Founded in early 2009 following the vanishing of the wizarding world, this hush-hush group originally sought to find out what happened to avoid facing the same fate but now serves to research ways to safely defend themselves against the likes of magic should the need ever arise.
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by: Orion

June, 22
8:30 am
Mi5 medical evaluation bay

Holy guacamole he was so bored. And speaking of guacamole, was he more green today? He squinted at the mottled back of his hand. Yeah. He was less sallow and more avocado.

” I need to get new foundation...”

Simon grumbled to himself more than the two orderlies escorting him in the evaluation center. He was, by Russo’s dictatorial suggestions, supposed to get a full new physical and evaluation for his abilities. If only the staff didn’t treat him like the walking dead. Hadn’t they heard that you shouldn’t just judge a book by its cover?

Without being bidden, the mutant went to the exam table and sat on it, slipping his shirt off and exposing his old gang tattoos. Poor, faded bull terrier. It needed fresh ink, because dying hadn’t been good for the art. The female orderly was casting a mighty strong side eye at him, which he returned with interest. Enjoy it whole you can, toots. The nurse looked like a youngster, so maybe heckling her was a bad idea. She had two files edged in black, it looked like, and she was distracted. Being an ass would only serve to amuse him, not do anything useful or get any info, or so Simon thought. It would be better to shut up and put up with the exam.

And what an exam it was! Listening to a heartbeat that wasn’t there, listening to his lungs as he optionally breathed, measuring his blood pressure (a solid and normal 0/0), take the room temperature by measuring him, listening to his stomach not gurgle and work, watch the doctors bang on his reflex points and his limbs not react, an evaluation of his cataracts, and then a pronouncement that he was as fit as a fiddle. That had been buried with its owner. Twenty years ago.

He looked up when the door opened, showing more life with his interest than he had with any of the people interactions so far in the day. Some other dude was coming in, escorted with orderlies, and followed with a file...edged in black just like Simon’s. The mutant flashed a cocky grin and greeted the other man.

”Hiya. What’s your gig? I’ve been dead for two years. Name’s Simon.”

One of the male orderlies told him to shut up, but what was he gonna do, give him a wrist slap? Simon was more interested in the other potential mutant than he was in the mook escorting him.
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by: Arlo Beckett
It had been a relatively pleasant start to the day as far as things were considered. Arlo had successfully, or at least assumed, completed his field test with the torches and subsequent run in with the Devil. He'd met his handler and superior Cole Callaway, and been assigned a spitfire of a partner who by her own admission, was pretty green at this whole thing. That said, the past week had been pretty stable all things considered and the new yet not new agent was settling into a familiar routine.

Calloway had assigned his partner and him a case which meant a lot of preliminary, good old fashioned nose to the ground, sleuthing that needed to happen before they could approach any of the thin suspects they'd been given in regard to the bombing and all related parties. Arlo felt he got along quite well with the boys in the pit. Kat had introduced him once Callaway had finished with them and the mutant found them to be a pretty friendly bunch, though half of the technological mumbo jumbo they talked about was lost on the agent. Heck, he wasn't even certain if they knew what he currently was. Probably not considering his own boss barely understood. Still he'd managed to get a good feel for them and how they reacted around colleagues and who was friends with who... it was rather therapeutic and probably the most normal thing Arlo had done in quite a while.

As it was he'd been at his desk, temporary as it was, with a fresh cup of joe, eyes deep in flight records when he received an email summons to head down to med bay for another medical "evaluation". The agent let out a deep sigh and was thoroughly tempted to just bin it but common sense saved the day. He downed what was left of his coffee and pulled out his cell to fire off a quick text to let the director know he needed to report to med bay. Arlo then stood and stretched before heading over to Kat's little cube to let her know as well. If they were going to make good partners he knew he had to be on the level with her. A few jokes and promises to come back with no extra heads or hands and what not, the mutant headed down to a very familiar level of the compound.

As soon as he reached the proper level and exited the lift on the designated floor he was met with a few orderlies that had clearly been expecting him. One even had the audacity to bark at him for being late but the mutant let it roll off his back as he turned over his badge and sidearm, both of which he assumed he'd get back once whatever this was was finished.

The mutant was led to an exam room and Arlo was more than a bit surprised to find someone else already there. That was a first. And ughhhh.... whoever it was looked like a freaking corpse. Like a zombie from one of those horror flicks his kid liked to watch from time to time. Was this guy a mutant too then? Arlo cast a glance to one of his keepers but received no response to his unasked question. It didn't help that his shadows seemed rather wary of the thing and were already buzzing in the back of his head to be careful.

When the zombie spoke, Arlo looked over at him curiously and had to work hard to keep the surprise form showing at the admission the guy had been dead for two years. Eventually the agent gave the undead mutant a shrug. Why not really. they had magic and mutants so why not zombies...

