You have made it to Glasgow, and find your belongings awaiting you at your new home, which is an old home, but newly your's. Today is Friday.  The office is roughly 2 miles away, depending on whether you go through the residential area, or take the more scenic route.

Atop the hill next to the house, you can see the compound, with its fences and multiple buildings.  Closer in, you can see the row of apartment buildings, then the houses making up the residential area.  Few people around here are Scottish, Interpol is, after all, international, and transfers need a place to live.

The house you are now in debt buying looks to have once been a great beauty, the country boy in you imagining this land with no buildings or suburb, just a single gravel road leading to this house, with the rolling hills, the nearby woods, and the faint, yet ever-present, smell of manure.

Time has not been gentle, but you are certain that,with time and effort, this old house will once again be ready to raise a family, and be a source of pride and comfort.

There is a nice village nearby, with a Presbyterian church.  The village is small, but has a decent hardware store, and the local inn serves as the local bar at night. There is also Glasgow, of course, with much more of those sorts of things.

First things first (assuming that I haven't done this already), I'm taking stock of exactly what work the house needs.  Are there structural issues (termite damage, rotten floor joists, etc.), evidence of leaks in the roof, does it have electricity, and is the plumbing in good shape?  I'm assuming that it's going to need more than just a new coat of paint to look nice again, but my main concern is that it's not going to fall down and kill me in my sleep.  On the other hand, I kind of think that a former marine fire-team leader would have enough sense to check out a house for structural issues before buying it.

I'm also checking to see if I have cell service at the house, looking for defensible areas and vulnerabilities on the property, and checking the sight lines approaching the house.  3 combat deployments in Iran tends to make a person just a little bit wary.

After all of that, I'm going to shower and change clothes before riding up to the compound to check in.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 2):

The previous owner of the property has maintained the main house fairly well.  Main structural integrity is good with a few replacements needing to be made like handrails, the inside and outside handrails are loose and look old.  Several area in the house look as though animals have gotten in here and scratched the place up.  Door frames, lower areas on the walls.  Nothing you can't handle, but in some places, like the door, it's easier to replace the facing than try to fix it.

The electricity is on and functional, but the wiring is old. The plumbing is in working order, but again, old, which can make it a little loud.  The seller assures you it is like Scotland, loud and rattles, but sound and only leaks when it's drunk.

Lastly, there's the paint, which will require inside and out, but you expected that anyway.

In short, you figure you have a few months of weekends ahead, but nothing you can't handle.  As you examine the house and assess the required work, you find yourself looking forward to it.  Good, honest, constructive work that will allow you to absorb yourself in the work, without being so difficult as to be work.

Living room/front porch have cell reception.  As you move through the house it gets spotty. Upstairs, it works fine, except for one room towards the back, where you get no bars at all.

The house is on a hill, with woods about 50 yards back.  A 2 mile hike through the woods will take you to a nearby lake.  The lake is bordered on the far side by a village.

Other than the woods, you can see anyone coming towards you for probably 2 miles. The residential area is half a mile away, and from your hill, you have a decent view of the neighborhood.

In reply to GM (msg # 3):

This weekend, you check in at Interpol, only to discover most of your new task force are taking the weekend off, as the first official day of active duty begins Monday. You meet Felix, a member of Interpol's war on drugs, a war you are familiar with.

He takes you to a nearby pub, and buys the first round.  You are drinking for about 30 minutes when a man and 2 women come in.  Felix apparently knows them and invites them over.

Jacob, meet Seamus, Caroline, and Ariel, all Interpol agents, though you wouldn't think it to look at Ariel.

Ariel rolls her eyes and flips her hair.  I may be young, Felix, but I am definitely an Agent.  Well, not a field agent.  However, Jacob and I will be working together soon enough. I'm sort of an adminstrative assistant for the whole task force.

Call me Jake, nice to meet ya'll.  They drug me up here from Louisiana, what about the rest of ya'll?

