SULFUR Fic: Matthew McCormick, New Romancer
Matthew McCormick, New Romancer
Part 15 of FBI, SULFUR Division
lita_of_jupiter got me thinking again….
*SULFUR*Highlander*
Matthew McCormick woke with a sigh. He was too cold, naked and flat on his back on a steel bed. He was in the morgue. Thankfully, no one had autopsied him yet. The suspect had gotten a lucky shot and killed him. The bullet was under him and very uncomfortable. The situation was unfortunate, but his current identity had been wearing thin. Even with carefully dyed grey hair, he was too young looking for his paperwork. He just hated to surrender his pursuit of justice, even for a generation or two, while everyone forgot his face.
He listened carefully and heard no movement. Time for ‘Agent McCormick’s’ body to disappear. He pushed the storage door open and waited again. Nothing would be gained for being impatient. Still nothing. So he climbed off of the slab, leaving the sheet behind. He wouldn’t need it. No one would know if he searched for clothes in the nude.
The chink of glass from the corner indicated his mistake. He grabbed the sheet now and whirled to face the eye-witness. He hadn’t felt the buzz of another immortal so at least he wasn’t about to lose his head. He had a story on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the older, blonde woman in the dark corner. She had lived hard and wasn’t surprised at him: she was pouring a second glass of a very fine whiskey. She looked serious. Matthew would play it off as a prank of some friends that never grew up and suffer through the lecture.
She spoke first. “Special Agent McCormick.”
It was the way she said ‘agent’ more than anything else. “Do I know you?”
“Ellen Harvelle.”
Now that he was closer, he saw the shoulder harness under her leather jacket and the FBI badge on her waist. “Agent?” he confirmed.
She nodded, took a sip of her whiskey glass and held the second one out to him. “In Charge,” she added when he sat opposite of her -with as much poise as he could manage wrapped in a sheet. “Of the SULFUR Unit.”
He considered that as he drank her smooth whiskey. “Oh?” he answered noncommittally.
She grinned. “How would you like to stay with the FBI, Agent?”
“Minor problem,” he said as he indicated the morgue with his free hand. She was handling his death and resurrection with admirable aplomb.
“I have a very good IT team. This never happened.”
Now, Matthew was interested. She knew the truth and didn’t fear, but wanted to hire him. Why would anyone go through that much trouble, even for an Immortal? “What exactly does SULFUR do?”
“Pretty much what you’ve been doing; stopping anyone or thing that’s killing indiscriminately. It’s a very dangerous job. But everyone’s read into the program and you’ll have adequate back-up. Some of us are normal mortals and some are not, but all are competent.”
Fascinating. “And which category are you?”
“I’m in charge,” Harvelle shut down his flirting cold.
He liked a challenge but a sexual relationship with one’s supervisor was problematic. He wanted to push her, though. He hadn’t had a female boss ever. “Perhaps we could discuss the details over dinner after I dress?”
She motioned with her empty glass to a pile of fabric. “I think you’ll find everything you’ll need there.” She didn’t stand to leave or avert her head to give him some semblance of privacy.
She won this round. Matthew gathered the sheet, the clothes and the tatters of his dignity and walked into the nearby office to dress. Nothing belonged to him, but everything suited him. He found the condoms tucked into the back pocket and raised his eyebrows. “Who picked these out for me?” he called.
“A subordinate?” Harvelle answered. “Why?”
Matthew grinned and returned the condoms to his pocket. Someone thought he was Harvelle’s type. “No reason. They fit well,” he told her as he returned to the main area. “Shall we go?” Surprisingly, Matthew was looking forward to leaving his old job and moving on to a new one.
*
Part 15 of FBI, SULFUR Division
lita_of_jupiter got me thinking again….
*SULFUR*Highlander*
Matthew McCormick woke with a sigh. He was too cold, naked and flat on his back on a steel bed. He was in the morgue. Thankfully, no one had autopsied him yet. The suspect had gotten a lucky shot and killed him. The bullet was under him and very uncomfortable. The situation was unfortunate, but his current identity had been wearing thin. Even with carefully dyed grey hair, he was too young looking for his paperwork. He just hated to surrender his pursuit of justice, even for a generation or two, while everyone forgot his face.
He listened carefully and heard no movement. Time for ‘Agent McCormick’s’ body to disappear. He pushed the storage door open and waited again. Nothing would be gained for being impatient. Still nothing. So he climbed off of the slab, leaving the sheet behind. He wouldn’t need it. No one would know if he searched for clothes in the nude.
The chink of glass from the corner indicated his mistake. He grabbed the sheet now and whirled to face the eye-witness. He hadn’t felt the buzz of another immortal so at least he wasn’t about to lose his head. He had a story on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the older, blonde woman in the dark corner. She had lived hard and wasn’t surprised at him: she was pouring a second glass of a very fine whiskey. She looked serious. Matthew would play it off as a prank of some friends that never grew up and suffer through the lecture.
She spoke first. “Special Agent McCormick.”
It was the way she said ‘agent’ more than anything else. “Do I know you?”
“Ellen Harvelle.”
Now that he was closer, he saw the shoulder harness under her leather jacket and the FBI badge on her waist. “Agent?” he confirmed.
She nodded, took a sip of her whiskey glass and held the second one out to him. “In Charge,” she added when he sat opposite of her -with as much poise as he could manage wrapped in a sheet. “Of the SULFUR Unit.”
He considered that as he drank her smooth whiskey. “Oh?” he answered noncommittally.
She grinned. “How would you like to stay with the FBI, Agent?”
“Minor problem,” he said as he indicated the morgue with his free hand. She was handling his death and resurrection with admirable aplomb.
“I have a very good IT team. This never happened.”
Now, Matthew was interested. She knew the truth and didn’t fear, but wanted to hire him. Why would anyone go through that much trouble, even for an Immortal? “What exactly does SULFUR do?”
“Pretty much what you’ve been doing; stopping anyone or thing that’s killing indiscriminately. It’s a very dangerous job. But everyone’s read into the program and you’ll have adequate back-up. Some of us are normal mortals and some are not, but all are competent.”
Fascinating. “And which category are you?”
“I’m in charge,” Harvelle shut down his flirting cold.
He liked a challenge but a sexual relationship with one’s supervisor was problematic. He wanted to push her, though. He hadn’t had a female boss ever. “Perhaps we could discuss the details over dinner after I dress?”
She motioned with her empty glass to a pile of fabric. “I think you’ll find everything you’ll need there.” She didn’t stand to leave or avert her head to give him some semblance of privacy.
She won this round. Matthew gathered the sheet, the clothes and the tatters of his dignity and walked into the nearby office to dress. Nothing belonged to him, but everything suited him. He found the condoms tucked into the back pocket and raised his eyebrows. “Who picked these out for me?” he called.
“A subordinate?” Harvelle answered. “Why?”
Matthew grinned and returned the condoms to his pocket. Someone thought he was Harvelle’s type. “No reason. They fit well,” he told her as he returned to the main area. “Shall we go?” Surprisingly, Matthew was looking forward to leaving his old job and moving on to a new one.
*