Hub The Bluebird Facility, NYC


on smoke break, bother somebody else
Staff member



Formally acquired on February 22nd, 2022 by MIRA's Site Development and Maintenance Division (SDMD), the Governors Island Monument Building-- referred to colloquially as the Governors Building-- is the principle headquarters of the MIRA North-Atlantic Branch within New York City, New York. Approximately 50 acres of the 172-acre island are in use by MIRA; the remainder of the land is dedicated to the preexisting fortifications upon the island before its acquisition under MIRA, along with the 50-acre parkland section on the southern portion.

Governors Island was chosen by MIRA as the North-Atlantic HQ following the destruction of the former headquarters at the Manhattan Municipal Building and adjacent buildings along the Manhattan Campus of the agency; in particular, the island's isolation from the major metropolitan areas despite its close proximity was a deciding factor in its acquisition, along with the ability to incorporate local monuments and build facilities entirely ab initio. The Governors Island ferry has seen expansion in recent years due to the need to accomodate MIRA personnel; additionally, a private taxi service and closely-guarded tunnel access to underground parking has been expanded from the Hugh L. Carey tunnel underneath the island.

The site currently houses over 500 personnel, with capacity for up to 1,000 occupants. Operations are forecasted to expand by 50% into 2030; the southern portion of the complex is currently under renovation to accomodate this growth.

Much like A-0001-L "LAVERNE ADMINISTRATIVE BUILDING", the Governors Island Monument Building possesses a civilian-access museum and historical exhibits related to the forts upon the island and their tactical relevance throughout the 18th and 19th century; additionally, exhibits dedicated to the current and past Jurors of the New York City Premiere Team are present upon ground level. The Governors Island Monument Building is free to visitors; however, civilian ferries are paid, compensating for the lack of a ticketing system for the site.

An informational exhibit regarding Juror Cyclic's abilities and technology. Cyclic is a TECHSPEC Cloak-Facing Agent (CFA) with abilities related to resonant frequencies, ultrasonic technology, and sound-energy generators. Exhibit details include the maximum decibel readings within a controlled testing chamber, types of waveforms that are emitted from Cyclic's suit, and applications of the technology into highly-advanced noise-cancelling systems under research at DARPA. Direct blueprints and compromising information, such as disclosing potential weaknesses or "counters", have not been listed.

Small informational panels disclose common-knowledge information about Cyclic's life-- where he had grown up, his favorite genres of music, and his work at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Public information has been redacted to ensure the Juror's identity remains private.

An informational exhibit regarding Juror Luminary's abilities and technology. Luminary is a SHOCKSPEC CFA with abilities related to light generation and manipulation from solar-energy deposits within his body. Exhibit details include informational panels about Luminary's photosynthetic and bioluminescent properties, the lumen generation from his body, and a brightness comparison to various stars in the sky. "Let's Spot Luminary", a children's book in the style of Where's Waldo, is available at the Stone Foundation Gift Shoppe.

An informational exhibit regarding Juror Quickset's abilities and technology. Quickset is a DEFSPEC CFA with abilities related to specific tech designed by the Juror-- particularly, the invention of a rapid-set high density substance with a cure time of approximately 1.8 seconds. The cure time and structural makeup is accomplished through the addition of Quickset's blood and sebum to the recipe; given the biological nature of the abilities, the Juror is classified as a DEFSPEC, not a TECHSPEC, despite gear upon the forearms and body to expedite and accomplish the process of Quickset's factor-set role.

An examination of research into Quickset's barriers and novel "living cement" are present on various informational panels along the exhibit. Infographics bring particular attention to the self-repairing properties of the material, along with its ability to withstand small arms fire and dissipate large amounts of force without shattering.

General informational exhibits related to other Jurors, along with agents that are not present upon the Premiere Team of NYC. Rotating informative sub-exhibits are changed on a monthly basis, with some staying longer in the event that a particular attracting performs well with visitor engagement.

A gift shop containing pieces of debris and other building materials destroyed by factor-latent criminals and Jurors in the midst of an incident response. Rubble that is no longer deemed recyclable is donated to local craft boutiques and workshops to support small businesses, and creations are bought by MIRA to sell as parting gifts to museum guests. All proceeds are given to the Stone Foundation, established by MIRA Director Leonard Stone at the onset of the agency's inception. The foundation primarily deals with remediation efforts for property destroyed in metahuman incidents, with an emphasis on aid being granted to low-income communities.

Tuning forks and resonant metal instruments have been made from materials displaced and shattered by Cyclic; Quickset's living concrete has been fashioned into painted sculptures from local artists in Harlem and Brooklyn. Metals and glass scorched by Luminary's photon output have been crafted into low-cost jewelry and amulets in the style of the Juror's aesthetic and armor.