I'm making the effort to be friendly and to try to enjoy interacting with new people.  I don't want to be the buzzkiller of the night.  Besides, it's a new city in a new part of the world for me, no sense in letting my problems bring me down.  It's time to lighten up a bit, there'll be plenty of time to go to pieces later.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 5):

Ariel I'm Belgian, Felix is...German American right?  Michael is from fife, and Seamus from Ireland. Caroline...I don't think I know.

Felix nods an affirmative as Caroline responds I'm from a small town in Maine. I worked for Interpol in the states a little while, then transferred here to work as an anti-terrorism analyst.

The night goes well, you haven't socialized in a while, and it is probably good for you, but it definitely hurts right now, not to mention tiring, trying not to give in to depression.

The night winds on, and eventually you go your separate ways. You spend the weekend getting unpacked, getting everything in order. Saturday afternoon, a tall, burly man you think you've met before greets you.  He is dressed in hip boots and carrying a fishing pole, along with a small stringer of fish.

He passes close to the house, and greets you as he passes.  (you may roll scholarship, empathy, or rapport to remember/figure out who he is)

+,+,-,+ on Rapport totals to 2.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 7):

This is the same man who walked into an interrogation room in Bossier, unplugged the camera, and proceeded to recruit you to Interpol, the legendary Sergei Mikhailov, the newly designated head of Cloud.

As  the two of you talk, he points out local places of interest such as a god fishing hole, good church, mechanic shop, good places to get food.  You talk for a while, then he bids you good evening and take care til Monday morning, he has something special in store for the first day.

After visiting with Sergei for a bit, I spend most of the rest of Saturday morning drawing up plans for the house and putting down on paper what needs to be done and the materials I'll need.  After lunch, I head outside and start doing some yard work; pulling weeds, fixing the fence, trimming hedges, and mowing the yard (I don't know if Scottish people generally mow their yards, but I'm an American, dammit.  We mow ours.).  When it starts getting dark, I head inside for a shower and then fire up the grill.  Just because I'm technically a bachelor again doesn't mean I have to eat like one.

I putter around for a little bit more before I turn in for the night (around 2030 or 2100).


On Sunday, I take a bit of a rest from my usual workout and sleep late:  0600.  I make some breakfast and read the paper while drinking my morning coffee.  I take a quick shower, shave, and head on over to check out the Presbyterian church.

I can't remember when the last time I went to church was?  Krystal and I were separated, but I don't think we'd actually divorced yet.  I don't know...  It's been too long, though, I've been to the bar more than I've been to church.  I don't know when the last time that happened either, back when I was at Kitsap, maybe?

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 9):

You make your way to the nearby little church. Like most small churches, the presence of a stranger is met with a certain amount of hope and happiness.  You meet several new people, are told how wonderful it is to meet you, and they hope to see you again, words you've heard and said many times, only this time in an accent so thick you almost don't catch them the first few time.

As you arrive, you also notice Sergei coming out of the pastor's office. He says a few parting words, then walks off, back towards the compound.

you watch O'Riordan through the service, and realize this isn't just a pastor, this is a military chaplain. He's been in the mire and the blood.  And he had the faith to keep limping on after the tears.

After the service you walk past him as he stands by the door, speaking to the congregation as they slowly meander out.

So you're the new fella I heard about?  Good t'see yer well fed.  Tell you what, why not come by my place for lunch, I'm down the path behind the church.  It won't be much, but better'n MREs and such shite.  It'll give us a chance to talk.  If ya' don' mind me sayin', Sergei tol' me ya might need a ear to chat at from time to time.  And don't worry, I've got the clearance t' hear it, well, most of it. And anything I hear I ain't suppose to, well, I won't tell if you won't.

Also, I happen to have holy water, a box of holy bullets, and a 7kg hammer with the head fashioned into a crucifix.  Soon as ah can I'll replace it with a silver one.

Once he has finished talking to people, and you are finished as well, he locks up, and the two of you perambulate to the parsonage in the back.

I'd be honored, sir.  And don't worry about the quality of the food, my wife... my ex-wife, is kind of a hippie.  If I wanted somethin' other than organic rabbit food, I had to cook it myself.  I kind of looked forward to MREs after some of her meals.