Information

Killjoy has a minion!

Grey Lady the Albinowl

Killjoy
Legacy Name: Killjoy

The

Glacier Yaherra
Owner:

Tribe

Age: 10 years, 3 months, 2 days

Born: January 16th, 2014

Adopted: 2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: January 27th, 2022

Statistics

Level: 385
Strength: 963
Defense: 1,220
Speed: 690
Health: 954
HP: 948/954
Intelligence: 669
Books Read: 494
Food Eaten: 1
Job: Unemployed

CREDITS

profile template (c)

helix (get it)
story by

Tribe
background courtesy of Unsplash user Jorge Salvador
adopted from

Idiot on 1/27/2022

Codename: Killjoy

Legal name: Emmeline Raursch
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Division: Field Operations
Specialization: Espionage
Missions Completed: 211
Missions Incomplete: 2
Disciplinary Actions Issued: 1

At my table, I'm happily getting acquainted with a flute of champagne and a heaping plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries, delicately nibbling each bite. The agency isn't usually one for lavish parties, but the hoity toity client-courting functions are always a rare but welcome luxury. If I'm eating shit on assignments, I'll make the most of when I don't have to, thank you.

Also with this damn disguise on--the stringy wig bangs, awkward weight of the prosthetic nose and cheekbones, gossamer thin face tapes--I could use all the silver linings I can get. I know it's part of the job, but I don't have to be happy about it.

The client walks about the room with long, sure strides. "We've got a bioterror suspect on the loose--cold, calculated, well-connected. We need someone who can get in close , work well with our teams, and get the job done."

"She's one of our finest." The agency exec boasts to the client, past him to my table by the elbow. "One of the best records I've ever seen, especially for espionage and inter-agency work. You could specify whatever you want on the file and she'll get it done."

I hear a faint ping in my ear, a notification flashing on my retinal monitor. Shortlisted.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. They lean down to my ear, discreetly whispering, "you get the ping too?"

Even from the corner of my eye, I know it's Cal. His well-ironed charcoal suit ill-befits his slouchy posture; his disguise--a middle-aged brunette-haired man with a receding hairline--hides the tactical sharpshooter in plain sight. I tap twice, almost impatiently, on the edge of my plate. He gives me a short curt nod in reply, taking the chair beside me.

"These are always fun, aren't they?" I remark dryly between sips of champagne.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Beyond seeing what shape the other folks are in, there's not much here." He admires a caviar-topped pastry for a second, then pops it straight into his mouth.

"How's the new tech been looking?" I smile guardedly at walking passerbys. "Any fun gear, or enhancements for that matter?"

"Approval process has been drawn out and stupid, to say the least." His laughter is a short mocking bark. "But keep your eyes peeled on your next gear-up; R & D shipped us some new toys for field work."

"Ooh, exciting," My tone is light and teasing. "I'll look forward to it."

"Any word on when your next assignments might be, Em?" He rolls a quiche between his fingers. "Just for a sense of deadlines."

"Oh, you know Admin." I snicker before taking another bite of a strawberry; I look past him, taking quick note of how everyone in attendance is moving about. "They don't let us know until we've just about tripped over it; they like dropping me in on emergent ops or as backup."

"Ah, of course." He smiles wanly, a subtle disdain in his eyes, "You'd think we run a tight ship around here."

"My, my, so critical." I shake my head amusedly, wryly correcting him. "We get the job done well enough."

"Fair's fair." He takes a sip from his wineglass, gives me a wink. "I hope you enjoy moonlighting as a janitor."

"Cleanup duty, you say?" I snort quietly, hiding my expression behind my hand. "Let me get those floors sparklin'."

"With a fine red tile glaze, just as intended." Cal keeps his voice low, takes another sip of his red.

"Of course, of course." I nod respectfully, deep and slow. "I aim to do work of the highest quality."

"How dutiful."

"That's the work we do."

----very much work in progress

We learn new ways, we evolve, we build legacies greater than ourselves.

The rifle shot is stealthily quiet. There's a sharp thud of impact, the target crumpling to his knees before freefalling face first into the dirt.

I unholster my handgun from my hip, finger resting beside the trigger. I approach cautiously, the air charged and tense.

A closer look shows a clean shot through the heart. I lower my firearm, inspecting the carnage. Blood pools beneath the body, the edge slowly creeping outward.

Well, this'll be a lot of paperwork. "The brief said to bring this one in alive for trial. And that apparently," I prod the lifeless body with my foot. "meant a fat lot, huh? Bit too good of a shot, Sharp."

Over the earpiece, I hear him chuckle, the characteristic clicks of rifle disassembly in the background. "Wasn't meant to be fatal, didn't anticipate him to get so... jerky when we sprang the ambush. The readjust was instincti--"

"Please--" I interrupt him midsentence. "We can't go wracking up unintentional kills like this. Makes us no better than trigger-happy bastards. We need to be clean and precise, so--heaven help me--if this happens again, I will kick your ass into the next week."

He sighs dramatically, "Yes, Killjoy."

"Good." I give a curt little nod. "We're only as good as our last mission, so we better not go screwin' these up. Follow the damn brief." I pause, let out a sharp exhale. "We can do better."

There's an expectant pause over team comms, then quiet affirmative murmurs.

"Let's get to extraction before they leave us in the dirt."

This work will always be graceless, unglorious--

And still yet, we make our peace with it.

It is a tenuous peace of mind.