Plank Sinatra

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

And Sloan's icebreaker is up! I'd be amazed if that put ALL of Aimee and Murphy's fears to rest but c'est la vie. :P

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

Sloan's eyebrows raised when the barista removed her apron and mask to reveal what he could only assume was the team leader - tall and delicate, though he instantly assumed a commanding presence easily enough. The Dagula's eyes followed him to the holographic projector and rolled slightly when he saw the dossiers beginning to scroll. His was the third or fourth up there, and now and then eyes would flicker over to him when they read his Bloodline. He would have to dust off the tried and true explanation and defense of his heritage. He just knew it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nadia fidgeting as file after file rolled past the (mostly disinterested) team. He couldn't blame the woman for being uncomfortable with this. Beef hadn't exactly been a prom king when not around him either, and if someone had read Beef Stroganoff on a dossier, eyes were always sent rolling.

There were worse things to be than an Assault's conversation partner.

Back to reality.

"Lordy, that's embarrassing," Sloan muttered to Nadia as he wrapped what was left of his scone carefully in the napkin and looked towards Robin. "I just tipped the team leader fifty percent."

No one else was stepping up to introduce themselves, and someone had to go first in the round of icebreakers. There were worse things to be than a talkative lab rat. With a reassuring smile and a silent tap of Nadia's cup with his own, Sloan stood up and walked back towards the counter, pushing the tip jar aside several inches and hopping up to perch in front of the register. After another long, slow slip of his drink, he tilted his head back slightly, cleared his throat to himself, and spoke up:

"Sloan Negasi, Dagula. If you've ever been to Los Angeles, you've probably met about a hundred of me, but for whatever reason they chose me to be a Butei." He grinned and set his coffee cup down. "Let's just be clear about it: I'm sure my Bloodline sent some eyebrows raising, so let me reassure you that I comply totally with every Task Force One regulation regarding Bloodlines. I trust all of you not to go on a berserker rage and gut me, or to exploit the knowledge that my neck would probably snap 150% as easily as the average human's. All I'd ask in return is that you trust me not to 'hypnotize' you, as my first Interrogation instructor so wrongly put it. Other than that...not much to tell, I like to think I'm just a typical guy. I love boxing, basketball, and long walks on Venice Beach...and I'm probably a bit too generous for my own good." Turning to Robin, he deliberately and slowly rifled around in the tip jar and pulled out his five bucks before standing.

"This should be interesting," he said, finishing his icebreaker and sitting beside Nadia again. "A real blast and a half."

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

It mentioned she sat down at the table where the guy with scones was sitting. That's Sloan. I get the confusion though.

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

Similarly rushed post, because I have classes to wrap up tonight; McHaggis, if you need me to add on to that Sloan post just let me know!

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

Sloan smiled slightly, showing hints of white teeth but nothing off-putting. He'd been so preoccupied with his own assignment to Division Six that he hadn't taken much time to consider how people who weren't skilled at infiltration would adjust on the fly. Instead of kicking himself for not walking a mile in their shoes, he took the time to get his bearings on the new arrival. Really pretty up close, in the same androgynous way he'd noted from in line, but up close it was much easier to see the telltale signs of Assault - light facial scarring, taut muscles, a searching look like she wouldn't mind kicking his ass if he were to pull out the Sig he was carrying underneath his partially-unzipped hooded jacket. He'd probably deserve it if he was stupid enough to pick a fight with her anyway. Butei could be dangerous, whether you were one of them or not.

"Hey, now, don't worry about it. I'm born and bred Los Angeles, so before they put me through a semester in Dagula, I was the same way. Besides, looking at how many Assault grads we've got ourselves here, I'd put some money on you not being the only one who loves a good, straight fight." Despite the fact that he had spent undue amounts of time with a Russian as a drinking buddy, Sloan had absolutely no gift for the language; he had a decent grasp on Arabic (Mom's language) and Japanese (being a Butei) but it was English he'd first learned and first loved, so he spoke in his native tongue to the new arrival.

He carefully divided the napkins up and slipped another scone across the table politely. With his other hand he reached for the straw and tilted it towards him, taking a small, vanilla-tinged sip and scanning the room with his eyes. What he saw on second glance was mostly the same as his first; that pleased him enough to smile wider and casually cut off a bite of scone with his fork. The pastry was sweet, and a little light on the chocolate, but Sloan was so happy to have a taste of home that he promptly cut off another bite and ate it slightly faster than he had the first.

