The MCLE Programme [Potterverse]

[Ythania]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Because of you and your wizard-of-oz posse -I'm- left without a damn air conditioner in my own fuckin' office!" Brooks practically spat, using an already drenched handkerchief to dab away at the excessive amount of sweat pooling around his neck. "You better get me some fuckin' results, or I swear I'm goin' to start sending you all out to start suckin' dick for an income!" he continued to growl, pacing behind his desk.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Abigail sighed out a "Yessir," idly clutching at the heap of files before her. She shifted her weight a little, scowling as the combination of sweltering heat, uncomfortable uniform and screaming Brooks slowly chipped away at her patience. She fanned herself with her hand and waited out his temper tantrum until she was able to politely excuse herself - the moment the office door clicked shut Abigail dropped the files onto the nearest desk, pulled off her blazer and waved her hands under her armpits. "Fuck me, here goes nothing…" she mumbled to herself as she pulled the blazer back on and went downstairs.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The reception into the Downtown Central Police Station was just as scorching hot as the rest of the building, even though it was barely half past seven in the morning. An indifferent and morbidly obese receptionist with the nametag 'Bertha' was licking the icing sugar off her fingers from her breakfast (a donut), and the faint whirr of a completely useless desk fan accompanied the low rush of passing cars and the click of the clock on the wall. In the corners of the room, a few droopy office plants attempted to liven up the cracking paint and dull plastic waiting-room chairs. To the left was the door to the disabled bathroom, propped open by a doorstop and revealing the out-of-place hearth crackling inside. It only added to the uncomfortable heat.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This was also conveniently the meeting place for many of the new rookies for the MCLE division. A small handful of witches, wizards and no-maj were milling around in the room itself, some of whom were attempting small-talk whilst others tugged at their damp shirts or flapped hands in front of their faces. Every so often, a man or woman in uniform would pass by the corridor at the back and be stared at hopefully by a couple of the more impatient newcomers; none of them knew that the blonde lady who peered curiously at the assembled groups would soon be their new boss. Abigail strutted past the opening and make her way into the ladies' restroom first.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Peering at her reflection in the cracked mirror made Abigail scowl again. She just looked so...old. Her hair was kept in place by an ungodly amount of hairspray, the makeup she wore was starting to melt and make her nonexistent creases seem all the more visible. Not to mention that her second-hand blazer, shirt and pencil skirt looked like something right out of the 60s and felt like she should be going to a funeral. Abigail used the handsoap and water to get as much of her makeup off as possible, and pulled her tight up-do so her lanky hair tumbled down her back once more. A little knot of fear started to form in her stomach; what if she wasn't a good leader? Almost immediately, Abigail crushed that thought and strode purposefully out of the bathroom.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Alright you bastards here's the deal!" shouted Abigail over the hubbub, slamming the folders down onto Bertha's desk. "Welcome to the Brooklyn PD - more specifically, welcome to the MCLE division. First thing's first - this isn't like the shit you see in the adverts. If anyone's expecting anything like that, you can just go home right now and save us the bother of firing you." Abigail's tone was severe but her eyes lit up with excitement and a sly grin played on her features. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"We're technically meant to start the tour at eight, but fuck it; come on over and give me your full name, one at a time, so I can sign you all in and get this show on the road." Abigail brandished a clipboard and pen, seemingly from nowhere. She half-sat on the edge of Bertha's desk and received a particularly reproachful look in return. "Well? I don't bite...well, not without a proper reason. You're in safe hands."[/BCOLOR]

 

[Karyra]

Danny Evans did not enjoy being up this early. But here he was, brushing his teeth and getting ready for work at an ungodly hour in the morning. He slapped together something professional out of his closet of horrendously colored shirts and pants and was out the door, careful to lock it before he left. While his building wasn't terribly untrustworthy, it was still Brooklyn, and it was still necessary to ensure that his stuff would be home when he got back from work. A quick look around the neat and clean hallway revealed no one else was awake yet, and Danny was glad for it. He'd rather not have to manage the apartments this early in the morning.

Plus if the old lady next door tried to cook for him or hook him up with her granddaughter again he was fairly sure it'd set the tone for the day. She was nice and paid on time, but she reminded him too much of his adoptive parents. Always fussing over him and worrying about how he was doing. Well, he couldn't blame them because he had gotten transplanted into the wizard world at age five. Still, buying an entire apartment building for him to live was too much. Sure it put extra money in his pocket, but he had a job as well.

