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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 4, 2016 0:32:24 GMT -5
Alright, so here was the former posts from where we left off -
Setting his jaw, Vincent mirrored the motions that Bermuda went through to portray his boldness. If the other believed he could act defiant and scare Vincent, then Bermuda was in for a surprise. However, it turned out Vincent had been wrong about the aggression in Bermuda. Despite all the pent up rage and desire for success, there was still a lot of sense in the younger man and as he broke his gaze, Vincent contented himself with staring at the lowered gaze as the fire seemed to fade from the other's voice. Good. At least the other man would be reasonable, or semi-reasonable. Judging by his response, however, he was still trying to defend his actions.
Sure, Bermuda had realized that it was better to respond rationally, but he was still defiant and challenging what authority Vincent had in the situation and what right he had to call him out for it. Stepping forward, prosthetic limb clanking against the floor of the training room. "Yeah, you're right," he conceded. From experience, he had learned the best way to get to a man was first to give in and then make his point when the other was holding a more reasonable mindset. But he couldn't really care about the logical side of his mind as he looked at Bermuda. First, in his mind, he could only see the aggression in Bermuda and recall exactly how focused he had been. He hadn't cared about anything other than the training exercise and that by itself was worrisome.
So he threw logic out the window. "There ain't nothing wrong with training in the training room," he kept his voice relatively level. There would be an opportunity to raise his voice later if Bermuda continued to question him or even argue his case. Man, he wondered briefly if the kid even realized what he was doing to himself or if he was so deluded and caught up in getting better that he believed this was perfectly normal behavior. "Except I don't like seeing men I work with run themselves to the ground." The words were all but spat out as he stared at the other man before him, eyes hard. Momentarily, his mind was caught on whether or not Bermuda would throw a punch at him. He hoped the other agent wasn't that foolish to try to start a fight after exerting himself on the training exercises.
"You heard, didn't you? There might be a mission today, yeah?" He growled the words out. Man, he had been hoping to talk about the subject all day to Bas, but heck if Bermuda didn't make for a good substitution of his pent up feelings. "Why would you exhaust yourself like this? Any other day and I'd welcome you to train as much as you want, but if this kind of behavior gets you or - god forbid - some other agent killed, I'm entitled to stop you." His lip curled up into the makings of a snarl as he glared at the other man.
- - -
Though he watched the exchange with a mixture of interest and concern, his training had not allowed him to lower his guard. So when the shuffling of footsteps approached him, he had been anticipating the presence of another agent. He was not wrong when Agent Canary spoke to him. Breaking his concentration from the exchange between the other two - something that was starting to worry him at this rate - he turned to look at the other agent. The man appeared tired - no, exhausted, would be a far better descriptor. He bit lightly on his lower lip to avoid questioning the man of his grizzled features. Clearly a bad night's sleep. "Good morning," he responded, nodding to the other in a gesture of greeting. His voice was rough from disuse, but the amiability was unmistakable.
He contemplated his answer as Canary questioned him what had been occurring. If he were to be honest, he didn't have the faintest clue as to why Bermuda was exhausting himself like that or why Vincent was being so harsh on the younger man. To be fair, Bermuda was right to practice as he saw fit, but Vincent also had his own valid arguments regarding the other's physicality. Shaking his head, he glanced up at Canary, taking in the other's dubious expression. Either the other was still bleary from too much or too little sleep, or he was cautious about involving himself in others' personal affairs. The French man spoke slowly, a heavy accent layered over the words. "Bermuda was training," as per usual,, his mind supplied like a traitor. "He's pushing himself to his limits once again. I think the anticipation of a new mission set Vincent on edge. He doesn't want to see Bermuda unable to pull his own weight on the field." Now there was a careful logic behind those words. Bermuda had his right to train. Actually, it was a good thing he trained. But at the same time, Vincent was also logical to approach Bermuda and question his methods if he was doing this before a mission. Any other day, and he knew Vincent would have left the young agent alone.
