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| Scene Title | All Of Us |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Martin Crowley continues his trial period of reform within the Company while attempting to handle several dangerous cases of the Evolved. |
| Date | March 10, 2010 |
Just two years ago a meeting room of this size would not have sufficiently collected the full capacity of the Company's active field agents; Three rooms this size would not have sufficed. Since the fall of the Primatech cover and the destruction of the Bronx facility, the struggle with Pinehearst and now simply the passage of time, the Company is an organization steadily, visibly, in decline. Just a handful of people fill the dimly lit conference room where an organization-wide meeting had been called.
The back of the room features the looming shadow of Eric Thompson, arms crossed and shirt unbutoned, head tilted back to regard everyone who's taken a seat with silent scrutiny. Two agents sit with the door to their backs; one a sharply dressed redhead with thick eyeliner and a pinstriped suit, quietly tapping away at her blackberry, the other a somewhat bookish man with a tweed jacket and all of the fashion sensibilities of a college professor. It's been a while since agents Grant and Lee had been considered a part of active duty, but their presence here is telling to whatever dire circumstances have arranged the gathering.
Not far away from those agents, archivist and Company agent Corbin Ayers sits in front of a laptop, preparing slides for whatever presentation is going to be given. Seated at one end of the table, Robert Bishop rests as a silent sentinel, hands folded and chin resting on the backs of his hands, the reflection of the two overhead lights on glaring in his glasses.
Wearing a sling for a dislocated shoulder and sitting in a wheelchair, Agent Albert Paulson looks worse for wear after whatever investigation wound up putting him in traction. His dark, sunken eyes regard agent Veronica Sawyer from across the table with marked scrutiny and some level of distaste, even if it is merely sour grapes for being the one to wind up in far worse shape.
Seated next to Paulson, the tall and chiseled features of the Haitian resemble something of a bandaged statue. A gauze pad is affixed to one side of his bald head, held in place with medical tape. A few other bumps and bruises on his right hand across all four fingers shows that — especially given Veronica's arm also being in a sling — it's been a hard month for the Company. To Paulson's other side, the lion-like countenance of Agent Benjamin Ryans is unexpected for most members of the Company who remember him, given that he retired following the destruction of Midtown. It seems they've pulled out many of the stops today.
Two noticable regulars are missing from this scenario; one being the late Agent Chesterfield, and her empty chair beside that of Director Sabra Dalton's is not surprising. That the Director herself isn't present is either informative that she already knows everything to be discussed, or has been pulled away to some other, more pressing conference.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" The voice coming from the doorway is that of the late arrivers, chief among them Assistant Director Martin Crowley, the brainchild of this meeting. Arriving with an agent on either arm, Crowley looks himself to be a mixture of the old and the new in term sof Company administration. His loose an unprofessional hairstyle of long, unkempt locks clashes with that pressed suit of shark gray that looks like it mught have been lifted from Thompson's wardrobe.
At his side, newly recruited agent Maria Delgado is being led into the conference room, with the more lantern-jawed and stockily built Agent Henry Webb at her side. Webb's stoicism affords little more than a nod to Veronica as he moves in to take a seat at her side, folding his hands on the table in front of himself as Martin waves Maria in and motions to an empty seat for her. Some faces here are familiar, the lion's share of them though— all new. It's like the first day of attendance at a new school.
"I'm sorry it took me so long t'get 'ere…" Martin notes with a dip of his head towards Director Bishop, "I was just down at the labs talking to our forensics department, Lashirah won't be able t'join us tonight, but she's forwarding her findings to Agent Ayers. If we could all get settled in an' quiet down, we've got a lot of bases t'cover…"
At that notion, Thompson slips out from the wall, moves over to Director Bishop and leans in, one hand on his shoulder to whisper something in confidence, before straightening up and making ihs way for the door. It seems that he has somewhere else to be as well. Whatever's about to go down here, some of the hierarchy of the Company seem warned in advance.
