thought an angel swept you off your feet `` nikola

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative It had been only a matter of months since Emily Prentiss had quit the BAU and accepted Clyde Easter's offer to head the London Interpol office, and yet she already felt like she'd been in the position for years. She didn't work with a team anymore- she was more of a supervisor to the existing teams than anything- but she still got plenty of fieldwork, and that was enough to keep her from going outright stir crazy. Not to mention, she'd missed London like hell, and she was much closer to some old friends and even Easter himself now that she lived here full time. All aspects considered, it was the perfect job and she knew it. This afternoon in particular had proven to be particularly interesting, though. She'd been stuck in her office- she had her own office now, not a cluttered desk thrown in the center of a bullpen like she'd had back with the FBI- doing paperwork for the majority of the day, and had just about resigned herself to the fact that this wouldn't be one of the more interesting days of her career when the phone on her desk rang, startling her enough that she dropped her pen and her head shot up. She stared at it for a moment before answering, albeit somewhat warily- she hadn't been expecting any phone calls, and the desk phone was typically only used for emergencies anyways. However, the frantic voice that came over the line was enough to change her wariness to alertness in a split second. Agent Prentiss? Yeah? This is officer Bartlett, with the City of London Police. We've been alerted to what could potentially be an assassination- Wait- assassination? And we're only hearing about this now? The body was just discovered today- an, uh, hour ago at most, by some kids fooling around in an empty warehouse. We sent a response team to take a look, but- But what? We're fairly certain it's a foreign diplomat- an American ambassador, and a fairly well known one at that. It's a bit of a brutal scene, but we can only assume it was an assassination. On her end of the line, Emily had fallen silent, her breath catching in her throat with the realization- but, no, there was no way it was her mother. The last she'd heard, ambassador Prentiss had been stationed in the Middle East again, attempting to smooth out some of the conflict there. There was no way this was her, though that definitely didn't help Emily's heart rate slow down any more in the meantime. ...agent- Right here. I'll send a response team as fast as I can. Where was the body discovered? Bartlett gave her the address and she was off the phone in seconds, rising from her chair and darting out the office door in a matter of seconds. Interpol already had specific divisions designated to respond to these sort of things, she knew, but there was no way in hell she was sitting around any longer- though whether that was worry for her mother or just her wanting to get out of her office for a change, she wasn't sure. She'd reached the office of the response team in seconds and filled them in, and it was less twenty minutes later that they were finally pulling up to the warehouse in the Interpol-issued vehicles she still hadn't managed to bring herself to love. It took her a matter of seconds to park the car and hop out, slamming the door shut behind her and starting immediately for the warehouse. 587 words for nikola tesla written while listening to for your entertainment -- adam lambert "It's up to you whether or not it's her mother- I really don't care xD"

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative It had been months - months since the world he lived in had gone to hell. He'd gotten fired, faced one of his own designs being used as a weapon, and - perhaps the worst of all, despite these blows to his ego - been left completely and entirely alone. He'd always known the day would come, the day when he was the last of the Five. He still hadn't been ready, and he certainly hadn't expected it to end in such an explosion. He'd hand it to Helen, though. She always had known how to make an exit. He'd spent days looking through the ruins for any sign of a body, but any bones he'd found had been shattered to bits too small to put back together again. She hadn't been alone in the building, and he'd known that - but he had no idea if she'd even been in the building at all by the time the explosion hit. And so, he'd spent a few weeks just searching. Then a few weeks more searching while trying to sort out the chaos in the Sanctuary Network after that - there had been few Sanctuaries left after all, and many without a strong enough leader to take charge of the whole operation. Only Helen, really, had ever managed that one for more than a few weeks. She'd been special that way, and no one really knew how she did it - no one but him. It wasn't a matter of being more organized or more politically correct. It was a matter of not sleeping and not taking no for an answer, ever, while delegating tasks to members appropriately. He was uniquely good at all of those, and he needed a way to honor her somehow. He had seen no other way; he'd taken the post permanently. It hadn't been a hard job to fall into, after his experience with SCIU. What had been hard about it had been setting up in