The easternmost portion of the Governors Island Building. Here, donated works line the halls with historical context given on informational plaques and pamphlets. Each work relates to metahuman culture and the timeline of MIRA's inception and growth; a 12-foot statue of Diomedes sits within this gallery, along with various other statues dedicated to fallen MIRA-affiliated Jurors.
MINIMUM CLEARANCE: BLU-0. The second level of the Governors Island Building houses the majority of MIRA's clerical workers, profilers, and administrative professionals. Styling of the administrative levels is modeled after modern corporate offices. Badge access is required on each stairwell and elevator to the Administrative Level. Trespassing is strictly forbidden and carries a minimum fine of 4,000 USD.

Closed tours of the level are given to eligible parties and prospective interns.

MINIMUM CLEARANCE: BLU-0. The singular basement level of the Governors Island Building houses archival warehouses for minimum-security records, archival documents, and museum pieces not yet implemented into the gallery. Public-access documentation available on metahumans may be granted to civilians through advanced reservation. Private viewing rooms are supplied at the rear of the floor. Accessible by elevator and stairwell; no direct exterior exits. Historical records also present.

In contrast to the Governors Island Monument Building's purpose as a museum, heritage site, and touriest attraction, the Bluebird Facility houses much of the practical operations for incident response and factor research. Unlike the refurbished LaVerne and Sparrow Building, the Bluebird is a largely-subterranean facility constructed fully by MIRA, lending it a modernized and polished appearance from the interior and exterior.

All of MIRA's activities within the Bluebird Facility are of strict confidence and require an IMAS Clearance Rating of BLU-9 or higher for direct access and acknowledgement. Personnel are placed under a strict 1-month scrutiny period to determine eligibility and security risk before being allowed on-site, and visitors are to be accompanied by a verified escort at all times. With over 80% of the site located underground, all subterranean floors have been reinforced with a high-strength bunker lattice commonly present within fallout shelters; in order to combat direct threats from high-stake metahumans, foundational flooring and walling has been further reinforced with energy-resistant lead lining and earthquake-resistant supports.

Additional safeguards have been placed inside the Bluebird Facility to protect against theoretical extraplanar threats or blitz attacks by destructive metahumans. Rapid-Displacement Pressure and Volume (RDPV) sensors line every floor and are linked to a comprehensive alarm system, with the ability to seal off corridors also present. Sprinkler systems hooked to irritant aerosol tanks also allow the ability to prevent or impede access to certain areas of the facility, allowing for adaptive defense should the site be beached from the inside. Standard fire protection and safety systems are also in place. Pressurized fire-foam is employed to extinguish incendiary metahumans, should they ever be present and active on-site in a manner that directly harms personnel or security.
MINIMUM CLEARANCE: BLU-1. The lobby of the Bluebird Facility was designed to perpetuate a professional and sleek aesthetic, which carries throughout the entirety of the facility. Low-security engineers are present in workshops along this floor. Of particular note is the N.E.S.T. Training Wing at the southernmost portion of the building, with soundproofing and shock-resistant reinforcements placed along the walls to afford Jurors the highest amount of confidentiality and focus possible.

Onboarding operations for Junior Profilers and Junior Analysts take place within the easternmost portion of the lobby, which houses a small administrative office area distinct from the Governors Island Monument Building. Elevators to the Color Levels are located upon this floor.

MINIMUM CLEARANCE: VARIABLE. The subterranean floors of the Bluebird Facility, dubbed the Color Levels, serve as the primary analytics and informatics center for MIRA's advanced threat response systems. Workers of a Junior through Master level are housed here, with each subsequent floor growing smaller and smaller in general surface area underground.

There are five Color Levels total. Each floor corresponds to a particular threat level (see "THREAT-STAKE LEVELS" under Code 1, Act 1 of MIRA Classification Guidelines): BLU, GRN, YLW, ORG, and RED, each with escalating confidentiality and clearance requirements. The first of these levels is B1, or LVL-BLU.

Each level contains its own ecosystem of workers, rooms, and operations, with interaction beyond the scope of each floor deliberately kept to a bare minimum as to reduce the risk of data breaches. BLU interacts with BLU, YLW interacts with YLW, and so on. Occasionally, resources from a higher clearance level may be de-escalated to lower clearances; the reverse is strictly prohibited, as such work would be beyond the typical clearance level for that resource. There are five departments total within each floor: LOGISTICS, SITE SECURITY, COMMUNICATIONS, ARCHIVES, and INVESTIGATIONS. Each floor has a general manager for these departments which report to the Senior Manager at the RED level. These LVL-RED managers, in turn, report directly to Director Stone. All Jurors are to be allowed full access to the resources of the Bluebird Facility at the discretion of the Site Director, and they are also to be granted a rolling RED-6 clearance level for usage of the on-site IMAS Systems.

