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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2017 22:14:18 GMT
Today had not been a good day... were the words trailing through Madison's head as she dropped her rucksack on the floor at home. Well, the apartment. She had only been state-side for a few months and in Chicago even less, so the fourth floor apartment didn't exactly feel like home yet. It didn't have much in it, either, otherwise she would have dropped her bag on a sofa or chair - or bed - rather than the floor. Needless to say, she had none of the above. A futon mattress was laid out in the room that was going to be her bedroom, and there was an ipad set up on a stand in front of a beanbag which, together, made up the living room. What she did have - and what she really needed right now - was some booze. She pulled the Jack Daniels out from the appropriate cupboard and - as she had no glasses yet - swigged directly from the bottle. She considered the thing as she whiskey sent fire down her throat and made her tongue tingle. Today had been a very bad day. Not only had it been her first last day on the job - translation: she was at the end of her five day shift rota and would now have two days off despite it being a Wednesday - so she had been knackered as hell, it had also been the day that a triple homicide, involving a parent couple and their child, had been discovered downtown. And guess who had been the lucky violent crimes intern to pick that call up. The scene would have made a weaker person vom, but at least her years in the military had given her a steel constitution - the new guy who had been riding with his training officer had had to leave the room and go to put his head between his knees, bless him. Madison had at least managed to comport herself. What she hadn't managed to do, was restrain her fury at the loss of a child of only five years old. What a fucking waste. She took another heavy swallow from the bottle. And suddenly, her life came into sharp focus. What the hell was she doing? She was standing in an apartment with no furniture, drinking alone because some sadistic bastard out there had done something awful. Oh, hell no. Rule number one when working in the military or emergency service fields. Do not let the job affect your personal life. Do not let it get to you. And standing in her kitchen alone, hugging a bottle of Jack Daniels was most certainly letting it get to her. Slamming the bottle down and heading to the large duffel bag in her bedroom, Madison changed angrily, selecting a pair of leather-effect skinnys that clung in all the right places, and a black top that tied together at the back of her neck. She swept her hair up into a messy updo and rubbed her fingers through the tendrils until they fell into their natural wavy curls. The tattoo on the back of her neck - military wings with the number 407 and three tally lines beneath it - was on show, but she didn't care and her back was bear to the waist. Luckily, she was limited enough in the chest department to do au natural beneath her choice of top and she slipped her phone into her back pocket. The key to her apartment was snuck into the back of it's case and she had Android pay so it was all she needed before leaving the house. Hailing a cab, Madison headed straight for a relatively local bar that she had discovered within the last few weeks of being in Chicago. It was dark and sultry in atmosphere, but also peaceful for those who just wanted to drink alone. Which meant, it was the perfect place to pick up others like herself - the ones who went out to get drunk solo but may or may not end up going home with someone at the end of the night. She couldn't even remember what the place was called but she knew that it was in definite need of her patronage tonight. Upon arrival, Madison tipped the cabbie and then headed straight in, thankful for a lack of queue - it wasn't the sort of place to be popular enough for a crowd, but you never knew. Instead, there were just a handful of people inside - drinking, dancing or just staring morosely into the bottom of a pint glass. With a quick and immediate sweep, Madison decided to grab a JD and coke - at least her drink matched her all-black outfit - and took one of the few booths still left open. As she removed the straw - what was she a child? - and set it on the table top, she took a sip of her drink and surveyed the room. At least sitting here alone was slightly less depressing than sitting alone back at the apartment. Josh Cameron
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FBI Hostage Rescue
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Plotter
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$180,000
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Original
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Divorced None
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Authored by
Amy
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Jun 25, 2019 21:40:17 GMT
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F.B.I Hostage Rescue has 89 posts
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Post by Josh Cameron on Jul 14, 2017 21:04:39 GMT
Josh had been back state side long enough to at least be making the adjustment to life and a job that was relatively normal compared to what he was used to. Hostage rescue he was the cover guy, the guy who undoubtedly got shot if things went wrong all in the service of protecting the guy who does all the talking. As it had turned out that day it was exactly what had happened to him and he hadn’t seen it coming which was worrying. Josh had felt the familiar hand on his shoulder of the negotiator as the team leader chatted through the ear piece.
It was simple enough; talk the guy with a gun off a ledge and so far after an hour of conversation it seemed to be going their way until that one word had been spoken. Not the single word for take that shot, a word for stop or even a word for go just one word of family. The gun had already been pointed his way for the past hour so what was a few more seconds until the guy actually pulled the trigger. He was lucky the man was a crap shot and the bullet in the middle of the tactical vest was proof of it.