James's office to run Helen's network in the city that he had so many good and bad memories in involving those two as well as Nigel and John: London. He'd been numbly going through paperwork for the past few weeks, with Henry, Declan and Kate trying their hardest to get him to leave the room, or to at least stop drinking a bottle of wine or two every hour. They'd made no progress. He knew it was time to move on - but he'd never been particularly good at letting go. He knew he was scaring them, with his sudden seriousness, his sudden responsible attitude. They weren't used to it. It wasn't the Nikola they knew. Oh, if only they knew - knew just how much of this had already been there. One thing, however, had caught his attention. Perhaps because it was a case Helen had handled at the opening of the Sanctuary - that of Spring-Heeled Jack. In the chaos that had ensued a few months prior, many things had been lost. The headquarters in Old City, Helen - and quite a few inhabitants had escaped around the world as well, when security systems were compromised or damaged, or when Sanctuaries were overrun as others were shut down. It had been a hectic time. One such escapee had been Jack. He had been assumed a non-threat, as he rarely hunted humans unless they hunted him - but clearly he'd been spotted lately in London, for bodies were cropping up. It hadn't been enough to convince him to leave the office yet - but now Declan was holding down the fort and the other two were off on another mission and he was the only one left. He had reluctantly left the Sanctuary gates - but he couldn't help but feel a touch better as he drove through the familiar streets of London. A memory of breakfast with Churchill here, and thought of helping Nigel pickpocket someone there. It should have made him sad the good old days were gone - but instead, it brought a small smile to his face. Then again, he'd always loved London. With official cars already there when he arrived, though, he thought it best to make a call - he'd been keeping Helen's contacts, mostly through Declan, but he did have a few of his own that could get him in. Primarily, the Prime Minister - of the United Kingdom, of course. Any other Prime Minister would hardly get him past the crime scene tape. And so, he slipped his phone out and made the call - then waited a few more minutes for good measure so that he had time for the call to go through that there would be a joint investigation (he'd been working on partially getting the Sanctuary in on a government sort of status, just for the simplicity of being able to not have to use favors to get into crime scenes) and then he stepped out of the vehicle and towards the crime scene tape, ducking under and fearlessly sauntering into the warehouse. This would be... interesting. emily prentiss ...tagged 845 ...words --- ...playlist ...don't ask. muse went psycho xD ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She had tensed up as she entered the warehouse, preparing for her worst- though the moment she laid eyes on the body itself, she relaxed and let out an audible sigh of relief. She recognized the woman from when she was younger, of course, but it wasn't her mother, and that was all she'd needed to hear- or, in this case, see. However, her team was soon walking in after her, equally as tense. and she knew she'd have to be objective- and right now, that entailed getting all of the details she could regarding the incident. Talk to the local police. See what information you can- She'd been partway through giving orders to the team she'd brought with her- another benefit of being chief of the office, she could boss around whoever the hell she wanted, which was definitely an appealing idea at times- when she caught sight of someone else entering out of the corner of her eye, someone who most definitely wasn't with her and didn't look like he was with the local police, either, which could only mean he wasn't authorized to be here- and therefore, was her responsibility to deal with. She motioned for her team to wait a moment before heading over to intercept the intruder, pulling out he Interpol badge and flashing it at him even as she came to a stop. She took a moment to look him over before speaking- he was clean cut and not unattractive, if she was being honest- but at the same time, she didn't take well to others intruding on her crime scenes, and it showed through in her voice and cold facial expression as she spoke. Interpol unit chief. May I ask what you think you're doing here? She tried to be courteous, for the sake of professionalism, but she typically had a low tolerance for those who threw themselves into crime scenes and tried to "help" with the investigation for no good reason- and right now, as far as she was concerned, that's just what he was doing. She slipped her badge back into her pocket after giving him a few moments to look it over for himself, her eyes only briefly leaving his in the process. 368 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "Written on iPhone."