MIRA's ability to accurately interpret and respond to threats is largely dependent upon the analytics teams within the Bluebird Facility. While each floor retains its specific logistical team for usage at that specific threat level, the LVL-BLU offices are the largest of all sub-bureaus on-site; many Junior Analysts and Junior Profilers make their start on the B1 level and work their way upwards in clearance.

General offices contain the LOGISTICS, INVESTIGATIONS, and COMMUNICATIONS departments. The INVESTIGATIONS Unit houses multiple huddle rooms for interview purposes, while the COMMUNICATIONS Unit is primarily responsible for outgoing transmissions monitoring and securing available routes of data dissemination. LOGISTICS Units house the site's server rooms and analytical AI systems, with each level housing its own data on a closed "loop". Data may be de-classified from its respective "loop" and circulated to lower clearance levels as necessary.

The most notable idiosyncrasy that MIRA possesses is its method of record retention. While levels B1 and B2 primarily deal with digital means of communication and datakeeping, levels B3 through B5 employ increasingly anachronistic technology to the point of reverting most technological methods to their analog and mechanical counterparts. This includes, but is not limited to: a strict paper-record basis for all matters at B3 and beyond; mandated typewriters for office personnel at B3 and beyond; mechanical computational equipment for engineers and analysts, if needed; isolated and antiquated servers for necessary software and digital logs; wire telephone systems; telegraph systems in place along B3, B4, and B5 for purpose of coded communication via telegram; short-wave radio systems for wireless communication, if needed; a sealed messenger tube network for correspondence and record transportation. The usage of antiquated technological systems is primarily to safeguard against hackers, cyberspace manipulators, technopathic metahumans, and information breaches originating from beyond the territory of the Bluebird Facility.

The Bluebird Facility's multiple Incident Rooms serve as the communications hub between field agents and analysts during an active incident. Rooms are divided into the levels they represent; for logistical and low-risk on-site incidents, the BLU-Incident room is used. For incidents involving indirectly allied or GREEN designate superheroes, the GRN-Incident room is used. YELLOW designate incidents are directed to YLW, ORANGE to ORG, and the highest-risk incidents are directed to the RED-Incident room, which employs analysts and communications officers with the highest seniority. MIRA Director Leonard Stone, or an appointed Site Director, is required to be in attendance at all RED-Threat incident response meetings. Correspondence inside and out of each room during an active incident is prohibited outside of mandatory informational exchanges, and all communication is strictly monitored to guard against the security of transmissions and technology.

In the field, agents are supplied with modified technology to ease the transition and barrier from antiquated to modern systems. SecureView is the most used client of all onboard MIRA software, and is used as the primary means of digital document access, communication, and data retention while out in the field. All digital records are transferred to paper records when the agent returns on-site, with the former being completely wiped to ensure maximum confidentiality.

Members of each sub-bureau corresponding to the room's level are required at each incident response conference, which includes but is not limited to: LOGISTICS, SITE SECURITY, COMMUNICATIONS, ARCHIVES, and INVESTIGATIONS. RED designate incidents require workers from LVL-RED, YELLOW from LVL-YLW, and so on. Personnel from floors of higher clearance may attend conferences of a lower threat designate, but the reverse is strictly forbidden. All conferences (and interviews, for that matter, at any floor in the Bluebird Facility) are monitored and logged. Conferences of YELLOW designate and higher are to be logged on 35mm film and stored in fire-proofed archival storage rooms (see BXC- ARCHIVES).

As housing any confidential records off-site would run the risk of catastrophic data breaches, all of MIRA's files and available consultation data regarding metahuman targets, Threat-Stake assessments, and ongoing operations are housed within archival departments corresponding to each Color Level. Paper records are kept in sealed and encoded dockets, and strict access logs are maintained to prevent misuse and violations of data integrity. Contemporaneous measures are taken to date, enter, and retire records with efficiency and accuracy. Viewing rooms for the contents of each ARCHIVES Unit are housed directly within the floor's departmental block. Access to ORG-0 records and above require a licensed specialist to be present at all times during viewing.

With the Bluebird Facility's status as a secure government site, ensuring sufficient deterrence and protection against enemies of the state, rogue metahumans, and other unforeseen threats is an essential priority. On-site security personnel boast the finest standards of weaponry, training, armor, and tactics available, with Jurors on standby to provide ancillary support if needed. Any attack on a MIRA Site is to be considered a RED-X Incident-- immediate response needed. This includes the withdrawal and redirection of Special Agents away from any lesser priority events.

Also of note is the shared ownership of dispatch duties with COMMUNICATIONS Units across the site. Calls to available hotlines are traced, triangulated, monitored and verified with the shared resources of either department to brief Special Agents en-route to confirmed incidents.