He had done his usual, walk it off, file the report and get back to the headspace he knew so well. The mode of don’t let anyone within one hundred feet of his the mess he was as he paced around his apartment. It was a nice enough place, he had moved into the fully furnished place given he couldnt decorate or knew how was more to the point. There were the better days, the good days and then the today days he thought as he threw himself into the shower. Three minutes was all he needed before he jumped into a set of clean clothes.
A dark blue shirt with black trousers and a navy jacket to tie it all together, he never put much thought into clothes but he tried to differ from the combat pants he wore for work, uniform and gym clothes he lived in otherwise. No he was going to go out and find a distraction, woman or bottle it didnt matter too much to him as a bottle was always his friend after a bad day. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone before he headed out into the city he didnt know much about.
Josh had never been picky when it came to falling into the nearest bar, as long as it wasnt full of teenager wannabes he was fine with it after all it was the alcohol he wanted not much else. It was why when he saw the bright lights of a bar he headed inside finding the dark sultry atmosphere suited his mood for the most part. It wasnt like he was working tomorrow he had the day off to get over any potential hangover that might come his way so why not enjoy the evening in a place he hadn’t been before.
The handful of people inside spoke to the calibre of the venue but then he wasnt looking for the Ritz. No queue and no crowd to be bothered by it seemed perfect. Josh made his way to the bar as he ordered a bourbon. His adoptive father had gotten him onto it after sitting for hours on a night trying to work out which one of them would blink first after half a bottle. The stuff stung at his throat but then he had grown to like that after a while as he waved off the ice that was offered. It was almost a sin to even consider diluting the stuff with ice.
Josh turned his attention away from the bar as he glanced around the room, a habit taught from his military job. Always know the arena before the players know you, it was simple advice but it had paid off over the years. Know what to look for; anything suspicious, jumpy characters and anything that made him feel off well listen to it before off turns out to be deadly. Instinct was three quarters of any game in his mind as he took a drink from the glass he had.
Tag: @zen2
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Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2017 22:06:36 GMT
Madison sat in her booth with her back to the front door, so she didn't stare and analyse as people came in. Instead, she watched the dancers on the make-shift dance floor. Translation here being the piece of open ground in front of the jukebox, where a few couples swayed together lazily. She was loathsome to interrupt the moment they were clearly having but, at the same time, she'd been listening to the same slow and subtle love ballads - mostly Elvis - playing from the old fashioned box since she had arrived. A change in tune was definitely required. Finishing her drink and hopping from her seat, Madison headed down the bar, past the new guy who had just come in and made a beeline for the jukebox. She noticed a small bowl of quarters sitting on its top and snagged one for her own use before making a look of apology over at the nearest couple. They shrugged without much care, so she took the opportunity offered. Slipping the quarter into its slot, she took her time scanning through the old tracks ranging from the 50s to the 80s. She went for the first one she saw and liked. Within a few moments, Joe Elliott was crowing the lyrics to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' with the rest of Def Leppard. She grinned as the guitar and drums seemed to soak into her skin. Her work done, she turned back towards the bar and, as she walked to get herself another drink, assessed the man sitting on one of the stools provided. Dressed in black and blue, he was seriously easy on the eyes and sported an expression and tightness in his shoulders that she was more than familiar with. It was one she saw in the mirror each morning and in nearly everyone she worked with each shift. It tended to get worse as the work hours progressed and she knew more than a few colleagues who loosened up only when alcohol was applied. She was also pleased to watch as he turned down the ice. Too right. Decision made, Madison didn't break stride as she struck her stuff over to him and and settled her forearms against the bar. She made sure to stand close enough to talk but not so close as to invade personal space. Not everyone was looking for companionship when they came to a bar alone. "So, which one are you?" She asked the stranger, her tone confident. There were only a few others seated at the bar so the barman had little distraction from her and came over straight away, before she could get a reaction. "You want another?" He asked and Madison looked up. "Yeah but I've had my practice round. Single malt, straight up." She raised three fingers in measurement, then turned back to the stranger awaiting the normal "What?" response to her question. Always fun to keep people on their toes. Josh Cameron ,
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FBI Hostage Rescue
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Plotter
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$180,000
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Original
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Divorced None
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Authored by
Amy
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Jun 25, 2019 21:40:17 GMT
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F.B.I Hostage Rescue has 89 posts
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Post by Josh Cameron on Jul 15, 2017 22:04:33 GMT
The dancers on the makeshift dance floor, yeah they seemed like they were having a good time he thought. Once upon a time that would have been him and his wife of a year, then again it wasnt like it was destined to last when he had made the knee jerk decision to get married. Go figure he had fallen down that road and now he was in a bar, drinking away memories and looking for a distraction which seemed oddly poetic given his life so far. Even the subtle love ballads of Elvis didnt do much to dull the choices he had made.
