Participants:
| Scene Title | La La La La La |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | If Abby could put her fingers in her ears and tune out the world, she would. |
| Date | November 16, 2010 |
Battery Park City is a 92-acre planned community at the southwestern tip of lower Manhattan. The land upon which it stands was created on the Hudson River using millions of pounds of dirt and rocks excavated during the construction of the World Trade Center and certain other construction projects, as well as from sand dredged from New York Harbor off Staten Island. The neighborhood, which is the site of the World Financial Center along with numerous housing, commercial and retail buildings, is named for adjacent Battery Park.
Battery Park City is bounded on the east by West Street, which isolates the area from the Financial District of downtown Manhattan. To the west, north and south, the area is surrounded by the tidal estuary of the Hudson River. The development consists of roughly five major sections. Traveling north to south, the first neighborhood, the "North Residential Neighborhood," consists of high-rise residential buildings, a large hotel, Stuyvesant High School and the World Center Mall. Former parkland in the area was in the process of being converted into high-rise buildings before the bomb in 2006, and now much of the unfinished constructions lie in much the same condition as the ghostly footprints of the World Trade Center, surrounded by derelict cranes and construction equipment.
Much of Battery Park City looks to be in better condition that the majority of upper Manhattan, its streets relatively well tended and buildings in fair condition, though even this far south signs of structural damage to some roads and buildings from the shockwave and debris of the bomb in 2006 are still visible. Due to its location and relative security from the damage of the bomb, Battery Park City is one of the most expensive areas in lower Manhattan to live and features the highest growth rate of new construction. It is not unusual to see banners for Linderman Group sponsored rebuilding efforts and Maxwell Corporation signs on half finished skyscrapers.
Out and about again, being cautious as she's been since the assassination attempt, Cat's made her way across the city from the Bronx. Mirrorshades and that pulled-low Yankees cap are employed, clothing is a light jacket of non-descript kind over jeans and athletic shoes. It was a thought she had to carry a guitar case and pack over opposite shoulders, but abandoned. Anyone seeking her in an official capacity would likely have done enough research to know she has musical prowess, and so having an instrument might cause closer looks to be taken. The Redbird building is her destination, a newspaper and large cup of coffee in hand.
She's got photos too, items to show Peyton Whitney.
There's a brunette heading towards Redbird as well. Short hair tucked around ears, layers of shirts and a dark hooded sweater that would make Teodoro Laudani puff his chest in pride atop of jeans, boots. A messenger bag looking to have been plucked up from some goodwill bin - it was, she’s got hands in her pockets and keeping to herself as she eases down the street. Nothing to mark the person as Abigail. It's shocking what a loss of ten inches or more in hair will do, when you change the color too. A few bus trips later, she had made her way to Battery Park City and was trying to decide whether she walks right in the front or through the side.
It's effective, this disguise Abby's adopted. Seeing the brunette from behind, the face which would trigger in her memory is unseen, the clothing obscures her feminine shape well enough that it doesn't trigger as being the figure of Abigail Beau… Caliban. As such, she doesn't get more than a passing glance as Cat continues on toward the building's front doors with the intent of opening them to go in. The coffee cup is raised and the contents tasted, then the hidden eyes take another survey of the area without letting on. A brief scan for the presence of police or soldiers, of anyone who might have recognized her and gone about transmitting word.
A glance up would be all it takes, for Cat to see her face, note that blue eyes are brown, but the rest of her would compare to memory. The former healer doesn't stop in her tracks at seeing Cat at the door to Redbird, just keeps walking at her steady pace, shoulders inward and eyes cast down towards the ground once again.
Redbird Security Solutions, Main Lobby and women's bathroom
There's a sharp, professional feel to the main lobby of the building. The carpet is a deep maroon underfoot, the walls an off-white cream that doesn't glare too brightly beneath the recessed lighting in the ceiling. Half a dozen chairs upholstered in a sandy light brown sit against one wall beneath a painting, a print of a Thomas Brill that shows the ruins of Midtown covered in vines and greenery as seen from the rooftop of the Deveaux building. The receptionist's station takes up almost an entire wall on the right side of the lobby, guarding the hallway that leads back into the building's offices. Behind and above the desk, the logo for Redbird Security Solutions hangs on the wall in glossy black.
The central hall continues the same carpet and wall colors to a number of doors. There are four offices, a restroom done in shades of blue and pale sand tones, and a comfortable employee lounge with attached kitchenette. An open doorway in the main lobby reveals a flight of upward stairs, and there's a locked door at he end of the central hall that guards the basement steps.