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative He'd taken a moment to glance around as she came over - and he was well aware she was coming over. He just didn't really care - it wasn't like she could do much to him. Throw him in jail, he'd get out. Shoot him, he'd heal. Yell at him? Well, he'd ignore it, obviously. Or perhaps snipe back - he wasn't sure yet. It was more a heat of the moment decision anyway. So, instead, his eyes scanned the building - but not near the floor where most would look in regards to a body. No, his eyes trailed up to the rafters, confirming places to hide and making sure Jack wasn't in here still. His eyes traveled back to her as she spoke, though, and he allowed himself a moment to judge. Some higher up personnel were read in on the SCIU project of Homeland Security, after all - it was always good to figure out just how much they knew in regards to abnormals. She seemed newer, though - experienced, perhaps, and handling it all very well, but it was in the way the others looked at her. They didn't quite trust her - and so, it was either merely a matter of her being new or she'd done something foolish recently. Given she, herself, didn't hesitate in the slightest or even seem nervous, he was banking on the former. Nikola Tesla. The Prime Minister was supposed to call ahead for me. I'll be assisting with the case. To be rather honest, he sounded bored as he spoke - and right now, he really was. He had been for months, in fact. Paperwork, administrative duties, politics... they weren't exactly his cup of tea. Merely stepping outside the safe confines of the Sanctuary walls had begun to remind him of that, and the damp London air, as it often did, was bringing him to life again, albeit slowly. His eyes darted around the inside of the building then. It was all fairly empty, really, saved the obvious - the body and the Interpol agents working the case. Patterns in the dust, however, caught his eye. There were footprints that only spread out a few feet in either direction from the body - those would raise questions among non-Sanctuary personnel. They weren't shoe prints, either - and they didn't look quite human. Oh, this would be fun. He narrowly managed to avoid the small smile quirking up at the corners of his lips as he turned his gaze back to her, hand going for his pocket without fear - he didn't even do it slowly to set her at ease. Instead, he just pulled out one of the only things in it - his cell phone. He skimmed through the contacts list - something that had grown drastically from all of three or four numbers to what was beginning to near a hundred - and located the appropriate name - David Cameron. He tapped it for details, then spun it to hold it out for her. Now he let the smile show, ever so faintly - though this one was considerably more arrogant than the one before might have been. You can call him to confirm if he hasn't. In fact, I'll encourage you to. He's really quite a pleasant conversationalist. emily prentiss ...tagged 546 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She watched him with interest as he spoke, not quite believing his words though surprised he'd actually had the gall to bring the Prime Minister into this. It was his tone that set her off, though- that bored tone that screamed that he just didn't give a shit, and it was that kind of attitude that made her dislike him in an instant. It could very easily have been her mother on that floor right now, she knew, and whether this stranger- Tesla, he'd called himself- knew it or not, she was hardly going to let him get away with half-assing anything. I'd at least like to see some- She had been about to ask for identification of some sort when she was distracted by his gaze falling away, though a few seconds later it returned to her with a hint of a smile that did a good job in making her uneasy. She watched him for a moment, keen on hearing some sort of explanation from him, but instead he only reached into his pocket- a bit too fast for her liking, to be honest- and pulled out a phone, flashing her David Cameron's contact information and erasing any doubts from her mind that he wasn't legitimate. She still didn't like his attitude, though, and her next words had the same cool authority she'd been using for the past couple of minutes with him. ...agent Prentiss, chief of the London Interpol office, and head of the incident response team assigned to this case. You answer to me, or not at all. She turned, beckoning for him to follow as she started for the body, though she didn't do more than send a brief glance over her shoulder as she led him towards it. She tried to be polite, though, given it was the Prime Minister that had sent him, phone call ahead of time or not. He must have some experience and, therefore, skill under his belt, and she could respect that- though at the same time, Tesla hadn't exactly gotten off to a great start with her. She came to a stop beside the body, careful to avoid the pool of blood the victim was lying in, before sending a sideways glance back over to him. She was found a little over an hour ago like this. It's been ruled an assassination- but that's all we have until forensics arrives. The media hasn't been notified, either, and I'd like to keep it that way. 411 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "No particular notes for this post."