Josh watched as a woman hopped from her seat and made a beeline to the duke box. He swore if she chose some love ballad again he was going to break the thing in two for all he was worth. He waited to hear the soppy tones of Barry White or Hot Chocolate though it was a pleasant surprise to hear Def Leppard. At least she had taste he thought for a moment as he realised he had been looking her way a little too long for his own comfort. He amused himself with taking another much needed drink from his glass feeling the familiar burn again as he drank.
He was about to order another drink as he was settled at the bar when he saw the woman walk over to him. Close enough but far enough away, at least she had a sense of personal space which was also a good thing. The last thing he needed was to be squirming out of the way of some drunk woman he thought as he furrowed his brow at her question. He had barely gotten started with his drinking and he was miss hearing things he thought though the confident tone told him he had heard her correctly.
Josh considered her question for a moment when the bar tender came over as he placed his glass on the bar glancing over to her when she made the three fingers measurement. It got ever better he thought, was there any other measurement in the world? Nope not in his world for the past decade or so. No point in hitting it slowly because well it wasnt he point when he wanted to drink the world away was there.
When she turned back Josh glanced at her. “Nice choice by the way. You’re a woman of taste.” He said motioning to the bar tender making her drink as he got back to the question first asked. “So which one am I what?” He asked her not entirely sure what she was getting at. “If you mean am I a guy then congratulations on your astute observational skills.” He stated not entirely sure what she was meaning but then again a good dose of sarcasm always helped every situation. It wasnt like he was trying to talk anyone off a ledge in a bar right?
Tag: @zen2
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Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2017 21:28:50 GMT
“Nice choice by the way. You’re a woman of taste.” Madison smiled a winning smile at the bartender as her drink was placed in front of her. She raised the glass to her lips and turned to smile at her very handsome stranger. "My thanks but in reference to the the song, or the drink?" She asked. She took a sip of the whiskey and then placed it back on the bar before waving a hand in disregard for his answer, before he could give it. "Never mind, I choose to accept it as a compliment to both." She said smiling wickedly. As the stranger bit at her opening line, her eyes flashed with interest and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “So which one am I what?”"Which life-saving, true heroics, emergency service are you with?" She asked, resting her elbow on the bar and her jaw on her upraised hand. "I know the tell-tale signs." She leaned back a little against the bar as if to assess him from a distance. "The shadow to the eyes, the weight of the world on the shoulders..." She let her gaze very deliberately trace over those broad shoulders, down the line of his back that she could clearly see through the material pulled tight over his spine and let her smile become more personal. "You're too fit to be a pencil pusher or even a doctor... And those shoulders are used to hauling around more equipment than your standard CPD officer..." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm going with firefighter... or search and rescue?" She licked her lips. "How close am I?"She swallowed back the rest of her drink and then raised a hand to the barman for another of the same. She wasn't an alcoholic or anything but when Madison drank, she drank heavy. Growing up around trained professionals and playing vodka shot games with Russian military envoys had given her an iron strong constitution against the lesser effects of alcohol and, if she wanted to feel the buzz, she needed more than the average drinker. Which was all fine by her - it mean't that she got to enjoy more of the potent liquor before admitting defeat to it. Josh Cameron ,
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FBI Hostage Rescue
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Plotter
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$180,000
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Original
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Divorced None
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Authored by
Amy
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Jun 25, 2019 21:40:17 GMT
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F.B.I Hostage Rescue has 89 posts
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Post by Josh Cameron on Jul 18, 2017 22:47:21 GMT
Josh grinned as he took a sip of his own drink and shrugged lightly. “Could be both but the song isn’t half bad and the drink... well you seem to know what you’re doing with it and it was meant as a compliment.” He stated as he took a drink again, for some reason he had imagined some cocktail of random name for her or some fruity number that he hadn’t any idea about though it was refreshing to see someone just drinking whiskey for a change.
The minute he asked her the question he realised it was a line, for someone who was supposed to pick up on subtle clues like that he was off his game or at least he wasnt over thinking everything as he would while working. Really he needed to stick with what he knew and just drown the world out with a drink as he motioned to the bar tender for another bourbon as he finished his glass. Yes it was one of those nights he thought as he glanced at the woman mentioning emergency services. Was it really that obvious to others?
Josh raised his brow slightly impressed as he watched the drink sat down in front of him. “You’re right with your signs but do you always look for that in a person?” He asked her wondering if it was a case of he looked like a service guy so that was enough. Not that he minded it, it was a good enough distraction for the evening. “Firefighter, no way and search and rescue... you’re close but not exactly I’m afraid. Your skills are slipping there.” He said smirking for a moment as he glanced her over for a moment.
