A matter of jurisdiction
[1] Takes place after 1x10 "Breakdown," but before 1x11, "Nevermore." Claudia = knockknock_hack & Artie = i_made_cookies - both used with permission.
[2] RP thread for knockknock_hack, 1breath & truthandfaith.
“Pass me that book, would you?” Artie Nielsen motioned to a book by Myka Bering’s elbow. He was sitting in the Warehouse 13 office, Myka poring over the Warehouse manual nearby, and Claudia Donovan tapping away at one of the computers. They were investigating a rash of increasingly violent killings in Miami Beach, Florida. Each victim was young - between 18 and 25 - and female. Artie was cross-referencing various texts to see if anything would point them in the direction of an artifact.
Myka looked up from the manual. “This one?” She picked up a book titled The Ideology of Autosacrifice at the Templo Mayor.
Artie nodded and held his hand out for the book. Myka paused to read the cover before handing it over. “So you think it’s something Aztec? Like the Bloodstone?”
“All the victims have had their blood drained,” Artie reminded her. “It’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Myka said with a sigh.
"Newest victim had seven stab wounds. The last only had five," Claudia said, summarizing as she read the preliminary police reports.
“He or she is getting more violent,” Myka stated what they already knew.
Before they could speculate any more, Claudia’s computer pinged and a window opened, causing the redhead to glare at the computer screen. "Crap.”
“What?” Both Myka and Artie looked over in unison.
"FBI's involved now." Claudia turned in her chair to look at them. "Serial killer, so it's their jurisdiction."
“No, no, no,” Artie waved his hands, the books in his lap nearly falling off. “Myka, you’ve got to get out there, start looking into things before they send their people out.”
Myka frowned. “Pete’s still in Ohio…” With MacPherson narrowing in on them (or were they narrowing in on him? It was hard to tell. Either way, a dangerous confrontation seemed inevitable) and the fact that his mother had a birthday coming up, Pete Lattimer was at home for a few days, visiting family.
“I don’t care,” Artie said, standing up, setting the stack of books on top of another pile. “We need to get to the bottom of this before we’re entangled with the Feds.”
“But-“
“No buts. If you really want someone to accompany you, take Claudia. Her investigative skills might not match Pete’s, but we’re in a tight squeeze here.”
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Claudia said, spinning her chair around. Despite the gravity of the situation, she was grinning. "I get to go into the field? With Myka? Really? Seriously? Sweet."
“Not in the field,” Artie gave her a stern look. “You’re to monitor the situation from your laptop, preferably in a hotel room. If Myka determines that it’s safe for you to go with her on occasion, fine, but be careful.”
"But--" Claudia stopped herself. She recognized a losing battle before she started. She'd take it up with Myka-- after they were out of earshot of Artie. "Fine. Deal."
* * * * *
That evening, Myka and Claudia arrived in Miami Beach. After making a few phone calls, they were set to visit the Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner’s Office first thing in the morning.
“Remember, let me do the talking,” Myka told Claudia as they left the hotel the next morning.
Claudia smiled but quickly tried to keep a straight face. She knew this case was serious, and she didn't like it, but she was excited about getting to accompany Myka. "You do the talking," she repeated. "And I don't touch anything."
"Correct," Myka couldn't help a smirk as she got into the rental car. "If anyone asks, you're in-training. But they won't ask, because I'm going to do all the talking. You'll be like my shadow."
"Which means I get--have to stay a good distance from the body. Bodies. Whatever." It was part of the job. Claudia knew it, but dead bodies still sent shivers down her spine. She wondered if a body with skin on it would be more or less creepy than a skeleton.
“Right again,” Myka said, starting the drive.
Forty-five minutes later, they were at the Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner’s Office. Once they were in the lobby, Myka led them over to the receptionist’s desk.
“I’m here to see the medical examiner,” Myka said, flashing her badge. “I have an appointment.”
The receptionist frowned with confusion. “Your fellow agents are already in with her.”
“…my fellow agents?” Myka’s brows went up and she glanced over at Claudia.
"They beat us here," Claudia said under her breath. Even if the receptionist heard it, it wasn't incriminating.
Myka fought to maintain a smile as she looked back at the receptionist. "We're not with the FBI. We're with the Secret Service. It's a matter of national security, and we have an appointment."
The receptionist shrugged. “Sure. Take the elevator down to the basement level - that’s where the morgue is. They’re in Autopsy Room 3.”
“Great,” Myka muttered, hurrying to the elevator bank, Claudia on her heels.
A couple of minutes later, they skidded to a halt in front of Autopsy Room 3. Normally one to knock, Myka threw common courtesy out the window and went right in. When she saw the two agents standing over the autopsy table with the M.E., her jaw dropped and she was nearly speechless with surprise.
