Participants:
| Scene Title | Been Here Before |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Raith and Eileen ambush Felix on the streets of Manhattan's Lower East Side, only to discover that the federal agent has friends in high places — literally. |
| Date | August 19, 2009 |
The Lower East side is one of the oldest neighborhoods in New York City. Starting south of East Hudson Street and west of the East River, it is also bordered by Chinatown and the East Village. Tenemant housing is very prominent here, as well as many religious structures and more than a few excellent kosher delis and bakeries. For those in search of entertainment, the Lower East is home to many bars and live music venues.
Shoeleather detectives, shoeleather agents. The medal doesn't get him a private car, or a driver. He's got a long, long ways to go before he matches Melvin Purvis. And the reflection is dispiriting. Despite all his encounters with healers, none of them have cured that fundamental melancholy. So Fel looks a bit down in the mouth, as he scuffles off from one last interview…..at a mosque, of all things, a little storefront thing in Astoria. Apparently the SAC in New York has decided one Agent Ivanov is getting a little bit too big for the britches of his gray g-man suit, and he's been more or less told to act like a brick agent for a while. He's heading for the N-line at none too great a pace, brow furrowed.
Early evening is a fine time on the Lower East Side of New York. For starters, early evening is simply a pleasant time of day. And to follow up, early evening means there aren't a great deal of people around, and a lack of a great deal of people means a lack of would-be heroes. All the better for some, but perhaps not so great for Felix. As he strolls passed the opened mouth of an alleyway, the only sound to announce to him, 'Get ready for a surprise!' is a blast of compressed air, inaudible given his distance from the source, and the sudden prick of the sharp point of a dart in his arm, thrown with enough force to punch through the fabric of his clothes and through his skin. Whoever it's from, they filled it with good stuff, blurring Felix's vision and turning his limbs into warm Jell-O.
Jensen Raith only waits one beat when he sees his dart strike true before he comes out from behind a large trash can and hurries over to get ahold of Felix. Muggers are getting so creative these days. Rather than, 'Give me your money!' however, Raith opts instead to drag Mr. Hero off the street and into the alley. Time to have a little face-to-face discussion. Or perhaps more likely, a little fist-to-face discussion.
Oh, god, not again. Is this Danko's way of asking for a second date? Not that he remembers the first, really. Vague, blacked out impressions. Fel's muscles tense, and he's three strides down the sidewalk before the acceleration of his heartbeat also accelerates the absorption of the drug, and he's down for the count. AT least this time no one will drop an endangered raptor on his head - the redtails, ospreys, and kites of the greater New York area can rest safe in their nests. He lolls in Raith's grip like a sleepy puppy.
Without wasting another second, Raith is moving backwards into the alley, dragging Felix as if he were helping out a friend who'd had too much to drink. That, however, is where their budding friendship turns sour and curdles, for as soon as Raith has him a short distance from the street, the agent if half-dropped, half-set on the ground, and pushed into a sitting position against the wall with Raith crouched down in front of him, hand pressed against Felix's forehead to keep him looking ahead, reflection visible in the round lenses of Raith's sunglasses. "I know this is really sudden for a first date," he says, "But I just couldn't wait to get to know you better. Or to get to know what you know better. Just a few questions, and you can go right back onto the sidewalk and finish skipping to my Lou. Eileen?"
Eileen's shape comes into view over Raith's shoulder, all shadows and indistinct outlines limned in the hazy glow created by the setting sun as it continues to steadily sink behind her. There's a glint of silver, light reflecting off all twenty-nine inches of the Batangas knife she holds in her hand, its tip pointed at Felix's throat. She moves around her companion, drops into a crouch besides him and reaches up to brush some of the fed's hair away from his face with the edge of her blade, carbon steel gliding smoothly against skin. "Daiyu," she states, voice clipped, tone terse. "What did you find out?"
There's not much hair to brush, courtesy of her last visit. Fel's never been the longhaired hippy type, considering, but at the moment he's got a buzz worthy of a marine. Notably, there are no wounds on his head, as one might expect. No falcon scars. He peers at her blearily. "Claims he's DIA. I suspect he's a flavor of spook I haven't encountered before. Hunting your buddy, I saw. Looks like he is licensed to kill." Much as he hates Daiyu, the prospect of him killing off the remaining Vanguard doesn't exactly chap Fel's ass, clearly.
