I am not the hero you ordered [open]

[Emiko Nakajima]

a strange place indeed
awaiting more instruction
shall prove difficult

There was an aura that Hammel gave off, a sort of historical aura. Standing by its front gates, gazing at the brick buildings, and noting the finesse of the architecture, one couldn’t help but love the building. Even when it was pouring down rain, it had some dignity about it. The arches of the windows and the steeple towering over of the main entrance made any other school seem insignificant. The red brick of the building was nothing like the ivory panels and whitewashed concrete of Eisai. This building was not built into the side of a mountain overlooking terraced farmland and snowcapped peaks. But, even though it lacked a similar landscape akin to the building she called ‘home’, the Japanese woman looking up at it from under her gray umbrella still felt a sense of belonging coming from inside. It was beckoning her.

She walked slowly up the stairs, feeling almost like an exchange student of sorts. She had tried to dress up for the occasion, but she wasn’t sure what to wear- She had gone with an outfit she had simply pulled from her suitcase after arriving at her apartment, trying to remember something about white shoes and some strange day she wasn’t allowed to wear them after. All and all, she considered the brown obi, white skirt, and purple top to go very well together with her (safe) brown slip on shoes. She tried to avoid the puddles that the drizzle had created and made her way up the front steps, closing her umbrella after safely negotiating her way up the steps to the overhang that preceded the main doorway.

She felt tired, but it was to be expected- the flight out had been long and, even with her long nap on the fight from San Francisco to JFK, she was still lagging. It was nighttime in her home country, and her body wasn’t used to the change as of yet. She suspected she would have many sleepless nights for the next few weeks. She’d have to train her body fast. The car from the airport to her apartment that Eisai had set up for her had a Japanese driver, and it was nice to talk to him, but she had to remember all the English she had learned in school and in her training. Emiko was confident, but fearful- what if her fatigued brain could not keep up with what was being said? She tried her best to wake up before she came, as a result. She had taken a cold shower in an attempt to snap awake. So far, it had worked.

The Japanese woman was greeted by a stream of warmer air as she entered the main hall, looking around at the students who bustled to classes. Some of them looked to her, others passed her by. Each one of them, she could see fears. It was like an image looming over their heads. One was afraid of falling, another, snakes. A boy that brushed by her was terrified of being overweight. She made her way down the hall, the crowd of students parting for her ever so slightly.

Stepping into the main office, she already felt a little lost. Who was she supposed to see first? Was she even in the right place? Did she look a little too naïve? Maybe she shouldn’t have worn a skirt. Her old police attire would’ve suited her better. She looked much too girlish in this- in all honesty, it was one of the few skirts she owned. She cleared her throat and looked around aimlessly before clasping her hands behind her back and stepping up to the desk. Her first course of action? Calling out to anyone who could hear. “Hello? I am looking for a Romanov-san?” She bit her lip. “I was sent from Eisai Gakkou...” She hoped that would help clarify things.

[Outfit]

[Eli Morrison]

Emiko was not alone in feeling instantly at home in Hammel. Earlier that morning, a tall, serious man had entered through the same gate. For seven years he had lived within the brick walls of the dorm, and then for the last six he'd been in walking distance. Next year, he would have spent as much of his life affiliated with Hammel as he'd spent outside.

Honestly, he very much preferred to be here than anywhere else. Even recently, with all the drama. (Was it really less than a year since he'd teased Chase Kilbourne, the trainer, about wanting a book about parenting? Since then, well, no one was teasing anyone from that household anymore, and he'd read all of the parenting books in the library himself.) It was simply his home; particularly the library.

But Eli wasn't in the library at the moment. One of the three students he didn't like showing up at the library had requested a book, so he was making a delivery. (Though it wasn't as if he could stop Emma from entering. The walls were not teleportation-proof. He just didn't want to risk a certain someone following her in.) When he entered the main office, he intended to just drop the book on Nykhol's desk, with a note: Please give to Emma. Thank you.

He stood a good four inches over six feet, and though he didn't think he was intimidating, this was still Nykhol, and when she was intimidated, things got scary. (Not that Eli was scared by a lot of things. However, with Emiko's power, she would have seen the hulking figure of an older, stout man: Richard Morrison. Eli's stepfather.)

But when he walked in, he instantly noticed a woman he did not recognize. And if Eli didn't recognize her, she had to be new. Plus, she was from the Japanese meta school and had an accent.

