SAMANTHA The world cleared from a haze but was replaced by a fog of colour. Lights from above rotated through the rainbow to shower the setting in oscillating colours. Smoke machines constantly pumped out fog, it cascading downwards over the backs of chairs and rolling across the floor. The low bass of music echoed in the background, lowered in this area so people could talk. This was club CR: an underground bar venue located not too far from Starfleet Command’s Headquarters, officially endorsed by one of their admirals, and notoriously difficult to get into. There were drinks on the table and surrounding Sam were a handful of people; three at this booth and then another four at the one behind, all of which had turned in their seats to speak with the group she was positioned in. They all seemed to be celebrating, chatting away – and as the fog cleared the figure next to Sam reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, shaking her in glee. “And this woman!” He stated – ‘he’ being a man large in height and stature, bald but bearded, and easily distinguished as one of the higher-up special operations officers within Intelligence’s Field Division. “Using that triple-beam setting on that rifle to take out the three enemies at once and release those hostages before they even had a chance of firing at them? Marvellous, completely marvellous work! We should have dragged you into our team years ago, Voxellus!” - She blinked a few times and looked around before she looked at the man, a soft smile on her face. Better to play along than to fight it. "Thank you sir, but truth be told it's nothing special. Anyone could have done it." She said with a small chuckle as she picked up what seemed to be her drink and gave it a sniff to see what it was. - "Oh, don't be modest!" He said with a grin, and relinquished his grasp on the woman's shoulder. He snatched his own drink up from the table and chugged the remainder of it in one go. Whatever Samantha had in front of her didn't smell suspicious - just some sort of alcohol, either a hard liquor or some form of cocktail... Whatever it was that she liked. We're here to celebrate, not to big up that traditional Starfleet modesty that they so enjoy out there in the fleet! You deserve praise, Voxellus - and you deserve better than to be out there with the sorts of people who aren't willing to give it to you!" There were murmurs of approval of that from the group surrounding her, seemingly in agreement. - "I may get praise from you people, and that's enough for me. I'm not one to go around and boast about having good aim." She said with a chuckle as she took a sip from her drink. Yep, that was definitely scotch whisky. "And you being glad with my accomplishments is more than enough for me, sir." She said with a grin as she looked at the people around them, checking to see if she recognised any of them. - "Well, that's just the thing!" He said with a grin, signalling one of the bar staff to come over when available so he could order another drink. The others in the group had features that were familiar, but somehow different... Like they were identifiable from different people, but all blended together. No one here directly matched anyone that she knew -- and upon further scrutiny, it was the same for the man who seemed to be the leader of the group. The broad shoulders and the bald head looked like one of the officers within F/D, but things were different; the facial structure, the beard. "You're getting that praise from us but not from anywhere else, are you? I'm willing to bet that you don't get this-" he threw out an arm to gesture at the entirety of the bar "-out here aboard one of those starships, do you?" - "I am, actually. And I do. Locals often thank me for what we do." She said with a grin before she got up. "Now, if you would excuse me, I still have some reports to write about our last trip." She said as she tried to get out of their booth. She had to get out of here if she wanted to know what was going on. This didn't seem right. - There was no getting out what with the man and his burly frame sat beside her, blocking the way out. He threw his head back and broke into a reverberating laugh at that. "Ever the workaholic! Come on, sit down -- there'll be time for reports later. This is a time for celebration, and besides, there's still much we need to talk about! Here -- waiter, another beer for myself, and another whisky for my friend." - "Sir, I'll have to decline. I'm sorry, but I do have to go." She said with a kind smile, but she definitely wasn't asking. She wanted to leave. "I'll even throw in an extra round for you if you do let me leave. I'm not a party pooper after all." - "Look - just a couple more minutes, alright? While the talk of another round is tempting, there's something that us lot want to ask you." He glanced around to the others, nodding at them who all gave sounds of affirmation in return. "Look. Your work these past few weeks have far surpassed what we've seen from other people before. But you're not one of us. You're not Intelligence, you're not Field Division - you might as well be on loan to us from the main fleet. Sooner or later they're gonna go dragging you back -- and we don't want that. We want you here, with us. So--" At the swift return of the waiter he snatched the two drinks up off of the tray and set one down in front of Voxellus. "--This is a job offer. Come and join us at F/D. You'll get to develop your skills, do far more than you could do out there on a ship -- and we'll even make sure you never get posted on one of those boring, generic fleet positions." There was scattered laughter at that. "Come and join us, won't you?" - She smirked a little and picked up the glass, turning it into her hand before she looked back at the man. "Sure. I'm in." She said right before downing her drink and slamming the glass back on the table. She knew this day all too well, so she knew how it would somewhat go. But then again, things were off. So she didn't know what could happen. - Cheers and applause rang out from the group as soon as Voxellus stated that she was in. Someone shook her by the shoulders again, and it didn't take long before another drink was set down in front of her. "I knew that we could count on you," the lead officer stated, still wearing the same grin that he had displayed throughout. "You'll be a brilliant addition to our team, I just know it. For the Field Division!" He called, raising his mug - and in the reflection of his glass, his eyes seemed to change. One was a murky, hazy black - and the other reflected a piercing red. The group mirrored his call and the celebrations continued, as did the night.