He briefly wondered how the department would look, a mishmash of magic and muggle technologies all slapped together. No, magic and technology didn't mix. Crap. He liked having his cell phone with him. It let him procrastinate easier. As he slid into the office, he noticed that he was among the first few people there, and picked a seat towards the back.

The office was... well it was semi-functional. When he wasn't dying of heat via the hearth. Wizards and fireplaces. Why couldn't they just travel via a method that doesn't require flames and heat in the dead of summer? Danny propped his feet up on the desk and leaned back in the chair. He'd hoped for more people to show up, so then he didn't have to worry about workload. As it was, he could see that the department needed help.

Then yelling came from the main office and a woman walked out, and darted towards the restroom. For makeup, probably. Danny didn't really want to stick around if this was going to be what it was like all the time. Then she returned and was cursing and telling them that they needed to do the tour quickly and get the admin crap done. Then they'd go to work.

Yay...

Danny had just enough common sense to not make a sarcastic comment, but it didn't stop him from pulling a face. It was his first day, what did they expect him to do? Solve the mystery of treasure island or something?

 

[Banana-senpai]

With his luck, Midori Kazama had no time to celebrate his 30th birthday. It was bittersweet, but he was glad to have been accepted in the MCLE.

They were expected by eight so it was only logical for Midori to arrive at the exact turn of seven. He looked at his watch with a satisfied sigh, hoping to give a good impression. When he looked up, it seemed the building itself didn't want to look presentable. He didn't complain, however. Police work was busy work and he had already come to terms with the fact that people might not have enough time to tidy up. Non-magic people were quite dependent on technology for that.

His clothes had a mint charm, a handy trick he learned while studying healing magic. It helped his skin stay fresh and smelling like mint. He pressed his suit, adjusted his silver-framed glasses and patted his hair before walking inside.

It was even worse. He walked over to the side and stood on the spot, gaping like a lost tourist at the entrance for a moment. Midori took a calming breath. It was nothing like he had expected. Not even the worst case scenario.

But this is what I really want, he thought with pursed lips. He looked like he would cry. Daydreams of perfection are for kids! I'm 30 now, and this is reality! I must embrace it!

After a quick inquiry, he sat down on on of the chairs and waited anxiously. The smell of the office was of old things he didn't want to think about. Okay, maybe not 'embrace' reality. Just...accept for now.

With a few minutes of quiet, Midori begun to zone out. He lived in a tiny apartment just a walk away and the sad little space looked magnificently cozy with his handiwork. His thoughts went there, wondering if he had watered his plants enough and what things he would need from a magic grocer later on. He wanted to visit his father along with his grandmother if he got off earlier, just so he can be with them for the last hours of his birthday. He thought about getting something for himself, perhaps some cake. But grandmother said she'll bake one. Maybe I should-

"Alright you bastards here's the deal!"

"Waugh!" Midori jumped off his seat in surprise. There were other people around already and a blond lady had dropped a pile of files on the desk of the lady he inquired from. He sheepishly sat down, keeping his eyes on the files, afraid to see any looks of disappointment. So much for good impression. Thirty and still as jumpy as a child. He frowned and clenched his fists, keeping his face locked on a serious expression with his eyebrows meeting. The blond lady didn't stop.

"Welcome to the Brooklyn PD - more specifically, welcome to the MCLE division. First thing's first - this isn't like the shit you see in the adverts. If anyone's expecting anything like that, you can just go home right now and save us the bother of firing you." There was something about the look in her eyes that made Midori shrink back slightly and turn rather pale. She looked like a snake that caught a mice, happy to capture prey. Just my imagination. She's a strict lady, not a sadistic one. I'm just nervous.

Of course, nothing about the office nor the lady nor the whole street and even his birthday was up to his expectations. Midori looked around at the others and then at his shoes. Thinking it may be a test of some sort, he took another breath and looked up, eyes full of determination. He was mediocre on paper and he refused to be the same in person.

"We're technically meant to start the tour at eight, but fuck it; come on over and give me your full name, one at a time, so I can sign you all in and get this show on the road." the woman went on. Midori glanced around and stood up, hoping to project dependability. He knew he had to make up for his less than stellar records somehow.

"Well? I don't bite...well, not without a proper reason. You're in safe hands." Even though she said so, it was a little hard to believe. In fact, for Midori, it was harder to believe because she said it.