If Veronica noticed Paulson's entrance in the wheelchair, she didn't let him see it, murmuring something quietly to the agent beside her until Crowley enters. She'll talk to Rene after the meeting, however, see how he is holding up — after all, it's not his fault his power scares her, and she does feel bad that he got smashed in the head by a salad plate. When Henry Webb gives a nod, she does indulge him with a half smile. He's earnest and annoying in that Jarhead way of his, but truly, he probably saved their lives and she appreciates him for that much. Not enough to let him sign her cast or anything.
"Webb," she says, husky voice soft when he sits beside her, but then her dark gaze returns to Crowley. It's apparently time for the 'all for one and one for all' discussion of the new and improved way of doing things he had alluded to in their last meeting.
Tonight he didn't dress as sharply, Ryans had to daughter dodge to get there tonight and wearing a suit might clue them in. So he sits relaxed in a pair of dark jeans, a rust red dress shirt and a black sports jacket. A foot rests on his knee, as he sits leaning back in his chair, his face schooled to show nothing. Each agent gets a scrutinizing once over, by the old man, what he's thinking of each a mystery.
The truth of the matter, Ryans is concerned. Very, very concerned. There is some relief in seeing some familiar faces, but there is a lot of new faces. While there is a high turnover in the job, it's in truth the small number of Agents that worries the old agent. Sabra's absence and the fact that Thompson is leaving, does not bode well in Ryan's mind, for whatever it is that Crowley is about to put forth.
At least, he'll hear what the yuppie has to say, so Ryans turns his chair slightly to give the Assistant Director his full attention.
At his computer, Corbin moves his hands around to type and sort files, at the mention of his name, and the comment about the paper work, he looks up from his work and nods, offering a hint of a smile. He's usually one of the few agents that has a smile on his face, but for some reason he seems distracted today, like his mind is elsewhere. It's difficult to tell if he's even noticed the lack of people in the room, as his blue eyes stay mostly on the screen.
There's even something drab in the way he's dressed, in comparison to normal. No tie at all, rather than something eye-blindingly colorized. The suit is even business appropriate, even if he forgot the tie. Browns and grays, instead of his normal dark blues.
The diminutive flying woman settles into the seat indicated for her to take, adjusting the jacket of her suit before doing so. Maria doesn't speak, seemingly finding it more important to listen and learn. A pen is taken out, and a pad placed on the table, as if she perhaps means to jot down notes. If such an activity is even allowed.
Maria isn't the only one taking notes, though she may be the only one doing it on paper. Agent Lee looks up from her blackberry, pulling out a stylus from within and beginning to scrawl a note on the touchs creen, looking up through the fringe of her bangs towards Maria before offering a subtly friendly greeting, before offering her attention to Martin.
Watching the group of people getting situated, Martin offers anod of his head towards Maria before settling down in his chair at the head of the table opposite of the silent Director Bishop. "Well, it's good t'see you've all managed to make it. I apologize for needing to pull you all 'ere like this, but what we've got on the table is fairly important." Glancing to Paulson, Crowley breathes in deeply and then exhales a sigh, rubbing one hand over his mouth with a thoughtful expression.
"I'm jus' going to get right down t'brass tacks here. In the last three years the Company has suffered a series of catastrophic failures of management. First, our inability to prevent the disaster of Midtown from happening, second the raid on our holding facility att he Bronx which caused several dangerous Evolved — who still remain at large — to escape into the local populace, and lastly the tragic destruction of our Bronx facility due to the intervention of one of those very escapees."
Hands folded, Martin leans forward in his chair and rests his hands by his mouth, giving a concerned look over the faces at the table in that brows-up puppy-dig sort of way that implies you poor things without so much verbal context. "In the past few months the number of active agents in the field has dwindled dramatically, between retirements and accidents in the line of duty indefinitely sidelining our agents. This means that the cases of Evolved crimes that we normally 'ave to investigate under the terms of our arrangement with the government 'ave been… poor quality."
"Effective today, we're performing a trial run of a new form of management. It's a radical shift from our usual mudos operandi, but I think it's necessary. The agents in this room today and a handful of others in the field are now going to be collectively working together as a single cohesive investigative branch of the Company tasked with the handling of Evolved threats in the New York area. You are all effectively partnered together in a singular group, with Director Bishop as official oversight and myself as logistical management."
