t seem to be intimidated by him, which was a rarity and one he appreciated. On the other hand, he had expected someone a little more on the official side to greet him. Still, there was no point in being impolite. This woman would now be his coworker. In what capacity he had yet to learn, but if her nickname was anything to go by, he was bound to need her help quite a bit… he was completely inept at anything remotely resembling high-tech. Computers seemed to hate him, actively collecting viruses or going on the fritz just because he stood near them… and actually using them… well…
“Agent Typhon Coluber,” he rumbled. He released her hand and reached up to pull off his trench coat, folding it over one arm. Underneath was an impeccably tailored, solid black suit with a black dress shirt underneath with a black tie. It had to be tailored… he couldn’t buy anything off the rack. Nothing ever fit. If it weren’t for the wild thatch of pitch black hair, he might have even looked very put-together. But nothing short of glue would ever make his hair behave.
The two of them stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, and Typhon wondered if he was expected to say something. His mind raced for something… anything… to say. And it was coming up spectacularly blank. He looked around and shifted his grip on his coat and prayed for rescue.
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 12, 2008 1:23:51 GMT -7
>>“Agent Typhon Coluber.”<<
"Cool." Tabby said. From his handshake, she could tell he was slightly restraining his grip. Also cool. Tabby's thoughts flickered to the man and HB possibly sparring in the future...Naaah, that was a weird thought. Still, it'd be sweet to watch.
The man's suit was as impressive as the man. Tabby didn't know they made clothes like that in such a big size! He probably got it off the internet...Anything could be found on the internet, though Chuck Norris cardboard cutouts still eluded Tabby.
There was an awkward silence between the two, which Tabby broke my clapping her hands together once. "Well then! Do you want me to show you the cafeteria or maybe we could find where your room is? I could take you to one of the administrative offices, I guess." She pulled off the other glove and stuff the pair in her back pocket. "I don't know. What'd your pleasure, man? Because whatever you like, the BPRD pretty much has it. And I'm crap at introductory things around here."
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 12, 2008 9:12:03 GMT -7
Typhon considered his choices, slightly astonished that he was able to make one in the first place. Yes, this was definitely a far different work atmosphere. His first inclination was to head to the offices to report in to his superior… but if Tabby’s attitude was anything to go by, he had a certain amount of freedom from some of the protocols. Perhaps…
“Room, please…” Typhon said at last, in his habitual taciturn way. “Then offices.” He had had his belongings shipped here, rather than show up with it all in hand. He wanted to make sure it had arrived and was in good order. That, and it couldn’t hurt to make sure he was looking his best when he showed up to report his arrival.
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 14, 2008 15:23:27 GMT -7
>>“Room, please…” Typhon said at last, in his habitual taciturn way. “Then offices.”<<
"All right. Let's boogie!" Tabby led the man to a reception-type desk. She spoke to the kindly elderly lady sitting there and received the whereabouts of Typhon's room. "Alright. Looks like you're a couple floors below me, so we won't get totally lost on the way there." She grinned and led him to an enclosed elevator, praying that the man could fit inside. When the doors opened, Tabby stepped in first and hit a number. "So, where do you come from dude? And what brings you to the BPRD?"
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 16, 2008 0:46:15 GMT -7
Typhon squeezed into the elevator with Tabby, waiting as the doors slid shut. He looked over at the red-head, "I'm FBI... transfered here." He stared at the doors in silence for a minute before realizing that Tabby was probably trying to start a conversation.
He cleared his throat, "I... I'm not... very good at conversation. I... I was told I had talents that this agency would find... useful." He wasn't sure if he was supposed to discuss his odd abilities. In fact, he wasn't sure what the unspoken rules of conduct here were. Were there taboo topics? Were there taboo activities? Every office, every work place had it's own invisible set of rules to follow if you wanted to succeed.
Typhon struggled to find something to say. Anything to say. "What... do you do here?"
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 16, 2008 22:51:30 GMT -7
>>"I'm FBI... transfered here."<<
"Cool, cool." Tabby wondered briefly if he was another suit...Nah, he was way too huge and bad-ass looking to be a suit. Plus, all the other suits would probably be jealous of him. If he was a suit. Lord, Tabby needed to get out more.
Tabby nodded at Typhon's explanation of not being good with conversation. A lot of agents seemed to be like that! Or maybe they were psychologically scarred and this didn't make conversation easily because of something that happened in the past. That was fine with her if the poor guy didn't do well in conversation, but he then surprisingly asked a question.
>>"What... do you do here?" <<
"I'm the tech chick. Or geek. Or nerd. Whatever you want to call me. I fix the weapons, light fixtures, debug computers...All that glorious stuff. One of our new agents accidentally knocked out some lights the other day. I was fixing 'em when you showed up. So yeah. If you ever need like tech support or your gun or whatever gets jammed, come find me."
The elevator dinged softly and Tabby looked at the floor. "Here we are. Elaine said a right out of the elevator and then your the last door on the left. I'll take you there, but I won't impose and come in with you or...anything imposing."