"Yeah, we sort of figured that part out on our own," Raith replies, "And if he is CIA, then I do believe it's your obligation to report that particular violation of federal law to the appropriate authorities, so maybe you might want to go and do that first chance you get, 'kay?" To make sure his superiority in this situation isn't missed, Raith gives Felix two quick pats on the cheek. "Know where he is? I'll know if you lie to me, just so you're aware, and if you do, the kiddie gloves come off, and I'll let my buddy here do~, basically whatever she wants to your genitals. You know, just so you're aware."
Eileen draws the knife along the curve of Felix's jaw as Raith speaks, then smoothes the flat of the blade beneath his chin before allowing it to drift all the way down to his throat's hollow. Its point dimples the skin with enough pressure to produce a single bead of blood, though he isn't likely to feel the bite in his sedated state. Raith's insinuation about what she may or may not do below Felix's belt earns him a reproachful glance shot sidelong in the absence of a verbal rebuke — they need to present a unified front. "I don't want to hurt you," she tells their prisoner, quiescent for the moment, "but I can, and I will if you make it necessary. Two people are already dead, including a little girl and one of your brothers-in-arms. How many more, Agent?"
"We've been here before," Felix points out, all the venom drained out of his voice by the cottony weight of the drugs. He chuckles, though it has the gravelly, underwater sound of pebbles rolling in a stream. "I don't know what you want me to find, Ruskin. I'm still just an Agent, I don't have Noble clearance. I've talked to the SAC, and presumably he's gone on up the chain. Daiyu claimed he had authorization from the highest levels." Fel shrugs, not all that bothered by the knife.
Felix may not be bothered by the knife, but then again, neither is Raith. Instead, he angles his head slightly upward, leans it to the left, and then to the right as if he were tasting the quality of Felix's report, and decides, apparently, that this is pretty good. "If that's the case, then we've got a lot of fun times ahead of us," he says, "Good work, agent man. There's a promotion in your future. I don't know what to, yet, but I'm sure I'll think of something suitably humiliating. Eileen? Would you do the honors?" The honors of what? Things just keep looking worse and worse for Felix.
"If you put half the effort into containing Daiyu that you put into hating me," Eileen hisses under her breath at Felix, retracting the knife, "a lot of pointless bloodshed could be averted." The blade scissors shut with the swiftness of a steel trap, punctuating her statement with a sharp snap. Her free hand braced against her knee for support, she pushes to her booted feet, flips the knife's handle between her fingers a few times and then reattaches it to the leather belt she wears at her hip. "It wouldn't be the first time you've gone rogue."
What Raith meant when he asked her to do the honours becomes abruptly apparent when her foot skips off the ground and slams the heel of her boot into the bridge of Felix's nose, aiming to knock him out with a well-placed kick to the face.
Sundown, you better take care, lest I find you've creeping round my back stairs… Or creeping down the fire escape quiet as a minnie -Minea- mouse.
See, She'd just wanted to get some coffee after spending the afternoon getting a non-company spa treatment. Pampered, polished, give a girl that glow. Even get the nails done, in as much as an agent will get their nails done. There's no queens style, length of a cheeto cheesie nail and just as colorful. No, a sedate French manicure, long enough to not interfere with pulling a trigger.
The one she's pulling right… about…
Now.
The retort of the gun cascades along the wall of the alleyway that Felix was drug into, the bullet speeding towards Raith with a target of his back right shoulder. Why is it that she had to see Felix drop like a rag doll and be dragged into an alley. Minea stands up with not so much quiet - now that she's announced herself - on the fire escape behind the pair. "Do you know the penalty for assaulting an FBI agent is? Both of you drop the fucking knife, guns, put your hands up or the next one will be right in between your god damned eyes" Her company issue handgun up, ready to fire another. Her offhand has another company issue, this one the loaded tranq gun, primed to be shot as well and pointed at Eileen and her foot stomping self. She doesn't seem to be standing like a cop or someone law enforcement trained, more in tune with military. "Kitty. You can move??" Her eyes never leave the man and woman, the latter she thinks she recognizes.