Martin breathes in deeply then exhales a sigh as he leans back into his chair. "I know for some of you this is going to be a jarring change, but for those of you new to the organization like Agent Delgado," a hand motions to Maria, "this will be an easy transition. In addition to the agents in this room now, Agent Lashirah Lee in our forensics department will be added to that roster of agents, along with— "
"I'm not late!" Comes a chirp from the hall, followed byt he click of heels on a concrete floor echoing towards the room. "I'm so sorry, this place is like a rat's maze I couldn't find my way around." Corbin recognizes the voice immediately before she so much as emerges into the room. But the black haired Asian woman coming in through the doorway, dressed in a crisp black suit with a bright pink shirt beneath seems just a bit windblown from her run thorugh the corridors here. For Agent Ryans and Ayers, it's a blast from the past.
"Agent Ichihara," Martin notes towards the dark-haired woman bowing her head on entrance, "'Ow nice've you t'find the time t'join us…" He offers a displeased grimace and motions to one of the empty seats. Hokuto offers a bright smile, brows raised, as she click-clacks her way across the floor to sidle up into the seat beside Corbin, brows raised and a smile spread across her face as if to say surprise.
"As I was saying…" Martin admits with a rub of one hand over his forehead, "Agent Hokuto Ichihara from the records department is also a part of this special unit of investigators. This is a trial run, I emphasize, and each agent involved will have access to a dossier of your team-mates for refreshing. Nothing too detailed," he notes with a look towards Bob, "but enough to understand the skills and work history of the people now on your team…"
At least the first two of the three catastrophes couldn't possibly be her fault, the competitive and self-conscious aspects of Veronica's personality say in her mind — she wasn't even in New York at the time. The third was clearly a direct result of the second, so it's still not her fault. She tilts her chin, feeling pretty good about things until Crowley explains that they're all partners. He'd alluded to it, but not explained it in full the day before. This time, she doesn't manage to be so stoic; her eyes flit to Paulson. Until recently, she'd managed to avoid him — but in this new system, will it still be possible?
Ichihara's tardy presence distracts Sawyer, her dark eyes moving to the former Company employee with surprise. She glances over at Ayers to see his reaction — is this a surprise to him too?
The neutral mask Ryans has been wearing, begins to crack and chip away as Martin continues, thin brows lifting high on his head in shock and surprise. All of them… partnered together? The old dog agent's head slowly turns to take in the other agents in the room. This would be a huge adjustment for him, certainly. He's no precog, but there would be a lot of toe stepping in the future.
The arrival of Hokuto, actually gets a hint of a smile for Ryans. "Good to see you up and about, Agent Ichihara." Softly rumbles the old man, knowing that he'll be a shock, as much as she is for him, having both retired about the same time. Last he had heard she was in a coma, and he had missed seeing her there when he'd go to pick up new books at her store.
It's not as if Corbin's had a stable partner for a while before the bomb, so this new mode of operation doesn't seem to go against what he likes at all. Then again, it's hard to tell what he likes, cause his main response is an absent nod, right up until that familiar voice, that blast from the past, speaks up, walks in, and sits down next to him. Looking up from the computer screen, he's suddenly sitting up, looking over in shock, mouth open for a moment.
"Agent Ichihara?" he says, emphasizing the old title he thought she'd abandoned before, and looking… "You— you… you trickster," he finally says, after struggling to find the words, slumping back into his seat. "You could have warned me." He keeps his voice down, but in this small room, it could very well be overheard by most. Surprise? Definitely. "I… would have given you a tour."
And… She's wearing the colors and he's looking drab? She's smiling brightly and he looks preoccupied? They're quite the pair. "You going to be taking over the computer? You were in archives longer than me." Even if he now has three years since she had left.
Wait, what was that… "Ryans? When did…" He really wasn't paying attention. "I'm half expecting Bennet to suddenly show up now, or something," he mutters quietly under his breath.