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 17, 2008 19:38:46 GMT -7
It was as he had suspected. Tabby was the local technology guru… and as such, he was probably going to get to know her quite well. Very, VERY well if her chatter was giving him the right impression. If they had to call a tech person to fix the lights… then everything, down to the lights and weapons, was high tech. Which also meant it was likely going to cause him no end of trouble. He stifled a sigh. At least he wasn’t alone in causing tech errors. It made him feel better to know he wasn’t going to be the only one knocking out light fixtures and making computers throw up with a plethora of odd error messages.
Typhon followed Tabby out of the elevator, noting the floor number. Last door on the left. Well at least it would be easy to remember. She led him to the door and opened it. Typhon poked his head in and looked around, then finally eased into the room. He looked around, noting important features, and then looked back at the door where Tabby was watching him politely. Shuffling his feet a little, Typhon gestured toward his room. And realized a moment later that until Tabby got to know him better, she wouldn’t be able to interpret his gestures as the means of communication that he habitually used them as.
“Uh… please… come in... if you like…”
Typhon spotted his boxes and did a quick count. All of them had arrived, and the outsides at least looked whole, which boded well for everything within to have made it safely. He moved toward the boxes, checking the labels. His bold, simple handwriting listed the contents of each box in detail, allowing him to start moving the boxes to the areas of his quarters that they belonged. Typhon hefted the boxes with ease, though several were half the size of Tabby.
The first thing he unpacked was his weapons stand. He’d been allowed to bring several of his personal weapons, rather than relying solely on the assigned weaponry. That was a relief… his personal weapons had been crafted for his proportions and had cost him a fair bit of money. But having the properly sized handgrip on a gun made his marksmanship that much more accurate. He set up the stand and began unpacking the weapons one by one, checking them carefully for any damage, and placing them on the stand.
Once the weapons were done, Typhon moved on to the other boxes, slowly transforming the place from an impersonal box to a cozy little retreat. There was a definite Asian flair to the decorations, with a zen-like emphasis. He had a meditation mat curled up tidily in one corner, next to a set of weights. On the bed-side table was a small rock and sand garden. On another table was a modern art sculpture of rather mesmerizing twists and spirals that invited the eye to linger and travel endlessly over the piece. A beautiful, hand-made quilt in a geometric pattern of soothing blues and greens graced the bed. A staggering number of candles were unpacked and placed on every available perch, though they remained unlit for now. Everything was simple, elegant, and soothing.
He didn’t own very much, and it wasn’t long before he was finished unpacking. The last item was a small, fluffy stuffed bear that Typhon placed rather self-consciously in a place of honor at the head of the bed.
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 18, 2008 21:03:11 GMT -7
Tabby stood outside the door at first with her hands behind her back until Typhon spoke.
>>“Uh… please… come in... if you like…”<<
"Alright." She stepped in and looked at the standard room with only his boxes occupying it. "I hate the standard deco on these rooms. It's so depressing until you make it your own. I remember my first week here I hurled all my brightly colored clothes all over the room to lighten it up until I was able to requisition some bright and obnoxious paint colors." The present decoration of her almost neon room could probably send someone into a seizure.
"Oh wow!" Tabby breathed, surveying his personal weapons as he put them away. "Oh man, I like you already. I don't really use the weapons, but your selection...They're beauts. I think you and Hellboy'll get along just fine."
Tabby surveyed Typhon as he made his room his own as he unpacked everything. She still marveled at how some agents could fit their entire lives into just a few boxes. Her mom and dad were still sending her stuff from back home. "See, the room isn't so depressing now...It has a nice zen-like style to it, man." She concentrated very hard not to smile when he placed the teddy bear on his bed. After all, she still had her stuffed monkey Spanky in her room. "So...I'm guessing you're either from Asia or your Buddhist or something? Cuz of the deco?"
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 18, 2008 22:27:29 GMT -7
Typhon gestured at his weapons, “If you would like to look at them, you are welcome to.” He felt no qualms about letting her poke at his treasured weapons. They were, after all, tools. And as such, they were meant to be touched and handled. And while he valued them, he didn’t treat them as sacred objects. Besides, she had already told him she fixed weapons. Surely she’d know how to handle them without endangering herself or Typhon. She seemed to admire them, which gave him an obscure pleasure… that he could inspire some emotion other than fear.
He looked around the room. It was a good thing he wasn’t all that attached to material items. The shipping costs would be horrendous, and trying to cram too much into this room would make it busy and less soothing. “I am neither,” he said in answer to her guess, “I have studied martial arts and meditation a great deal.” There was no need to tell her the details though. If she wasn’t afraid of him now, that would definitely make her afraid. “I… like soothing things.”
