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The Department: Chapter 5: Stormbound.

USA. DOS base Oracle Garde. 12 __th_ of August. 0700 hours AM._

The distress call had come late, at one in the morning while they had all been asleep. And he'd missed it. A rational part of John knew that it was an utterly normal occurrence and could've and did happen to anyone, but still he beat himself up over it somewhere in the back of his head: There was no excuse good enough in his mind for missing a distress call--least of all his best friend's.

He'd missed it by 48 hours. Two whole days.

A lot of time for shit to hit the fan...Godamnit! The lion pinched the bride of his nose as he fought down a growl of frustration. Or was it helplessness? He really couldn't tell. His thoughts spun, one darker and more disastrous than the preceding one.

A gentle touch around his left bicep made him jerk his arm back reflexively, as if it had been a fire iron on his skin.

Azuka looked up worriedly at him, her brow creased. "We'll find him, John." She said, and the steadiness of her gaze was almost enough to convince him that they really would. "We'll find him and bring him home."

John cast his gaze down. "I won't be able to ever look Jessica in the eyes again if we don't." Won't be able to look at myself either... He thought as he braced his palms against the conference room's tabletop. For a moment he almost felt physically ill, the floor under him seeming to ripple and sway under his soles, the sensation palatable even through his shoes.

The thought of Michael's pregnant wife waiting on him made the invisible weight on his shoulders heavier.

Too much was already against them: Sectors from the first all the way to the fourth had declined lending aid to their sector--Sector Five--with the disambiguous responses of 'Little to no equipment available' and 'Operators and Contractors unavailable at this moment.' It was all just bullshit-dressed excuses for 'Sort it out yourself.'

No-one could say just how acute Michael's peril was but the fact that he'd activated the distress call earlier than intended spoke volumes. And the danger would only grow the longer it took to reach him. The big lion clenched his fingers and claw tips into the glass tabletop fruitlessly, tension spreading up into his arms and shoulder-muscles. A tendon in his neck twicthed in response.

Breathe--calm down. Won't help anyone by losing it, not you, not him.

John inhaled before exhaling deeply. Fixing his gaze on a interperationistic painting on the far wall he said, "Who were the first to intercept the call?"

"Jake did. He told Sala as soon as he saw her, believe it or not." Azuka said with a skeptical huff. The answer made John snort mentally. Of course it would be Jake, Michael's own twin brother, their sector's head of security who faced down one of the most feared Carriers on their base. Everyone else steered clear of the mind-controller--for good reason. The pantherss had an infamous volatile temper. So that she'd cared enough to pass the message along was surprising.

A sardonic chuckle bubbled up from his chest. Guess every dog has their day. John thought before he could stop himself. A brief stab of something like guilt jolted through his midsection in response. None of this was Sala's fault. He couldn't even begin to fathom who was to blame, not that it would've done much should he have known: the situation was what it was, and he knew he couldn't change it no matter what he did, no matter how much he wished he could.

John shifted his thoughts from problem to finding a solution. Dwelling would do him no good. "Since the other local sectors have refused to help us, we're going to have to look somewhere else for manpower..."

"Perhaps_Autum's Hold_would be willing to send what we need?" Azuka said, and John and her shared a meaningful look from the corner of their eyes: The amount of regulations she was breaking by being in the room with him and discussing this...Then again, it wasn't like she'd just sit around her office, not if she thought she could help.

The notion lifted his spirit somewhat. "Unfortunately we don't have the time to wait on them, should that even be the case. We have already delayed too long as is. We don't know how many cartel members there are in the area surrounding Micahael's location or if they have found him yet. A smaller team would move quicker...No more than six or seven. At most eight."

"But besides you, Jorek, Cassandra and Sala we don't have that many field-ready personeel.You'd still be short of people that you'd need."

John made a low agreeing sound in the back of his throat before falling silent. Unfortunately, the truth was that not many Carriers at their sector were psionically gifted enough for their abilities to be of use in the field.

"Since we can't find what we need here...let's look somewhere else."

"Already thought of this, have you?" John said, finding some small shard of dry amusement amidst the chaos of their predicament.

In hindsight, it should've been an option he too should've considered, especially how used to the political climate of the Department he was, it had been naíve of him to think that they'd chose _now_to put aside their differences to help...

"Mhm, I did. I already have one in mind--he's one of the best, if the rumors are to be believed."

John turned around to cross his arms and lean the small of his back resting against the table's side. "Hm. Do we have a name?"