Perhaps he had been wrong in his assumption to think Vincent had simply forgotten about the conversation they had last night. He knew Vincent. He knew the man too well. So well, in fact, he would be willing to call the man a brother in arms. The man always had his back and had saved his skin a number of times. He could always rely on the other, and he knew as he watched the man's rage take over this was not Vincent. This was his far more ferocious and less forgiving side breaking through. He was clearly trying to take out his frustration on Bermuda rather than discussing the matter with him in a mature fashion.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed in disbelief. Glancing up at Canary, he hoped the other man was willing to take his proposition. "Do you want to break them up before they do something stupid?" He certainly didn't want Bermuda and Vincent to get into a fight. He wasn't quite sure about Bermuda, but he knew young man was a hardworking and bold soldier who was determined to prove himself. At the same time, Vincent was also headstrong and if he thought he was right - trying to change his opinion would take a herculean effort. The combination was as explosive as a stick of dynamite and a sliver of fire. He knew, oh he knew, if things didn't go Vincent's way the other man was not below throwing the first punch. "I don't like Vincent's tone of voice." It was too aggressive to end in civil means.
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Post by paradox on Aug 4, 2016 18:35:39 GMT -5
{ this is a bit on the shorter side; apologies ^^’ } Bermuda’s face contorted into an expression of doubt and caution the moment that Vincent agreed (at least, verbally) since he hadn’t expected the other to concede to the situation so easily but as the older man went on, Bermuda’s demeanor returned to his defensive self. His arms folded themselves across his chest, the initial amenable attitude slipping out of his grasp and gradually being replaced with hostility as Vincent continued on. “Run yourself into the ground” …The words were all too familiar, grating on Bermuda’s nerves as unpleasant memories washed up with mention of over exerting himself to exhaustion. Countless mentors pulling him aside to give lectures of setting limits for himself, being told by other trainees that he needed to start pulling his punches, putting borders and holding him back. In Bermuda’s eyes and with his mindset, what Vincent was doing here was no different; the opposite of what a teammate was supposed to do. “You have no authority over me. Age isn’t the same as rank and we are all on equal ground here so don’t talk to me like you’re higher in some way,” The aggressive defiance that Bermuda had initially bottled up managed to flood through all at once, taking a brisk step forward to heighten the abrupt change in exchange. “You’re underestimating me, Impavid. A little exercise in the morning isn’t going to exhaust me,” Bermuda gave a scoff, stubborn enough to remain blind to whatever side of the argument that Vincent was trying to get him to see. Maybe if the reason for the interruption had been born out genuine concern for a fellow teammate, if had been a reasoning that he could have found respect for, then maybe Bermuda wouldn’t have been so bull-headed towards being opposed but right now, all the kid was seeing was that he was being argued with for argument’s sake. There was something off with the other agent standing before him, Bermuda could sense it but rather than give the man the benefit of the doubt and relent, he allowed it to add to fuel to the fire. “It’s just a warmup exercise. Don’t work yourself up over something so trivial, you’ll exhaust yourself.” The mimic of Vincent’s reasoning took on a more childish take than Bermuda had intended but at this point, the man had resorted to such petulance; defiant to his older partner and just plain annoyed. This wasn’t typical behavior for Bermuda, however. He was a mature person, serious and responsible to the core and the simple fact that he had slinked down to such a level would a telltale sign that he was very much off his rock.