Teeth toying with her lower lip, Hokuto leans in towards Corbin and eyes the laptop, then shakes her head slowly. "I didn't get briefed on any of this, I only got brought back in yesterday after Agent Crowley visited me and asked if I'd come back. I— I figure after…" Hokuto just shakes her head slowly, "after everything, this is what my parents would want me to do; help people." There's a mild expression of a smile from Hokuto, her head dipping down into a nod before she turns dark eyes over towards Ryans and waggles her fingers in a good-natured wave. Of all the people the old agent had expected to come back to work, the woman who retired just prior to him wasn't one of them, especially not after the death of her father in Midtown afterward.
"All touching reunions aside," Martin tries to clear the chatter from Corbin's side of the room, "we do have more ground to cover. Given that those of you in this room are cooperating, it will require you to file regular status reports on your assignments thorugh the record department. However, Agents Ayers and Ichihara are no longer going to just be bench-warmers sitting in records, if you need them on the field, you'll be able to call on them. To whichm I recommend those of you who have been behind a desk for too long talk to Mister Thompson about getting a few exercise schedules and time in the shooting gallery under your belts. We may need on-site examinations, and this is a wireless era, while we still won't be able to access sensative files remotely, case briefings will be available to field agents on the go. Which means, Agent Ayers, you'll be able to provide on-site analysis, or via long-range communication. We all need to pull together on this one."
Giving a weary look to Director Bishop, he and Martin seems to exchange a moment of silent consideration for one another's stances on the matter, before the Brit agent is sliding his chair to the side to give a clearer view of the large screen behind him on the wall. Communicate with one another, share case files here on base, and cooperate. I cannot stress this enough… if the United States government doesn't see a use for us, we're going to be replaced."
The final threat of Crowley's speech doesn't worry Veronica. She has enough cash stowed for the time being that she'd be fine for quite a while, and even without that, it's not like she comes from a poor family. And thanks to Paulson, there was quite a bit of life insurance cashed in on by a certain Mrs. Sawyer, much of which went to Veronica. She raises her good hand, but doesn't wait to be called upon. "I assume we can request whom we get for support, should we need support?" Those who were with her on her last field assignment surely know why she is asking. "I mean, based on the variety of our individual skillsets and experience, of course." Sweet smile.
Ryans manages a smile for Agent Ayers, rather amused as his typical distracted nature, but before he can say anything, the hippie is speaking again and the Old Dog gives him full attention. Having been a part of the Company from nearly the start, that last statement worries him. His faces back into that neutral mask as he looks to Bob Bishop, the man he worked under for most of those years.
There is a reason the Company has been around, shrouded like it's been. And yes, the use of Frontline is concerning, and yet necessary, but there was still a lot that would need doing under the radar by people willing to do the dirty work. To take that away….
That could be a very bad thing in Ryan's mind.
Great. Field. Him and Hokuto both? Corbin slumps back into his chair even more, looking at the computer screen. Some of the information that he knows he'll be asked for has already been reviewed, ready to get put up on the screen, but right now it's just a couple of things, and he's kept the overhead display off of most things, so he can more easily sort and prepare.
"I've never been very good at field stuff. I don't work well under pressure," he keeps his voice down, no need to announce that to everyone! But he certainly seems to think it's true. He's also not a very good agent at all, according to one dream. BUT… That may or may not apply in this situation.
"Aye," Martin affirms with a nod to Veronica, "I'd hope that you're all proactive 'bout requesting assistance from other members of this investigative team. Now agents outside of this team will require one've the Directors signing off on it, an' right now we're going to see how this particular team handles the assignments given before we go any further on this." Brows furrowed, Martin looks across the table, then nods his head slowly. Motioning to the screen, Martin clicks a remote in one hand to turn the LCD panel on, revealing an active desktop display that's connected to the Company's archival data in the local network. It seems to be showing what's on Corbin's laptop at the moment.
"With that out of the way, I expect you all to aclimate to this accordingly. Seniority in the ranks still applies and I expect you young agents to defer to more seasoned operatives if difficult situations emerge and you need guidance, but all of you have been trained to handle these kinds of situations."
Settling back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other, Martin looks over the frames of his glasses to Corbin. "From here, Agent Ayers is going to walk us through your current active cases. We have two ongoing official investigations right now… let's start with the Central Park murder from the fifth."