Inside, with the doors closing behind her, the unwitting panmnesiac deviates from her intention to call upon Peyton by veering toward a bathroom marked with either the word women, a representation of a female shape, or both. The newspaper is kept, but the large coffee cup is discarded, it being empty now. Cat doesn't have fear of it being taken from trash inside this place and confiscated to test DNA left behind.
Abby follows, as if she needed to go to bathroom and Redbird was the most convenient place other than the park that the building is near by. A few seconds behind Cat enough that they likely aren't thought of as together in case anyone was watching outside.
But once inside, behind the doors of the women's bathroom, Abigail is on Cat like white on rice, the younger brunette throwing her arms around the panmnesiac and holding her tight. "Thank the Lord, oh thank the Lord above you're okay." Fever warm, but only just. "Oh Catherine you cannot imagine how glad it makes my heart to see you alive and not dead."
Okay. That's a surprise. Embraced from behind in the ladies' room, Cat at first starts and seems ready to perform some Krav Maga maneuvers of defensive and painful nature to whomever is on the receiving end. It's only the instant recognition of the voice which stays her hand(s). "Abby," she responds dryly with a slight chuckle, "good to see you also. It was fortunate no one was able to reach you that morning and give word of the meeting." Not to mention suspicious, as if she might've been warned, but Cat isn't mentioning that.
"It makes my heart rather happy to be not-dead too." And with the warmth of the hug, she entertains a mental image of such an embrace being given to Agent Ball, with far greater heat. It causes a slight smile to be born.
"Delilah saved me." Muffled by her face in Cat's shoulder as the woman turns around, being embraced again. "She went into labor on the way to Jersey, she gave birth in the car. If she hadn't…" Abigail might have been joining the others in Ferry who never had a chance. "Oh sweet lord, have you heard from anyone else?" Abby pulls away, eyes rimmed pink and tears starting up. "Who all made it? Mr. Bennet was here, last I knew, I sat and watched over him on the 8th."
"Interesting," Cat breathes out, "so her vision of the 8th did pan out, to some degree. Giving birth in an inopportune place with your assistance. A car instead of a storefront. Kinda surprising she didn't go stand outside a hospital and camp there in anticipation of labor pains from midnight forward. Where is she now?"
A pause is taken, then, before moving to more somber topics. "Patrick Hale, Tien, and Serrato were cut down early in Susan's assassination move. Joseph, Ben Ryans, Scott, Noah, Eileen and I got out. Ben shot at Susan and we heard a woman's scream at one point, but no idea whether or not she was hit. I am therefore looking for her, among other people. I owe her something." The set of her jaw indicates this debt isn't the kind anyone would want Cat to feel obligated to repay. Ever.
"I presume Eileen and Jensen are safe, along with many others. There are some I'm looking for, to regroup with, but I don't have a headcount. Need to contact Hana again soon. And you, Abby…" the voice trails off as she spends moments looking over the hottest woman on earth's face, hair, and eyes for recording purposes, "are severely and effectively incognito."
"We were heading to the hospital to do that, camp there. She'd been in labour the day before and hadn't told us" Abigail sinks her hands into her pockets, flash of a gold band on the wrong hand, no engagement ring though, no cross around her neck. No bulge where GPS would have otherwise been around a left ankle.
"Robert made me. Told me to run, before they came for me. To come here, find Richard, find out what's happened to everyone else and then run some more and get out of New York. Change my hair, cover up my tattoo's and get as much negation drugs as I can for myself and leave" She has a sensible husband it seems. "And when I think I've run far enough, I'm to run further" The former blonde runs her sleeve across her eyes, wiping away tears before they can fall. "I don't know where they are, do you know?" The names of those who are safe though, give some measure of relief. That and hearing that possibly Susan got hit by a bullet. Hopefully to the brain.
"They're at a private sanctuary arranged over the last several months with this situation in mind," Cat replies, "where they should be safe. It's some distance outside the city." Some consideration to Abby's statement is made, prompting a reply. "I can't say being on the run isn't a smart move. Your name may have been given up by Susan, after all, which could greatly complicate your legal case in any event. At this stage, me acting as your attorney may not be practical, or possible. I don't know if I'm listed as an official fugitive, if police or soldiers are looking for me. The Verb hasn't been raided, and it doesn't appear to be watched, but that only means any watchers present haven't been spotted. Therefore, I've not gone there and don't plan to anytime soon. I also don't believe it a good idea to approach any DHS facility. Or courthouse."