--
Canary gave a warm smile, such a foreign feature for him these days. Even when it contradicted the rest of his disheveled and worn out appearance, the smile was a pleasant, if not rare change in pace for the agent. Unfortunately, it was short lived, melting away and being replaced with an understanding ‘o’ when Basile first mentioned Bermuda training. Or at least what passed for training in Bermuda’s book, though most (Canary himself included) would refer to such exercises as drill sessions that were only assigned as punishments. Having caught a hint of concern in Basile, it was difficult not to assume that the kid had finally taken it a step too far. There seemed to be a silent agreement amongst the rest of the team that Bermuda was a ticking bomb, a live wire, too high strung and on a high pedestal to be considered ‘stable’. The more moral part of Canary wondered whether psyche evaluations should be a concept that the Board should start considering with Bermuda pushing himself to the edge and Vincent’s apparent anger issues – no doubt, Basile had problems of his own - but the other half, the selfish portion told Canary that he wouldn’t even come close to passing such an eval, that all his buried, so he kept his mouth shut on the matter. “Sun ain’t even up yet and they’re already pulling these stunts,” The statement came off as more exasperated than anything else, lacking in the same type of concern that Basile himself seemed to habor about the situation. The way he saw it, the worst outcome for this would be a temporary alienation between the two at fault during their next mission, possibly lasting a day or so at most since neither of the day seemed inclined to apologize without being prompted to by a third party. As long as it didn’t cause a dysfunctional dynamic on the field, as long as it didn’t draw the attention of the Board, Canary felt that it was little more than a spat. At the same time, however, he had a strong belief in the domino effect and wasn’t exactly keen on seeing on how something as small as this disagreement could lead to something far worse, far more destructive. Canary turned away from gauging Basile’s expression at the mention of tone in Vincent’s voice. Even from this distance it was obvious to the blindest eye that the two were in a clash, their conflicting personalities igniting a fire that would be quick to catch if not extinguished as soon as possible. So far, Canary has been careful to avoid getting tangled in the personal drama of his fellow teammates, content to watch from the sidelines and never get involved but he was smart enough to see an explosive that needed more than one pair of hands to diffuse. “Looks like it’s gonna lead somewhere very bad, very soon. Best to step in now before it’s too late,” Canary agreed with Basile’s last suggestion. A huff followed soon after, giving his tired eyes a rub as though it would wake him up somewhat. “Haven’t even had a shower yet.”
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 19, 2016 0:25:02 GMT -5
omg, I never noticed there was a reply. End me. I'll reply to this tomorrow, sorry so much for not noticing ;x; </3
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 19, 2016 0:29:16 GMT -5
Also, can you please give me some sort of notification when you do reply?? I think last time you liked my response, you didn't reply until a day after so I never checked back [ which is completely my fault ] and I didn't ever notice you actually DID respond. i'm so sorry about that Dx
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Post by paradox on Aug 20, 2016 20:51:07 GMT -5
it's totally fine; i wasn't sure whether you were still interested in rping this and didn't want to bother you about it ^^' and sure, i can! will a like be fine or would you rather i start PM'ing you abt it?
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 21, 2016 5:19:27 GMT -5
That would be really helpful either way :'D and sorry, I was extremely busy the past few days. However, I'm going to try to whip up something measly right about now :')
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 21, 2016 5:58:48 GMT -5
I'm trying to type a response but all I am doing is hitting dead ends. It's not right to Vince so I think I'll rinse and repeat tomorrow. But I liked the last time thing we were talking about weapons and money aboard and the agents looking into it. Maybe it'll make conflict among all of them and WITH the board as well. It'd be cool.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 23, 2016 3:08:42 GMT -5
oops, Vincent is a meanie :')
It had felt like a victory for the briefest of moments as the doubt flitted across Bermuda's features and gave way to a chance - an opportunity. But he must have made a mistake somewhere because it changed immediately to rage. And he had been hoping for this to be easy. Of course it wasn't, nothing ever was. He listened to the snark in the younger man's voice as he stood toe to toe with Vincent. It wasn't that he minded his authority being questioned, it was that he was clearly right and Bermuda was only hurting himself and the team by this kind of behavior. So of course he fought back with equal venom in his words fueled by the underlying rage he harbored toward Basile. "You're acting like a petulant child," he growled without giving ground. "I don't need to have authority over you to tell you you're way out of line." The words were snapped with little concern regarding how they sounded.
He took a step forward, a warm hot rage taking over as he glared at the man before him. "Once all that rage vanishes, you'll feel nothing but exhaustion. Who'll have to pick you up from there and drag your sorry behind to safety? That's right, your fellow agents." How dare the young man scoff at him and pretend as if there wasn't something wrong with this behavior. It was as if everyone was blinded to the simple facts of life. Following orders was easy. Why Basile had to question orders, he'd never understand. Exercise was good. Training built the body and the mind. Too much,the body gave way. It was almost as if he was the only sane man around.
