Laughing Like Hell • •

[garrus raphael orozco]

Surprisingly, Garrus had slept soundly the night before. It was the first time that week. He was no stranger to long nights of struggling with ghastly images when he closed his eyes. His job took him to some of the most horrific scenes the world had to offer. He walked through anxious crowds filled with grieving families. The howl of a mother who had just lost her child was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Garrus had heard it over and over again, in many countries, from many voices. It was just as soul crushing each time. He wasn't going to ever get used to it, or be able to prepare himself for it. When he slept he heard banshees calling him to his next catastrophe. He woke up in the safety of his own bedroom, the one in New York, a safe distance away from the DC offices that reminded him so much of the career he had willingly walked into.

It was a job he wouldn’t give up for the world, but that didn't make it easy. It was exhausting, and he felt it when he came home. That was when he had the chance to relax and the tense muscles cried out for that break. He was relieved it wasn't a job he did day in and day out. No one could ever survive that. It took time to get over one case before they could focus on another, and four days after touching back down at JFK was a surprisingly quick turnaround when he accounted for the jet lag, too. Still, Garrus felt weary. He needed a pick me up, and a good session to work out the kinks in his body that came with too little sleep. For him that meant getting a large, strong coffee and spending a day down by the water. Unfortunately, that day wasn’t going to be today. A late night phone call saw him agreeing to be a third face at the NYU campus for a careers event. The original guy was struck down with a virus that rendered him incapable to attend, and Garrus was the only one in the city who was free and who vaguely fell into the ‘forensics’ branch.

He showered under the boiling hot water, and then dressed himself in the first clean outfit that caught his eye once he found his glasses from where they had fallen down the side of his bedside table. Garrus was forever knocking them off in his sleep and then scolding himself for not keeping them in the hard shell case he had deliberately bought for that very reason. One day he might learn, but it was starting to seem very unlikely. He wished someone else could do this. He was hardly the typical guy for this sort of this. He didn’t chase bad guys or help to get convictions. He ID’d the unrecognisable bodies. He took burnt bodies, broken corpses and discovered who they were. No one knew just how gruesome his job was because he literally could not show them how bad it was.

He saw the stands and booths scattered across the college Atrium when he arrived with a coffee in hand. It was his second of the morning, but he thought he’d need it. Garrus spotted the liaison officer who had roped him into this. She worked with all law agencies when she needed to, but this seemed low for her. They all had better things to be doing. He returned her warm smile with a barely there one, and leaned against the table, sipping from his cup as she spoke to one of the uniformed NYPD officers about avoiding injury statistics on the job. If they were here to make their jobs sound pretty and perfect there was no way Garrus could even part his lips.

• • •

TAGGED! Seraphina Maria Constantine
WORDS! 647!
OUTFIT! Articulated Artist!
LYRICS! Sound of Madness - - - Shinedown
NOTES!

[Seraphina Maria Constantine]

Sera was absolutely nowhere near interested in this career day thing the school was putting on. In fact she wanted to be just about anywhere else. The only reason she was there was because she was getting credit for it. She was a business major and knew exactly where she was going when she was finished with school. Still, a couple of her professors had offered up a conditional extra credit. The condition was that they had to attend the event and collect at least one interesting pamphlet and some information; just enough to prove they'd actually gone there in person. Sera could see how it was an ingenious assignment. People, especially in the business course, could get blinded by the obvious choices after graduation. Most of them wanted to find themselves somewhere on the ladder of a fortune 500 company. None of them were quite interested in the path Sera was; of course, none of their parents were leaders of multimillion dollar crime syndicates. Her dad wasn't just some killer crime boss, he was the Godfather.

There were no real secrets kept from Sera, she understood everything her father did. Just like she knew a lot of it was done to protect her. She of course, could protect herself, knew how to fight off an attacker, had better aim than half the cops of the NYPD -not that she'd ever admit to that out loud, and could probably slip away unnoticed from a fight she'd started in a bar. She could be cruel and calculating and quite shrewd. She knew it and used it to her advantage whenever possible. But she was in New York to find herself, not just to hide away because someone was after the family. She wanted to see if there was something more than the crime boss's daughter. So far, she hadn't found her but she was willing to try. And that included getting up and meeting a friend for Pilates before going to this thing at the school.