Lips curve into a measure of defiant smirk. "I have places to shelter in few people know about still."
Private sanctuary. She could be offended and hurt that she didn't know about it given it was apparently in play for that long, but then, she was also looked at as the possible leak and had been absent the last month. "I know a few other places. I grabbed all the cash I could, I've been staying at the Speakeasy." Staying low, lower than the floor if it's possible. Given the status of that place, it's a wonder she even stepped foot in it.
"I think Cat, that the moment I cut off the GPS, I lost any and all chance at a fair trial and you wouldn't be my lawyer. As it stands, we're enemies of the state, we'll be lucky if they don't shoot us on sight."
The two are by the sink, Abigail's back to the door, Short brown hair tucked behind ears, layers of shirts and a hoodie, jeans, boots, messenger bag. Indistinguishable from the back. Brown eyes instead of blue, she's as Cat said, severely incognito.
"Couldn't make it out of the city?" Cat asks, eyes on the door past Abby's shoulder, before returning to the other face. "Whether or not you cut off the city, your legal case may have been a moot point. If Susan gave away your name, if it was known you might've been there, that would be enough. And even that's assuming the Feds don't arbitrarily decide to lock anyone with a posthuman ability facing charges away out of hand now. Or shoot them dead out of hand. I've gotten word of soldiers performing summary executions. One of them a mother in the presence of her child."
As she came in the front door, the receptionist Jo motioned toward the ladies' room with a bit of a puzzled expression. Elisabeth simply quirks a brow and heads in that direction, stepping inside the restroom to find Cat and Abby. "There's not a bathroom big enough for a gang toity at the Verb?" the blonde asks mildly, a faint hint of a smile quirking one side of her lips. She looks pale and somewhat drawn — worse than Abby's seen her in quite a long time, really — and her voice has a rough sound to it, her blue eyes are still alert and they contain worry. "What's going on?"
"I can't use my ID and my Tarkin ID doesn't have registration with it and the Institute know about it." She hadn't tried calling Elias yet. That was her emergency exit if she needed it. Abigail's head drops, face to the floor and she stops talking at the sound of someone coming into the bathroom, eyes looking up at Cat as if waiting for some cue to bolt if needs be.
Then Liz's voice echoes around the women’s bathroom and Abigail looks over her shoulder towards the FRONTLINE woman.
Eyes dart up and over at the sound of the door's opening, quickly identifying the woman who's just joined them. That knowledge causes the sudden tension to Cat's frame to ease off, matched in timing with a mild snicker. "No, Elisabeth, there isn't. I mean, what with the cops and soldiers maybe hunting me, and our friend here too, there just wouldn't be enough room to piss in peace there." Her eyes study the Frontliner's face, long enough to make an assessment. "You look like absolute merde. I recommend sleeping somewhere. For a week."
And Cat herself? She just looks fierce in mirrorshades and a pulled down Yankees cap helping to obscure features, those that are visible have the look which suggests she's at least partly on a warpath.
It takes Elisabeth a moment to identify Abby, but she's seen the girl in layers and with alternate hair any number of times. There is naked relief on her face and she moves to hug Abby tightly (assuming the other woman lets her). "Thank God," she says softly. "Cat…. so far as I'm aware, the Verb's in the clear. The raids on safehouses last week were nothing of my doing, I hope you know that." She looks at the brunette, her voice still not clearing up. "As to sleeping…. well, it won't do any good," she admits. "I blew out my ability that night and I'm told the aftereffects are going to be rough."
There's a soft sigh from Elisabeth and she looks between them. "You know you're both welcome here." She has no idea they've tried to hit Abby.
Abby hadn't given them a chance to. Robert had urged her to run before they could, but they would have. Her arms wrap around the other woman, holding her tight much like she did Cat with a hard swallow. "Robert sent me here. Said I was to come here, hide under the government’s nose." A member of the Linderman Group telling Abby to come to Endgame. "When I take off, to run somewhere, I'm to make sure you guys know so that when it's safe again, he can come for me." She's going to start crying again, she'd already spent nearly a week miserable in the Speakeasy.
Time is spent in silence, to let the blonde and former blonde have their moment sans interruption before she speaks, but it doesn't last forever. "That was never a question. Safehouse raids and assassination attempts came courtesy of Agent Susan Ball. Got any idea if she's still alive or where she can be found?" The visible portions of Cat's face suggests it won't go very well for that FBI personage if found.