And then the kid really set him off. Lips curling up, Vincent poked Bermuda in the chest, breaking the unspoken boundary of personal space. It was first contact that usually started a fight and a punch to the jaw. He couldn't be bothered to care, not with the way the young man spoke to him. "You want to be a burden, don't you? Exhaust me and everyone around you." He knew the words were downright cruel. Every agent here could stand their ground in a fight. They were trained to, but that didn't mean he was going to be pushed around by some kid who had a legacy to fulfill and probably had been in school fights while Vincent was serving on battlefields.
"I've seen men like you," he hissed as he pressed forward his advantage. "You want to prove yourself badly because you know how lackluster you are."
- - -
Basile frowned as Vincent spoke. His attention was torn between Canary who was a comforting presence and Vincent's relentless rage directed towards Bermuda. This was not the Vincent he was used to. Yes, Vincent was known to be harsh and he was a firm believer of principles and stubborn to the very core - but he wasn't like this. It was unusual to see the man become so harsh towards another individual who had not wronged him. He could only hope that once he and Canary pulled the two apart, Vincent would calm down. Somehow, he doubted that would be the case. The man he knew wasn't the man he was seeing. Vincent was a level-headed team player, not an obnoxious and aggressive individual - though he did have some aggressive tendencies and never backed down from a fight. A flare of concern burst through his chest as he took an unconscious step forward. He didn't like the man he was seeing. That man wasn't the same man he came to know and befriend.
He turned back to Canary, hoping to ween something from the other. He had caught earlier, the briefest glimpse of a smile from the other agent. It had been a rare sight, but his worry for Vincent far outweighed the surprise that had been gained from the small gesture from Canary. He knew Canary to be far too uptight at times, so the gesture was appreciated. And as inappropriate as it was in the current situation, he couldn't help but chuckle at Canary's statement. "Eventful day it's going to be, don't you think?" He answered, shaking his head. He was afraid things would get ugly. Perhaps this would be enough for Bermuda to blow and for Vincent to snap. If there were two explosive individuals who brought down the team maneuvers on the field, things would go badly. Even more so, the selfish side of him didn't want Vincent to be viewed as some aggressive firestarter. He cared about Vincent enough to worry about his reputation. If only Vincent had the same idea to be mindful about his approach. This was starting to look like the grounds for a fight. So he awaited, with baited breath, for Canary's response to his suggestion. It was always easier to break up a fight when both parties were being detained by an outside party.
A breath of relief was released as he heard Canary's agreement at long last. The last thing he would want was to get between two angry agents as the sole voice of reason. They would, without a doubt, not listen. Chances were, things would only get ugly if he tried to pry them apart alone. "I think they're far beyond reasoning with one another," he mused aloud as he started making haste towards the two. "It would be best to split them up." His opinion occupied his mind as he moved quickly. He had completely missed the last words Canary had spoke, failing to notice them in his worry that things would ignite like a spark in the span of a split second.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 23, 2016 3:27:08 GMT -5
Agent Folie; Basile Durand; 49; roleplayed by Xiahou Dun
Basile Durand, formerly Commandant Durand, now better known to most others as Agent Folie, is a man of friendly demanor. Despite his many years in military service, Basile has never allowed time and hardships to destroy his optimism and love for the world and life. Instead, he worked harder to be kinder in a world where kindness was weakness. That is not to say that Basile is an easy man to take advantage of. He might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but Basile can tell when he's being used. Basile does not take kindly to being taken advantage of and his undying curiosity has and will always be his downfall. Basile never figured out how to just follow orders without a reason, and that alone has led him to question the Board multiple times. Basile is a well groomed man originating from France. He stands at the height of 6'0" and has broad shoulders and a well muscled build. However, his age is starting to show with a less than solid girth and slightly graying hair. The man is almost recognizable for his distinctive salt and pepper hair that is, more often than not, kept short and slicked back. Basile is also a man who seems to have permanent stubble or facial hair. The man is also heavily tatted with a large owl tattoo across his chest and sleeves depicting skulls, playing card suits, french proverbs, and the symbol of the 13th parachute dragoon regiment that he had once served for prior to his mercenary work.
