Fast thuds sounded on the floor, trod-trod, trod-trod, hurried and never slowing. In one hand was a ceremonial dagger, sharp silver blade smeared with a putrid-smelling liquid, violet in colour. The handle was golden, patterned and pretty, or had been once - now it too was filthy. In the other hand was a tattered book, pages looking as if they would fall out any second. Saxophone glared straight ahead as she stormed through the corridors, raging.

"DANFORTH!" The scruffy-haired woman shouted, voice hoarse, as she kicked the door to her commander's office open. Upon seeing him sitting there, feet on his desk, relaxed and comfortable in his fancy seat when she and the others had been out doing all the dirty work, her temper flared. "You wanna tell me why we've been fighting without fuckin' orders since sundown?!" Carelessly, her left hand waved the dagger around furiously, expressing her anger.

The Commander chuckled, but looked innocently perplexed. "I beg your pardon? You were all fighting so well, dear agent, I saw no need for interference." As his soldier bristled, he swung his legs off of the table and stood, adjusting the salmon-pink tie he was wearing. "I must say I didn't expect that assault, given Hallowe'en tradition..." A smile. "Things that go 'bump' in the night stay in their lairs on this night, traditionally. Yes?"

"I don't reckon the walkin' dead can really keep to tradition now can they, sir?" Saxophone sneered at him, hand gripping the dirtied handle of the blade tightly as she slammed the worn book on his desk. "I had to fucking shoot three of my comrades, blow their brains out, while you're sitting in here on your damn ass doing fuck all as usual! What happened to being a unit?!" She shouted, unable to control herself once she was riled up, verbally at least.

A pair of dark eyes narrowed as the large man advanced on her, slow but precise. He did not appreciate someone of lower rank - or higher, for that matter - telling him how he should act. His discipline of this unruly woman should have tamed her by now, he thought, but obviously he was mistaken. The Commander did not appreciate failure, either, his own or his unit's. A low growl rumbled in the male's throat, quiet and almost inaudible, but still there. "You should learn to hold your tongue." He did not address the fact that she claimed to have destroyed three other agents.

A dry laugh. She wasn't backing down now - her hatred of authority and this man in particular prevented it, coupled with the strong desire to beat him for once. One day soon, she promised herself, she'd be out of the Hell that was the Initiative. Fuck the contract. "What're you gonna do about it, Danforth? Sit around some more? Get someone to rough me up? I'll blow their damn brains out."

"You will address me as commander, Agent 9." Completely dismissing the rest of her snapping questions and comments, he continued to advance on her until they were almost nose-to-nose, or would have been had she not been so much smaller than him. "One would think such a...well-trained soldier would have learned that by now. Have you forgotten your place?"

"I know my damn place, Danforth," Sax said through clenched teeth, refusing to back away from him and show weakness or fear. Golden eyes burned into darker ones, wide and feline. "You seem to have forgotten yours, though. You're meant to be out there giving us orders, telling us what the hell we're meant to be doing! Instead you ditch us you son of a--"

Her rant was interrupted by a quick slap to the face, successfully startling her into silence. Saxophone stared, and then snarled, left hand coming up with the blood-soaked dagger poised, only for it to drop from her grasp as Danforth's fingers closed tightly around her wrist. He snarled, forcing her backwards, eyes narrowing down at the smaller creature. "Come with me." Abruptly the agent found herself being pushed towards the door at one side of the office, into the little bathroom there.

"Get your damn hands offa me," Sax snarled, struggling, but a quick hand on the back of her neck ensured that she would struggle little more, in danger of being choked, or having her neck snapped. He was strong enough to pull that off, and she knew it. The agent pushed back slightly, however, as Danforth shoved her towards the sink. "What the hell're you doin'?!"

"I am taking a disciplinary measure. You have forgotten your place, agent," he repeated solemnly, tightening his grip on the back of her neck, free hand moving to plug the large sink, and turn the cold-water tap on. The commander stared blankly at the back of Saxophone's head as she stared at the water, slowly realising what the hell he was planning.

"You gonna drown me?" Laughing dryly, she lifted her arms to try and struggle, and subsequently found both wrists held behind her back by just one of Danforth's hands. That was the moment when she started to panic, having never been trapped like this before. The woman's body squirmed and writhed frantically, legs kicking uselessly. Had he always been this strong? She nearly laughed - of course he fucking had. She'd never considered that.

Her head was shoved roughly into the sink as it filled; quickly, she held her breath, eyes stinging even after she shut them tightly, high-pitched snarl in her throat as she tried to kick him. Her heels couldn't reach; the commander was pressed tightly against her from behind, making her feel positively sick, heart hammering wildly. Stupidly, she tried to shout, bubbles bursting on the surface of the water as she wasted what little oxygen she had saved. Sax exhausted herself in her struggles, face numb, head thumping and freezing from being submerged in the water - and banged twice against the porcelain vessel that contained it.

The Commander was smirking, so focused on his captive's struggles that he did not hear the knock on his office door, or the creaking of the hinges as it opened. When the white-haired woman went limp he pulled her weakened form up against his chest, free hand starting to push her trousers downward--

"--SON OF A BITCH!"

Something heavy and metal collided with the Commander's skull and he reeled, yelling in surprise and pain as black and yellow spots exploded in his vision; both him and Saxophone fell to the floor. A strong whack to the stomach ensured that Danforth would not get up again any time soon as the metal weapon dropped to the floor. The hands that had been holding it lifted Saxophone up carefully, gentle.

"You might be my commander, Danforth," the scruffy-haired brunette snarled, grey eyes ablazing as he stared down at the retching, shocked man. "But if you ever--" A surge of triumph as the man on the floor flinched. "--touch her again I won't fuckin' hesitate to kill you."

Snake carried his comrade out of the office, jaw clenched, stepping over the still corpses of the once-undead in the halls.