Sera had just enough time after the class to get home, shower and change before needing to be at the school. Her friend didn't have the same potential for extra credit so she hadn't intended on going. Sera was alone in her quest and that was fine. She had her clever guard if she needed anything but whenever she was on campus, he wasn't as close as he probably should be. And with the largest coffee she could order, fixed up to her specifications, she stood in the middle of all the booths and sighed. It was going to be a long day if she had to stop and talk to a few of them. She turned and spotted a man at a booth that looked just as bored as she felt. Perfect. "You look like you want to be here as much as I do." She said when she made it close enough to him that he'd hear her over the crowd. "Is this your booth?" She asked before taking a sip of her coffee.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || garrus raphael orozco
Words || 511
Clothes || Stubborn Student
Music || Take it From Me --Jordan Davis
Notes || <3

[garrus raphael orozco]

He wasn’t like many of the agent stereotypes. Most of the time he didn’t wear a suit, but rather some kind of protective gear, depending on the scene he was being sent to. He wasn’t going to dress smart for soot or water to damage the fabric and set him back a good hundred dollars. He didn’t look at someone and read all of their secrets and twitches like a spy novel. He wasn’t that sort of agent for Interpol. His appointments were at the sites of unimaginable disasters. He had seen all the gruesome ways that a person could die in a blazing inferno, or in a nightmare fuelling plane crash. His job was not the kind that he would use as an icebreaker on a date or when he reunited with his distant relatives twice a year. They thought Interpol was glitz and glamour. They were envious of all the places Garrus was sent for his job. Unfortunately, he lost the appetite for travelling when beautiful places only reminded him of the bodies he had seen there, often laid out in body bags until someone identified them, examined them, and sent them back to the heartbroken loved ones.

His job was grim, but Garrus knew it was what he needed to do. He had felt that way ever since 9/11 when his father had been changed forever. The first responders had suffered that day and for the years that followed. It was a trauma none of them were prepared or trained for. Garrus saw his career as a necessary one. Without it, families may never know how their loved ones passed, or even have something to bury and mourn. He helped find that closure – however painful it was. He had been told that no one had made it to retirement age in his line of work without changing paths. Several had left altogether to focus on family while others took desk jobs where the nightmares had to fight to get to them. Garrus had his nightmares, had times when he shook for a vice like he was an addict. Coping could be hard, but it was the water that always soothed him in the end. It grounded him – ironically – and brought him back to life. He needed that salty air and hard waves to push him forward to the next case when one happened. Fate was a cruel mistress; she ensured Garrus would never be rendered unnecessary.

Still, none of that was what excited, bright eyed college kids wanted to hear on a career day event. They felt enough stress just dealing with deadlines and essays. He didn’t want to be the guy to scare them away from what could be a promising and fulfilling career for them. Forensics was a wide branch after all, expanding with every new innovative piece of technology. Yet he couldn’t offer insight into crime solving and psychology like some of them might like. He did a bit with fingerprinting, DNA and bloodwork, but it wasn’t the same as working in a lab, running tests day in and day out. His experience was often difficult and required a delicacy that didn’t match his looks. Still, he was surprised anyone came over to him, and he blinked when they did, adjusting his glasses before he responded. “Yes, I suppose it is; though I can only answer about one percent of prospective questions.” He wasn’t going to tell the complete truth about his role within law enforcement, but he would be honest about what he knew. “I wasn’t the best choice for today. I also suspect I was far from the top of the list.” Garrus, at the end of it all, was the only local agent who was free of any work right now. Lawyers in another country had his latest report and they were probably just going to add it to the overall findings. It was rare he was called back for any potential trials.

• • •

TAGGED! Seraphina Maria Constantine
WORDS! 666!
LYRICS! Sound of Madness - - - Shinedown
NOTES!

[Seraphina Maria Constantine]

The truth about Sera's life before New York was a story best left untold. She didn't know what was going on with her father and she didn't want to. The less she knew in these situations, the better it was. It didn't matter that she was in a completely different country on the total opposite side of the world, if she had answers, people would find her. She had been shipped off so she would be protected from whatever feud her father had gotten into and meant to stay away at least until she'd finished school. As she'd never been to a real school, it had been interesting. Those first few months had been quite the eye-opening experience. She hadn't really known what to expect and had only had American college movies to prepare for what might happen. Sera hadn't actually believed those films, figuring Hollywood dramatised the whole experience to be wilder than it really was. She hadn't been twenty feet on campus when some Frat boy handed her a flyer for a party and told her it would be a shame to miss the biggest welcome back party of the year. She'd missed it because her bodyguard wouldn't allow her to go but it hadn't mattered to Sera. A few more months had seen a change, her bodyguard held back on stopping her as much and she was able to really spread her wings. She figured he was getting bored of not being back home but the nightlife was pretty spectacular in New York and he hadn't been attached to someone before they'd gone; which was the reason he'd been tasked with the job of moving to America.