"I'm Arlo, field agent for these guys here.... you're looking a bit-" The mutant motioned to the side of his neck as he leaned up against a wall while he waited for direction from the doctors at hand. "Bit uh- green around the gills there..."
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by: Orion
Did he just...? Hot damn! How long had it been since someone gave him sass back like that? Too long! Delighted laughter rippled through the mutant, making him hug himself and rock back.

”Holy shit! Green around the gills, I’m gonna have to use that one! Fuck’s sake, that’s good!”

”Mister Dabrowski, please sit still. Mister Beckett, please take a seat on this exam table? Thank you.”

The pretty little blonde nurse who had been side eyeing him seemed to have finally found her spine and was treating the other man with a brisk, business-like charm. Simon pulled a face and rolled his eyes, trying to keep the conversation going.

”Field agent, huh? I’m currently a pin cushion. What kinda stuff do I need to get a promotion? And what’s the next step...paperweight? Or do I need a better security clearance for that?”

Not a clear cut joke...shit, was he out of his good material? Welp. Time to lay awake all night and brain storm new sass instead of lay awake all night dang it. Maybe he was coming at it the wrong way. Maybe instead of TRYING to come up with new stuff, he should just relax and let it happen...except that sounded sexual and weird and...maybe he’d just try and sleep. Not that he would...damn insomnia...
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by: Arlo Beckett
Arlo watched the man-zombie-thing with a bit of a raised brow when he broke out into a roaring fit of laughter. Clearly the guy had a few screws loose or hadn't seen the light of day in quite some time if he thought that was knee jerkingly funny. The again he did look like an experiment gone wrong so he probably had been kept in the dark, literally. The agent shifted slightly, uncomfortable with that thought. Arlo wasn't a stranger to black ops and he knew there had to have been test subjects before him... otherwise the agency wouldn't have expended valuable resources such as retired agents or currently serving ones.... the gang tattoos and markings on the mans body only added to the agents slowly building theory. No one missed gangsters, mob, homeless...

"Good? Heh, I think most people would settle for lame," Arlo quipped back with a small grin as the nurse? orderly? doctor? told him to take a seat on the table. Great. He was about to get poked and prodded in front of zombie guy. Without realizing it he drew the scant amount of shadows in the room around him, giving the room the appearance that the area around the mutant was darker than normal. The older man slipped his suit jacket off and tossed it on the exam table before grabbing a seat. The tie followed next and the the agent unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up to his elbows. If the doc's wanted anything removed he wasn't above making them ask for it.

Undead kids next quip brought out a more genuine laugh from the mutant and Arlo shot him an amused expression. "I know all about the pin cushion bit mate. But if it's out you want, best I can tell you is do as your told, keep your head down and don't give them reason to distrust you. Security clearance certainly helps though." Arlo took a couple of deep breaths to center himself. Medical evaluations were always the worst part of the job and no matter how many times Clark had told him they weren't the end of the world, the agent still ended up being a giant bundle of nerves. "So how long you been around these parts?" Arlo kept the question purposefully vague. If Simon wanted to talk about London or MI5 or the program that would be entirely up to him.
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by: Orion
Simon drew a foot up onto the table with the rest of his body, hugging his knee to his chest. Nurse What’s-it gave him a sour look for not sitting still, but Simon was more interested in Arlo and his abilities suddenly manifesting in the room. Nobody had started reacting to the shadows pooling around the man at first; no, the mooks didn’t seem to notice either Arlo’s discomfort or the reaction to it. Simon did, though.

He looked up at the lights with a small look of wonder.

”Oh...Shadows. Haven’t seen that one before...”

He murmured the recognition as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place. He turned and tipped a wink to Arlo.

”I may be top secret, but I’ll never be given that clearance. Been in this building for two years, one month, three days, six hours, and a hand full of minutes, give or take. I haven’t seen sunlight in the entire time, much to the detriment of my complexion...but before that I was a guest in Belmarsh. Before THAT, I was a Bexley boy. How about you?”

He had dropped his prison stint with a blasé ease. Some program intern had come and made him an offer those years ago, he’d accepted, blah blah blah, and now he was here. Long story, not much interesting content.

”But yeah, head down, be a good boy, do what I’m told...My only issue is I mouth off too much and my usefulness is limited. Strong, sure. Low maintenance, hell, I’ve seen house plants with more complicated care instructions than me. But I can only go out of doors on Halloween, y’know?”

He wasn’t useful. That was the long and short of it. He was too grotesque, too horrifying. The otherness of the people in the program was clearly seen in his generation. They finally made their subjects better able to blend in when they hit the 20s and beyond. Shit...did Arlo even have a number or was he just the beneficiary of Simon’s sacrifice?
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