"And is the Verb in the clear? It wasn't raided, and I've had some watching done, there's no sign of surveillance. But that only means any watchers are well-hidden and good enough to avoid detection. Ball may have given up my name when she tried to have the Council assassinated. Is there any mention of being officially hunted floating around?"
Then she turns to the subject of Elisabeth herself. "Blew out your ability. Damn. Has it come back yet? Last time this happened, you were deaf, not hoarse."
Liz's arms remain tight around Abigail. She's never seen the younger woman so frightened, and she can't say she blames Abby. Or her husband. Christ. She kisses Abby's head gently and cradles her protectively. She's listening to Cat, though. And Elisabeth shakes her head in the negative. "I've never even heard of her," she admits to the panmnesiac. "And I've heard no rumors anywhere of either FRONTLINE or the military hitting any other places." She pauses and says quietly, "And I'd know. I was just promoted to Operations Director of FRONTLINE Manhattan. So as far as I can tell, your building's in the clear — it's never been a full-on Ferry safehouse anyway. Give it a couple more days, and although I'll keep my ear to the ground and I suggest you continue your own surveillance, I'd assume you're in the clear, Cat."
Only now does Elisabeth finally release Abby gently. "And I've not been informed of any particular people being on the hit list either. Though I wouldn't rule out that the Institute may be looking for you, Abby. I've heard rumors that the Ferry had a fallback position and I can get word to some underground sources about the fact that you need a way out of the city." Because Robert is right about that. She's already assuming Abby's gotten rid of the tracking anklet. She explains to both of them, "I was deaf for most of the week too. And if you remember, I slagged my throat last time running sound waves through it." She shrugs a little. "That was augmented. I tried to pull a similar stunt without Gillian. The docs think it will come back, perhaps in a week or two."
"Because who wouldn't want to get their hands on a pyromorph," Abby murmurs, getting herself all re-situated, unrumpled and falling back from her near strangling of Elisabeth. "Is there any way that I could get some help with some new IDs? If there's not, I can deal with that on my own, but I'm amazed that I even made it here without getting stopped." She'd seen a few people who'd been stopped.
The GPS tracking is indeed gone. Gone when she hit half an hour away from Solstice, tossed into the cart of some homeless person. "I'll need as many negation drugs as you might still have hanging around, Cat. In case I need to take off, go somewhere." Maybe hit the Ferry network elsewhere in the country. Her hand reaches out though, rubbing Liz's arm up and down when she talks about the overuse of her ability. "It'll come back Liz."
"That's good news," Cat allows quietly in regards to her building. "It's more than the Institute wanting Abby, though. I wouldn't be surprised to see DHS choose to lock away any persons of our nature with charges pending against them out of hand, given the situation. The Ferry's survivors will hear you've been spoken with, also, Abby, soon as I send word to Hana. I know the story, and I'll tell them it fits with visions which said you'd be playing midwife on the eighth, but I have to say some may suspect you." It doesn't please Cat to say so, but she has to consider that some will hold that opinion.
Beyond that, the very subject of riots has her quietly fuming.
Elisabeth doesn't know what 'story' we're talking about here. She looks between the two. "If you've got access to Hana, she may have a route by which to get Abby out of here. Let her know that Abby's staying in Redbird for now, and when she can get a clear egress in place for her, we'll make sure she gets to it. For you as well, if you want it," she tells Cat quietly. "Right now, there's not much more I can do than help people hunker down and make sure I've got a finger on the pulse of who's being hunted and for what."
The blonde offers a small, pained smile to Abby and says roughly, "I hope so." She's not entirely sure they're right — hell, they aren't entirely sure they're right that her ability will return. Liz feels sort of… disconnected without it, never realizing how much she'd come to be aware of sound waves around her over the years. It's like wearing earplugs all the time; she feel muffled. "In the meantime… tell me what else you need. Peyton and Aric are pretty much based here. I know Jaiden shipped out with Ferry members — he got in touch and let me know there were survivors, but I told him not to tell me anything else. Richard's working on some things behind the scenes, so he's gone underground with minimal contact for a while."
"Suspect me?"
Abby looks to Cat with surprise. "Suspect me? I'm the one that brought up Susan to the others. I'm the one that told Raith, Mr. Bennet, Hana about Susan and what she'd done. What she said in that alley. I went to two post-cogs and got in trouble for it from other members of the council and told that Susan wasn't that kind of person, that Susan had the Ferry's best interest at heart. Did you know she'd had someone where she worked killed because they discovered she could persuade people? Did you know that she had something planned for Kaylee? That whatever they were doing, all Kaylee had to do was look and it would all be for nothing?"