There's the crunch of bone, and Fel's out entirely. Let's hope Mrs. Hadley is feeling frisky, or he'll spend the rest of his days looking like a has-been boxer.
Bullets and Raith generally get along, right up to the point where they skip around his armor and start plowing through his body. Then, they aren't friends any longer. When Raith takes the hit, it throws him off-balance and sends him sprawling onto the ground, face down, a reflexive move on his part to minimize his profile and reduce his chances of being shot further. And then, someone starts barking orders at him, which is exactly the kind of bullshit he left Delta to get away from. "Penalty for assaulting an off-duty agent is the same as any other Joe," he says, slowly moving his arms underneath him to make getting up easier, despite the waves of hurt it produces in his body, "And it falls under the civil code, so get fucked."
Eileen's first instinct is to step forward, away from Felix's crumpled body and toward Minea, angling her body between the other woman's and Raith's with one empty hand raised in what appears to be an imploring gesture, the other reaching around to close fingers around the pistol she has tucked down the back of her jeans. Although she does not pull the weapon, she slides her thumb over the safety switch and flicks it into the off position with an audible click. Just as her face is familiar to Minea, Minea's is to her as well, and while she might not recall her name, she has no such difficulty with the company she seems to remember her keeping.
"I'm a friend of Teodoro's," she says, her voice steady, hand held out. "This is Ferry business. Stand down, please."
"Not civil code when I'm a homeland agent and your playing with an FBI agent, while in the company of a known evolved terrorist who's now playing with Agent Ivanov's nose. So shut up and park your ass" The gun trains on him, every movement, even as she flickers her gaze over to Eileen. "Pardon me if I don't have enough hands to call him Ms. Ruskin" If Minea'd seen Eileen during her stay with the ferryman, she doesn't remember it thanks to the little wipe. "And confirm. Step the fuck away from the agent."
"Now, now, miss," Raith says, "I object to your use of profanity." Minea must really be in charge of the situation, because rather than trying to resist in any way, Raith simply gets himself up onto his knees, and then up to his feet before raising his hands and then turning around to face his captor. Who, it turns out, may not be as in charge as it may have first appeared. In Raith's left hand, a ring dangles loosely around his index finger, and with her background, Minea knows that this is a Very Bad Thing.
Especially since his right hand is holding onto the grenade that the pin came out of, which he must have snuck out of his coat in between taking his time to stand up and Minea having to divide her attention between the two of them. "No need to blow your top. Let's just, put our guns down, walk away and forget this ever happened."
Eileen's fingers flex around her pistol's grip. Pale eyes move between Minea and the cheerfully winking ring on Raith's finger, illuminated by the fading light. What the older woman does next will determine whether or not more shots are fired, but for now she remains where she is, readied and waiting.
"How about you walk away, and then I'll put my own gun down." Because Minea's not about to be responsible for the death of Felix. A grenade at that range is surely going to kill him and no spare life for him. "Back away, leave, and I'll not pursue you. Do we have an understanding? Because you didn't know I was here until I shot you. Which means I could have finished you both off. Laudani or no"
"Believe me, friend," Raith says in a warning tone of voice, "Killing us would've been the single worst, and the last mistake you would ever make in your life. Nobody gets away with murder. Not in my city." One step backwards, and then another. "Let's roll, Ace. We get going now and we'll be home in time for dinner."
"Eileen," Raith's dark-haired companion reminds him, a shimmer of irritation shuddering through her slender frame as she follows his lead and takes her leave of the alley without showing Minea her back. The hand at her pistol, too, does not fall away until the pair has rounded the corner and is loping away, proverbial tails held high rather than tucked between their legs.
All things considered, that could have gone a lot worse.
Only person who might have a tail tucked between their tail is Felix. Minea waits till they're out of sight before she tucks the gun away, tranq out, and leaps over the last level of the fire escape and lands with a thud onto the cement of the alleyway. "Fucking hell Kitty" As she inches forward. Past him, out to the corner they disappeared around after making sure there's no little present left behind and they are good and gone. Out comes the cellphone dialing 911 and she backs up. "This is Agent Dahl with Homeland Security. I need an ambulance to my location" She rattles off the cross street and the two stores on either side of the alley. "I have an agent Ivanov of the FBI down and in need of medical assistance"