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative Preferably not at all, actually. He replied, really rather flippantly, though the faint smile never faded and he took this opportunity to look around a little more. There were a few stacked crates off to one side - the wood looked a little iffy on stability, but he could probably scale them to avoid scaring everyone half to death with a leap of his own. Or perhaps return when they'd left - yes, that would be good. They wouldn't touch the rafters anyway. They had no reason to. Hands slipping into his pockets, he stepped closer to the body, following along behind her for now, eyes taking in the exact patterns in the dust, excluding out the ones from boots and shoes that didn't match the heels of the victim or the tracks of Jack. They were messing it all up, but at least he'd gotten here early enough to see it. He cast her a very brief withering glance at her mention of the media, offended she'd suggest he'd even think of talking to them. I don't talk to the public, Agent Prentiss. It's in my best interest if I avoid the media all together, in fact. Trust me, there will be no leaks within my organization. It's your own you'll have to worry about. His reply was dry, not particularly caring. Even if it did get in the press, he could have it wiped before it hit the air in a matter of seconds. They had automatic programs for that, and Henry for if it needed that extra touch - Henry or himself, anyway. He could pull it off as well, he just typically preferred not to have to. It was demeaning, doing the work of a simpleton. He crouched down next to the body, though, as he spoke, eyes trailing across the patterns again, mind mapping out a series of events, seeing it to near-perfection. Where Jack had landed, how many steps had been her frantically looking around and how many of her fighting for her life. The question, of course, became quite clear - why had Jack killed her of all people, and why in god's name was she here alone? Assassination's unlikely; we've had others like this for the past two weeks. I'm more concerned with why she was out alone. If she's an ambassador on foreign soil, would she not have at least one more with her for protection? And why was she in a warehouse, of all places? She hasn't exactly been moved here, and if she'd been taken from a security detail you would have heard about it far sooner - or, at least, someone would have. No, this wasn't business at all... A secret. I do love a good secret... He had a habit of talking things through, so past the first few words he didn't even really realize he was still speaking. No, instead he sounded distracted, deep in thought - and he was. A faint smile still touched his lips towards the end, but it was more an excited one - the thrill of the hunt was getting to him. But in this case, that was a good thing. He did, however, take a glove from his pocket and slipped it on, dipping a newly-covered finger in the blood for a moment and sniffing it to get an accurate time - and god was it stale. It was sickening. He nearly gagged. He tore the glove off after that, eyes trailing the body, grabbing a set of tweezers to poke into pockets. There was nothing, though - or, nothing of use to finding Jack. He hadn't thought there would be. emily prentiss ...tagged 605 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She'd shot him an irritated look with his response and the dirty look in her direction following it a few minutes later, though otherwise trying to be objective- she'd worked with far worse people than him before and she knew it, though even that was becoming increasingly more and more difficult to believe. She forced herself to shut up and pay attention to what he had to say, though there was nothing of use in his words in the meantime and she turned her focus back to the body, looking for any particularly obvious pieces of evidence that might exist. By the time he spoke again, she hadn't found anything that could possibly lead them any closer to finding their killer, and so she was able to give him her undivided attention once more- though it was reluctantly so at best. His first two words alone threw her in for a loop, though, and she would've happily brushed him off as a lunatic had he not presented what could be considered a decent argument mere moments later. He was right- there was no reason for the ambassador to be here of all places, let alone by herself- though an assassin still made much more sense to Emily at the moment than any other explanation he could have come up with. Political figures as important as ambassadors didn't typically get killed for any other reason, after all. ...watch it. We don't want to disturb the body too much before forensics arrives. Hey- stop it. She'd started speaking as she realized he was slipping on a rubber glove, which was enough to make her suspect what he was about to do. Her words changed into something more urgent as he actually reached out to dip a finger in the blood, though, and she was crouching beside him in an instant, not about to pull him away from the body but keeping an eye on what he was doing nonetheless. When he'd finally finished and done nothing to disturb the integrity of the crime scene, she returned to standing up straight, though her focus was still entirely on him. What makes you think this isn't an assassination? He still hadn't given her much of an explanation as far as that was concerned, after all- the fact that there had been 'more like it' was plenty vague, especially since Interpol would've probably been involved by now if something serial was expected. It typically didn't take more than three or four related victims before it was declared serial, after all, and when the victims were high up like this, it would've been handed over to Interpol almost immediately. But that's the thing- this was the first suspicious ambassador death she'd heard of in months. Something just wasn't lining up right here, and she was determined to find out what. 469 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "No particular notes for this post."