The Dane looked back on her first year in America fondly, wishing she could go back and attend all those parties. Though that couldn't happen, she certainly made up for it after that. She was a junior now and figured out a way to balance her school work with her social life and keep up the very part-time job she'd landed telling tourists bullshit about the city she currently called home. She probably should have been fired after her first week but they'd kept her on, claiming the praise she got from her groups was astounding. If they ever told her boss what she told her your groups, that would certainly be the end of it. But Sera didn't need the money. She had more than enough to see her through. She did it for the hell of it, to get out of her apartment and not have to think about her course assignments. Subconsciously, Sera did her job so she could see what other people's lives were like. She felt like she'd been the only one to be raised the way she was. And although that's probably not true, she also felt like she'd been held prisoner in her old life back home. It was terrifying to think that if she'd been able to attend a school that perhaps she might not have been so cold.

That was a thought for another time, however. She didn't need to be thinking about the what-ifs of her previous life while she was meant to be talking to field professionals about the complexities and inner workings of their chosen careers and what made them so special; better than all the rest. Sera smirked behind her coffee cup. "So I was right, you do want to be here as much as I do. At least tell me you're getting paid to be here." She asked without actually asking. It seemed a sin to have someone standing around a university atrium when they had better things to do and would have preferred to be anywhere else. She had to keep reminding herself about once a second that she was getting extra credit for being there. She sighed, figuring she may as well get what she was there for from this man then she could go home and do something more interesting. "You said only about one percent. Why's that? Not the standard forensic tech?" She queried after pausing a second to remind herself which booth she'd walked up to.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || garrus raphael orozco
Words || 695
Clothes ||
Music || Take it From Me --Jordan Davis
Notes || <3

[garrus raphael orozco]

Garrus had spent most of his life in New York City. He had been there through storms and troubles. He could remember being told where to avoid when there was a rise in criminal activity, he had far too many vivid recollections of 9/11 and its aftermath. The latter had shaped his future, changed him as a man. No one came out of that horrific incident without having their views changed. Some became angry, others were charitable, but everyone who called New York City home felt the change take over them. Garrus had been driven down a path that was perhaps darker than his parents ever expected for him. It was still an honourable and respectful path, but a hard one to explain even to family, let alone strangers. His mom once said that she had expected Garrus to go off to college and come home with a future planned in art or antiques. They were both things he was very passionate about, but in his chosen line of work anything like that was, sadly, often destroyed. Thankfully museums and galleries were now the very places Garrus went to restore the mental balance his job required.

In art he found harmony, and in exquisite relics of times gone by he found solace. Sometimes it was walking around a museum or art show, but other times books worked just as well. There were jobs he was assigned to where books were really the only option. He couldn’t exactly interview a family about their missing relative – someone presumed dead – and then casually take a stroll around the local historical buildings. It was indecent, and would probably be unforgivable if some grieving loved one saw him admiring a priceless portrait when a few hours earlier he had promised to do all he could to find their missing family. Although it was unreasonable to think he could do his job without food or sleep, those struggling after a disaster seemed to believe that was exactly how it was. He couldn’t wrap up an interview late into the evening and then tell a person that the checks would start first thing in the morning. Even if he had to confess to being held up by unfinished tests, people still seemed to assume he’d be doing more, helping others while that wait continued. No one wanted to think that he could sleep somewhat soundly in a nice hotel room when he was working in the aftermath of a disaster. However, if he didn’t sleep then he wouldn’t be able to do his job properly.

Of course, that wasn’t the sort of thing he was supposed to be here to talk about. Garrus was supposed to tell prospective agents and officers what law enforcement looked for, what they might need to get employed into a certain role. They didn’t want to know about the long hours, the nightmares that could come from a rough case. He wasn’t here to talk about how many people had cried on his shoulder, collapsed when he delivered tragic news. His job wasn’t a glamourous, exciting position like the television shows wanted to boast about. He rarely got to laugh with his job, never really had anyone thank him or praise him for his work (unless it was a superior). Garrus didn’t need any of that though. He did a job that was more necessary than enjoyable. He wouldn’t change it for the world, but at the same time he had few good things to say about it to people who didn’t understand why his position existed in the first place. “Yes, they’re paying me. I don’t think many people would be here otherwise.” He could be wrong and maybe some were keen volunteers. However, his job, his paygrade, it was usually a requirement to pay them at least something to step away from what should have been a day off the clock. “Not at all. But they think I can answer anything that comes up.”

• • •

TAGGED! Seraphina Maria Constantine
WORDS! 668!
LYRICS! Sound of Madness - - - Shinedown
NOTES!