The knucklehead sitting with the crooks laughed louder at some joke his contact had told him. He hoped that was just good acting, and not the man's natural personality. His eyes left the full table and found the clock - nearly time - before, remembering his courtesies, making their way back to the woman at his table.

"Sloan Negasi, Dagula. I promise we're not as bad as you Assault types hear," Sloan greeted warmly between bites. "Pleasure to be working with you."

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

Interesting how only two of our team has deemed it necessary to even interact with each other, and how our squad has managed to avoid sitting anywhere near each other in what must be the largest Starbucks ever.

Question, though I'm pretty sure I know the answer: This is set in Japan, right?

@Spawnling

Sloan and Nadia interaction was coming up soon until Reaper announced a post, so we're holding off on that.

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

"--And--how about two raspberry and white chocolate scones?"

The mistake people most often made about charm was letting it intertwine too closely with cockiness. The massive blinding grin and the obnoxiously obvious wink that cartoon characters could get away with was generally referred to as 'being a douche' in the real world. Sloan preferred the nice, casual kind of confidence; try not to 'umm' and 'ahh' through your order like you haven't decided what you wanted, sneak a five dollar note into the tip jar on the likely chance that one or two of the team probably wouldn't tip, give a small smile and get a small smile back.

Charm.

It was a lesson the knucklehead bragging with his crook buddies over Tazo Iced Passion had yet to learn, apparently. He recognized him as Butei because, besides that he was obviously telegraphing that he was Butei, he was apparently some kind of elite at Lezzad. He certainly had being friends with crooks down; he was yammering on about Bloody Marys while his drinking buddies drank up his words like he was some kind of shaman for schmucks. Being a douche.

The two Assault troops (for that was clearly what they were) caught up in conversation gave him more confidence, and Sloan was even more impressed by the Dagula in the suit he'd caught sight of upon entrance who had arrived before them all. The androgynous one who looked like she could have knocked out all their teeth inspired similar levels of 'wow, this team might not totally suck.' Given what he'd seen, maybe he could write off the Lezzad as the exception that proved the rule.

"Vanilla bean frap and the raspberry scones?"

"Appreciate it," Sloan said quietly, with another small smile, as he took his drink in one hand and a napkin enveloping both scones in the other. He scanned for one of the empty circular tables and slipped behind a seat quietly, resisting the urge to kick up his feet in another chair like Han Solo. After all, it wasn't like he expected to eat both scones himself.

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

^Ditto. Hope that Sloan post works for everyone!

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

"Give the man some credit. LeBron's been playing since I was a preschooler; everyone's got to retire some day. You want to be doing this in seventeen years?"

Hanging from the wooden rafters of the bustling little bar, a ceiling fan under significant duress from the crowd creaked its agreement.

"I would rather be doing this than the alternative," Khabif Stroganoff said with his typically blunted edge. Everything about the Russian was blunt - a heavy forehead and an anvil of a jaw that left his face looking like something that could bust through anything short of metal, massive knuckles and heavy muscles that could choke out a gazelle, and a thick Russian accent that left every jab - even the affectionate ones - sounding gruff and heavy. It was easy to see why he and Sloan worked so well in tandem; classical yin and yang, whatever one didn't have covered, the other would match for. Together, they were near unstoppable.

Only issue was, Sloan's Bloodline and Dagula scores had left him a natural fit for Division Six. Beef, God bless him, was more fitted to general Assault. The feeling of acclimating to a new team - finding a new Beef - was something that had even the notoriously people pleasing Sloan Negasi on his toes.

"A true champion is dethroned. He does not quit, or he is no champion at all," Beef continued, oblivious to his friend's inner turmoil. "LeBron has years in him, a good four or five years. Who was the champion before we were born? Your famous American, Chicago Bull--"

"Jordan," Sloan Negasi corrected helpfully. "He played for the Chicago Bulls." Teaching Beef the fundamentals and nuances of basketball, the interrogator opined, could have gone much better than it ended up being. "And even if he didn't quit, his body did."

"Ahh, well. We are all men, flesh and bone and muscle to be conditioned and maintained," Beef said sagely, chewing on the frayed brown edges of his leather wallet as he stared down at the pot. "Yes, pretty boy, muscles. I know they're sparse on you, but in Assault we learn to hone them every day. You may have noticed them in your fancy anatomy textbooks."

