[CENTER][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/314e05be-6f69-47ee-9543-5bbc310ccd84.jpg[/img][/CENTER] [center][h1][color=#7D5CB3]Wulde Riddenhouse[/color][/h1][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [center][color=#812442][b]Location: [/b][/color] South Halcyon Friends Meeting House [color=#812442][b]Time: [/b][/color] Night[/center] [center][color=#812442][b]Interactions:[/b][/color][@tpartywithzombi] Dane [color=#812442][b]Mentions: N/A[/b][/color] [@oso]Dominic [@deegee]Kessler[/center][@infinite cosmos]Lucian [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] Wulde noticed that Barton was slowing down and dimming his lights as his truck pulled up to a squat, shabby monument sign marking the entrance to a driveway. They were in a rundown “mixed-use” zone, where the buildings were smaller than the hulking factories and warehouses they had passed earlier; here was a drab assortment of service stations, hardware stores, private medical offices, clubhouses, and the like. Wulde looked from the sign to the building behind it and frowned. [color=#ffd700] “A church?”[/color] he asked, bemusedly. [color=#00ced1] “I believe the term for this one is ‘meeting house’,”[/color] replied Barton, as he turned into the driveway. The headlights swept over the sign just then as if on cue, briefly illuminating faded lettering that indeed read: “South Halcyon Friends Meeting House.” A crunching sound signaled asphalt giving way to loose gravel. Wulde frowned. [color=#ffd700] “So, we’re supposed to be, what, Quakers, then?”[/color] He found that odd; he had always thought that they were supposed to be pacifists. [color=#00ced1] “You gotta admit, it’s a creative cover,”[/color] the other Warden offered. The parking lot was behind the church, screened by trees and a brick wall; thus, it was not until they were in the back that they could see how many other vehicles had already arrived: only three so far, though one was a crew van that might carry any number of passengers. Wulde saw no one outside as he dismounted from the truck and looked about the dim parking lot; it was a safehouse, after all, which meant it would not be conspicuously guarded or surveilled. The lighting in the back lot was dim; however, the Warden noticed here and there in the surrounding trees and hedges a glint from what looked to be rectangular arrays of little glass circles. Infrared illuminators and cameras, he surmised. A plain, locked metal door with a buzzer next to it greeted the newcomers with the unspoken message: “If you belong here, you know what to do”. Barton gave the buzzer two quick presses, and then the two wardens turned to face the camera. Wulde resisted the urge to smile and wave sarcastically. The door burred and clicked, which upon opening revealed a bare room overlooked by a window in the right-hand wall. Framed in that window stood a plainly-dressed, conspicuously inconspicuous man who gave the new arrivals a neutral, questioning look. Barton produced his phone and announced: [color=#00ced1] “Field Wardens Barton and Riddenhouse.”[/color] The man nodded and pointed to the only other door. [b]“Third room on the right,”[/b] he instructed laconically. [b]“There’s a breakroom first door on the left, but that’s for afterward. Please just go straight to the briefing.”[/b] There was another buzz, this time from the interior door, and Wulde and Barton now entered a long corridor lined with office doors, of which only the two that the desk clerk had mentioned were open. Aforementioned third room on the right was clearly a small classroom, flanked by two small folding banquet tables with chairs arranged along the outer edges. Four other field wardens already sat at those tables, two on each side. At the front of the room, sitting on the front of a small teacher’s desk was a formidable looking middle-aged black woman, who nodded to the new arrivals and said: [color=#b0c24a]“Take a seat, gentlemen.”[/color] The assembled group sat and waited for a few moments before the woman seemed to make a decision. She picked up her phone and pressed a button. [color=#b0c24a]“I’m calling it, Wallace,”[/color] she announced to it. [color=#b0c24a]“ “We have quorum. Anybody else comes, thank them for their time.”[/color] The voice of the man at the front desk responded: [b]“Roger,”[/b] after which the woman lowered her phone and faced the assembled Wardens. [color=#b0c24a]“Thank you all for coming,”[/color] she declaimed in a strong, deep voice. [color=#b0c24a]“ “I am Lieutenant Laquita Grant.”[/color] Although she spoke quietly, Wulde guessed that Lieutenant Grant could have commanded a small auditorium with that voice, even without a microphone, if she so chose. Lieutenant Grant scanned the room calmly and confidently as she spoke. [color=#b0c24a]“ “You all are here because you got a message reporting a disturbance at one of the warehouses in the Gutterbane. Obviously, you are here because you are to help investigate that disturbance. Just as obviously, I am here to tell you how you are going to do that-“[/color] A hushed yet insistent chorus of electronic chirps and buzzes murmured about the room. Reflexively, everybody looked at their phones, watches or other communication devices. A baffled murmur spread throughout the room as the Wardens read the messages that had just arrived. Lieutenant Grant made a noise at once irritated and resigned as she looked at her own phone. [color=#b0c24a]“ “Right, y’all take care of this,”[/color] she instructed. [color=#b0c24a]“ “Go ahead and grab some coffee while you’re at it. We’ll resume in five. Make that ten.”[/color] A din of scrapes and rumbles ensued as the gathered Wardens pushed back their chairs and rose, still gazing at their respective devices. Satisfied that he had a handle on the situation in the room, Wulde finally checked the obscure message app on his own phone: URGENT CODE 3 - Last location Nightclub in Sector 6 ALL WARDENS REQUIRED TO DO A STATUS CHECK. End Transmission The Wardens filed out of the cramped classroom and instinctively spread at generous intervals along the corridor, as if the status checks they were about to give had a blast radius. Wulde took a spot just past a pair of restrooms, then composed his own message: Re: URGENT Current status: Attending mission briefing w/6 other Ws, OIC LT Grant. Wulde then referenced the safehouse address and ended the message. Hopefully, that would satisfy the Commander.