Location: L-49
Location L-49 is a mass of living architecture located 10.7 miles outside of [REDACTED], New York State. Until recently, L-49 has appeared as an abandoned shopping mall, approx. 15,000 sq. ft. in size with approximate space for 75 individual stores divided between 2 stories, with several basement levels that seem to function as a root system. L-49 appears to withdraw minerals from the soil to repair structural damage; the soil must be consistently monitored by Foundation personnel for appropriate levels of these minerals [see Addendum L-49-A for a detailed list]. If the soil levels are below standard, the architecture will degrade itself to replenish the soil, reducing the size of L-49 to as small as 50 store locations over a two-story building of approximately 8000 sq. ft. – the building’s current size following Incident I-49-12.
[Section CLASSIFIED per Secretary R. Peters - see Addendum L-49-B.]
L-49 is divided, therefore, into four sections:
The sub-basement levels, attended to by Dr. [REDACTED], a team of [REDACTED] personnel, and several specimens of ACF-707 to maintain soil balance;
The basement level, where the location’s remaining 5 risky-class anomalies are contained in individual units, as well as the location’s central armory;
The ground floor, where the location’s remaining 15 household-class anomalies are currently contained in individual units and the remaining 10 units are currently in use as laboratory spaces, as well as a fully operational cafeteria;
The second floor, where the remaining “storefront” spaces have been adapted to staff living quarters and offices.
[Section CLASSIFIED per Agent J. Monigal - see Incident Report I-49-12 for details.]
[End of abbreviated file.]
The office of Dr. Cody “Codes” Redd, R-Class-D of the Anomaly Containment Foundation, was what could loosely be called “organizationally challenged.” Of course, the aforementioned Dr. Redd was trying to rectify that to make a good impression on the new recruits – but with the interviews in 10 minutes, the interviewees starting to gather (as instructed) in the entry atrium of L-49 on the first floor, and the other interviewers substantially more ready than he was, it was a hopeless cause. He sat back in his office chair with a sigh of defeat, hand working ACF-255 back and forth along its chain. He was still getting used to having the space of a new office, and so far had done so by covering every available square inch of desk with paperwork, filling every shelf with a book that he’d “borrowed” from Secretary Phillips and promptly forgot about, and covering the wall space with bulletin boards and whiteboards filled with generally incomprehensible chicken-scratch.
The one nearest to him was mostly clear, however. It had two names: Elizabeth Pepper Krasniqi – Pepper, 7823, written in pink Expo marker, and Imir Sigmund Ragnulf, written in blue, with what might have been a crescent moon, or perhaps just a very thick capital C, next to it. The applications, thank the powers that be, were pinned neatly onto the board closest to the whiteboard for easy access. All Cody had to do was make space to fit the paperwork so he could actually take his notes, especially about Sig. Werewolves might be Hope’s domain, but talking nervous new recruits through the process had always been one of Dr. Redd’s special talents.
The one nearest to him was mostly clear, however. It had two names: Elizabeth Pepper Krasniqi – Pepper, 7823, written in pink Expo marker, and Imir Sigmund Ragnulf, written in blue, with what might have been a crescent moon, or perhaps just a very thick capital C, next to it. The applications, thank the powers that be, were pinned neatly onto the board closest to the whiteboard for easy access. All Cody had to do was make space to fit the paperwork so he could actually take his notes, especially about Sig. Werewolves might be Hope’s domain, but talking nervous new recruits through the process had always been one of Dr. Redd’s special talents.
Secretary Hope L. Phillips’ specialty was the occult and anoccult, but she was fairly certain she could take care of onboarding as well. The three of them had decided to split their applicants equally, an agreement that lasted until 7011 applied as well. Hope volunteered to take her, in part because she had a hunch Dr. Redd and Agent Cotta would already have their hands full with the people they’d volunteered to onboard – the obviously nervous Mr. Ragnulf and the vague Dr. Krinkle – and in part because she had a different hunch: that Mr. Takei had not had much experience with the supernatural, let alone the anomalous. She’d told Agent Cotta to consider it last-second exposure therapy: if he could handle Eloise, then he could handle most of the Household items held at 49.
Her office had been adapted per her L-5 training – completely restructured, due to a handful of sigils that told the plant-like building how to grow, and then some additional rugs, a lovely mahogany desk and bookshelves that seemed to shift in place as she needed them. The room smelled heavily of frankincense and, for the moment, was lit by a single candle. She’d brighten things up once the interviewees were all here.
