12-01-2019, 02:46 AM
Press Area, Federal Parliament, Lauchenoiria
Maricela Tobin walked with an air of confidence down the corridor towards the press area, pulling her credentials out of her bag as she walked and joining the slight queue waiting to pass through security. It was her first time reporting in the Parliament since the war, though she had been a regular beforehand. She and her husband Carson had been on Aeluria at the outbreak of the war, and had become trapped there, then her employer asked to stay to report on the referendum and the fallout afterwards. Now that the story was drying up, she was back.
The queue was taking longer than usual, evidently the security procedures had been increased since her last visit. She’d needed to go through vetting again to get access, but everything had been in order and she was just looking forward to being around people who didn’t like to bring up the fact they almost starved last year every five seconds (even though nobody on Aeluria was actually close to starvation).
The two men sitting at the desk looked like stereotypical bureaucrat types, in suits and looking rather bored as they checked people’s credentials and waved them through. The real security personnel were standing either side of the entrance, and Maricela smiled politely at one of them as she caught his eye. They were carrying far larger guns than they used to before the war, she noted, though it didn’t bother her. She wasn’t here to do anything illegal.
When it was her turn to step up to the desk, the man on the right gestured her over. He was in his late 30s or early 40s, wearing a rather nice looking suit. She had never seen him before, which was unsurprising given how many people who had worked in the Parliament before the war had moved to the other end of the country after the conflict because of bad memories of being, well, arrested and shot at. She smiled at him and handed him her ID.
“Please can you confirm your name?” he asked her.
“Maricela Tobin, Lauchenoirian Guardian,” she replied.
“Okay, Mrs. Tobin, this all seems to check out. You can go in,” he nodded to the door.
“Of course,” she smiled and entered. The hall was incredibly busy, she had been delayed by a broken down subway train, and so she had to stand at the back near the door. From the position she was standing in, she could hear the two men at the desk talking. She had been the last in the queue, so they now had little to do.
“You know, when we did the initial checks on her, I noticed that her birth certificate says she was born in Catavarre in 1979,” said the man she had spoken to.
“So?” asked the other.
“Well, it’s only the name of that village was changed in 1981 to Catavarre, it was previously Garadoba, but they voted to change the name because there was a scandal about the village’s founder. My grandparents lived there.”
“Huh, they must’ve changed the documents when she was given an official replacement. I mean… look at her list of previous addresses, the original must’ve been lost in one of the moves.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
As the conference started, she was concerned. The man had known far too much about her. She was cursing herself and her superiors, though, for the slip-up in the town name. They should have known it was called something different in the year of her birth. She was quite annoyed, in fact, with them. And the fact that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands to make sure that this did not come back to bite her again.
*
Apartment Block, Buttercity
2am local time
Maricela Tobin had never actually killed anyone. It seemed an oversight, in a way, that her training had not included it. She didn’t know how she would react to knowing she had taken a life. Still, she had caused pain to people before, she was desensitised in other ways. So this needn’t have been too difficult.
She slipped into the apartment easily. She had been cautious when picking the lock, but fortunately for her, the state of the economy had led buildings to fall into a state of disrepair. So the door to the building had been unlocked as the lock was broken, and only the door to his particular apartment needed any work.
Once inside, she crept quietly. He had a family, after all, according to the brief research she had done. She was uncertain if they were home, though. There seemed to have been some kind of argument there, judging by his wife’s social media accounts. Still, she felt it was better to proceed quickly on the limited information she had than wait, lest he pass the information on to more people in the time it took her to do further research.
She crept into what she knew was the master bedroom from the fact that this entire part of town was made of apartments of identical layout. Fortunately, the only figure in the bed was a man lying on his back and snoring. Thankfully he was under his covers. She crept up silently, and pulled out a syringe. She took his arm and injected something into the man, and then quickly put her hand on her gun, in case he woke up before it took effect.
He did not. So, she waited as his breathing changed, and then after a few minutes stopped entirely. She checked his pulse after waiting another few minutes and confirmed that it was nonexistent. He was dead, and she was safe. She left the building the way she came in, and made her way back home, settling down into her bed. She lay awake for an hour or two, contemplating what she had done, but eventually she slept, and dreamed of Kerlile.
