And so Castiel found himself outside the compound. He spent most of his days at a speakeasy-turned-private archive. Old blade servers lined the walls, behind sturdy glass, bulletproof Castiel guessed. Here, for a price and never a set one, anonymous eyes could delve into terabytes of historical information, the web of pages that was the Internet. HALO now tightly controlled the information available to the government and it's citizens on the Infonet. People found accessing the Internet usually had to answer to someone like Uriel or Raphael.
At first, Castiel had felt out of place on the outside. He had expected to always feel out of place on the outside. The air was thicker, warmer too. Streets ran haphazardly into each other at odd angles. Buildings had no cohesion. He expected, too, that he would be treated like an insider. He found that instead he was treated like everyone else, no better no worse.
His task was to find the mark, the person who had the HALO network to download travel documents. Castiel had decrypted the documents quickly and traced the mark back to the speakeasy. He was a regular, though not so regular that Castiel had seen him in nearly eight days of waiting.
Zachariah had assumed that because Castiel had never met the mud monkeys—the outsiders—and that because their background and upbringing was so utterly different from his, that Castiel could not empathize with them. After all, he could not even affect the necessary ticks needed to relate to them. As with many other things, Zachariah had underestimated Castiel.
When Castiel's mark finally walked into the speakeasy, Castiel put his training to work, trying to relate to the outsiders the way HALO thought they must be treated. But he tripped over the basics of informal greetings, and stared a little too long. The mark didn’t seem to mind. The mark smiled at him. "Gabriel told us you were," he paused, "different."
"Oh,” Castiel said, dejected. "So you know I’m--“
“An angel,” he said, then winked.
Castiel hated the word, the epithet the outsiders used for HALO agents. “What are you going to do to me?” The man was bigger than Castiel, but could be easily handled. Assuming his friends were not waiting with stunners nearby.
"Do to you?” The man laughed. “I’m going to recruit you.”
Castiel stared. The man did not seem deterred.
“If it helps, we all also hate Gabriel. He’s a dick. But he says you’re the one we need. The one HALO would never suspect.”
“What makes you think I would join you?”
“Because. Gabriel says your just like my brother—you like thinking too much. When was the last time HALO let you think for yourself?”
Castiel was still staring. But he could feel himself losing this battle of wills to the man. He had, after all, lost the battle within himself long ago. Unlike Gabriel, he had let the fear of the outside keep him loyal to HALO. Zachariah had been right about one thing, Castiel could not relate to the outsiders. Because Zachariah had never given him the chance. Until now.
“I'm Dean.” He held out a hand. “Welcome to Team Free Will."
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timeasmymeasure
Team Free Will (2/2)
Date: 2010-06-04 01:46 am (UTC)At first, Castiel had felt out of place on the outside. He had expected to always feel out of place on the outside. The air was thicker, warmer too. Streets ran haphazardly into each other at odd angles. Buildings had no cohesion. He expected, too, that he would be treated like an insider. He found that instead he was treated like everyone else, no better no worse.
His task was to find the mark, the person who had the HALO network to download travel documents. Castiel had decrypted the documents quickly and traced the mark back to the speakeasy. He was a regular, though not so regular that Castiel had seen him in nearly eight days of waiting.
Zachariah had assumed that because Castiel had never met the mud monkeys—the outsiders—and that because their background and upbringing was so utterly different from his, that Castiel could not empathize with them. After all, he could not even affect the necessary ticks needed to relate to them. As with many other things, Zachariah had underestimated Castiel.
When Castiel's mark finally walked into the speakeasy, Castiel put his training to work, trying to relate to the outsiders the way HALO thought they must be treated. But he tripped over the basics of informal greetings, and stared a little too long. The mark didn’t seem to mind.
The mark smiled at him. "Gabriel told us you were," he paused, "different."
"Oh,” Castiel said, dejected. "So you know I’m--“
“An angel,” he said, then winked.
Castiel hated the word, the epithet the outsiders used for HALO agents. “What are you going to do to me?” The man was bigger than Castiel, but could be easily handled. Assuming his friends were not waiting with stunners nearby.
"Do to you?” The man laughed. “I’m going to recruit you.”
Castiel stared. The man did not seem deterred.
“If it helps, we all also hate Gabriel. He’s a dick. But he says you’re the one we need. The one HALO would never suspect.”
“What makes you think I would join you?”
“Because. Gabriel says your just like my brother—you like thinking too much. When was the last time HALO let you think for yourself?”
Castiel was still staring. But he could feel himself losing this battle of wills to the man. He had, after all, lost the battle within himself long ago. Unlike Gabriel, he had let the fear of the outside keep him loyal to HALO. Zachariah had been right about one thing, Castiel could not relate to the outsiders. Because Zachariah had never given him the chance. Until now.
“I'm Dean.” He held out a hand. “Welcome to Team Free Will."