Azuka nodded "Arlen Blacktiger."

* * *

California, Caramel. 1015 hours PM. Later, the same day.

Soft chatter roused Arlen from his pleasant sleep, the kind that only came after great sex. Snorting softly as he fully awoke, the bulky black tiger rolled around on his side to face the sound, rubbing the back of a hand across his eyes as he did so.

Tamra sat with her back to him on the bedside, sheets coiled around her lower body, phone pressed to one perked ear. The sun lit the contours of her body in soft, warm gold from behind the metal blinds.

Arlen licked his fangs, a hungry rumble vibrated in his chest at the sight. Smirking to himself, he deftly crawled his way over to her, and after a nuzzle or two against her neck, began to kiss and nip his way down one of her arms.

A disappointed harumph escaped him as a slim hand shoved his face away, squishing his nose and muzzle in the process.

"How soon would--Yes, urgent, of course. I understand..." Tamra said, eyes flickering to and fro slowly, a slight concentrated frown on her pretty calico face.

Playfulness dampened by the minute, he drew back to study her, patiently waited for the moment she'd finish; she wouldn't leave him out of the loop.

"Yes, well--since it's so sudden I can't promise--Yes, of course if that's the case I'll call you back, too. Bye for now."

As soon as she'd finished the call and plonked her phone onto the sheets, Arlen quirked a brow at her. "Problem?" He grunted, body going still by instinct.

Tamra shrugged one shoulder, but her eyes were too sharp and focused, as if she were mulling over whatever information she'd received over the phone, it clashed with the relaxed set of the rest of her form. "Hypothetically, how would you feel about going to Brazil and helping pull a fellow contractor out?"

"'Hypothetically', huh? Wasn't exactly how I'd plan this day would go, to be honest."

At that, Tamra snorted and rolled her eyes. "No, I bet you were going to ask for some morning head instead and then spend your day stowed away in here watching sports and gobbling down packages of noodles."

The comment made him smile sheepishly to himself and rub behind his neck, eyes stuck on a spot that looked suspiciously like a coffee stain on the sheets. He'd been caught red-handed.

"Heh. Hypothetically."

"Mm-hmm." Tamra didn't sound or look impressed. "Well I am going to need an answer in a minute or two--" She'd picked up her phone when he wasn't looking and now waved it half-threateningly at him--"Because I said I'd call them as soon as I knew--So?" She proceeded to stare at him questionaly.

Arlen huffed and smoothed a hand down his face, lifted a finger to peer through the space at her. He let out a grumble at her.

It caused the housecat to roll her eyes at him again. "Oh for--stop stalling already, you ass--it's _not_going to work--besides, with how twitchy you were yesterday at the airport I am going to hazard a guess that it's been a while since you've had work."

"Well that's damned uncalled for, woman...I've been checking..." Arlen muttered, not about to tell her just how right she was. She'd enjoy that far too much. He rolled his shoulders and neck, tension beginning to gather there, like a recurring cold that he couldn't shake.

Tamra flexed her elegant eyebrows impishly, knowingly, at him before her gaze softened, no doubt seeing how tense he'd gotten.

"Don't worry tiger, I'll go with you on this one. Besides, it's not set in stone yet. They want to meet and do the briefing in person. It's up in the air until after that." So saying, she threw the sheets off and reached down to the floor to start slipping back into her clothes.

Begrudgingly, Arlen snorted, rolled his eyes and twisted out of bed, began to locate and then follow suit in getting into his own clothing, all the while wondering just how the housecat always seemed to be able to convince him in the end.

She was right though: it couldn't hurt to at least listen to the proposal, since they seemed to be adamant that he be the one for the job, if only out of professional curiosity.

The big black tiger leaned back onto the bed, about to slip his sock back on, as a thought struck him. "So, for real," he said, looking over his shoulder at her with an eyebrow studiously lifted, "No morning head?"

When Tamra slipped around the bed, fully clothed in a halter-top and business pants, head-shaking but smiling, a low disappointed grumble escaped him, just loud enough for her to hear.

It was answered by a crystal-like laugh from the hallway.

...Well, good thing that one of them found it amusing, Arlen thought with a quiet snort.

* * *

Jorek bounced his knee, leg hidden under the conference room's tabletop, finding himself caught somewhere between unease and excitement. But the excitement was definitely winning. He wringed his fingers, on the verge of exploding with giddiness at the waiting.