At the word 'younger,' Veronica glances around, dimples showing her amusement. Is she the youngest agent present? A quick glance around suggests she might be, if only by a couple of years. Never mind that she has seniority and more years under her belt than some younger (coughHenrycough). She's sure that is a little verbal slap on the wrist on Crowley's part. She leans back in her seat to view the incoming slideshow and give her attention to Corbin.
When the meeting moves to the presentation, Ryans hooks the edge of his coat and pulls it out long enough to extract a pair of reading glasses. He's an old man, cut the man some slack. They are unfolded in quick order and pulled on. Attention going to the surface that will hold the slideshow, a hand rests on the ankle of the foot on his knee.
"Oh, right," Corbin looks up, quickly minimizing a bunch of windows and displaying the one in question, which includes what looks like a file on a curly haired kid, completely with picture. "This is Anthony Jiminez. This picture's pretty old, from a 2007 mugshot from when he was arrested for arguing with his mother, but you can see he's most definitely not an old guy. This… is what he looked like at his time of death." Click, click.
Now they get to see gruesome photo of obviously dead old guy. Not pretty. Also looks almost mummified, like out of one of those movies. "Hope no one had lunch before this," he says, trying to get his head back into place as he leaves it up. "His only surviving parent is Cynthia Jiminez, who's 48 and lives in Harlem. He was found in Central park like this by a friend, Timothy Harper, a 24 year old vagarant.
"Agent Lee's— uh, Lashirah Lee, not you," he says, looking toward the other Agent Lee, the one who actually made it to the meeting. "… Her report said that he was definitely killed by an Evolved who can rapidly accelerate aging. Like a super fast version of Agent Lu's cellular damage transfer." Yeah, he did his research. It was something to distract him from other worries…
"As I'm sure most people know, there was a similar rash of cases a while ago…" Another image gets switched to, and this one reads Kazimir Volken. "Not the same, though, cause this body wasn't turned to ash, but we could be dealing with someone potentially as old and dangerous as him."
Flick, flick
He switches to another slide. "When I did research, there were similar cases dating further back. One's from the 1970, that the Company actually researched, but never found the person responsible." He flashes a glnace toward the older people in the room, before licking his lips and continuing on. "This is James Monpillier, from Manhattan, also found in Central Park. The Company covered up the circumstances surrounding his death, but questioned many witnesses. Several people were investigated, notibly a man who was seen at the crime by the name of Alfred Morrison." With that name, a new face appears on the screen, a long faced man, with short brown hair and a beard.
"Now, digging back even further, well before the Company existed, there was another similar case in the 30s. 1930, to be exact. This time the death was a homeless man in Brooklyn. Authorities arrested and questioned a man named Walter Barton in connection to their investigation. He was a lawyer at the time, and it became a big to-do, but it's a good thing it was or we wouldn't have this." Now he clicks to another picture, grainy and black and white, obviously from an old slide. A picture of a man who looks just like Alfred Morrison's picture from 1970.
"Finally, the autopsy reports, show that the victim in Central Park in 1970 was completely withered, through and through. Lee's report, in comparison, seems to be halfway drained. So if he's a serial killer prolonging his life every 40 years, he may have only halfway done the job. Which could mean he'll strike again."
Having nothing to contribute, being new, Maria retains her silent attention to absorb as much of the data as she can, writing things down as they're covered. Disquiet at the things that were done is perhaps present, but she's not letting herself react. Time spent as a naval officer and biochemist has conditioned her well.
Agent Grant glances up from Lee's blackberry and over to the screen with a furrow of his brows. "Even fourty year intervals, same general geographic location, the killer in question has a small comfort zone, likely habitual." There's a certain trained presence to Grant's demeanor, one brow raised studiously as he considers the screen. "I'm… probably estimating that whatever caused the break in his ritual likely means he's going to be in a panic right now and prone to making mistakes. Serial killers— evolved or not— who have that kind of strict pattern don't adapt well to change. You get a guy as old as this one might be, and patterns become even more fully ingrained…"
Agent Lee is silent, clicking away at her blackberry, brows furrowed save for a glance to Grant. In that silence, Martin nods his head and rubs one hand over his short beard, considering the information. "Given tha' we don't know if the killer is still in the area, and presuming e's operating under an alias, we're going to need t'cooperate with the NYPD on this one. I've already forwarded a composite sketch t'local departments t'be on the lookout for 'im, so if 'e is spotted we're going t'need t'be able t'act quickly t'handle this case. Agent Delgado, you're the single fastest agent we 'ave on call, which means we're going to potentially need you to rendezvous and assist in apprehension if we get a call in from the local police."
Offering a look around the room, Martin steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. "I think it wouldn't hurt t'talk to the family of the victim as well, see if they can offer up any information regarding Mr.Jiminez that we might've missed, somethin' important, somethin' local authorities might've overlooked. I'll let you all decide as a comittee as to 'oo could best be suited to talk to 'er. I'll forward information about the family to whichever agents picks up that thread. Furthermore…" Martin unfolds his hands and drums his fingers on the desktop, "I want a pair of agents t'check out Central Park, talk to th' locals that live down in there where the victim was found, see if they heard or saw anything."
At Curt's name, Veronica's eyes flicker to Corbin and she sighs oh-so-lightly. She's gone from one strange partnership to the next, and now she has a room full of partners that she can't trust. Her nose wrinkles a touch at the pictures of withered husks, and she studies the image of the suspect well enough that she'll remember the face if she bumps into him on accident. With her own special task already hand delivered to her by Crowley, however, she doesn't volunteer to go tromping around Central Park.
The older of the active agents is silent as he watches the slide flicker across the screen, the face on the screen coming up, thin brows furrow. Maybe Ryans had been on that case, maybe not. Or maybe he just remembers hearing something in passing. It's anyones guess. Eyes narrow behind his glasses as he listens, crows feet deepening slightly, lips thinning into a straight line, the new picture from an even earlier time popping up on the screen.
"I will be happy to do that." He offers in that quiet, yet deep voice of his. He never liked leaving cases covered up and unsolved, it always set wrong with him. A dark spot on the Company record. Eyes drift over the group looking to see who else will go on this one.
"Ryans is better for the cop questions, so I do think he's good for talking to the family. But if we need a second go at her after, I could go in as a reporter," Corbin offers, speaking up again, and glancing briefly toward Hokuto as he does. He hasn't been this talkative at a meeting since she left! No, it's not a coincidence. While he was distracted earlier, now he seems somewhat eager… To work which might seem strange. Or prove himself.
"As a reporter may be able to get things that a cop or Homeland Security guise can't. The more personal stuff." It's a thought, but a back up one. "He was a lawyer in the 30s, so it's possible he's working as a lawyer now. If not in New York, then likely in another state. I'm planning to do some research to see if he pops up under similar aliases— seems to like older names. Hok— Agent Ichihara can probably help me with that."
Her head turns toward the assistant director when he addresses her, Maria afterward speaking in the tones of a subordinate officer addressing a senior or commander. "If I might recommend, sir," she commences, "my best value may also be as a sniper from the air and an observer. With powerful enough optical gear I can monitor subjects on the ground and transmit location data, as well as taking action when required and not needing the support of a building as a place to act from. Additionally, I have the benefit of being out of ability range for most things we might encounter."
"Duly noted Miss Delgado, and I think Ryans and Ayers working together is an excellent ideal. Keep in mind Agent Delgado's logistics capabilities, but remember that if possible we'd like to take this man alive for questioning and legal processing. We may be operating under government auspices, but we still hand over our captures to the federal government, what happens to them then is out of our hands since we do not handle detention any more. Lethal force is, of course, permissable in self defense. We can supply you with a moderate range tranquilizer gun, Agent Delgado, you just need to sign out the requisition forms. I can have Ayers direct you to them when we're done, it might not be a bad item to have in your trunk or an easily accessible area in case long range reconnaisence becomes necessary."
Looking to the screen, Martin furrows his brows. "Remember, we're dealing with a potentially very long-lived man 'ere, and we don't know the specifics of his ability. If we know we're going in for an apprehension, Rene," he motions to the Haitian, "will be on call for ability negation purposes." Leaning back in his chair, Martin offers a nod to Corbin. "Let's see the second case, Agent Ayers."
