[b][i]DEL HALE[/i][/b]
Del had only woken up fifteen minutes ago, being ushered out of his room by some scientist or other telling him to look at some board thing outside. He stumbled out of his room and now found himself staring at a cork bulletin board with 'mission postings'. His half open eyes, practically glazed over from lack of sleep that night, scanned the board, slowly looking for his own name.
He found it towards the bottom, next to somebody else's. "Aquarius and Del". His eyes scanned the mission details, and he saw three pictures attached- His own, a picture of a little girl, and then a picture of the person they were going after... Aw, come on, working with a little girl? One of the few things Del had liked about being taken in by these people, even if it was only a few days ago, was that he didn't need to baby sit or really do too much work to keep himself fed. Now here he was, running an errand across the country to find someone else with the star, all while taking care of a little girl.
"[i]Lovely.[/i]" Del thought, walking slowly back to his room- well, perhaps the term room was a stretch. More like tiny mattress which he had to defend with his life against hordes of other star children who wanted more space as much as he did. He walked to his bunk, rummaging underneath, to produce a backpack with his civvies and a few other essentials- Deodorant, few packs of gum, spending money, the works. He shouldered the pack, heading towards the bathroom. Like hell would he be caught dead out in the city in his 'uniform'. Del figured he could reason with the higher ups that civilian clothes were the best idea. Wouldn't want to frighten the kid they were going after. Two kids in pseudo space age looking uniforms telling them "we are like you. Come with us, my child." didn't exactly give off the greatest vibe.
He stepped inside, quickly changing into his standard attire. As he stepped out he pulled he beanie on, drawing glances from people in their normal uniforms all around, staring at the kid wearing something different. he pulled his beanie lower and kept his grip tight on the skateboard, one hand on the shoulder strap of his bag. In the back of his mind he wondered if they'd be provided with plane tickets or if he needed to stage one hell of a road trip.
He walked through the halls, towards the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee- It'd been too long since he'd had one. He stepped inside, pushing quietly past two people and into the kitchen, making himself a cup as they stared at his civilian clothes. As he poured his black, tasteless coffee into the cup, the gravity of his mission assignment hit him. Who the hell [i]was[/i] this chick? "Aquarius, don't switch anyone's souls." The image of a friendly little girl that Del held to in his mind was replaced in his mind's eye with a psychotic little girl who asked her daddy for a knife sharpening kit for Christmas as opposed to a Malibu Barbie House. He shuddered slightly and put the cuppa to his lips, taking a long sip, not stopping once.
"[i]Right, breathing."[/i]" Del put the cup down, all the coffee drained down his gullet, remembering that he should probably breathe more or else he'd get a great number more of weird stares. He smiled awkwardly as the two other kids in the kitchen shuffled out after watching Del swallow a scalding pot of coffee in one go.

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[b][i]URSA[/i][/b]
Ursa was trying to put the sniper rifle aimed directly at his head. He stood in the work out room, doing battle with a punching bag. Perhaps punching bag was a understatement. Per Aspera would probably go through a few hundred dollars worth of punching bags every time Ursa hit the gym if they used regular ones. They'd used regular ones, once- Suffice to say after about an hour they had a half dozen broken punching bags and Ursa wasn't even remotely tired.
Now Ursa unleashing his strength on a reinforced steel punching bag. Weighing in at a few tons, Unrsa knuckles pounded into it, the skin on Ursa's hands long cracked and bleeding from the sheer impact force, causing a boom that would resonate through the base if not for a reaosnable degree of sound-proofing.
"You tired yet Ursa? Been wailing on that thing for an hour." The sniper mused, keeping the cross hair trained on Ursa's head. It was Jace- Ursa's handler for many years, and one of the few who Ursa mayhaps have considered a friend.
Ursa shook his head and threw a devastating punch, causing a dent on the steel brick.
"Nice one." Jace commented idly. Ursa contemplated what would happen to a targets body if he did that. he pictured a body being viciously ripped in half like it was hit by an anti-material sniper round, like the gun that was being constantly aimed at Ursa's frontal lobe. he hit the bag again- again. Again. Harder. Faster.
"Slow down there, champ. If it was me I'd tell you to keep wailing, but the desk jockeys don't want you getting too 'antsy'." Jace said. Ursa watched as Jace's fingers twitched to the trigger, as if Ursa wouldn't notice. Ursa lowered his fists as a singular bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, he turned, slowly walking to Jace. Ursa now stood in front of the many, the rifle of the sniper pressed directly into his forehead, and he spread his arms and legs. Jace produced a pistol from his belt and held it against Ursa's temple, shouldering his rifle and patting Ursa down. For some reason or other they saw fit to assure Ursa wasn't carrying any weapons upon exit of the work out hall. Ursa wondered how he would even get a weapon in there while a sniper was kept on his head, just asking for any reason to pull the trigger.
"Clean as always." Jace put the pistol in his belt again as Ursa walked out the door, for the significantly older man to fall into step behind him again, handing him a Manila file folder.
"New mission, Ursa. Not like they usually give ya, though."
Ursa slowly took the folder, opening it and examining its contents. He and a high-class agent would be deployed for the Silicon Valley for the retrieval and subsequent extraction of another one with the star. The security chief would be going with them as well. Ursa wondered what about the one they were going after required such a show of force. Perhaps the kid had the capacity to create some kind of nuclear threat with that power of his. Providing weapons to terrorists? All possibilities.
"What's my ordnance this time?" Ursa asked in his first sentence out loud that day. This time he'd want a sniper. Probably some grenades and C4 to deal with whatever mechanical monsters the target would have protecting him.
"None." Jack said. "Higher-ups figure this is a more peaceful mission. Plus if things get hot, they say your fists would do all they work they'd need."
Ursa frowned softly, imagining Jace's brains splattered across the floor while his broken skull rested in a fresh hole in the wall. He shook the thoughts aside. That was no way to imagine a superior officer for a minor disappointment. He wondered when he'd meet the security chief. Moreover, he wondered when they'd hit the road...