Actual real-life-living people...! He let out a delighted, internal squeal, hands squishing his face together. It was almost too much!

In the back of his head, Cassandra gave a tinkling telepathic snicker before saying, 'Well what did you expect--they'd bring a bunch of clowns to help us?'

'Ugh. No, no clowns--I hate clowns!' Jorek thought back to her, a shiver rushing up his spine at the mental image his girlfriend sent him of a group of colorful clowns. With bazookas of all things.

As soon as his eyes caught movement beyond the conferance's room's main glass wall however, he pushed back all thoughts of clowns. He squinted but the frosted glass didn't allow him to properly identify whoever was on the other side.

Whoever were about to walk into the room would be someone he'd need to trust, at the very least enough to be able to work with and not expect a bullet in the back--Quite the tall order for someone like him. Trust: A deep, meaningful word for him. A buried treasure. Trust was something he didn't take for granted or give lightly. A shame, then, that it seemed so far to him, at 22 he had been born into the wrong era.

The white tiger inhaled slowly, right foot once again beginning a quiet tap-dance rhythm against the wall-to-wall carpet.

Cassandra, the cheetah seated next to him, placed a hand over one of his and squeezed. 'Relax, Rex. Just be yourself.

Jorek let out a strained exhale through his nose, a small smile twitching at the use of his rare nickname as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He gave her hand a brief squeeze back before she pulled back to rearrange herself.

'_Thanks, Cass'.

'You're welcome...Just don't screw this up. We're the face of the Department currently, after all.'

'Give with one hand and take with the other' huh? And I'll...try'._

Jorek frowned slightly, swallowed as a lump hardened in the pit of his stomach. His gaze shifted down, onto the tabletop and the paper mugs stacked there. A tumbler with ice-cubes and slices of lemon stood next to them.

'The face of the department', a notion and task that most would no doubt have scoffed at regarding if he'd be a good choice for advertisement and maybe he weren't a good choice at all, but that didn't matter because John's best friend needed them and he was going to step up and help, no matter what anyone else said...

Then he glanced up as he caught the unmistakable sound of the door brushing against the synthetic wool carpet.

His eyes winded as a tall, powerful, pitch-black feline eased himself into the warm conference room. At first glance, Jorek thought that the unknown male was a panther, with how dark his coat was, but as the feline passed through a bright shaft of sunlight, he made out charcoal stripes amidst the jet-black fur: A black tiger.

Jorek dimly registered Cassandra, nudging him softly in the side and hissed under her breath, partly through her teeth with wide, half-panicked eyes, "Close your mouth, dumbass--You look like a bird house...!"

Jorek snapped his mouth shut, wearly following the black tiger with his eyes as he made his way over to John, who rose to shake his hand. Then, he smiled sheepishly at Cassandra in apology, who's face glanced up sufferingly at the ceiling briefly but said nothing else.

Wow...Just-Wow..._He couldn't help but let his eyes drift to the unknown male once more._What, did they higher a tiger-shaped tank? Jesus...Look at all that. Jorek focused, leaned back into his chair as John got introduced. He let a small, private smirk steal across his face. Maybe this mission would be more interesting than he'd first thought. At the very least there was some prima eye-candy to be had...

"Arlen Blacktiger? Thank you for coming on such short notice--John Bernard." John introduced himself as he shook Arlen's hand.

The black tiger's face was neutral and coolly focused as he gave a small nod.

"Wanted more details before I accepted--according to my fixer it's a rescue op?"

"Of course, in that case let's get the introductions done with then..." John said.

Jorek let out a small squeak that had Cassandra quirk a brow at him, as his hands flew to his mouth and he swiveled in his chair to stare at her with wide, beaming eyes.

'Oh-my-god! Did you hear that? Did you HEAR? They actually hired Arlen Blacktiger!'

Cassandra grimaced slightly and made a gesture as if tuning an invisible radio even as she thought back, _'Not so loud, please. And yes. I heard--so?' Also...It took you THAT long to figure it out?'

'So? SO? The man's a legend! He's one of the best contractors there is--And we get to work with him!...And yes, yes it did.'_

The thought made Jorek rub his palms together as excitement bubbled up anew with another quiet squee.

Cassandra smirked at him suddenly. 'Well, don't let him know that, Mr hero-worshiper. Turn around...It's show-time...'