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative I know what I'm doing, Agent Prentiss. He'd replied as she tried to stop him, albeit only verbally. He knew better than to disturb too much - and to record each and every disturbance he did make so that he could relay them to the forensics team. He stood after, though, inside out glove slipping into his pocket with his hands again, staring down at the body and thinking, with a soft 'hm?' as she spoke once more. Oh - just that we've been coming across matching murders of people from all classes. Homeless, rich, everywhere in between. It's all been kept from the press - within my organization, in fact - so it can't exactly be a copycat. He stated it all very matter-of-factly - it was all very straight forward and simple, obvious in his head. He did take one final glance around the scene before pulling out his phone, using it to access the Network's records remotely and pulling up the crime scene photos, all from the same angle. He backtracked, careful not to step in anything and have her yell at him again, to the appropriate angle, then motioned her over, pointing at the screen. See? Alleyway, no footprints leading too or from the body save the victims own. Again, homeless man this time in another alley. Then a well-off Cambridge student home to visit her family, in an empty side road. Then young teenage boy, again in a warehouse. All secluded location, all with the same style of injuries, all with the same sort of footprint patterns - you can't tell me it's not the same killer. He handed his phone over to her after having flicked through the pictures quickly with his explanation, letting her look at them however she liked and even zoom in if she wanted to. He'd gone a touch fast, after all, and he knew it - better to give her time to catch up. Not everyone could keep up with intelligent thought flow as fast as he could, particularly at the high level his own mind worked at. So, you see, the chances of this being a mere assassination are really rather unlikely. The ambassador's lack of a security detail was likely the only cause that led her to be a victim at all. He held out his hand for when she was done with his phone, not intending to stick around. He'd seen what he had to, mostly, and he'd just return later that day to check the rafters. For now, he could head back - look into the lifestyle patterns and oddities of this Ambassador here, see if there was anything that may have offended or frightened Jack, as that extra proof. Not that it would help him really find the abnormal, but he hated not knowing things and this one would drive him crazy. emily prentiss ...tagged 471 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative It was his next piece of information that really threw her in for a loop- the fact that most of the victims had come from such different backgrounds, and yet they had all been targeted by the same killer for no apparent reason. It didn't make any sense- in fact, she was on the verge of simply brushing the murders off as completely unrelated to each other when he pulled up the crime scene photos of some of the other victims, and it didn't exactly take a mortician to determine that the modus operandi was the same with each body- gruesome, maybe, but easily distinguishable. I believe you- it's the same killer. It has to be. But they're less organized than a typical serial killer- no relation between the victims whatsoever, at least nothing obvious. I'll have a few of my technical analysts run some searches- maybe they'll come up with something we can't. Can you get me a list of these names? He'd handed her his phone by now and she scrolled through the pictures at her own pace, zooming in on certain parts even as she spoke and trying to get a better feel for the crimes, even if she'd already been able to glean almost everything she'd need from his explanation itself. She sent him a brief glance as he spoke again before handing the phone back over, and she'd be lying if she said his words didn't relieve her somewhat- her mother was almost always surrounded by security personnel of some sort, given her high ranking and decades of experience with various governments. The odds of her becoming a victim were minimal, and healthy relationship between the two or not, Emily thanked god for that. However, there was no reason for her to stick around any longer than needed- she'd just get that list from him and go see if the local police had anything else to share before heading back to her office itself, she decided. There, she'd do just what she'd said and get the techies of the office to run some searches to see if there was any link between the victims whatsoever. With that done, she could fall back