“Me, I’m a fed and currently in hostage rescue.” Well it was what he knew best having worked the military version for enough years that he knew what he was doing or at least knew how to do the job well enough. “Now we come to you... so you’ve got the tell-tale signs of military.” He stated, it was all in the way she stood and moved. Once you had that stick there was no getting rid of it, it was the one sign he could swear by and he had rarely been wrong as he glanced her over again. “So you’re fit so it’s a working job, no desk jockey... either firefighter or paramedic?” He asked her not sure if cop was the right answer but still he didnt want to list everything that required a fitness level.
Tag: @zen2
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2017 11:56:38 GMT
Madison nodded understandingly as the guy detailed his role as a hostage rescue team member. So, she hadn't been that far off with search and rescue. A lot of the same skills were needed but he had the more dangerous task. While search and rescue normally meant battling the elements or the results of the weather, hostage rescue was often about going up against people. Random, unpredictable and thoroughly dangerous people. "Now, come on - you're stealing all my best lines." She said with a laugh and nodded fairly when he mentioned that she had the military edge. She wasn't surprised. She had never been able to perfect that lady-like, hip-sashaying walk that so many women preferred. For one thing, she wasn't the curviest of girls, so her hips didn't naturally go that way. And secondly, her military career had burnt into her DNA the appropriate way to walk - strong, powerful strides in perfect time. She could march too but that seemed a little excessive for every day... "I was military." She agreed with a genuine tone to her voice. "Two tours of Afghan. I led a unit on all sorts. Special ops, mostly." She skipped over how she had left the force, not wanting to bring a total downer on the party - at least not until they were both seriously drunker versions of themselves. "I'm CPD now. Violent Crime." She then grinned. "Which makes me feel thoroughly pussy-like considering there is more desk work than I would like and you talk down bombers and gun-men for a living."It was true that there were times when Violent Crime was, well, violent. Especially as the case only really fell into her edict while the victim was still alive. Once death claimed them, it went to Homicide. It was all very well dealing with a body that couldn't talk, but dealing with the trauma stricken victims that had made it? The ones whose lives were never going to be the same? Who you had to ask to go over the most painful part of their lives to date in order to catch the piece of scum that caused it? Yeah, that was hard. And then she had to go out and actually get the fucker which was actually nine times out of ten the easiest part (not easy, just the easiest of the process) given that most violent crimes were committed as a crime of passion and not well planned. And then the man hunt began. Which, she guessed, was a little like Mr. Stranger's job. Trying to bring in someone who was normally wild, insane or emotionally off his nut, was a tricky business. Madison raised her fresh glass as the bartender provided her new friend with another glass of bourbon, and held it out as if to clink. "I'm Madison." she offered up. Josh Cameron ,
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FBI Hostage Rescue
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Plotter
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$180,000
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Original
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Divorced None
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Authored by
Amy
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Jun 25, 2019 21:40:17 GMT
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F.B.I Hostage Rescue has 89 posts
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Post by Josh Cameron on Jul 19, 2017 23:02:15 GMT
“Hey well you’re the one who started using them, only learning from the best.” He said laughing lightly, it took one to know one and there were things that you never lost no matter how hard you tried. Once the military had hold of you even after the end of your service there was no real getting away from it. The way you folded clothes, ironed them or shined shoes it was all instilled in you for life not just for your years on the job. It meant that to him a movement or a walk meant he could usually place military and civilian into their little categories.
Josh took another sip of his drink as he listened to her talk with the genuine tone to her voice. “Well thank you for your service Ma’am and you’ve done some great work out there I’m sure.” He said as special ops were the life of the military often paving the way for the rest of them to be that much safer with what they were doing. “Not at all it shouldn’t make you feel like that and we all get the desk work but violent crimes take a good person to that job. You deal with the living on their worst days, I honestly don’t know how you guys do it.” Josh said knowing from what he had seen it had to be a tough job to do. “You’d think it was all fun and games but I spent most of my day waiting around for people to make a choice before I can.” He added which was the most boring part of it all.
He knew for himself he would be far too angry to do that job, yes he had a certain control on his emotions to do what he did but then it wasnt all bombers and gun-men. Somedays it was just a guy who was having a bad day or the training and paperwork that came with all of that. Josh usually only got the end of what had happened before it was all handed over to violent crimes if it needed it or homicide if everyone was having a really bad day. He couldnt imagine having to get further involved and talking to the injured parties, too much sadness and harm for him to deal with. It was tough enough some days to think that going home was a good day at times.
Josh held out his glass to hers as he waited to hear a clink. “Pleased to meet you Madison.” He said smiling at her for a moment. “I’m Josh.” Who needed last names when they were in a bar, it wasn’t like it was an interview he thought as he took a sip of his new drink.
Tag: @zen2
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