The primary means of transport for the Jurors is via MIRA VTOL, and the Hangar subsection of LVL-YLW houses air transport for the Special Agents should the need arise. Submarine transport is also available. Each vehicle departs via mantrap at the far end of the hangar, opening up into onto a helipad and small airfield on the southern end of Governors Island. Mantrap defenses include a collapsible seal and 10-foot thickened and reinforced exterior blast doors. MIRA-verified transports are all equipped with pressurized and waterproofed cabins.

Representing the efforts of a 50,000,000 dollar project into generative threat response simulation, the N.E.S.T. (NERVE Event Simulation Training) Wing of the Bluebird Facility is a comprehensive training program for use by Jurors and Field Analysts alike.

The training wing sports multiple firing ranges for small-arms, a closed course for vehicle handling and collision testing, safety testing for MIRA-researched ballistics and armor, and multiple testing rooms for PMPD-presenting subjects to utilize their abilities and test limits, weaknesses, and strengths of their factors. Testing facilities are equipped with state-of-the-art holographic projection technology, along with recent developmental technology in Virtual Reality and Augmented Reality (VR/AR). A total of three rooms are equipped with VR/AR technology and offer one-size-fits-all haptic feedback jumpsuits to wear by trainees; this offers real-time touch-awareness of simulated events in VR/AR.

Mandatory factor-limit testing for Threat-Stake Assessments is to be conducted within the N.E.S.T. facilities.

The Bluebird Facility's server room houses a technological backup of relevant records and on-site generative data for the N.E.S.T. Wing. All relevant facility records are maintained within their respective color level's archives wing, given the potential shortcomings of server-based recordkeeping.

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It'd been around about two days since her last assignment, and Rowan was not feeling well.

To be perfectly honest, it'd gone to shit. They'd missed their guy, and they'd had a casualty. It weighed on her every time, when things broke bad like that. It'd take a few days to sort it out and stow it away with the rest of them, and to get back to normal. The first night was the worst of it, and she stayed up nearly that entire night, quiet regret keeping her awake when she was otherwise exhausted. Hannah was kind enough to stay with her for a while, but she left eventually, and Rowan didn't sleep soon after that. She'd missed her morning workout the day after.

She didn't miss this morning's workout, though. She scaled it back, to make it a bit easier, but she couldn't skip another one without feeling even worse. Currently, she was jogging around the training track, cardio while she listened to music, trying to think of anything else.

Maybe she would see if Hannah wanted to get drinks. Maybe she and Ayla wanted to see a movie tonight. Anything normal, just to do it. Just to see her friends, anchor herself.

God, it would be so much easier if she hadn't messed up with Lizica.


Gilgamesh wasn't the type to sit still. In spite of the arrogance of his cloak persona he was always aware of the weaknesses of his manifestation. It was why he carved out time everyday to develop his powers. A few months ago he had managed to condense his field around his hand; proving that he could actually manipulate it. Various shapes of his field had become an obsession of his. The potential to tackle his greatest weakness as a hero, traversal, was enticing to say the least. It was also incredibly tiring. Sweat ran down the contours of his face. Heavy breaths desperately attempted to fill his lungs with air. He needed a break.

He noticed Songbird on his way from the power development rooms to the main gyms fridge. They were similar in their cloak personas. Both tied to the world of influence just as much as heroics. He always enjoyed talking to her, she was one of the few who could truly relate to the unique challenges of this type of life.

"How've you been? Didn't see you yesterday."
He took a sip from his water bottle. "Congrats on the ratings by the way, you're holding strong...for now" His words were laced with playful sarcasm, even if he did fully intend to surpass her.


Gaz wasn't at the gym.

Contrary to popular belief, he did actually exercise. His workouts were quite regular, as it happens- daily rounds of strength training, a few stretches, and enough cardio to keep things ticking. Given his metabolism, he couldn't afford to let himself waste away. Maintaining muscle mass was essential, or he'd actually be as weak as he looked. Unfortunately for his image, he could never be seen at any of the on-site training facilities. Increasing his breathing rate with the respirator on was uncomfortable and ill-advised, and taking it off for that long was banned. He worked out at home, after work, with nobody else around.

He still had time to kill today, though. No need to rush home, for once. Gaz was used to being busy. A lot of the time, he didn't know what to do with himself. Having a job to do made things easy- as long as there was something he had to work on, he was fine. Downtime, whilst appreciated, still made him feel uncomfortable on some level. He didn't like being aimless.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't function without a directive. Right now, he was making tea- something he tended to do, whenever he had some spare time.

He always used his own mugs, rather than the communal ones. It only made sense. Because of this, he had gathered quite the extensive collection- all stupid novelty things with stupid novelty phrases. "Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee" across the front of one. "You've been poisoned" on the inside of another. "I make horrible science puns, but only periodically.". "I'd rather be drinking lighter fluid.". "Sports Direct". That last one was less fun than the rest, but it was a lot larger, and sometimes he needed a lot more tea.

