Post by Avian Morrison on Sept 20, 2014 0:43:45 GMT -5
In the land of gods and monsters
I was an angel
living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared,
doing anything that I needed
shining like a fiery beacon
-Lana Del Rey, “Gods & Monsters”
I was an angel
living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared,
doing anything that I needed
shining like a fiery beacon
-Lana Del Rey, “Gods & Monsters”
9/11 Memorial
Manhattan, New York
19 September 2014
Driving with headphones on was probably not the wisest of choices. Wearing headphones while driving a Vespa Primavera was probably even worse. Avian Morrison really did not care. She was aware enough of her surroundings already, and she could hear just fine when it mattered. She just liked having her music to accompany her as she rode.
Her parents would have been proud. Two out of three, at least. Her mothers would have commended her badassery, while her father would have shaken his head at her lack of safety. But Avian had grown up dangerously; being the daughter of bank robbers seemed to lead to that. Funny, then, that she should follow the career path she had chosen. Law enforcement, the other side. One might have actually argued that this gave her insight into how the minds of criminals worked. Perhaps it did. Avian had never quite settled on that.
She was always armed, however. There was the switchblade stiletto she always carried on her, caring not at all for any laws to the contrary. She was also carrying her go-to handgun, a Sig Sauer 226. Night was falling, and one never knew what one would find when the dark settled in. Even a woman as well trained as herself had to have something to keep her safe.
Her travels this evening would take her to the 9/11 Memorial, where she would meet her Company co-director, Helena Rahal. Avian knew the Memorial well. It was one of the most peaceful places in the city, in a city that never stopped moving. The waterfalls, especially, were stunning; that was where she had told Helena to find her.
After parking as near to the rendezvous point as she could, Avian alighted and dusted off her jacket and pants. An easy gait took her to where she needed to be. Thin heels clicked against the path as she strode confidently to the pools. It had taken Avian many years to grow used to her body, but no one today would think so; her posture and demeanor carried a strong, demanding presence, not the one of the shy, scared girl she once had been.
With her hands folded behind her, Avian slowed her pace and gazed down at the names that surrounded the pools. This was the sort of injustice she had chosen to fight - September 11 - April 4 - October 4 - and that was why she was where she was that day - appointed to one of the two highest seats of American intelligence. She had the world at her fingertips, and nothing now could stand in the path of her plans and dreams.
Her parents would have been proud. Two out of three, at least. Her mothers would have commended her badassery, while her father would have shaken his head at her lack of safety. But Avian had grown up dangerously; being the daughter of bank robbers seemed to lead to that. Funny, then, that she should follow the career path she had chosen. Law enforcement, the other side. One might have actually argued that this gave her insight into how the minds of criminals worked. Perhaps it did. Avian had never quite settled on that.
She was always armed, however. There was the switchblade stiletto she always carried on her, caring not at all for any laws to the contrary. She was also carrying her go-to handgun, a Sig Sauer 226. Night was falling, and one never knew what one would find when the dark settled in. Even a woman as well trained as herself had to have something to keep her safe.
Her travels this evening would take her to the 9/11 Memorial, where she would meet her Company co-director, Helena Rahal. Avian knew the Memorial well. It was one of the most peaceful places in the city, in a city that never stopped moving. The waterfalls, especially, were stunning; that was where she had told Helena to find her.
After parking as near to the rendezvous point as she could, Avian alighted and dusted off her jacket and pants. An easy gait took her to where she needed to be. Thin heels clicked against the path as she strode confidently to the pools. It had taken Avian many years to grow used to her body, but no one today would think so; her posture and demeanor carried a strong, demanding presence, not the one of the shy, scared girl she once had been.
With her hands folded behind her, Avian slowed her pace and gazed down at the names that surrounded the pools. This was the sort of injustice she had chosen to fight - September 11 - April 4 - October 4 - and that was why she was where she was that day - appointed to one of the two highest seats of American intelligence. She had the world at her fingertips, and nothing now could stand in the path of her plans and dreams.