Chapter Text
"Gordon James, with me." Burgundy Maxwell calls out, Supervisor of the Data Entry and Procurement department, looking at her newest employee. She sighs a little when he follows closely as she walks towards the room of cubicles. "I just want to show you to your desk. It isn't much, but you're welcome to decorate it as you please as long as your decorations are work appropriate and you keep it tidy otherwise. The Commander is big on personalization."
"Okay," Gordon nods, having provided his biological father's surname as his own to mask his identity. "Am I allowed to listen to music?" He pauses, "with like…earbuds."
"That shouldn't be an issue, the only thing I suggest is open-back buds and play your music quietly, still. That way you can hear when we're calling you, and only do it if you're focusing on data entry. Obviously don't if there's…much going on." Burgundy nods, "you'll get the vibes."
Gordon nods again, "will I be reporting directly to you?"
"I am your lord and master while you're here. At least for now." Burgundy offers a smile to her newest employee, finally stopping at one of the cubicles. "I'll be training you, but today is all about ensuring your security clearances are in place and all your log-ins are working and you're able to set passwords. Also, I'd like you to actually go to the coffee area during your breaks and lunch so that you can meet your coworkers and introduce yourself." She explains, "it's important that you become aware of who you work with. Security is a top priority here. It's essential for us to keep track of these things."
"Understood." Gordon nods.
"You're a man of few words. I like that, James." Burgundy gives a quick nod, "in the meantime, go ahead and take your jacket off. Get comfortable. I'll have the Tech crew bring up your computer and get it set up to your specifications. There's a few lessons in our learning area and agreements you have to make before I help you with the log-in stuff. Tech will help you get there and they'll let me know when they finish up." When her new employee gives another nod, Burgundy continues, "and Gordon, relax. I'm not throwing you to the wolves. It's one thing at a time and we'll get there before you know it."
"I appreciate that, ma'am. Thank you." Gordon sets his bag down, slowly removing his jacket.
"Of course," Burgundy turns to move away, pauses and returns to the cubicle, poking her head around the side, "Oh, and James?" When the employee turns to look at her, "welcome to U.N.I.T."
"I fixed the formatting of the next edition," Frances explains to the head editor of the university newsletter, "and I've fixed the digital edition as well." She pulls it up when the editor of the newsletter steps behind her, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. Her eyes absently shift to the neck of the young woman perched next to her.
"That looks so much better." Violet Ripley mutters sweetly, her Dublin accent sounding like birdsong to Frankie's ears. "I knew I could count on you." She gives Frankie's shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping away, "oh, and your interview with that lecturer that was scheduled for LGBT Literature, that turned out amazing. How did you manage? He has a reputation of slithering out of interviews with women."
"Told him my name was Frank when making the appointment, as I normally do." The corner of Frankie's mouth turns up, "and I may have…blackmailed him a little."
Violet laughs softly to herself, "blackmail?"
"I told him that I was recording our interview, which wasn't a lie, and that if he tried to leave our interview after agreeing to it when he believed I was a male interviewer, knowing now that I was a female, it would only strengthen the belief of his misogyny." Frankie explains, "but that's all nothing compared to your investigation into the misappropriation of funds in the arts department."
"It was all done out of frustration." Violet explains, "I was tired of not having a professor, I was tired of not actually learning anything." She places a hand on her hip, "our professor, and I use that term loosely, showed on the first day, introduced himself, introduced his TA, and then let them lead the class. It's been them teaching, and again I use that term loosely, the course since the first day while he gets paid for it. I don't understand how that could possibly be allowed." Violet continues, folding her arms over her chest. She's on a roll now. "We have no easels, no new supplies, no models. Nothing. I had to suggest at least still life or something."
"Men," Frankie leans back in her chair, folding her arms behind her head, "can't live with them…and that's it. Can't live with them." The comment causes Violet to giggle sweetly, which only just causes Frankie to smile warmly.
Screams. Scared screams. Running sounds of students down the hall. Objects being broken, destroyed. Glass shattered.
Frankie quickly stands from her seat, running to the door and closing it, turning off the room's overhead light. She does it without a single thought, without a sense of curiosity. Only exuding a sense of preservation.
"What's going on?" Violet asks nervously, her brow pinching with concern.