It was a normal sized mug today, and Gaz had just finished filling it. Black tea, steeped as long as he could bear to wait, then half-filled with whole milk and finished with as many packets of sugar as he could reasonably dissolve. After stirring the final packet into the off-white syrup that passed for a beverage, he took the mug and sat down at one of the tables- the one closest to the air conditioning unit.

What a week it's been.
So utterly absorbed in her own thoughts, Rowan almost didn't notice Gilgamesh approaching. If not for his six-foot frame, she might've missed him, but as things stood, she caught him out of her periphery as he drew near, and had just enough time to pause her music and remove an earbud before he spoke.

It was a fair enough question. She didn't often miss her typical mornings, and since he'd joined up, he'd been there nearly every time, as well. It made sense that he would worry. "Oh, Lucius, good morning. I'm- fine. Mostly, anyways. Had an operation go sideways, and needed a day to myself, to relax." Not a lie, just her downplaying it. He didn't need to hear a rant, Hannah already had, and Aline would, too, once their next session came around.

She gave him a smirk, at the ribbing. Rowan- or, Songbird, as she would show up on any official or unofficial chart, had been working with MIRA in a cloak-facing capacity for a few years longer than Gilgamesh had, and between her manifestation and overall attitude, had taken a role of public relations. The people liked her. Lucius, with his style and flair, and sole cloak persona, was a veritable rising star. The people loved him. And he was good at the job, too. People stayed safe, problems got resolved. That was what was important to her, and if he passed her up in the public's eye, all the power to him.

"I'm sure you will, eventually. But you have to catch me, first."

It had been a bad week, but at least the break room still had some of those little cups of ice cream left in the freezer. Chocolate with some brownie chunks helped soothe the soul, for a few minutes anyway. Alya set herself away in a quiet part of the room, where she could spread out her class notes and at least pretend like she was studying the things she should have been studying yesterday. As much as she would like to blame the rather bungled mission a few days prior, but procrastination had pretty much summed up her entire academic career and it showed no real signs of improving.

Ayla chewed idly on the end of her wooden spoon as she did her very best to not actually read a breakdown of the structures in human skin for the third or maybe fourth time. Ayla looked up at the sound of shuffling feet approaching, and a rather bland looking man took a seat at a nearby table. She raised a hand in greeting, as a vague sense of having seen someone before prickled in the hairs along the back of her neck. Which was more interesting than not reading the same line again.
Gaz leaned back in the chair as he sat down, sighing heavily. It wasn't until he finally stopped that he realised how tired he was- it happened every single time. The past week had been... draining. That awkward middle ground between eventful and tedious, with each day's events being some hideous amalgam of the two opposites. Drugs, interviews, and email after email after email. Few responses, though.

He was about to unhook the mask when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed someone sit down near him. She looked familiar- a face from some job he had a while ago, when his mind was still resetting itself after his stint in hospital. Though he couldn't remember her name, he certainly remembered what she had done. Alcohol poisoning. Two hundred taken ill at a high school. It was a job he didn't want to take, but the nature of the incident meant he didn't have any grounds to refuse.

At least she didn't mean it. That made it easier.

He offered a wave in return, nodding his head as some substitute for a greeting. As rude as it felt to unmask this close to someone else--given everything--he didn't want to let his tea go cold. Gaz turned to her and tapped the mask with his fingernail.

"Mind if I take this off for a sec?"

The breakroom was sparsely populated; a few people had taken their work into the space to have some privacy from the relatively open office aesthetic of the Bluebird Facility, but once other coworkers came in to actually have a break, they filed away to meeting rooms or small huddle spaces to maintain the serenity. A few also might've known of Gaz's checkered past and were deliberately avoiding him. Hard to tell.

Regardless, the coming-and-going of workers meant it was, eventually, just Gaz and Ayla left; as the field analyst requested to take off his mask, however, another man entered; perhaps recognizable as Owen McCormack to either one, if they'd dealt with New York analysts in the past. Lower on the totem pole, but a competent worker nonetheless. He moved to the coffee machine and put in a K-cup, glancing over to Gaz and the Juror for a moment and offering a polite, but fleeting, smile.

"I don't mind, in particular." He stated, adjusting his glasses a moment. "Ah-- wait. You two are... Mr. Oleander and Ms. Cross, right?" There was a brief bit of fortuitous surprise on his face, for a moment, but it fell back down into a sort of awkward neutrality.

Much of the N.E.S.T. wing was silent, most days. Now, though-- even through the gymnasium and recreational chambers-- there was the sound of soft, but ever-present, gunfire. Rattling gatlings that sounded more like chainsaws cutting through wood than anything approaching a practical firearm-- but there was the unmistakable crack of ignition and clattering of shells that seemed to glitter beyond whatever soundproofing systems were present within the N.E.S.T. wing. Whatever the hell they were testing, it was loud-- and probably very destructive.