"You'll probably want to talk to Claude Harris too. He's the head of the school." Though Eli's Japanese was horribly accented, the grammar was perfect. Knowing how things were supposed to sound and actually getting them to sound like that were two different things entirely. "And Vincent--that's Mr. Romanov--has an office down the hall. I can show you, if you'd like."

Eli didn't know why she was there, but deduced that if she was trying to see the head of security, she probably wasn't attempting to threaten the school. And if she was, well, she wasn't very good at it. "My name is Eli Morrison. You are?" He crossed over to Nykhol's desk and left the book there, glad he didn't actually have to speak to the receptionist.

[Vincent Romanov]

Vincent had arrived at the school rather early as usual and was now relaxed at his desk in his small office. In front of him on the desk was today's paper and in Vincent's rather large and worn hands he held a bowl of cold cereal (Captain Crunch, his favorite). His jaws worked slowly as he chewed the mushy cereal, his dark eyes scanning the sports section of the paper. His hand lazily held his spoon over the bowl, small droplets of milk falling from the curved bottom and back into the bowl. Sure, it was long past breakfast time but Vincent never missed an opportunity to grab a bite, even if it was something simple like Captain Crunch. He kept a small box of the stuff in the bottom draw of his desk and a small personal refrigerator beside him on the floor to keep plenty of milk and bottled water. Claude always reminded Vincent about how unprofessional his office looked ever chance he got, but Vincent really didn't care. If Claude thought Vincent to be nothing more than a bumbling fool, he never would have hired him to protect Hammel in the first place.

The small ear piece in his ear crackled to life and a the voice from the guard at the front gate whispered. It seemed the new member of the security team from Japan was here and that meant it was time for Vincent's snack break to end. Pressing the rim of the bowl to his lips, Vincent tilted the bowl up and his head back, drinking the remaining milk in two gulps. It might not have been pretty, but it was better than wasting such a precious commodity. Setting the bowl down on the desk, Vincent reached over and opened one of the small drawers of his desk. A small roll of paper towels greeted him and he tore off one or two and proceeded to wipe out his cereal bowl. The Army had taught Vincent many things, with order and cleanliness being right at the top. He tossed the used paper towels aside into the wastebasket on the other side of the desk and then put his cereal bowel away in the drawer with the paper towels, shutting them away for a later date.

As he stood, Vincent brushed down his white button up shirt and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack behind him. Claude had insisted on such a monkey suit but no matter how much the old man harped, Vincent wasn't about to wear a tie, it just choked him and distracted him. Slipping the black jacket on, Vincent took a deep breath and then proceeded to leave his office, his door slowly closing shut behind him, locking itself. No doubt the new recruit would head for the main office and so, with a brisk pace, this was where Vincent headed, giving each classroom he passed on his way a quick glance to see how things were going today. Not many disturbances warranted a visit from Vincent, but rather one of the other guards who worked here. Most of the students here had never even spoke to Vincent, but all knew him none the less. He tried not to befriend many of them as it sort of took away from the intimidation factor when and if he did have to address some of them. Despite the fact that he cared for each person here, Vincent was about as professional as they came.

Vincent's heavy footfalls echoed down the hallway of the school as he neared the main office. A few voices clicked over the ear piece he wore but they were all just standard check ins with the security room. Vincent kept a tight leash on the order here at Hammel and while it might have seem ridiculous to be so serious about his roll here, Vincent wasn't about to take any chances. The last time he let his guard down and didn't speak up about lack of security, an entire village was slaughtered and everyone in his platoon but him were killed. It was a nightmare which haunted him still and lead to his fear of not being able to protect those around him. So, now, Vincent always stayed alert, not giving anyone a chance to hurt him or the others he was assigned to protect ever again.

His heavy hand fell to the door handle of the main office and just as he was about to open the door, he heard muffled voices. With a smile, Vincent pulled the door open quickly. As he entered, Vincent looked the moment over and moved over to Emiko. "Emiko Nakajima?", Vincent said loudly a he usually did, "Your profile picture in your file doesn't do you justice," he went on, giving Emiko a small nod of his head. "Its nice to see you out of your hole Eli," Vincent said with a grin and glance to Eli. The man may have been taller than Vincent, but when you possessed Vincent's ability, the intimidation factor of physical traits and size sort of vanished.

[Emiko Nakajima]

difficulties cease
two gentlemen to assist
chivalry exists?