He sat down carefully on the bed, watching as she looked around. She had bright, inquisitive eyes; full of lively curiosity. Probably a necessity in a tech. She seemed to be just as lively in personality as her hair-color implied, given the little he had seen of her. It was oddly comforting that she was so casual around him. It made him feel less… freakish. Funny how something so off-hand for her could mean so much to him. Maybe this move would be better than he’d thought… maybe he could even be glad that someone had discovered his hidden talent and decided he needed to be here.
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 19, 2008 6:56:43 GMT -7
>>If you would like to look at them, you are welcome to.”<<
"Really? Oh wow...Thanks." Tabby chose a revolver, having to hold the grip with both of her hands just so she couldn't clumsily manage it. She looked through the sights, keeping her finger off the trigger. As she was taught when she first learned how to handle guns at the BPRD, "Your finger is the safety. There is no other safety. "I can't really fire these things. Well, I can, but I can't aim. I have one at the shop that I keep just in case of emergency." Tabby reverently replaced the fire-arm. "Beautiful."
>>“I am neither,” he said in answer to her guess, “I have studied martial arts and meditation a great deal.” There was no need to tell her the details though. If she wasn’t afraid of him now, that would definitely make her afraid. “I… like soothing things.”<<
"Oh, I see. That's cool. Trust me, there are definitely times here when you're gona need all the soothing you can get." She paused and then added, "If you ever need to, I have like four billion Josh Groban CDs. I find him...soothing. You can borrow one if you like. Well, the Bureau has tons of music in mP3s, so you could just go and find stuff you like there too."
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 19, 2008 20:54:00 GMT -7
Typhon came up behind Tabby as she replaced the revolver carefully. He hefted a tremendous, wicked looking mace, the handle decorated with sinuous carvings that not only added elegance but also improved his grip, should his hands become slick with sweat or blood. The pitch-black, spiked hammer looked smallish in his hands, but intimidating. “This is my favorite.” He handed it to Tabby, watching as her eyes widened at the sheer weight of the thing. There was a beautiful tooled leather belt specially made to carry this mace. For some reason, the care that had gone into the crafting of the weapon and it’s belt seemed to make people respect it even more.
MP3’s… Typhon knew just enough about technology to know that acronym had something to do with the newer music technology. And as such… “Technology and I are not friends,” Typhon admitted reluctantly, returning to the bed so as not to loom over Tabby. “I will need your help often.” In fact, he didn’t even own a CD player, though he had at least manage to master that tech well enough to use it on occasion. Not well enough that he wanted to risk keeping a CD player of his own, though.
He ruefully reflected on the last time he’d owned anything more complicated than an alarm clock. The last techie friend of his had been baffled at how it had spontaneously combusted in the middle of the night, scorching the table it had been on, and ruining the curtains nearby before Typhon had managed to get the fire out. Typhon hadn’t been able to say anything to that. The tech had fumed for hours that PDA’s ‘just didn’t DO that’, and was sulky with Typhon for months afterwards. He didn’t own a cell phone either… the FBI had reclaimed the one they had given him, after it had been repaired the twentieth time.
Maybe he should try and warn Tabby… since she was bound to see him often and he didn’t want her getting frustrated with him. “I’m tech-cursed,” he said with a shrug, “Technology blows up around me if I touch it.”
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Post by Tabby Whitman-Foster on Sept 21, 2008 11:26:30 GMT -7
>>“Technology and I are not friends,” Typhon admitted reluctantly, returning to the bed so as not to loom over Tabby. “I will need your help often.”<<
Tabby smiled. "Well, that's what they pay me the big bucks for, right?" She had become accustomed to the amount of people in the Bureau that were technology-intolerant, or 'TI' as she referred to it. She remembered once being woken up at two a.m. by Manning, the director, and having to debug his computer that interchanged with the Bureau's database because he was using an unprotected internet browser. And then there was the time that some of the potentially lethal machines in the training room got fried because of a particular hit by HB and went on a rampage...Good times.
>>“I’m tech-cursed,” he said with a shrug, “Technology blows up around me if I touch it.”<<
Tabby had to suppress a big smile. It was funny to think that such a large spectacle of a man didn't get along with technology. It was amusing, almost cute, actually. "It just...spontaneously combusts around you?" She asked, the smile creeping to her lips. "Because that's just weird. But if so, we could try and do fire-retardant on everything."
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Post by warriororiana on Sept 21, 2008 18:46:31 GMT -7
“It just… spontaneously combusts around you? Because that’s just weird. But if so, we could try and do fire-retardant on everything.”
Typhon actually blushed. Staring at his feet, he shrugged again, “Sometimes it combusts. Sometimes it freaks out… like an electronic seizure.” It was hard to describe, hard to predict, and there was no way to definitively attribute the problems to him. It was just… they seemed to appear regularly when he was around, and disappear just as regularly when he left the area. He had managed to work some tech on a limited basis, which argued that he wasn’t entirely tech-cursed, but it was the oddest problems cropped up when he tried to use things.
“You’ll see,” Typhon half-glum, half-embarrassed. Maybe he needed to change the topic now. Clearing his throat he stood, “Perhaps I should see the offices now?”
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