Abigail’s now fuming, though not so silently. "I got told to drop it, that they'd look into it. That it was nothing, that it was something she'd said to find a leak and that I was suspected of being the leak because I knew people in the government, was friends with them. The very same thing that I got brought into the council with, I got suspected of being the leak for. Want to know why I wasn't at the meeting? Because I had GPS around my ankle Cat. I've avoided going to safehouses, or going anywhere near Ferry stuff because I didn't want this sort of thing to happen. I was elbow deep in Delilah's uterus Cat, bringing her baby into the world while Teo watched. Robert came home the night before, Delilah was at my home, I was mired in getting ready for the next day."
It's considerably warmer and if Caliban hadn't confiscated her phone, there'd be insistent bleating to warn people.
Normally Elisabeth would help calm Abby, but in this case it is simply a matter of her voice being HERS, not being enhanced with calm. "Abby… take a deep breath, babe. I can't afford to have you burn down Redbird. Richard will kill me for that." Ugh. Not exactly the best phrasing there, Liz. "Breathe, kiddo. You have to stay calm. The fire extinguisher is outside here and I don't want to have to douse you. Anyone who thinks you are the leak is not worth the time or the energy to be pissed off at — they clearly know nothing about you at all. I gathered from Jaiden they knew who the source of the leak was, though he didn't give me a name or anything." She shakes her head. "Cat…. did you come here looking for sanctuary too?"
"I got no messages that morning Catherine. None, and then I got a bunch of them all at once." It hadn't occurred to her that the Ferry would even think to suspect her. The reminder that she needs to not burn down the security building lest Richard blow up at her brings her into a better awareness of her own self, of how warm she's making the others. In turn it makes the younger brunette hunker in on herself, close her now brown eyes and try to breathe. "I need to go eat, go rest. I haven't slept… good. I'm sorry. I should take some of the negation pills."
"I know that, Abby, and you know that," Cat replies. "I'm simply advising you this is a possibility, telling you how it might look to some. I don't believe it, never did." Left unspoken: if she harbored such a suspicion about Madame Caliban, things would've gone very differently on seeing and recognizing her. Now, as to the leak…
She turns toward Elisabeth slowly. "I don't know of any leak within the Ferry, other than Susan giving us up, can't say if she'd been giving data away for some time or not. The only thing I was told about a leak came from Noah Bennet a few months ago, at a Council meeting. He said a Company agent named Ananda Kaur had infiltrated Phoenix. We knew her as Mona Rao, she was hanged by the neanderthals."
There's a long pause and Elisabeth finally says, "Cat. Stop. You're just making things worse." Her tone, rough as it is, is stern. "Let the Ferry deal with their issues, okay? Leave Abby the hell out of it — she doesn't need you telling her what other people might do unless you're actively concerned that someone's just going to jump her. Are you? A simple yes or no answer will suffice. If the answer's no, then just shut up and don't add to the stress factors here any more, okay?"
Elisabeth, it seems, may be a good bit stressed as well. "And frankly, I'd call this Susan person one hell of a leak, wouldn't you?"
Shaking her head, Liz wraps an arm around Abby and turns them both for the door. "Christ, Cat — Helena used to give me hell about being Chicken Little, but personally, I think you have surpassed us all. Instead of dealing with the situation in front of you, you're just winding Abby tighter." She sounds more than a little perturbed. "C'mon, Abby, let's get you settled upstairs."
La la la la la. If Abby could put her fingers in her ears and tune out the world, she would. But this bathroom is not where she's going to calm down and get her self in order. She knows that there's someone out there who would jump her. Or Robert wouldn't have told her to run. That and her stomach’s roiling. In the span of one day her life went to hell and it wasn't the eighth. It was the day after. Liz starts to usher the former blonde out and Abigail makes no move to stay in the bathroom, going with the new Operations Director towards the door. She's got too much to worry about, even more now, and to get someone to go get her bags from the speakeasy so she has her stuff.
Eyes move from one woman to another, her jaw setting. But Cat doesn't speak or act to convince them against leaving. She waits for a time after they've gone to make her way out, back to the street, lest she flip out slightly and kick a sink off the wall. Being elsewhere is sought, where violence can be done safely, and the photos she intended to give Peyton don't reach her this particular morning.