Maricela Tobin walked with an air of confidence down the corridor towards the press area, pulling her credentials out of her bag as she walked and joining the slight queue waiting to pass through security. It was her first time reporting in the Parliament since the war, though she had been a regular beforehand. She and her husband Carson had been on Aeluria at the outbreak of the war, and had become trapped there, then her employer asked to stay to report on the referendum and the fallout afterwards. Now that the story was drying up, she was back.
The queue was taking longer than usual, evidently the security procedures had been increased since her last visit. She’d needed to go through vetting again to get access, but everything had been in order and she was just looking forward to being around people who didn’t like to bring up the fact they almost starved last year every five seconds (even though nobody on Aeluria was actually close to starvation).
The two men sitting at the desk looked like stereotypical bureaucrat types, in suits and looking rather bored as they checked people’s credentials and waved them through. The real security personnel were standing either side of the entrance, and Maricela smiled politely at one of them as she caught his eye. They were carrying far larger guns than they used to before the war, she noted, though it didn’t bother her. She wasn’t here to do anything illegal.
When it was her turn to step up to the desk, the man on the right gestured her over. He was in his late 30s or early 40s, wearing a rather nice looking suit. She had never seen him before, which was unsurprising given how many people who had worked in the Parliament before the war had moved to the other end of the country after the conflict because of bad memories of being, well, arrested and shot at. She smiled at him and handed him her ID.
“Please can you confirm your name?” he asked her.
“Maricela Tobin, Lauchenoirian Guardian,” she replied.
“Okay, Mrs. Tobin, this all seems to check out. You can go in,” he nodded to the door.
“Of course,” she smiled and entered. The hall was incredibly busy, she had been delayed by a broken down subway train, and so she had to stand at the back near the door. From the position she was standing in, she could hear the two men at the desk talking. She had been the last in the queue, so they now had little to do.
“You know, when we did the initial checks on her, I noticed that her birth certificate says she was born in Catavarre in 1979,” said the man she had spoken to.
“So?” asked the other.
“Well, it’s only the name of that village was changed in 1981 to Catavarre, it was previously Garadoba, but they voted to change the name because there was a scandal about the village’s founder. My grandparents lived there.”
“Huh, they must’ve changed the documents when she was given an official replacement. I mean… look at her list of previous addresses, the original must’ve been lost in one of the moves.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
As the conference started, she was concerned. The man had known far too much about her. She was cursing herself and her superiors, though, for the slip-up in the town name. They should have known it was called something different in the year of her birth. She was quite annoyed, in fact, with them. And the fact that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands to make sure that this did not come back to bite her again.
*
Apartment Block, Buttercity
2am local time
Maricela Tobin had never actually killed anyone. It seemed an oversight, in a way, that her training had not included it. She didn’t know how she would react to knowing she had taken a life. Still, she had caused pain to people before, she was desensitised in other ways. So this needn’t have been too difficult.
She slipped into the apartment easily. She had been cautious when picking the lock, but fortunately for her, the state of the economy had led buildings to fall into a state of disrepair. So the door to the building had been unlocked as the lock was broken, and only the door to his particular apartment needed any work.
Once inside, she crept quietly. He had a family, after all, according to the brief research she had done. She was uncertain if they were home, though. There seemed to have been some kind of argument there, judging by his wife’s social media accounts. Still, she felt it was better to proceed quickly on the limited information she had than wait, lest he pass the information on to more people in the time it took her to do further research.
She crept into what she knew was the master bedroom from the fact that this entire part of town was made of apartments of identical layout. Fortunately, the only figure in the bed was a man lying on his back and snoring. Thankfully he was under his covers. She crept up silently, and pulled out a syringe. She took his arm and injected something into the man, and then quickly put her hand on her gun, in case he woke up before it took effect.
He did not. So, she waited as his breathing changed, and then after a few minutes stopped entirely. She checked his pulse after waiting another few minutes and confirmed that it was nonexistent. He was dead, and she was safe. She left the building the way she came in, and made her way back home, settling down into her bed. She lay awake for an hour or two, contemplating what she had done, but eventually she slept, and dreamed of Kerlile.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax