"Yes ma'am," he replied, deciding not to comment on Jocasta's 'boring board.' Clearing his throat, he decided to head up the stairs and grab a cup of coffee. He trudged up, still feeling the light tug of weariness from the usual lack of sleep, and he came into the main office with a yawn. His eyes, slightly red, were still as sharp as the knives he was about to handle. But first, caffeine. He stepped into the break room and grabbed a cup, glancing at the brand of coffee Emmaline had ordered for the office. True to form, it had the skull and crossbones of [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_Wish_Coffee]Death Wish Coffee[/url]. His mouth quirked up so little it wouldn't have been noticed even if someone looked directly at him, but in his world, that was a smile.  

Pouring in the small teaspoon of sugar and some light creamer, he took a sip and felt a well-balanced acidity, bitterness, sweetness. Not too bad, and if he remembered right, Death Wish had double the caffeine. He'd need it, he guessed. He stepped out of the breakroom, nearly bumping into an intern who swerved out of his path, and made his way to the back of the station, past the smaller offices and the main room, finding the big oaken door made from the ever-rejuvinating wood of a treant. He placed in the code 6167, and heard the door unlatch. He grabbed the handle and pulled it open, flipping the lights on. 

One of the lights flickered for a moment, but stubbornly lit itself as he stepped in. The 'war room' they called it, it was more of an armory for wiccan wannabes. It was an austere room, with various charms, poultices, and weaponry stacked, shelved, and categorized. A big poster of the CW show [i]Supernatural[/i] had been placed up on the wall by Jocasta, and Alcander thought the choice was only moderate cringe. But to give credit where it was due, Eric Kripke did get one thing right. Rock salt in shotgun shells were a staple, and he pulled a few boxes of shells out, taking out the rock salt bag from costco, and took out his pocket knife to peel them open and begin filling them, whilst carving small latin symbols on them for added measure. 

He grabbed a few witch-doctor charms to protect against the undead and malevolent spirits, and he decided since he was not entirely sure what they were up against, he knelt down before a large cupboard and pulled open the bottom drawer. He reached in with both hands, and pulled out a safe made of yew. He unclasped the lock, and pushed the top open to reveal five serrated knives. Made by the dwarf Hunir, each knife had been forged with multiple pieces of ancient weapons. The spearhead of Cu Chulainn's spear, a shard of Fragarach of Lugh, a lump of silver, and a small sliver of the spear of Longinus. Their copper plated hilts were made from bits of the tabernacle of Moses himself. They were only brought out when they really did not know what else to bring, but he thought it was better to be safe than sorry. 

After that, it was a fairly standard affair. He grabbed five leviathan fangs on cords to wear around ones neck, small crosses of bronze, some small arms rounds with holy water, garlic, and with silver heads, and a few miscellaneous items in the 'fun bag' for very niche encounters. He refilled the ammo in his own gun, the nickle in his M1911 procured from the blessed bells of notre dame. He stuffed his gun back in his pants, and readied the equipment to be grabbed. As he drained the last bit of his coffee, feeling more awake, he was about to step out of the armory before he realized he forgot something. 

Alcander snatched a few grenades of holy oil. Never could be too careful, he surmised.