Raxacoricofallapatorius

The Bureau of Unconventional Crime

Three hours north, just outside the city of Duluth…

It was right around three A.M., a lone figure passed silently over the stony shore of Lake Superior. He hiked along a trail to a rocky precipice overlooking the water, and stood still for several minutes, face upturned to the starry sky. The only sound was that of water breaking against the rocks several meters below. The man breathed deeply, taking in the serenity of the scene, the peace.

He stepped forward, just a little too far, and slipped. Without even a scream, he tumbled over the edge, and slammed his head on the jutting edge of a boulder. And that was the end of him.

~ ~ ~

Smith awaited the assembly of his team anxiously, his impatience made apparent by the constant tapping of his fingers upon the arm of his chair. It was 7:56 and he'd already had two cups of coffee, which may have only added to the middle-aged man's jitters. He looked as sharp as ever, although one couldn't help but think he was dressed either for a wedding or a funeral, with no color to break up the somber black of his trousers, jacket, and tie. As soon as everyone had arrived--including the three he'd singled out for training, for the current state of affairs had suddenly changed--he arose from his seat and began pacing the room like a caged lion. He didn't even bother to apologize for the short notice to Daniel, Alexandria, and Javier.

"This morning the body of a man was found on the shore of Superior, shattered on the rocks. There is no sign of struggle, no indication of suicide, and no real reason to suspect could play but…" he paused for emphasis, "But for the fact that in the last two weeks three such deaths occurred in the same location, each victim apparently fallen from the same ledge, and each with the same number of bones broken. The first two were perceived as accidents, and when the third occurred I was notified by the Duluth Police Department after their investigations turned up nothing. The significance of the fourth victim is that he is-- or was-- a member of the department and head of the team directing the investigation. They believe he died only a few hours earlier, in the wee hours of the morning.

"I have emailed each of you a copy of the police reports, but as of now our information on the situation is limited. Mendez, Crowley, Front, and Cooper I've booked you a suite at the Radisson. I want you to leave in one hour, pack for at least two days, you'll be taking a company car. The police have been notified of your involvement and are willing to work with you, but distance yourselves as much as possible from them until you've scoped out the situation with fresh eyes. I'll be calling you on video tonight so you can tell me what you've found."

Smith paused mid-step and pulled a rolled cigar from his pocket, lit it, inhaled, and exhaled a cloud of white smoke. Hamill always scolded him for smoking in the building but he had temporarily forgotten. The air filters would take care of it anyway. He sighed and the deep furrow in his brow lifted. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

"Biermann, McCoy; you're staying here with me, there's something else I need you to help me with." He dismissed the others to prepare for their trip. A three hour drive would give them plenty of time to discuss the reports he'd given them. To the doctor and the detective he said, "We're going to take a trip to Fairview Hospital to speak to a patient. He was one of our agents working undercover investigating a drug ring. Phillip Moore. Feel free to look him up, although I doubt his history will be of any help. He seems to have lost his memory and the doctors believe it to be a result of a drug overdose, though they have failed to identify what kind of drug could have such drastic effects." As Smith explained this, his expression once again became grim. It was apparently a very serious affair.

~ ~ ~

A short time later they were pulling into the parking ramp. The receptionist was skeptical of the three men wanting to visit Moore, but Smith calmly and convincingly explained that he was the man's godfather and the two with him cousins. He'd even picked up flowers on the way to complete the facade. They were admitted to Moore's room. It was very clean and white, as inpatient rooms tend to be, and there was already a bouquet of colorful flowers on the bedside table.

The man occupying the bed was sitting up, reading a handmade card covered in what looked to be children's pictures and handwriting. He was thin, not emaciated but definitely under weight, made even more gaunt looking by his high cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes. He had dark brown hair, long that fell to just above his shoulders, and what appeared to normally be a neatly trimmed goatee had become somewhat overgrown. He was slow to react to the three men who entered the room. It wasn't until Smith sat in the chair nearest the beside and put his hand on the man's arm that his hollow eyes shifted their focus from the card to him, and then drifted beyond Smith to examine the others.