As the door opened behind her, Emiko did not turn on her heels and jump, as many would. Instead, she turned only her head, in a slow arc that caused her hair to fall over her shoulder. She saw the tall man standing behind her, and, before she could make out his eye color, she already knew that in order to scare him she needed to turn into an older and larger man and start yelling what a failure he was. She almost did, there was a flash of something across her eyes, but she did not. It was impolite to do such things when she was arriving to assist them. If she had been in Switzerland, it would be different, but this was America.

The proficiency in his Japanese caught her off guard, but clearly he was only versed in the language, as he made no form of greeting or bowing. She listened for a moment before turning to face him, hands clasped in front of her. She bowed at the waist at only a slight angle (Eli, being the whiz-kid he was, would’ve probably seen it was only 20 degrees, not a respectable bow at all by Japanese terms.) “Hello to you too.”

[/i] She said, trying not to sound coy. After she had psychologically cleared away the cloud of initial fear surrounding him, she was able to see he was not at all displeasing to look at. A bit too much of a something for Emiko’s tastes, but everyone needed a personality. “I will speak to Mr. Harris as well, but first I need to establish I have found my way here. I was instructed to meet with Mr. Romanov and Dr. Neville before all others. I do appreciate your concern.”

Another figure entered just as the male introduced himself, cutting off her own introduction. She was aware that this was Mr. Romanov, for she had seen a picture of him before she had left, so she would know whom she would be speaking to, at least in a physical sense. In a psychological sense he was harder to read than Eli, his fears were buried under trauma and it was like quickly peeling an onion- she got bits of it the farther she went but it took her a few clumsy moments longer to chip away the social stigma and expose the raw fear: protection issues. Fear of loss due to the clumsiness of oneself. She ran into that one a lot these days; it was becoming quite easy to access a point of entry- just find a nondescript face of a person dying in front of them and have them come back with accusations. Gore was a must have. A good ‘back from the grave’ dramatization was always a nice touch to any undead accusation, family members or strangers alike. Sometimes she didn’t even need to enact the shifting form of her power, all she had to say was that someone had died on their watch- just a bit of good acting was all she required.

Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, Emiko bowed at the waist again to Mr. Romanov. (A 50 degree angle now Eli, are you taking mental notes?) Righting herself, she watched the exchange between them with a feigned look of interest when, on the inside, she was trying not to look pressed for time. Her perception zoned in on Mr. Romanov’s uniform. Would she wear something similar? She realized she must look like a frail woman, trapped in the skirt and all prettied up as she was. The first impression was likely sending all the wrong signals. Even the smile on her face- how did she not notice! It was bright and cheery, and she knew full well it made her look like she was some ganguro airhead. Her face etched itself into its usual serious front and she bowed her head to each of them.

“I am very happy to be here on my assignment. I take it you have instructions for me, Mr. Romanov?” The Japanese woman spoke in clipped, precise English now. She turned her head to Eli and spoke in Japanese again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Morrison-sama. I hope to see you much more in the future.”[/i]

Ah, business time.[/blockquote]

[Eli Morrison]

Eli didn't know who the woman was, or what particular power she had. If he had been privy to this information, he would have been embarrassed that she had to be subjected to the image of his stepfather. That was something no one needed to see. Though it might have been something of a relief if yelling about Eli's perceived failures was the worst of the vision. In his last year of living with the man, he had been violent, as well.

As Emiko had been facing the other way, Eli had forgone the formal greetings for a more simple one. To him, that was all that was necessary, as he planned on switching to English as soon has he had confirmed that she knew enough of it that he could talk in his regular manner and not lose her. (No offense meant to the woman, of course. But Vincent Verax and Emma Cousins had been in his office too often lately, and he had it ingrained in his head that few people could understand him the first time he said anything.)

Even if the shallow bow had been intended as a slight, Eli took no offense to it. He had not bowed either, so he understood if she took his lack of action as ignorance. "I could take you to..."

But then Vincent Romanov arrived, negating what he was about to say. He nodded and smiled a vague smile at the older man, then said, "I go out enough that I am not suffering from vitamin D deficiency, so I believe I get out enough."

Now that his assistance was unneeded, however, he decided to take his leave. With a nod to both of them, he said (in English) "Well then, I'll be heading back to my 'hole.' It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Nakijima, and if you ever need my assistance, my office is adjacent to the library. Have a good day." And so he left them to their business.