"He has a very good point.." Ryans says softly, a finger pointing at Corbin and shaking a bit in thought, head tilted down to peer over the reading glasses, giving him for a moment that elderly look. "I think Agent Ayers, may indeed be the best for the questioning in Central Park. If media has taught us anything, people enjoy their fifteen minutes of fame." His head gives a slow nod to them, before looking at Crowley, his words have a matter of factness to them. "People in Central Park might open up more to a reporter" He motions at Corbin, with a small smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes, "Rather then a Homeland Officer."
"Should anyone show any resistance or need to be pressed further, then there are ways to insure that is done." Anyone who has been around long enough knows what those means can be, though it doesn't take a stretch of the imagination. That said, Ryans returns to his thoughtful state as the meeting proceeds.
"Yeah, talking to people in the park can totally be my thing," Corbin says, voice nervous, obviously worried that he might be in a more dangerous position if the guy happens to see young life-suckable reporter and go all hands on. They need someone who can be not life sucked! But apparently they have a snipper that can fly fast… "I'll also look into the lawyer thing. Knowing who he is now might help, especially if he has a cellphone. Or credit cards under that name. I'd rather not wait til he's draining someone to find him, you know?" Especiallly if that someone is him.
"Uh— second case, right," he clicks around again, and brings up a less pretty picture. Of a corpse that looks like the squishy bits have been melted. "We have a killer who seems to microwave the victims. This one was a white male, Christian Robinson, a drug dealer." A picture comes up, of his non-melty face. "He was arrested twice, and was suspected to be a Refrain dealer. Fairly long record, which…" he starts to scroll… and scroll. "Anyway, violent offenses, spent years in prison. But he's dead now, melted by microwave radiation, according to Lashirah. And since his head wasn't found inside a microwave, probably an Evolved. He was found in the Rookery of Staten Island on Valentine's Day." For some reason his eyes shift toward Hokuto for a moment.
"Uh, an undercover DEA officer found the body and alerted Homeland. The case has not been made public. Another body was found in Kenmore Park. It has yet to be positively identified, a Jane Doe, approximitely thirty years old. Possibly a homeless person, since she was found in an alley by a Doctor Brennan — yeah, the one that writes those books — that had a box shaped like a home, and a bunch of grime."
Clickieclickie
A new picture comes up of a young man, who looks a little… creepy. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Eyebrows. Young. "Now we do have a suspect. Name of Luke Campbell. His mother is Mary Campbell, and she lives in Thomas Jefferson Trailer Farm in Manhattan. Reason he's a suspect is cause he has a similar ability and…" Clickclick. Now there's a Detention File on screen. "He was held in Utah as a Homeland Security Detainee, and escaped last year in April. It's possible he's made his way home, and got into some kind of trouble, but he's been wanted my Homeland since then. His ability and level of threat show he could be involved, especially since quite a few of the people who escaped from the same facility apparently have been popping up in New York."
Notes are taken, she nods in acknowledgment of the assistant Director's words. "Yes, sir," Maria confirms. Fingers write on the pad 'draw weapon. Practice. Draw optical gear.' If she's shocked to hear that all the conspiracy theory bullshit about that secret Moab prison isn't bullshit at all, it doesn't show.
"I have some information about that case that came across my desk prior to your putting together of this as well, Ayers. Some… interesting connection with the first victim 'ave me raising an eyebrow. One of 'is associates listed by the NYPD is a man by the name of Richard Martin Daselles. Those of you who have been with the Company for a few years may well recognize that name. Trent Daselles was an agent of the Company that we had performing deep-cover infiltration operations post-bomb. Richard is Trent's older brother, admittedly e's unaware of 'is younger brother's connections. 'Owever, Mister Daselles might know something about the case, about Robinson's death, people that were present. We 'ave details to go on with this one."