on the thing she did best, even now working back at Interpol- she would try to get inside the head of their murderer, whoever it may be. She had a feeling she should assign Tesla to something in the meantime, though- something that would keep him entertained or at least interested long enough to keep him around for the case while still helping him make himself useful, preferably without getting in her way too much. She had to hand it to Cameron, though- he did know a smart man when he saw one, even if said smart man also turned out to be a bit of an asshole in person. She sent one last glance over to the body before turning back to Tesla, voice still filled with authority despite whatever behavior he may have adopted to annoy her. I'll need your number- we can keep in touch, if something comes up. I'm going to start narrowing down ways the victims could've been connected. Meanwhile, you try to find where our killer will strike next- the sooner you find something, the better. And let me know immediately if you do. Got it? 554 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "No particular notes for this post."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative Hmm. The single sound slipped, bored once more, out as she mentioned having her technical analysts run some searches. He didn't need searches, he knew the connection - they'd all had a love of lore and had been, naturally, fascinated by recent spottings of London's elusive mystery, Spring-Heeled Jack. But, he said nothing on that - it would keep her entertained while he worked. At least she wouldn't get in the way then. At least she believed him; that was all he really found important. I'll email you the list when I get back to my office. He finally confirmed his intention to email her a few moments later, considerably distracted, though he took his phone back and slid it away in his pocket. He didn't need it to record details such as her own number and email. Not only did he have an eidetic memory, but he also knew her last name and the agency and position she worked in. He could find it all on his own. She, however, would not be so lucky with him. He had almost turned away, content to leave it there, when she asked for his number. Despite the rest that followed and the fact it was all solely professional, a little grin slipped onto his face as his eyes landed on her and stayed there - something they'd technically had yet to do until now, what with his wandering mind. He let the grin fade to a smile as he nodded in silent agreement. It wasn't that he had any intention of calling her if he found a trail - he didn't. He would, however, call her if he found Jack and got the abnormal in custody. Then, if she insisted heavily enough on meeting the killer, he supposed he'd bring her in, give her a vague tour of sorts. Of course - here. He slipped a small notepad - completely blank thus far, as he had no need to take notes - from his pocket, as well as the pen once more, jotting down a name, number, address and email. He merely handed the whole notepad over, slipping the pen back in his pocket as he did, hand casually remaining there even though it wasn't around the pen anymore in the slightest. You're welcome to contact me any way you like; or stop by if you'd rather. If I'm not in, Declan will surely be able to help you until I return. He didn't wait for a reply after that, instead merely slipping his hand out of his pocket and turning to walk of the warehouse, careful to avoid any evidence. He did pause to look back, eyes skimming the windows. A few were cracked - but there. One was missing. And that was just this side. He'd have to do a little looking around that area then, for sure; but later, when there was no one else around. He turned back towards his vehicle with a small smile. They'd been right. Getting outside had been a good first step. emily prentiss ...tagged 500 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She gave a small nod at his assurance that he'd email her the list, though the fact that he simply slid his phone away again afterwards didn't help her believe he'd actually go through with it. She'd let it go, though- if he didn't email her, she'd get a hold of him herself later. All she had to do was get his phone number, which she asked for moments later- and, in all honesty, the grin that slipped onto his face and the way he was eying her only served to make her regret it. She accepted the notepad from him, a bit surprised that he'd outright given her the whole thing but slipping it into her pocket anyways I'lll get a hold of you if- She trailed off as he turned away and left without another word, and she sent an annoyed look after him though refocused herself immediately afterwards and turned back towards to the cluster of local police standing nearby. Her work here was far from done, after all- even if the ever so high-and-mighty Nikola Tesla's was. She was already beginning to wish she'd just sent the incident response team on their own instead- they could function perfectly fine without her, not to mention it would've saved her the frustration and irritation that apparently came with dealing with Tesla. She returned to the office not long after, and by the time she checked her email he'd already sent her the list of victims. She immediately put the majority of her technical analysts on the job, searching to find any link between the victims that may exist. However, something else had caught her attention in the meantime- one of the other names on the list. There had been a second ambassador, and that was enough to make her worry again, to the point where she knew just what she'd be doing that night. She waited until the office was empty- it was around ten at night, in this case- before taking off and heading back to the crime scene, suspicion raised. She approached the warehouse carefully and as silently as possible, in case anyone should still be inside, though she couldn't hear anything right away. She reached the door and slipped it open a crack, enough to notice that the body had been taken away by now- to a morgue, most likely. It was the clues surrounding it that she was concerned with, though, and those would hopefully still be intact. She'd just about went to slip in through the partially-opened door when she heard a loud thud, and she had her gun out of its holster and in her hands in seconds, throwing the door open the rest of the way and barging in, gun raised. Who's there? 455 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "Written on iPhone."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative He had heard her - how could he not, when her heartbeat was just as clearly defined as his voice? He merely hadn't thought she was about to say anything of importance, an assumption proved correct when she didn't follow, yell after him or, god forbid, just call his phone right then and there. Without a thought, he'd slid into the driver's seat, started up the vehicle and headed off. He returned to the Sanctuary immediately, sending her the list of names as soon as he settled into his office, and then proceeded to catch up on other things. He had plenty of time after all, and within a few hours he was up to date on paperwork, had checked in with Kate and Henry's mission, had shoved some more responsibilities off on Declan, and had dug into the personal life of the recently deceased ambassador. By this time it was nearing nine at night, so he did a few more small tasks - check CCTV for the forensics team being gone and down another bottle of wine, primarily - and then headed back to the crime scene. He took a few moments to peer around the outside of the building, looking for clues there that the forensics team wouldn't have bothered to look for, and then he re-entered the building. He had selected a larger rafter which had the possibility to be a good landing spot and had readied to jump when he heard the door opening - a noise which startled him just as he pushed off the ground. He'd been so focused on getting the angle right that he had missed the approaching footsteps - and now he had a witness coupled with a thrown-off trajectory, which only served to land him directly against the ceiling of the warehouse, then tumbling a ways. His quick reaction time managed to save him from falling all the way, instead managing to catch a hold of one of the rustier rafters, though it wasn't caving yet, thank god. She didn't get much of an answer, however - he hadn't even really heard her, having been too busy hitting the roof and not breaking his neck to really listen. Son of a bitch! emily prentiss ...tagged 368 ...words --- ...playlist written on ipad... post organic chem exam. brain = friedddd xD ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She'd entered just in time to see a shape hit the roof, and immediately suspicious that the killer may have come back, she fired a shot at the figure, though by the time the bullet hit it had already fallen to the rafters and staying there. It only took her a moment after that to recognize the identity of the figure, and there was a moment of mixed emotion in terms of the bullet having missed its mark- it was him hanging from the rafter, though how he had gotten there was a mystery to her. the thing had to be at least ten feet off the ground, if not more. It was the question of what he was doing here that overruled anything else, though- the fact that he was on a rafter could be overlooked, at least for a little while. For now, she was more concerned as to why he felt the need to sneak back in the middle of the night- though, then again, she was technically doing the exact same thing, even if she wasn't dangling from the ceiling while she did so. Her gun remained trained on him for a moment longer before she dropped her arms to her sides and slid it back into its holster, the question finally slipping out. What the hell are you doing here? She took a few more steps in his direction, careful to avoid the dark red stain that still remained on the ground, even if most of the pooled blood had been mopped up following the removal of the corpse. Her attention was otherwise entirely focused on Nikola, though, and it was only as she waited for some kind of response that it occurred to her just how odd of a location he was in. It wasn't like there was a ladder or stack of crates nearby that he could've climbed either, and he'd somehow managed to hit the roof before falling- the only explanation was that he'd shot upwards somehow. The only question was how? 337 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "No particular notes for this post."

[NIKOLA TESLA]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png] speech - thoughts - narrative Well, this was a rather inconvenient position. He sighed softly, dangling from the rafter by one hand, not daring to slide his nails through the metal for fear of weakening it further. He hardly needed it to crack, after all. At least he had a good grip, so he wouldn't be falling anytime soon. He glanced down with a roll of his eyes when he spotted who had nearly shot him, as well as caused him to get like this. He scowled up at the rafter for a moment before he answered her. Thought of something. Came to check. Now shut up a minute while I think, please. He didn't actually need her to be quiet - he could tune her out. It was more a warning that he wasn't paying attention to her than anything. His eyes scanned the dark, able to pick out the rafters better than he should be able to once he shifted his eyes. He was far enough away she couldn't tell anyway. He spotted one close enough to swing to that was sturdier looking. Of course, what he'd underestimated was the strength of the beam he was hanging from. He went to swing a bit, to get momentum going to swing over to the other beam, and the rafter his hands were wrapped around creaked and groaned. He swore it would hold - but clearly he was wrong, for next thing he knew, the section he was hanging onto had snapped off with a loud crack and he was falling, hands no longer bothering to hold on, a yelp slipping out. He thought quickly, though - powers kicking in to at least hover the rafter a few feet above the ground, even as he crashed into her, slowing his own descent but easily taking her down with him. The jolt set his concentration off and the rafter continued it's fall again, though he reached up to grab it with one hand just before it smacked into her head. He paused a moment to make sure he didn't screw up, then tossed the rafter clear of them, peering down at her a moment. I- uh- sorry. That was... unintentional. He rolled off her then, staying on his back and glaring back up at the rafters for a moment. They just had to go and be difficult. Naturally. God forbid anything go as planned, after all. His glare fell away, though, letting his head fall to look at her again with some faint concern. ...You okay? emily prentiss ...tagged 412 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes

[EMILY PRENTISS]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle-20.png] speech - thoughts - narrative She'd been able to make out him as well as the spot where the body had been laying earlier that day by the light of the moon alone, though she'd otherwise been able to only make out shadows around the room- she'd brought a flashlight, but had intended to wait until she was inside the warehouse to turn it on, and there was really no need for it yet. However, the darkness combined with her distance from Nikola was enough to stop her from noticing the shifted eyes, and that was probably for the best- she was about ready to put a bullet through him as is. She hadn't expected the rafter to give way under him, though, and the moment she heard the creak signalling just what was going on she took an instinctive step backwards and out of the way. However, that just happened to be in the direction he was swinging, and as he fell she was taken down with him and ended up pinned under him, knocking the air from her lungs and bruising a rib or two in the process, she was sure. She tensed as his hand shot out, though she saw the reason why just a moment later as everything registered in her mind- the broken piece of rafter had been headed straight for her, and he'd plucked it out of the air like it was nothing. She stared up at him for a moment, stunned- in fact, too stunned to worry about the fact that he was on top of her. ...thanks for that. The words were empty at best- completely shocked, and definitely not eager to find out what would have happened had he not caught the pipe when he did. He was soon rolling off of her, though, and the minute he did just that she climbed back to her feet, wincing in the process- yep, she'd definitely bruised a rib or two. She reached a hand out to help him up, answering his question as she did so. She had to hand it to him, though- he wasn't as much of a heartless asshole as she'd initially assumed. I've been worse. It was true- she'd dealt with much worse than this before, though at the same time, she'd definitely been better, too. She should be fine, she knew- just taking it easy in the field for the next few days, not like her injury would give her much of a choice regardless- and therefore was left free to focus on him, or more specifically, the questions that had been plaguing her about him since she'd arrived at the warehouse just minutes before. She started with the obvious, though, and the one that her throbbing chest was making it nearly impossible to forget. How'd you get on the rafters? 463 words for nikola tesla written while listening to nothing "No particular notes for this post."