Basile is a seasoned veteran with a very specialized skill set that matches with his armor and weaponry. The man was and still is a paratrooper. Not to mention, Basile is well versed in commanding and working with various people. The man is a stealth agent, scouting ahead to obtain intelligence regarding the enemies and relaying the information back to his squad. He does engage in combat until his team moves in. His armor truly highlights this. The man's armor is a camouflaging armor. The color is an indistinct gray, but once in a different environment - it functions much like a chameleon. When the man stands still, it blends in with the environment and will remain camouflaged with that same specific appearance if he keeps moving. He must stand still for a span of six seconds before the camouflage changes. His helmet has a visor that relays his visual information to the team for them to take note of the information he is relaying. His weapons include a silenced pistol, a long dagger, and an assault rifle in case of exposure.
Agent Impavid; Vincent Jianhong Gagnon; 47; roleplayed by Xiahou Dun
Jianhong, more commonly referred to as Vincent or Vince, has the grizzled appearance of a veteran. He has dark eyes with sunken bags underneath them and ferocious features. He has a surprisingly well kept appearance however, with well clean stubble, dark furrowed brows, and manageable short black hair. His features are hard to place, but his almond shaped brown eyes enunciate his Asian heritage. He is a large muscular man standing at the height of 5'9" with a broad build that showcases his strength. He also has the Canadian Armed Forces symbol within a maple leaf tattooed on his back in addition to a grizzly tattoo. Vincent is also distinctively recognizable by his left arm and leg metal prosthetics that function with the agility and precision of actual limbs. In terms of disposition, the man is a soldier. Sure, he's fond of the younger kids and want to take care of his teammates - but he refuses to allow them to slack off. He wants them to do their best and even though he comes off as a little gruff, he really does try. However, Vincent is prone to violence and anger.
In terms of ability, Vincent is a team player with the skills of a soldier. He's got excellent aim, a sharp mind, the ability to keep calm under pressure, and a high pain tolerance. His armor also enhances his prosthetics which have been designed to deal more damage due to their light weight but firm composition. The armor is very minimalistic save for the extra enhancements done to his prosthetics that allow them to hit harder. He usually carries a sidearm, a drop point knife, and an assault rifle. He heavily relies on his rifle to pick off enemies.
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Post by paradox on Aug 26, 2016 19:49:16 GMT -5
{ heyy sorry for seeing this so late! i'm working on a reply rn but hopefully i won't make it as rushed and ugly as the last ^^' i'm also planning on pm'ing the others to check if they're still interested, if not then i'm gonna consider possibly opening this up again 0: ? }
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Post by paradox on Aug 28, 2016 21:13:01 GMT -5
Whatever caution that Bermuda had attempted to maintain at not resolving to childish inclinations seemed thrown to the wind all at once. All in favor of releasing what he really thought of the other man. Typically, Bermuda was a smidge more conservative about his temper in an effort to appear far more mature and respectable and while his naturally uneven temper would shine through this façade, the boy had done a fairly good job of maintaining an acceptable disposition so far. So far, being the key words here. Said façade of his was such a carefully constructed one, thus making it an excessively delicate structure that a mere budge of provocation was bound to tip the tower. And his method for keeping his own irrational temperament was, ironically, to hone his focus on his extending his abilities as it seemed to be the only aspect of himself that he could control and measure. Unfortunately, it didn’t take much of a detective’s eye to notice that young Bermuda was distorting his own coping method into something just as equally destructive but even with such a bright and promising mind, the kid himself was far too wrapped up in his own matters to take notice. Or, in this case, even take the advice of others because while Bermuda was merely taking the brunt of Vincent’s anger towards Basile’s, there actually was some brutal truth behind the other man’s words albeit if given through a rough and insensitive manner.
