Missiles & Magic

Lion didn't quite expect to run into Swan in the staff kitchenette, especially not late in the evening.
"I'm glad to see you back on your feet," she said, shutting the oven door and dusting her hands off on an apron.
"It's good to be back," he replied, curious and a bit apprehensive at the same time.
He reached for the coffee machine, while the director started chopping something on a board with almost vicious energy and speed.
"Here, toss this into the pot for me," she handed him the board.
"Ummm... what are you making, a potion?"
"Chocolate custard."

"Snooping around and getting tongues wagging," the chief smuggler narrowed his eyes at the young man who shouldn't be in his office. "Sounds like a rat got into our operation."
"Look, mates, I just wanted to check out the real big game. Got a bit uppity for a pawn, is all," Lion cranked his charm up to 11.
"For a pawn of the other side, who has no 'mates' here to check on him," Azad's eyes were cruel, mocking. "Any god you'd like to check in with, before we end this charade, 'mate'?"
A knife flashed into Lion's back.
"Checkmate."

"I'm telling you, Fox, this is different!" Lion argued. They were several weeks into their assignment, infiltrating an artifact smuggling ring in France. Mostly it was gruntwork in various warehouses.
"It was awfully hush hush that whole thing, init?" Fox agreed. "An' the orders for it came from Paris..."
"If there is someone else in charge - "
"We need to find out. Better send word back though."
They did, but before they heard back from HQ, Lion volunteered as courier to Paris.
When he caught a glimpse of the leader of that operation, he knew he saw those scars somewhere before...

"Where would you like to go to dinner?" Lion asked his newest mark.
"Do you trust me?" She smirked back at him.
"You don't strike me as a weirdo, so yes?
"See, that's exactly it. Normal is boring. Weird is the new sexy." She winked.
"Yourself included, by the way," she added slyly.
"In that case," he laughed. "When should I pick you up?"
"Five thirty. When did you last go roller skating?"
"Years ago! Why?"
?
"Probably no reason, but... I do ride roller derby. We have a real shot this season."
"Dead on! I'd love to see that sometime."

"Hey Raven, I heard about Birch Bark, great work!" Squirrel smirked at the agent as they passed each other in the corridor.
"Thanks, Squirrel. Can you send me the sheets for Matinee, when you get a minute?" Raven nodded.
"Sure! And Lion, I still need the paperwork for Trinket from you."
The youngster frowned with his nod.
"Ermm... which one was that again?" he asked Raven when Squirrel was out of earshot.
"The blond with the expensive tastes?" Raven supplied.
"The operation names sound like they are pulled out of a hat."
"Actually, I think now it's random words generator..."

The water in the pool was freezing. There was a reason why this physical test was the bona fide final for field work.
But as he dunked his head under the surface and opened his eyes, there was a strange sense of calm.
The water wasn't silent, not by a long shot. But it did muffle and distort the sounds that made it through.
He felt his senses sharpen in focus as his muscles started to work.
Deeper and deeper, until his lungs started burning. Find the right holes to swim through.
Use every pocket of air you can find.

It was a standard observation mission at an establishing meeting of a local political movement.
The meeting was held in a taproom of a local microbrewery, with an apparently unlimited open tab, so the spirits of the gathered crowd were high, both figuratively and in the intoxicated sense.
The speeches were often punctuated by shouts from people who fancied themselves funny or edgy.
Raven and Lion sat in one of the corners, unfortunately far from the door.
When one of the guys nearby took issue with the way their girlfriend looked at the agents, Raven just lifted his hands:
"We're not here to start a fight, man."
As they moved to leave, a pushing brawl started on the other end of the room.
"We're not here to finish one, either," the older agent warned his nephew.

People might be excused to think all of the great feats of magic have already been achieved in antiquity, the Professor used to say. All the artifacts we tend to look for have been created and often rest in archeological digs.
But that doesn't mean that we can't make things even greater than those, whether we actually build on what was, or decide to blaze our own trail.
After all, when the giant, whose shoulders you're trying to stand on, is long dead and buried, that gives you a worse vantage point on the problem you are trying to solve.

When Killian asked if he could bring a girlfriend home for spring break, Deirdre was definitely pleased. The redhead seemed nice at first, but soon her interactions with Killian shrunk to monosyllables.
"I've no idea why she looks so... Worried? Pissed? All the time," he told his brother over beer.
"Might be her cycle."
"Definitely not, but... you don't thing she could have a... bun in the oven?" Killian looked scared.
"Given how prickly she is, it might be a hedgehog," Philip joked.
He stopped laughing when it turned out she was just more attracted to him since they met.

"Won't you miss being among adults?" Philip asked Killian, perusing the college booklets Thorne brought him earlier. "Chugging beers, slamming down whisky, not remembering anything in the morning?"
"Isn't that the definition of frat party?" Killian raised an eyebrow.
Then he showed his brother a pamphlet that didn't look like official marketing material.
Make vodka jelly with dry ice! Build distillation column. Calculate diastatic power of malt, it's relation to whisky flavoring and head retention of beer...
"Malt might be good for student head -attention and interest- retention, but it probably won't help me retain that new kidney," Killian sighed.