"-- and whatever press release they'll want after, I bet. Gotta have the... soaring monkeys dancing to the same tune."

"What a flattering comparison. Flying monkeys, too, by the way."

"That's what I'd said. Didn't I say that?"

"I don't think you're in any position to bargain, after--"

"Ryan, I know-- I really know what you're about to say to me. I'm practically a psychic. Twins' sense, and all that. So I'll stop you right there and say that they need us to--"

"Songbird. Gilgamesh. Good to see you." "Mm. Perfect. Anything else to talk about."

Both media-facing Jurors would find themselves face-to-face with the Veretti twins-- apparently making their way through the gymnasium through a side-entrance. Probably from a maintenance entrance above-ground. Not typical access for most on-site workers, but being on the Premiere Team had its benefits, oftentimes.

"Gilgamesh. More a fan of Enkidu-- the bull imagery, the obscurity. Fan of the hero that dies early. Don't believe the three of us have met proper." He extended a gauntleted hand out to shake, as both brothers were in costume.

Cyclic seemed to speak with a laid-back confidence that suggested ambivalence to social norms; Luminary, meanwhile, was far better at remaining affable. Interviews usually held the same dynamic, if either Gilgamesh or Songbird had seen any of the twins. "Forgive my brother. Likes to hear himself talk."

"And people like to listen, what can I say." Cyclic replied, helm tilting to look to Gilgamesh for a moment. "Heard about the bank bust. Great work. Also saw the interview-- real task, being next to Monsoon, but-- " "-- funny -- give it a rest with the guy--" "-- you both seemed to pull through. What, I'm just saying that there might be some credence to Van Adler's study on pubescent psychology informing PMPD mutations, if a guy like that gets the ability to make it rain everywhere. He influences weather patterns, Ryan. Can you remember that?"

"What're you two down here for? Catching Cannonade's demonstration of the new tech?" Ryan replied, brushing past Simon's abrasive opener and folding his arms across his chest. "They were exercising. Should let them get back to it." Simon replied, looking off beyond the pair of Jurors to the deeper sections of the N.E.S.T. wing. "Surprised Paul hasn't bored a hole halfway to Sparrow with 30 millimeter." He mumbled.

Oh? That shouldn’t be a problem or anything.” Ayla said with a shrug. Seems like it would be hard to drink anything with the mask on anyway, though did she need to move tables? He presumably needed the mask for some reason and it wouldn’t be any real trouble to do so, but… should she ask?

Another voice piping in from a nearby table saved Ayla from any possible agonizing about asking. The name Oleander however caused Ayla to sit straighter in her chair as the prickling of recognition in the back of her neck resolved into the much worse remembering as to why the man looked familiar. “Oh.” Ayla said, wincing momentarily at the unbidden memory of ambulances and men in various types of suits helping drunk classmates out of the building lurched into the forefront of her mind. It also made her want to crawl under the table, but that definitely wasn’t dignified so she instead forced a smile to McCormack.

That’s correct, hi, uh, it’s nice to meet you.
Another voice entered the conversation. Like Ayla, it was one Gaz recognised- and, like Ayla, he recognised McCormack from certain jobs he didn't want to do. These ones weren't quite as tailored to his specialties, mind. Car accidents, house fires, someone blowing themselves up in a parking lot- they must've been exciting for the people working the cases, but Gaz had only ever got the dregs. The paperwork. Do you know how many forms you have to fill in for spontaneous human explosion?

He'd like to say that McCormack was a source of levity in these boring times, but that would be a little dishonest. In truth, these office-bound analysts all sort of blended together into a fine grey paste- Gaz included. Sure, to themselves, they were people, but if you took even a single step back, they were just background noise. The part of the great MIRA-machine that filed documents. Bodies in business-casual.

He even let him take the mask off.


God, it was nice to breathe. Gaz was certain he was the only person in the facility who would describe the air in the breakroom as refreshing; but, after hours of fighting through filters, even a fucking tube station would seem like a spring meadow. He smiled a little in relief, taking a sip of his over-sweet tea as the man continued his greeting-

Oh, come on- now you're just taking the piss.

"Doctor Oleander, yes."

He tried his best to correct him in as neutral a way as possible- as if McCormack had just pronounced his name wrong, or made some other tiny, non-personally-irritating mistake. Though fairly certain his voice carried this intention, Gaz was used to the mask covering his mouth- and so a slight frown had made its way onto his face, uninvited. He took another sip of tea to dispel it.

Still, his slight slip-up wasn't the only look of discomfort around the tables. Ayla, suddenly, seemed a little uncomfortable. Had she worked with McCormack before? Did he remind her of a job she'd rather forget? Was she skiving off school in the break room, and had just found herself caught?

Either way, it couldn't be his problem. For once.

"How have things been with you then, Owen?" He asked, then turned back to Ayla, "You too, Ayla- I've studied here as well, back in the day. They don't half work you hard, do they?"

For my doctorate, that I earned. My second one. That I've had for ten years.
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He chuckled at her retort, took another sip of his water, and wiped a bit more sweat off his brow.

"I heard murmurs about that. Nothing too specific just that they were putting you on some dagger work. Honestly, dagger work with us has to be very specific. The dining with diplomats or shaking hands with billionaires type of job. We're both just too damn good looking to not get recognized." He gave her a playful smirk but, didn't want to press if she didn't want to talk. He mainly wanted to reassure her that whatever happened in there was most likely not her fault. He'd never say it out loud but, she was an incredibly effective operative with the type of power that could outclass pretty much anyone on the roster. When the time came that he was sitting in the big chair, she was first on his list of people he wanted at his side.

Their conversation would be cut short though by the appearance of two other Cloaks. Cyclic, the head of NY's premiere team, and his twin Luminary. "I figured the first time we'd meet would be when they were giving me your job." He took the Juror's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Some of us need to use more than a bottle of Brasso to keep up our pristine image. Cannonade's displays never interested me anyway since the weapons he uses can't touch me"


"Doctor. Right. Apologies--" Easy to forget was on the tip of his tongue, but that could have been taken a very, very wrong way. So, instead, he gave a nod and opted for silence, for a moment, as he sorted through his messenger bag.

"Huh? Oh. Fine." He replied to Oleander, setting his laptop on the table and flipping it open. As he typed in his login credentials, he glanced to Ayla and Gaz, giving a polite smile. "I've been cleaning up some leads in my free time. Not too much work I'm being billed for other than the Mulaney case in Baltimore, at the moment, so I'm... poking around things I have the clearance for, and I am dimly aware you've been investigating a new street-drug on the market in Miami, Dr. Oleander..."

He resumed concentration on his screen, and didn't say much of anything for a few seconds. "... and Ms. Cross, I'm aware you've done a bit of streetwork on the more clandestine side of things. Also investigating a new street-drug, trying to find suppliers. What we discuss doesn't leave this room, for a while, but-- I believe there's a link. Not much inter-division chatter nowadays with our attention split, so this must've slipped through the cracks. But I did some digging, and there's been-- well-- similar cases along the south, as far down as Texas and as far back as a year ago. Written off as... hormonal imbalances, freak accidents. No investigation to connect trends."

He shrugged.

"Some things I don't have access to, but I figured I'd bring it to your attention. Don't want to... talk on-the-job matters during break, but I have no idea when I'd get you two in the same room, again."

Rowan had more to say to Gilgamesh, felt the need to point out that she'd been doing Dagger ops nearly as long as she had been working in the public eye, but she was cut off by two new arrivals.

The Veretti's were, at least publicly, Cloak-facing-ly, everything Rowan strived to be. They were suave, always seemed in control. Capable, talented. They were among the best MIRA had to offer, they were on the Premiere Team, here in New York, they saved people. Their laid back style and confidence was something she tried, more than she liked to admit, to emulate. The popularity that came with such accolades was something she didn't much care for, a side effect of the work they did.

She took the extended, armored hand, and gave it a shake as the twins spoke to, and over, each other. "The interview was fine. Most of it was planned, honestly- Monsoon was there to be more relatably awkward, and give everyone a break from the two of us. We know how media works, so having someone who seems so much more genuine helps get the points we're making across." Songbird did her best to speak casually, something she was somewhat practiced in. She'd never met the twins, but she'd seen their work before. It was hard not to know about them, in some capacity.

"I was just getting my morning routine out of the way. I didn't know Cannonade was here until the shooting started. What about you two? I wouldn't figure anyone as important as you guys would just be out and wandering around."


Cyclic laughed; Luminary was silent, head tilting. One brother seemed amused, and the other ambivalent at best.

"Hey, you want my job, you can take it," Simon replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Could do with an early retirement. When half of the Premiere teams start calling you to fix their fridges, though, no take-backs." He looked to Luminary, at that. "We can get that in writing, right?"

"Sparks flying, surely." Ryan muttered, looking to Songbird as his way out of whatever the hell was happening between Cyclic and Gilgamesh. Bonding, or growing vitriol; he could never tell, with his brother. "Always hated talking to Flanagan. Just always feels like you're there as an object." A bit of silence, at that, and then he rolled one arm, half-shrugging. "Anyways. We're here for Cannonade, actually-- well, Simon is. I'm--"

"I helped him with his little science project." Cyclic walked past Gilgamesh and Songbird after cutting his brother off, looking back at them as he made his way deeper into the NEST. "Little bit of advice-- you want my job, you should pretend to care. The whole Untouchaboy act only gets you so far."

"Not to mention that there's plenty Cannonade has that isn't some type of bullet," Luminary added, stepping past Songbird and giving a nod. "Just saying."

"Ah, but what do we know. We just have the job you want. Ah-- wait-- that means we do--"

The click of the doors as they closed shut behind the pair muffled the rest of Cyclic's words, but the intent was more than apparent. Even still, a muffled chuckle was audible beyond the pale, and then the two Jurors were left alone again.


"If you don't wanna fix fridges don't use an over designed one as a costume" Gilgamesh quipped back, sucking his teeth. Compared to Rowan he was a seething ball of envy. Something he realized, and instantly compartmentalized, once he clocked how relaxed she was being. Had he misread Cyclic's comments or was she just enamored by them? Either way he let out a chuckle at Cyclic's last jab. Once the doors closed he turned his attention back to Rowan.

"Wanna go see the show?" He asked. As much as he hated to admit it there was some truth to what Cyclic had said. That and it would be funny to show the cocky bastard how well the whole untouchaboy thing would do against whatever he had cooked up.

Oh, I’m doing fine, thank you.” Ayla said with a quick dip of her head. She looked down at her textbooks for a moment, giving Gaz’s question a moment of serious consideration before looking back up. “Its not been that bad, I’ve always been good at math at least.” She smiled, though it only lasted until McCormick addressed the both of them about something that sounded a lot more serious than her trig workbook.

So, you think this drug has been circulating for at least a year then?” Ayla asked, with that sort of lurch in the pit of her stomach that made her worried she might have just asked something very obvious. Still, the symptoms, or how he worded it at least, caught her ear as strange, so she pressed on with another question. “And, when you say hormonal imbalances do you mean like…” She tapped where her thyroid should be in her neck with her index finger. Which just tapping her thyroid seemed like it was less embarrassing than saying what she thought out loud.
He smiled at the correction, trying not to look as relieved as he was. It was a small thing, really, but the week had been full of small things, and it was starting to wear him down. Being carted around between divisions, his emails not going through, the entire... situation regarding the case he was working on- it was frustrating, all of it, but it was his job.

Easy to forget, apparently.

At least their lives seemed to be going well- or about as well as they could, working for MIRA. Owen, with a break in the tide of office work, and Ayla, who seemed to be staying on top of her studies far better than most. It must be hard, balancing all that with standard field training. Gaz at least had the luxury of an atypical schedule when he was brought on- rehabilitation first, then retaking his doctorate, and then the field training started, once his role expanded after he moved to New York.

He continued to drink his tea as Owen spoke- as he brought up the case he was working on. It was interesting, what he was saying. Gaz frowned- though, whether that frown was one of intrigue or disappointment was hard to tell. Perhaps it was both. That was hardly uncommon.

Started a year ago. Far longer-term operation than we first thought- wider reach, as well, which coheres with what I heard in that clinic. Fatalities have been noted, though not explicitly connected, but still no sign of anyone checking into rehab with it. Or, if they are, they're keeping quiet about it, pretending it's something else. I'd say first case is more likely, but still...


Gaz set the mug down on the table.

"I'll have to see these files myself, but it wouldn't surprise me, given how it was being talked about."

Between those and the PMPD files from the man Eric had mentioned, he figured he'd have enough information to learn a little more about how what it did to the body- which similiarities were coincidence, and which should be taken seriously. Even if he didn't discover anything new, having some more clarity on his existing observations would help. Maybe then he could get a full team to help with this. That was the dream.

He turned to Ayla, nodding at her gesture.

"Exactly that." He said, "A drug that directly affects PMPD manifestation. What we're trying to figure out is how it does that- and why."

'We'. All 3 of us.
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With a sigh, and the faintest hint of a smile, Rowan shook her head and motioned towards the rumbling sound of the demonstration. "Can't see why not. Rare chance, to get to see him testing a new creation of his." Truth be told, the tech side didn't interest her so much- it wasn't something she could really wrap her head around, not in the way Cyclic or Cannonade could. Of course, they quite literally were wired for it, so she couldn't fault herself too much, but it didn't resolve the relative disinterest, but it was being offered, and it was something to do, so she was going to take it.

En route to the range, however, she took a glance at Gilgamesh. "So, what do you make of the twins?"

"They're both comfortable and complacent." His replied bluntly. "If I ever become like them than I've failed"

The two maneuvered through the corridors towards the range. As they approached he could hear the artillery fire increasing in volume. "What do you make of the twins?" Songbird was someone he respected within MIRA which meant he genuinely cared if her opinion differed from his own. He wasn't naive or cocky enough to assume he was always correct on his reads about people.