[2] RP thread for knockknock_hack, 1breath & truthandfaith.
“Pass me that book, would you?” Artie Nielsen motioned to a book by Myka Bering’s elbow. He was sitting in the Warehouse 13 office, Myka poring over the Warehouse manual nearby, and Claudia Donovan tapping away at one of the computers. They were investigating a rash of increasingly violent killings in Miami Beach, Florida. Each victim was young - between 18 and 25 - and female. Artie was cross-referencing various texts to see if anything would point them in the direction of an artifact.
Myka looked up from the manual. “This one?” She picked up a book titled The Ideology of Autosacrifice at the Templo Mayor.
Artie nodded and held his hand out for the book. Myka paused to read the cover before handing it over. “So you think it’s something Aztec? Like the Bloodstone?”
“All the victims have had their blood drained,” Artie reminded her. “It’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Myka said with a sigh.
"Newest victim had seven stab wounds. The last only had five," Claudia said, summarizing as she read the preliminary police reports.
“He or she is getting more violent,” Myka stated what they already knew.
Before they could speculate any more, Claudia’s computer pinged and a window opened, causing the redhead to glare at the computer screen. "Crap.”
“What?” Both Myka and Artie looked over in unison.
"FBI's involved now." Claudia turned in her chair to look at them. "Serial killer, so it's their jurisdiction."
“No, no, no,” Artie waved his hands, the books in his lap nearly falling off. “Myka, you’ve got to get out there, start looking into things before they send their people out.”
Myka frowned. “Pete’s still in Ohio…” With MacPherson narrowing in on them (or were they narrowing in on him? It was hard to tell. Either way, a dangerous confrontation seemed inevitable) and the fact that his mother had a birthday coming up, Pete Lattimer was at home for a few days, visiting family.
“I don’t care,” Artie said, standing up, setting the stack of books on top of another pile. “We need to get to the bottom of this before we’re entangled with the Feds.”
“But-“
“No buts. If you really want someone to accompany you, take Claudia. Her investigative skills might not match Pete’s, but we’re in a tight squeeze here.”
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Claudia said, spinning her chair around. Despite the gravity of the situation, she was grinning. "I get to go into the field? With Myka? Really? Seriously? Sweet."
“Not in the field,” Artie gave her a stern look. “You’re to monitor the situation from your laptop, preferably in a hotel room. If Myka determines that it’s safe for you to go with her on occasion, fine, but be careful.”
"But--" Claudia stopped herself. She recognized a losing battle before she started. She'd take it up with Myka-- after they were out of earshot of Artie. "Fine. Deal."
* * * * *
That evening, Myka and Claudia arrived in Miami Beach. After making a few phone calls, they were set to visit the Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner’s Office first thing in the morning.
“Remember, let me do the talking,” Myka told Claudia as they left the hotel the next morning.
Claudia smiled but quickly tried to keep a straight face. She knew this case was serious, and she didn't like it, but she was excited about getting to accompany Myka. "You do the talking," she repeated. "And I don't touch anything."
"Correct," Myka couldn't help a smirk as she got into the rental car. "If anyone asks, you're in-training. But they won't ask, because I'm going to do all the talking. You'll be like my shadow."
"Which means I get--have to stay a good distance from the body. Bodies. Whatever." It was part of the job. Claudia knew it, but dead bodies still sent shivers down her spine. She wondered if a body with skin on it would be more or less creepy than a skeleton.
“Right again,” Myka said, starting the drive.
Forty-five minutes later, they were at the Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner’s Office. Once they were in the lobby, Myka led them over to the receptionist’s desk.
“I’m here to see the medical examiner,” Myka said, flashing her badge. “I have an appointment.”
The receptionist frowned with confusion. “Your fellow agents are already in with her.”
“…my fellow agents?” Myka’s brows went up and she glanced over at Claudia.
"They beat us here," Claudia said under her breath. Even if the receptionist heard it, it wasn't incriminating.
Myka fought to maintain a smile as she looked back at the receptionist. "We're not with the FBI. We're with the Secret Service. It's a matter of national security, and we have an appointment."
The receptionist shrugged. “Sure. Take the elevator down to the basement level - that’s where the morgue is. They’re in Autopsy Room 3.”
“Great,” Myka muttered, hurrying to the elevator bank, Claudia on her heels.
A couple of minutes later, they skidded to a halt in front of Autopsy Room 3. Normally one to knock, Myka threw common courtesy out the window and went right in. When she saw the two agents standing over the autopsy table with the M.E., her jaw dropped and she was nearly speechless with surprise.