"...Huh?" Jorek froze at that, eyes squinting before bulging as he reflexively swiveled in his chair and found himself face-to-face with the aforementioned Arlen Blacktiger. His eyes shifted raptly between the older feline's face and outstretched palm. Jerkingly, he reached out belatedly and shook it a few times and then kept shaking it, tongue-tied. Gotta_s_ay something goddamn it! He thought furiously at himself as the second ticked by and the silence grew. His excessive handshaking not making things better either, no doubt.

"W...what's cooking good-looking?!" He blurted out in a panic as he met Arlen's golden, slitted eyes with his own mortified, wide gaze. From across the table, Azuka groaned quietly and slapped a hand over her eyes while John cleared his throat admonishingly. And all Jorek could manage to do was to grin toothly up at the darker feline.

"Pleasure." Arlen replied, face so collected, neutral and eyes subtly shifted away from Jorek's own that another wave of heat and bluster rushed up the white tiger's face. His heart sank and he stifled a sigh. That was that. He'd blown it as far as first impressions went. He dared to glance to the corner of his eyes only to be met with John slowly shaking his head, arms crossed, looking more disappointed than he'd ever seen him.

It made Jorek let out a whimper at the back of his throat at the sight, ears flattening against the back of his head as he let go of the hand with a muttered apology as he sank back into his chair, wished for nothing more than to vanish into thin air, like so many times before.What could be expected from a failure like me anyway? Of course I blew it: I always screw up. A part of him wanted to rise from his seat and apologize to John but doing so would just piss the lion off; John was tense enough already so Jorek simply sat there with the guilt growing. He told himself he deserved every ounce of it.

"Now, with the introductions done..." John gave Jorek a look that had him quickly avert his eyes he continued, "We can get to business--as your fixer rightly informed you this would be a SAR op: One of our operators sent out a distress signal 48 hours ago from Brazil. Our sector has too few combat-ready personnel available to send out and the other local sectors are...indisposed. So we need external help on this one..." John folded his hand on the tabletop.

Arlen leaned back in his seat; an unreadable expression on his face, eyes slightly narrowed as if he weighed over John's words. " Any intel on what keeps him from leaving?" Goosebumps pebbled Jorek's back all the way down to his tail-base as the black tiger's baritone rumbled into his ears. Jesus. Crickety. Christ.

John crossed his arms. "He was investigating a criminal syndicate operating in the area; human trafficking and illegal experimentation from the looks of it. All things point to that his cover must have been blown."

Arlen nodded slowly before saying, "No efforts on his part to try and re-establish contact after the distress signal was sent out?"

John's gaze fell down, turned melancholic and stormy. "None..."

Jorek held back a mournful sound and agonized quietly in his seat, the need to comfort welling up twice as strong as before. Even though he knew that the lion, in his current mood, would just see it as patronizing. Still, he hated the sight of his close ones' pain.

No-one in the room could argue against the fact though that there was a terribly large chance that Michael might be dead already. Some might have argued against it, Jorek included once upon a time, but having first-hand experience at the age of 17 with death on the battlefield had taught him that reality seldom conformed itself to the trappings of hope, and luck was as unreliable and fickle as ever...The only thing anyone could hope for was that Micahel's experience, Telepathy and training had seen him through the danger and that he was waiting for them. But the cruel reality was that nothing could guarantee his survival...

...Still, we have to try. Doing nothing is no different from failing. Jorek thought, eyes drifting towards Arlen as the dark tiger nodded slowly again.

It seemed to make John compose himself because he rested his weight on his forearms on the tabletop, and as he looked up at the tiger again, his eyes were crisp and clear once more, as if he could tell that the other man was about to make a decision and wanted to hear it.

Jorek found himself straightening in his seat, ears flicking up in rapt attention: Whatever answer that Blacktiger would give them would ultimately decide whether the chance of saving Micahel would be possible or not, moreover, yes or no, there would be no time to go and look for anyone else. This was their only shot and they all knew it.

"Alright--I think I've heard enough..." Arlen said, baritone voice trailing off as he rose and reached out to shake John's hand again, which the lion took, albeit with an unsure, hesitant expression this time as opposte to the neautral, professional one from earlier.

Jorek almost heard the sound of his heart as it dropped from his chest to the pit of his stomach.

"... You can brief me the rest on the flight to Brazil." The black tiger finished with a small clipped nod, gaze steady. The small gesture was enough to send Jorek's heart hammering right back up the way it came. They'd done it, he thought: They'd convinced him!

Elation spread across every nerve-ending. Nothing could stop them now. They were going to get Micahel home.