Lifting up a red folder, Martin slides it across the desk to Corbin. "Richard Daselles lives in the Rookery, suspected drug dealer, we don't know much about him. Presumed non-Evolved given that 'is brother was a non-evolved agent as well. I'd like to see two agents head down to Staten Island to try and see if Mister Daselles knows anything, preferably agents who can fit in to that environment…"
"I remember Trent," Hokuto offers with a furrow of her brows, finally speaking up, "why don't we send Trent to investigate? Or is he on a different assignment now?" The question brings a grimace from Martin, along with a slow shake of his head and a wipe of one hand across his brow.
"Agent Daselles has been missing in action since May of last year. We suspect he may be deceased, other branches of the Company are investigating 'is disappearance." Martin shakes his head slowly, breathing out a quiet sigh. "So… that angle of opportunity is lost t'us." Looking over the frames of his glasses, Martin considers Hokuto for a moment. "Agent Ichihara, see if you can do a dream survey of this Campbell chap and out immortal will you? Nothing prolonged, just see if you can get us a solid state of mind and some reference frames of where they might be."
A curt nod is all Hokuto offers, going remarkably quiet when asked to utilize her ability. She tenses up, nodding twice more and then belatedly answers. "Y— Yes, Sir." A look is given to Corbin, mild and apologetic, before she returns focus down to her lap. Martin, in the meanwhile, motions to Paulson who gives an askance look to the light switches, turning them all on one by one with but a furrow of his brows.
"I'll open the floor to questions now if anyone has them."
The unnecessary display of the telekinetic power that killed her father gets a roll of the eyes from Veronica, who stacks the legal pad and file folders she holds together on the table, a nervous tic she tends to have in tedious or tense meetings. She doesn't volunteer for any of the various cases just yet, having her own personal assignment already handed to her, along with the help she'd promised Ryans. She sighs softly and glances around the room. Please don't let there be any questions… it's like a college lecture where the earnest students who keep asking questions get dagger glances from the students eying the clock.
As the slideshow ends, Ryans slides the glasses off, folding them quietly as he gets lost in his own thoughts. He lets the second one go for the time being, with the mysterious texter and the cold case, this old agent has enough at the moment. A glance goes to Martin, and for a moment he considers bringing up what was mentioned to him by his oldest daughter Lucille. His lips even part slightly, but… instead, the senior agent gives a slow shake of his head, "I have no questions at this time." The glasses tucked away into an inner pocket. "But rest assured, I will be in touch if I think of any."
"No questions about these two cases, no," Corbin says, his expression darkening a bit. It's not out of respect for Veronica he's not asking right now, though, but he does say to the guy leading this whole crazy meeting, "If I could talk to you personally that would be cool. But it's not about these cases," he says, beginning to close out things.
Looking back toward the woman sitting nextto him, he adds in a softer whisper, "It's good to know I'll be working with you again." His smile is almost back, but not quite. There's so much on his mind, that even Hokuto being back doesn't fix it all! He's usually not this thoughtful. It must be pretty bad. "And if you need back up in your dream, you can always count on me," he adds a bit softer. No need to advertise that offer.
"I'll take you in my office in fifteen," Martin notes with a tip of one finger towards Corbin. Agents Lee and Grant rise up from their seats together, and that motion begins a procession of movement as the Haitian moves up from his seat and goes to stand behind Agent Paulson's wheelchair, long fingers curling around the handles as he pulls him out carefully from the table. "Oh and, Rene, could you be certain that Agent Paulson gets a sit in with Reid if anyone can get a hold of her? He needs those legs working."
Rene nods wordlessly, while Director Bishop seems to have other ideas. "Actually Martin, make that meeting with Agent Ayers more like forty minutes. There's a few details I'd like to discuss with you in my office?" Bob's brows go up, a finger points towards the door, and as the Director's ambling away from the tabe, he pauses and looks back to the other agents gathered with a mild smile. "It was good to see you all together, best of luck on these new assignments…"
Squinting a look at Mertin, Bob makes his way from the conference room, and Assistant Director Crowley is left straightening his tie and breathing out a tired breath. Affording something of a mixed look towards Hokuto and Corbin, his attention soon drifts around the room. "You agents have your work cut out for you, remember to cooperate on these assignments and hopefully we can get out work done and save some lives."
"Agents Dismissed."