"I'm Kazama," he spoke with a nod that was supposed to be some kind of bow. "Kazama...Midori, that is," he hoped they would not take note of his first name, which is why his speech was fast and somehow clipped. He nodded to the others as well but avoided eye contact. It was difficult to do without looking like a bobble head figurine so instead he gingerly glanced to each person and acknowledged them with a small bow. Even Bertha. "Honored to work with you all," he added so he wouldn't leave a strange image to it and establish friendliness instead. It seemed to have the opposite effect.

Did I say 'honored'? Good grief, I said 'honored'! Now I'll be nothing but 'the Asian Guy', he looked pained by his thoughts.

 

[Jessikka]

'Goooood morning! The time is now six'o'clo-"
A delicate looking hand made a not-so-delicate attempt at shutting up the radio that switched itself on in order to wake her up from her beauty sleep by slamming down on the flat-topped alarm, pressing a small switch. Charlotte sat herself up, lifting her lilac, silk eye mask with decorative flowers and setting it on the bedside table. She scanned her room, a beautifully made up room, despite being low on funds, white with silver and gold accents and a beautiful masters bed with princess like sheer curtains. She tossed aside the covers and stepped out of bed, gently pushing aside the sheer curtain. The floors of her room were soft carpet, the rest of the flat were marble tile floors, so she slipped on a small pair of slippers, and pulled on an extravagant looking dressing gown composed entirely of a light-blue, sheer netting, with a large hem of blue and white fur along long, hanging sleeves and across the bottom. As she walked the fur slid across the floor like a train. It seemed rather excessive. But she felt like a princess as she went for breakfast.

As Charlotte went about her morning business, she sighed at the boxes that were still piled around her door. Moving in had left it's scars on her extravagant flat, and they took the form of ugly cardboard boxes. She tried to ignore them as she went to get ready. She gazed at her clothes, pondering over what she could wear… Finally she selected a black pencil skirt and a sheer burgundy shirt, which she tucked in. She sat at her vanity table and sighed, applying makeup, then pulling her long black hair into a sleek ponytail, gently smoothing down the stray hairs to give her a sharp, harsh look. She checked her face one last time before getting up. First day of work, she ought to be punctual. She gazed out the window, immediately reminded of the disgusting city beyond her decorated walls. She scowled and stormed to the door, throwing on a pair of black pumps and hanging a black fur coat over her shoulders, but not putting her arms through the sleeves. Lastly she scooped up her black leather bag and hurried out the door.

Charlotte had hailed a taxi, and as she neared the police department, she readied herself. She regarded the building with slitted eyes, critically examining it. The taxi slowed to a halt, and the man listed off numbers in a heavily accented voice, she thrust an amount of cash into his hands, which was approximately the fare, and stepped out. She gently ran her ponytail through her hand and drew in a sharp breath. The building looked… Well she was disappointed to say the least. She at least wanted to work somewhere that looked a bit more… Chic. She gathered her thoughts, put on a face so sharp and deterring that people avoided her as she strutted to the doors, slinging them open as if they were merely an inconvenience.

Confidently striding up to the reception desk, Charlotte approached the icing dusted Bertha and suddenly softens her movements, as if she'd just flicked a switch and changed her entire personality. She gently slid the coat off her shoulder, due to the sweltering heat, and smiled at Bertha, a neat and practiced smile. Though before she could even open her mouth Bertha merely pointed at a small gathering of people. She pursed her lips but nodded toward the receptionist nonetheless. She walked over to the group of people and ran her eyes over those gathered. No one seemed too likely to spark a conversation any time soon, so she waited, cocking a hip and hanging the heavy coat off her arm, despite the weather.

Charlotte stood with a steely expression as the lady, Abigail, drew their attention. She frowned about the advertisment comment, that was the only reason she was here, but she supposed she wasn't about to leave. She gazed around, the only person to approach was a short man with black hair, she regarded him critically, quickly and strategically softening her gaze when he offered a small bow in her general direction. In that brief moment where she could see his face, her eyes quickly scanned his features, an action so minute and practiced it was over as quickly as it had started. Noting that the man felt nervous, or at the very least uncomfortable she strode over to Abigail;

"My name is Charlotte Martin." She said in a silky voice that had soothing tones to it, then turned to Midori, gently patting his arm and adding on a "Pleasure to meet you," on the end, addressed to him as if she could soothe his nerves.