Holding a finger to her own lips, signaling for the other woman to be quiet, Frankie whispers, "don't know yet." She obtains one of the chairs, barricading it against the door. Proud of that, Frankie quickly moves to the windows, only to see some significant destruction of the small campus. "Though something tells me it isn't anything good."
She notices a purple colored substance on one of the statues on the campus, then another. Not a lot, but enough that it catches her eye. Frankie knows what this means. "Listen, Vi. There are some people that are about to show up at any minute." Frankie turns to look at her friend, "people that will take care of the situation, but may unintentionally injure others in the process."
"What are you even talking about?" Violet shakes her head, confused, "we need to get out of here."
"If they see you running away, you'll be captured and they'll make you forget." Frankie swallows, anxiously licking her lips to rid them of their dryness.
"You-you sound mad." Violet furrows her brow, "we need to get out of here."
Maybe it's for the best. Frankie motions to the windows, "I'm sure I can get the window open enough that you'll be able to get through…and get to safety." She notices the black sports utility vehicles of U.N.I.T starting to show up not terribly far away from their room. "You see that? Just get over to them and they'll help."
"Is that the military?" Violet asks quietly, "what is happening that the military is here?"
"Now isn't the time to ask questions. You can ask questions later." Frankie swallows, looking back
at her friend and offering a quick half-smile. "Everything will be okay."
Violet shakes her head a little, reaching out to touch Frankie's bicep, "Why are you so calm about all this?"
"Long story." Frankie replies softly, looking over Violet's face almost absently, "it's a um…it's a family thing."
"The Colonel and Osgood have reached Wychwood University, ma'am." Shirley sits in front of her desk, typing away. The movements and body cameras of those on the grounds broadcasting to the large screen above the desks.
Kate swallows, hands at her sides as her index finger anxiously rubs over her thumbnail. "How are the-"
Shirley knows she's going to ask about her children, in particular her daughter, who attends Wychwood University. "She's fine. Tracker says she's at home. The other one, on the other hand, something is blocking the signal. Offline, but…not necessarily in a bad way."
"What do you mean offline?" Kate furrows her brow, moving closer to Shirley's desk.
"His last known location is just outside this building. If he entered, we have signal jammers." Shirley explains, "our mobile phones are all registered, so they're allowed, but anything else is jammed for security purposes, until they're logged into our systems. For instance, a guest or a tour's mobiles would be blocked until they logged into the guest Wifi."
"But it's one of our devices, surely that would override that rule." Kate sighs softly, "or one would imagine it would already be covered or…able to bypass."
"The locator chips only project a signal. Not the other way around. We just read it." Shirley explains simply, "but, as previously stated, I think that's only because he's in this building."
"Why would he be here?" Kate furrows her brow with concern. Whether that's concern that he's discovered her secret or concern that he may be about to, she doesn't know. What if someone notices a resemblance? Not nearly as much as her daughter, but it's still there.
"I don't know." Shirley shakes her head, "nothing that either of us have been alerted to. Maybe he's simply on a tour."
Hopefully, he's simply on a tour of their relatively new, tall skyscraper painting the London sky.
Kate gives a quick nod, "and you're sure she's at home?"
"That's where her locator says she is." Shirley watches as her boss slowly returns to the front of the room to her own desk.
Swirling her chair around, Kate watches the screens of the pandemonium happening on the campus. Osgood actively narrates her actions.
"We believe the Vellatrax to be injured as we can see what we believe is their blood on various art pieces, large sculptures that adorn the University campus grounds. It's as if the Vellatrax was leaned against them while attempting to run or walk by, though we can't determine their speed at the moment. It's purple in color, but seemingly the same viscosity as human blood. Possibly low on oxygen, but we can't say for certain yet." Osgood, wearing a small camera on her glasses, steps closer, "My team has taken samples for further study from each location."
Osgood turns, hearing someone running in her direction. The person is obviously scared, but she can't quite make out where this young woman may have come.
"Help, please help. I was inside and…and we heard screams and things being broken. I don't know what's happening." The young woman shakes her head, "My…my friend is still inside, but she barricaded the door and…and I think she's okay for the moment…if she isn't found."
"What's your name?" Osgood asks carefully, "are you injured?"
"I'm fine. Just shaken." The young woman shakes her head, glancing around the campus at people running and everyone simply terrified, "what's going on?"
"What's your name?" Osgood asks again.
It takes the young woman a moment to realize the question she's being asked, "Violet…Violet Ripley."