[Seraphina Maria Constantine]

Sera loved her father dearly. He'd raised her almost entirely on his own from her birth with the help of some women in his employ and tutors when she was older. He hadn't trusted allowing her to attend a proper school, especially with his seedier business dealings. Sera didn't mind much, she was tutored in all things when she was old enough and was reading books years above her level before she'd been a teenager. Her father had spared no expense in her education and while Sera had wanted to rebel, she knew enough of his real business dealings to know that it would end in tragedy for everyone involved. She had already lost a friend in the wee years of her life thanks to the family business and her formative years were spent learning how to shoot a gun, among other things, and basically conning the people who entered the family compound into believing she was a simple, innocent young woman with nothing more than air between her ears. In truth, she was far more adept at understanding her father's books better than most of the men and she could do it all whilst acting entirely female and painting her toes! Sera was brilliant but troubled and it was obvious why; which was why her father sent her away for university.

The Dutch girl didn't know the true reasons her father shipped her to America for school, only the lie he'd concocted. The truth was that no one was actually after the Constantine family, Lars just wanted his little girl to experience life and see what she really wanted from it. She'd only ever known lies and deceit and while Lars loved his daughter with every little bit of his heart and soul, he couldn't give her everything. He certainly didn't want his only daughter shacking up with any of his men. He wanted a good, nice young man for his secretly sweet little girl. And the reality was if he could send her off to a convent, he probably would have tried but his sweet Sera was too stubborn and opinionated for any plan of the sort to get past her. While he wasn't scared of his daughter, he was also not stupid and knew very well that she was gifted with a gun and she'd gotten that silver tongue the woman she'd been named after had.

Now she was in New York and starting to wonder if the dreams and ideas she'd had were really what she wanted. Oh, they weren't conscious thoughts just yet but being away from the family business was going to start taking it's toll sooner rather than later. It was a bridge she would cross when those subconscious thoughts became more conscious ones. Until then, she would continue going to school and giving tours of the city she'd come to love and everyone around her could deal with the crisis that would eventually hit. "Some people just really love their jobs and want everyone else to as well." She pointed out, though she wouldn't be there if she weren't getting extra credit for it. Sera took a small step back to look at the display they were standing next to. "So from this, I can see that you're in some sort of forensics field." She said, thinking it all through. "But you're not basic, not working for the NYPD, even though that would be the preferred volunteer here. The obvious, and cheaper choice. What is it then? CDC, WHO, some other three-letter acronym that no one actually knows anything about?" She asked with a smirk as she raised her coffee cup to her lips.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || garrus raphael orozco
Words || 612
Music || Take it From Me --Jordan Davis
Notes || <3

[garrus raphael orozco]

There had been many a late night conversation with his father over his chosen career. Garrus’ dad had suffered tremendously after 9/11 and the things he had seen then. He couldn’t understand why someone would choose to work with that kind of destruction and chaos and make a career from it. Garrus always kept his explanations simple; for those who couldn’t be saved by men like his father, they needed someone to be their advocate. Without Garrus families may never know for sure what became of their loved one. They may not have the information necessary to satisfy insurance companies or start a full criminal investigation into a business or person. Without people like Garrus doing the hard job that he did, they may never have closure. Those were things his father could understand, but he still insisted on checking in with his son whenever he had a break between jobs. One late night, at around 3:10am, he had even made Garrus promise that he would quit if at any time his own health began to suffer for it.

In truth, he considered himself lucky. Unlike first responders who knew very little about what they could be driving towards, he often had detailed reports and summaries by the time he was on a plane or in a car. There had been time for those amazing everyday heroes to do their jobs, and someone had documented it. It didn’t always remove the shock entirely, but he knew to expect a devastating fire, or horrific collapse. From those little bits that had been done as preliminary reports, it helped him remain professional, to keep it together when he did come to face those who were now in his care; the unrecognisable, the ones who were lost. No one needed to see him freaking out, or going green. That was the sort of behaviour that only fuelled speculation, and in his experience, the rumours and the dread was already rampant by the time he arrived at the official cordon to flash his credentials and duck under the tape or through the fence.

Leaving him here today was still a puzzle. He supposed there were some higher up faceless men who wanted to promote the direction forensics was slowly branching in, regardless of how horrific it was to people. Sometimes people forgot that their world didn’t always overlap with the people who wandered about every day between coffee shops and bistro bars. Studying the girl’s analysis of him, he nodded his head in appreciation, even though she was a little off the mark. “No acronyms. Just one word; Interpol.” He corrected, often feeling a little proud that his skills were sourced by an agency outside of the US. Of course, the truth was that no one in the US had actually branched into this area of forensics and Interpol had been the first to form this team of agents to deal with the growing number of disaster events across the globe. “I’m a Disaster Victim Investigator.” He never went straight into the details in case they were unwanted by those who asked him. Some people preferred to keep it vague and assume what he did, or perhaps google it later. They didn’t need him to ruin a conversation by explaining the full nature of his work.

• • •

TAGGED! Seraphina Maria Constantine
WORDS! 556!
OUTFIT! Articulated Artist!
LYRICS! Sound of Madness - - - Shinedown
NOTES!