"Phil." His eyes flickered back to Smith and there was no sign of recognition on his face. Phil smiled slowly, a weak attempt to be hospitable to his guests.

"S-sorry. Do I know you?"

"Yes, it's me, Smith. We used to work together. You don't remember?" Moore shook his head. "And I visited you last week, you don't remember that either?"

Moore hesitated, and something flickered in his eyes. "Yeah…" he said slowly, "Now that you mention it, you are kind of familiar."

"You were pretty wrecked, I wouldn't expect you to recall all the details. Phillip," he seemed to be intentionally saying the man's name, as if to remind him what it was, "I want you to meet Nathan McCoy and Alex Biermann, colleagues of mine."

"Do I know them?"

"No, you've never met."

Moore extended a bony hand in greeting to the two. He seemed to be genuinely good-natured. Smith nodded for them to come forward and sit down as well, they may as well be comfortable. "Is it okay if we all just chat for a while?" Smith asked, and Moore nodded his assent. He cast a glance at his companions, encouraging them to engage as well.

The Bureau of Unconventional Crime

Or you could be rich.

Then you wouldn't need friends...

Why do people age?

A human may live longer without the stress of gravity but I think that ultimately the cells would still decline. They would look younger surely, but they would also be weaker. Perhaps because of that they may die faster.

The Bureau of Unconventional Crime

Nice. My roommate's going to Florida on break, all expenses paid. I wish I had rich friends.

I have problems.

Eat an oreo and reevaluate your life.

Why do people age?

Azarthes said
We're all born with an off switch, after a couple years we notice that gravity has been pulling the switch down.

I found this answer most satisfying.

But that would mean we could live forever in anti-gravity.

Why do people age?

So I'm minding my own business doing my homework when this question pops into my mind: "Why do people age and die?" And I had to stop and think because the answer did not immediately follow. For some reason we're born, we grow, we mature, and at some point in our lives, we decline. It's a cycle that every living thing goes through but lets not complicate it too much and just focus on humans in particular.

Here's my problem: The cells in the human body are dying and regenerating at an incredible rate, so much so that they say over 7-10 years every cell in your body is completely replaced, and the dead ones are discarded either by being turned to waste or by simply falling off and becoming the majority of your household dust. Not only that, but our natural ability to heal from wounds and things like broken bones is pretty darn fantastic. We possess so much regenerative capabilities already, we ought to be immortal, or even if we weren't why bother with the decline, since people don't technically "die of old age" anyway, there is always some cause be it disease or accident, but not age itself, which only makes us more vulnerable to disease or accident (again, why is that?).

I'm not concerned with the dying part so much as the aging part though, the actual aging process itself. Hair turning white, skin sagging and the body generally becoming less versatile and more fragile, joints wearing out (and being replaced artificially, also a weird thing to do but maybe not for this discussion).

We age, and it's so weird. Like, why does that happen? I asked Google the same question earlier and apparently science hasn't figured it out yet either, so that's why I'm asking you guys, because now I'm just genuinely curious. Consider it a purely philosophical question, I guess.

The Bureau of Unconventional Crime

Thanks everyone. I'll start working on my next IC post then, though I'm pretty busy this week so I may not get it up until Thursday.

Btw if you're thinking about seeing a movie this week I suggest Guardians of the Galaxy, I went to the midnight premier with some friends and it was great, lots of laughs and space fights and full of easter eggs for diehard Marvel fans (don't forget to watch to the end of the credits, and I mean the very end).

Happy Birthday Mike!!!

Happy Birthday

The Bureau of Unconventional Crime

Jig said
I meant to type 'around' rather than 'on the team'. Not quite sure how that happened.Anyhoo- don't worry.:P

I never do.

Polyphemus said
I'm really just drawing a blank here- I've never been very good at filler posts.

Don't fret over it then, you can just pass this round.

If anyone else wants to pass just lemme know, no need to force it if it's not coming naturally to you.