"Yeah, sure. Dagula are trained to notice things." Sloan smirked and gestured with his hand of cards to Beef's sleeve. "Like that ace you've been hiding up your sleeve since you told me to check my ESPN app. Don't need no encyclopedia to know the oldest trick in the book."

"Bah. I did no such thing." Khabif had, of course, done such a thing. Poker games between the two were always underhanded and dirty affairs, prone to attempts at distraction, espionage, and even four cumulative cases of outright sabotage. If either of the two friends were naive enough to believe that the circumstances surrounding their final bout would force them to play honorably, the other would have proved them wrong. The past two hours had been rife with hidden cards, stacked decks, childish "Look behind yous!" and even, in Sloan's case, a near-successful attempt at hiding two one hundred dollar chips on the roof of his mouth. They'd fallen out when he laughed after his first flush; no Bloodline could have explained it away.

Sloan was about to retort when his phone made the fateful buzz the two Butei had spent the entire game anticipating. With a wary look up at the Russian bruiser, Sloan reached for his phone and opened the message.

Sixth Avenue Starbucks, 10P.M.

"That the call?"

"That's the call. See you on the other side."

"You're going now? And here I thought you weren't going to leave without getting the bartender's number."

"I thought charming her was your job for once. It's 1:30 now. As it is, I'm cutting it close with the train station. I should go." Sloan stood up and scooped the final pot up into a fat wad of money, slapping Beef's iron pectorals with it. "Thanks for covering the ticket, buddy. Assalamu alaikum."

The two Butei stood awkwardly for a second before wrapping their arms around each other in a tight hug.

"Wa alaikum assalaam, Negasi," Beef said hoarsely. "Stay safe out there. Give me a reason to make a return trip."

Sloan smiled grimly and smacked his friend's chest with the money again.

"Believe me, I've read up on this place. I don't think you're gonna want one."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ah, Starbucks. Back in the day, you couldn't wiggle away from the warm embrace of Venice Beach without it. Back in the day when Sloan's biggest worry was finishing the 8th grade without enough demerits to bury him alive, and whether he and Jenna Masters would break up before the night of formal. You would have to be insane not to miss that on some days. Others...

"--mygod, babe, you wouldn't believe it. I'm gonna kill myself cramming like this. Next semester I'll make a change, I promise," Sloan swore, walking around in a circle for the fifth and final time outside the Starbucks. If Beef's voicemail box had any objections to being the dummy call to set Sloan up as a graduate student, or if he had anything smart to say about being called babe, the answering machine left them unvoiced. "Matter of fact...I might kill myself standing out here. Not a good place to be. I'm just gonna get some Starbucks like I mentioned earlier and head back to the apartment. I'll get you something cold. I know you like it cold - caramel? Yeah. Yeah. Bye!"

Hanging up the phone, Sloan casually carried himself into Starbucks and inserted himself into the near-empty line. Vanilla bean, make it heavy on the whipped cream, he rehearsed mentally. Yeah, sorry, I forgot - venti's fine. And--are those scones?

Sloan hadn't had a scone since he left California.

Mmm. Scones...

[Closed] Cerberus: Law and Order

<Agent Profile - CLASSIFIED>

Name: Sloan Negasi
Code Name: Slo
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Appearance:

Sloan

Six feet two and a willowy one-hundred fifty five pounds, Sloan’s casual stance, perpetually crossed arms, and tendencies to play with his bangs thoughtfully tends to belie his talent for methodical thinking and agility on his feet. He tends to wear clothes that accentuate his slight frame and slim arms, usually a hooded navy jacket chased with gold trim over a black t-shirt, slim black jeans, and a pair of crimson high tops. Two white earbuds usually can be seen hanging from the collar of his shirt.

As far as features go, Sloan’s face is sleek and fragile looking, perhaps more suited to being a catalogue model than an interrogator in Division 6 if you judged by looks alone. His small, Cupids-bow mouth is often twisted up in a tight-lipped smile or a small, feline grin, on or off the job; occasionally it will twist into a small, thoughtful pout when working on something or someone particularly difficult. His bright eyes, a distinct bluish-violet, always display the range of emotions his mouth won’t, but they’re framed by a soft shock long white-gold hair that, when unkempt, hangs all the way down to a soft, upturned nose and an average sized pair of ears with attached lobes. His skin is a smooth blend of Ethiopian and Arabic features, the color of light teak. It forms a startling contrast with his eyes and hair.