Before her were the three applications: Eloise, of course, who needed no explanation; Jaime, with a small note in Classical Latin to ask for preferred pronouns or nicknames of address; and Matsumoto, with a few lines written in light pencil and clumsy Archaic Sumerian. She glanced up at the hourglass beside her computer monitor: eight minutes until all interviewees were to be present in the entry atrium. She ran her thumbnail over an old scar on the pad of her index finger as she turned back to her book.
Her office had been adapted per her L-5 training – completely restructured, due to a handful of sigils that told the plant-like building how to grow, and then some additional rugs, a lovely mahogany desk and bookshelves that seemed to shift in place as she needed them. The room smelled heavily of frankincense and, for the moment, was lit by a single candle. She’d brighten things up once the interviewees were all here.
Before her were the three applications: Eloise, of course, who needed no explanation; Jaime, with a small note in Classical Latin to ask for preferred pronouns or nicknames of address; and Matsumoto, with a few lines written in light pencil and clumsy Archaic Sumerian. She glanced up at the hourglass beside her computer monitor: eight minutes until all interviewees were to be present in the entry atrium. She ran her thumbnail over an old scar on the pad of her index finger as she turned back to her book.
The L-49 A-Class-D manager Isaac Cotta checked the corner of his screen to make sure “Tears of the Kingdom” had auto-saved before he turned it off. He had about five minutes until the meeting, with very little to do in preparation. For Dr. Cameron Krinkle, there was a list of follow-up questions neatly typed and printed, stapled to the original application form. For Nakata Goro there was the application, a printed copy of the reports Phillips had acquired for him on Goro’s last mission, and a small handwritten timeline of known appearances. Questions about his suicidal tendencies would be reserved for the psych eval, which would take place after everyone’s physical eval and testing, which would take place after this interview.
Krinkle…wasn’t going to be so straightforward. Something about her application wasn’t sitting right with Isaac’s field experience. Even if all of her information seemed to be backed up in her college records, his gut said that she was lying. What about, he had no idea. For all he knew she simply had worked as a stocker for Barnes and Noble, and not a cashier. But any lie was something to look out for, to be wary of. Of course, the Foundation’s business was to tell small lies that hid larger ones. So it was Cotta’s business to notice that, and monitor whether it was a threat or not.
Three minutes. He turned off his game and hid it in the bottom drawer of his desk, then stood up. At two minutes to eleven he would rendezvous with the other members of the location’s new management staff to greet the new interns. He took a deep breath and reached for his helmet.
Krinkle…wasn’t going to be so straightforward. Something about her application wasn’t sitting right with Isaac’s field experience. Even if all of her information seemed to be backed up in her college records, his gut said that she was lying. What about, he had no idea. For all he knew she simply had worked as a stocker for Barnes and Noble, and not a cashier. But any lie was something to look out for, to be wary of. Of course, the Foundation’s business was to tell small lies that hid larger ones. So it was Cotta’s business to notice that, and monitor whether it was a threat or not.
Three minutes. He turned off his game and hid it in the bottom drawer of his desk, then stood up. At two minutes to eleven he would rendezvous with the other members of the location’s new management staff to greet the new interns. He took a deep breath and reached for his helmet.
The main entrance atrium of L-49 was, as in many malls, a wide-open space with white tile floors, glass ceiling panels that let the sunlight in before closing to a full rooftop, and walls painted in simple but tasteful abstract designs that gave way to the first few laboratories. There was a sitting area arranged with plush couches and vending machines, almost reminiscent of a true waiting room that one would find in any location. Everyone would have their own means of travel here; their only responsibility was to park their personal vehicles on the second level of the parking garage, and be present at eleven o’ clock sharp Eastern time. The earlier they arrived, the more time they’d have to mingle and chat, but they had been strictly warned in the same e-mail that included directions to the mall and a brief powerpoint presentation about anomalies created by Dr. Redd not to stray from the atrium itself. The surrounding area was full of potentially hazardous laboratories that could be major risks if explored unsupervised.
That was what the e-mail said, at least. What would actually happen if they started to spread out before management got down there, well – who could say?
That was what the e-mail said, at least. What would actually happen if they started to spread out before management got down there, well – who could say?