For the most part, there wasn’t anything left for Bermuda to say. For about the millionth moment in his lifetime, he was being treated like a “petulant child” for daring to exercises his abilities in order to keep up with his older and far more experienced agents, perhaps even try to surpass them. His stubborn mind had created a blockade to restrict any outside reasoning, especially where his training methods were concerned. For once, Bermuda was rendered near speechlessness. At this point, Vincent had resorted to mere insults or statements rather than genuine argument and Bermuda was restraining himself from stooping low enough to throw the first punch, which seemed like there was all there was left to do at this stage of argument. While Bermuda had enough trouble controlling his words, he had considerable holding back his fists as there was where his greatest strength lay; what he had lacked in social norms, Bermuda made up for in combat aspects. That is, until others made the first move or at least, a provocation towards making the first move, which Vincent initiated by pressing a finger against his chest. There was a shallow, raw wave of stinging emotion washing over Bermuda’s initial hardened, steel-clad demeanor at the other agent’s last few words as though it had struck a deep seated cord within the young man.
“Burden”, “lackluster”, “prove yourself”…The few words seemed to resurface his own repressed insecurities and weaknesses except Bermuda didn’t exactly express his buried, small diffidence through conventional means and often resorted to violence. "You've never known a man like me." If the finger poked against his chest had been the promise of this argument descending into a full-fledged physical feud, then the last spoken words were simply the last nail in the coffin. With nothing left to say, Bermuda’s fist simply snapped forward and straight towards Vincent’s jaw.
--
“Isn’t it always?” Canary gave a bitter, humorless light laugh as he raked his fingers through his already messy hair. These days, he barely had enough energy to keep up with his fellow agents, much less involve himself in the drama that his teammates always seem to have wound themselves up in and so Canary devoted what little energy he was left with after waking up from another restless night to getting through the day and through anything the Board decided to throw at them as opposed to getting roped into useless arguments such as these, purely for the fact that he just didn’t have the mental capacity to handle it. And then there were days like this one, where it was just completely unavoidable. Honestly, Canary just couldn’t see what was so hard about doing their job and keeping a professional distance with each other. He had just woken up and already, he was feeling like taking a much needed nap.
The crack of knuckles violently colliding with flesh and bone jerked Canary out of his stupor; the sight of Bermuda throwing the first punch following soon after Basile’s words had predicted that the verbal argument would dissolved as such. “Damn it!” Hissing the swear underneath his breath, the agent darted forward towards the scene before it could descend into a full-fledge fight and trusted that Basile would follow to pitch in to break up the two a reasonable distance away from each other. “Hey, come on, cut it out!” He yelled out as he grasped onto Bermuda’s forearm to keep the kid from throwing a second left hook, jerking the agent backwards and out of Vincent’s vicinity just in case the older man had any plans on retaliating. The Board wouldn’t be to hear about this; infighting was greatly frowned upon for obvious reasons but Canary suspected that it was especially prohibited because it threatened to put a permanent strain on their relationships and therefore, would affect their performance on the field. Canary was certain that all they did and all that was handed to them just led back to whether or not they would rake in success. Whether their motives were dubious at best, it all didn’t much matter in Canary’s eyes as much as it did in his friends’ because he was far more concerned in keeping on their good side; so far, they have managed to keep the Board content but he wasn’t too keen on finding out what would be the consequences if they were to end up on their bosses’ bad side.
Bermuda hadn’t responded too well to being grabbed so suddenly, especially since he had barely seemed to notice the extra two presences in the training floor so Canary was ready to forgive and forget when the kid reacted by the hand on his forearm to lashing around and striking the other agent’s face with lightning-like speed that caught Canary off guard. Blood immediately burst from his nose from where the knuckles had struck, pouring from his nostrils and over his mouth and while Bermuda seemed just as surprised as Canary felt, not a word was spoken. “Get it all of ya system now?” Canary spoke, getting blood into his mouth as he talked and pressed his fingers against either sides of his nose in a lazy attempt at controlling the bleeding. Well, there goes his hopes of not having any evidence that a fight had broken out amongst the agents themselves. At the very least, he hoped that this was the worst of it and that the Board will be willing to overlook Vincent’s potentially bruised jaw and Canary’s bloody nose. If Canary were the optimistic sort (Except that he wasn’t) then he would hope that worst case scenario that came out of this stunt would be that their next mission would come with no pay.
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