Psychological Profile: Sloan tends towards a more naturally lax, easy-going demeanor, and is a surprisingly straight shooter for a man who spends his days focusing on the spectrum of ways to make people talk. However, his easy demeanor and backseat tendencies are mostly a ruse; naturally conversational, Slo is more than capable of finding a way to make you talk - if anything, he’s dangerously charismatic for a simple interrogation expert. Much like a salesman, Slo can feed you unbelievable lies and outrageous claims and you’ll gobble them up.

However Sloan isn't only good at selling misinformation and lies. He’s just as capable, if not more so, of prying information out of his target. While some Dagula utilize brute force and threats, Slo’s preferences tend towards turning his easy-going demeanor into a powerful weapon, capable of coaxing subtle truths out of his targets. Loyal to his craft and his school of training, he refuses to speak on the rumors of enhanced interrogation that surround Dagula, but there's no question that he would be willing to hurt just as willingly as he would be willing to befriend, if the situation came down to it. This resigned acceptance of this fact makes him, in his mind, the perfect interrogator; he won't tend towards sadism, but he's willing to accept the burdens that come with putting someone through the ringer a few times. It's the way of the world, no point arguing it.

Clearly, Sloan's gift with words is merely one facet of his personality. He doesn't go looking for fights actively - he has a bit too much pride in his cool for that - but he is a vicious and unrelenting combatant when he needs to be. He tends to take the basic training Dagula are given in other fields and utilizes it to the max, proving agile on his feet and good with a gun if necessary. The interrogator is layered, a student of psychology and a master of his own words. Getting him to betray his instincts regarding either is no mean feat.

Specialty: Intelligence - Dagula

Skill Appraisal: Interrogation - Rank S (natural adept)
Infiltration - Rank A
Security Cracker - Rank A
Boxing-Centric CQC - Rank B
Free Running - Rank B

Bloodline: <Gil Scott-Heron> - <The Spoken Word>

Gil Scott-Heron was a master wordsmith, renowned as one of the fathers of hip-hop for his charisma, cutting wordplay, and his sharp eye for the uglier parts of human nature and the ills of society. His spoken word is still heavily analyzed, recited, and admired by artists to this day. Sloan, as a member of his bloodline, shares this penchant for compelling speech and uses it as a sort of quasi-hypnosis that makes his ideas and suggestions more infectious to those who hear them. Needless to say this skill made him a natural for the rigorous (and notorious) Dagula training. Torture didn’t always need to be a second - especially if your first resort was powerful enough. He’d do it...but he’d prefer not needing to.

Personal History: Born the only son of a former Green Beret and a young actress in one of the more sunny parts of Los Angeles, Sloan’s mish-mash of talents led to perhaps the opposite of what one would think - instead of being hyperactive, he preferred to let life throw things at him instead of going out to get them himself, which led to a somewhat uneventful but not wholly difficult childhood until the age of thirteen. In a routine eighth grade debate class he managed to talk down the entire opposing team on the subject of foreign policy, without a single cited source, with the stunning argument of “wallahi, bruh, it’s just common sense.” After four such showings, as well as his inexplicably successful courtship of the opposing debate captain as his first girlfriend, the people close to him finally came to believe that he descended from a Bloodline.

The power of suggestion, however, slowly started to gnaw away at more and more of Sloan’s daily life, as he went from asking politely for an extra order of fries to slowly cajoling his way out of bad grades and talking his way out of clearly suspendable offenses, his parents were informed that their son was skirting the line between academic dishonesty. After middle school school, he was recommended - near-unanimously, oddly enough - for the Butei Academy’s initiative, and being put through the ringer there and coming into his own as a natural Dagula readjusted his mindset a bit. He proved so naturally charismatic in interrogations and infiltrations that there was only one specialization for him, and so at ease was he with his Bloodline’s powers that he even qualified for the elite Division Six initiative.

Weaponry:
1 Heckler & Koch MP5
1 Sig Sauer
2 Gerber Mark I combat knives strapped to boots
1 fiber wire garrote

Other relevant information: Tends to work best in tandem with Assault operative, workout spotter and drinking buddy Khabif Stroganoff. Has filled up one iPod with apps and music, and is starting to fill up his second - tends towards R&B and girl groups. Top 5 artists are Frank Ocean, The Supremes, Otis Redding, Jay-Z and, sticking out like a sore thumb, the Black Keys. Drives a turbocharged, custom matte black Toyota Supra.