Participants:
| Scene Title | Plans |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | According to Vincent they exist, even if he's not allowed to have them. |
| Date | April 08, 2010 |
Same bat time, same bat channel. Brennan is waiting on the stoops of the run down church, having looked for the helicopter that will inevitably signal the arrival of Vincent. Not that he couldn't take a car, but hey. Helicopter rides. Who doesn't like them? Bundled up against the cold, he's got important information to relay to the man who can turn into living shadow and dissipate and waiting isn't making it get out of his mouth any sooner.
With the snow like it is and the streets like they are, taking the chopper out for a spin is virtually the only way to ensure a trip to Staten Island that doesn't somehow end in death and/or destruction. It doesn't get near the church, obviously — black blades churning over a black husk and black-tinted windows against the unbroken grey cream of the not-so-distant sky, mechanical drone the loudest noise around.
Ten minutes later, Vincent's voice is startling only for the wintry silence blanketed in thick between helicopter contact and speech. "You know," he says, shoulder leaned comfortably aside into the sweeping frame of the church's heavy front doors, "if this is going to become a regular thing, we could always get you into a class to learn Morse code."
"Already know it" Brennan points out. "And sign language, and a few other language. I can swear pretty good in some of the african dialects" He turns to face where Vincent's deigned to appear. 'We got a problem. big problem. Liette's sister? She's one that's doing this" A gesture to the air and then the snow. "Liette thinks that she might have picked up atmokinesis at some point. When she transferred it over to her, her sister then got it. And then we have…" The really bad weather.
"Aren't you handy."
Nearly as dry as the wood his shoulder's currently buffered against, Vincent listens with his usual grim lack of affect. He looks better than he did last time he was out and about, but not much: he's still worn down, sharp edges a little too honed, more like a broken flint than a metal blade polished to perfection. The hawkish black of his glare is focused out on the snow rather than the good doctor at least, frown likewise distracted. Hmm. "What do you mean, 'transferred it over to her?'"
"Transfer, as in they have a link. She collects the abilities, transfers them every two months to her sister. From what I can surmise from how she's spoken, they're twins, likely clones. From Pinehearst. Institute scooped them up when pinehearst had it's accident. 'Pops' was taking care of them from there. Her ability lasts for about 5 months, then it becomes imprinted on her DNA. Whatever ability she transfers to her sister, she no longer has nor can she get that ability off someone else. Explains how she couldn't get Michelle's. You need to have someone contact the institute and tell them that Jules, is causing this unnatural weather and it needs to be solved. One way, is by getting her to them. But i'm starting to sense that that's not your's or Praegers plan"
Again, Vincent listens without discernible reaction. Save maybe for a measuring Look at the side of Brennan's head at one point. The sort of look that he seems to be fond of when he is either scheming or making calculations appropriate to the information he's absorbing. The convenience of email is that you can react however you like and the individual on the other end will never know unless you want them to. In person — things are trickier, and there's a tell-tale pause before he replies at all.
"I am not permitted to have plans, Doctor Brennan. Only orders to follow." There's a pause then, a shift of his hands in his overcoat pockets, and: "In our own research we've discovered evidence that the girl's location may be under surveillance via a chemical marker deliberately placed into her system by an unfriendly party, which the entity known as Rebel could acquire access to if it were to become aware of the possibility of the system's existence. I will need you to administer an injection to neutralize said system. As for the rest — I can only tell you that Secretary Praeger is in the process of taking action."
She can be tracked? No little wonder, if she's that important to them. "We'll move again then, I have no desire to bring down who know what on the heads of the people we're with if there's…" Something. There's a hand out to take the obvious injection. He wouldn't have mentioned it if he hadn't planned to pass it over at this meet. "Glad someone has a plan. Much as I'm enjoying camping. SO long as contact is made with the Institute to tell them about who is making the weather do this." Brenna breathes in and out through his nose, jaw tight. "What's actually in the injection. What side effects will she have. Things that are good to know before I even give it to her"
"I'm not at liberty to disclose the makeup of the antidote anymore than I can discuss the components that comprise the problem, which you have probably deduced is classified. Suffice to say, similar systems have seen active use for years now and are physiologically harmless. She will suffer no ill effects." The syringe in question is produced without real flourish — an easy twist of gloved fingers. It looks similar to the previously administered vaccine. Clear, clean and capped while Vincent leans forward enough to offer it out at arm's length.
"Rest assured that I'm as tired of the weather as you are. I only get the helicopter while on official business."
"You can also go smoke" He oh so helpfully points out. "Snow doesn't hinder you" The syringe is clasped in his gloved hand, slipped into a pocket to study on the way home. "She's becoming more and more a teenager instead of kid these days. I hope that the plan for whatever will be in place real soon. She's getting anxious" He's getting anxious. "That's all that I really had for you Agent Lazzaro. The Pinehearst connection and the information about the storm. See my wife gets the storm information at least. I know she was going to try and.. tame the weather a bit" A glance up. "I have a feeling she was only able to do so much"
"Well, that more than makes up for her handing my personal information over to Homeland Security in connection." Dry again, Vincent scuffs a gloved hand up over the dome of his skull and gives Brennan another tired, remote looking over. Lazzaro doesn't look particularly hopeful, and they could both stand to shave. "Secretary Preager's penchant for seeing things done correctly tends to take precedence over — everything else. You know how to reach me if you need anything." And then, with a tip of his head and a predictably dramatic tangle and coil and tangle of abyssal smoke — he's gone.
Was that such a bad thing? Aren't all the departments one big happy family, sitting around a campfire and holding hands while singing Kumbaya my lord? Brennan sweeps a glance around him - Negation on - wondering if Vincent's still there or whether he's heading off.
Nothing. There's a smudge of movement in the corner of Brennan's vision, like the passage of something grey on grey in pre-dawn darkness some hundred yards off over the snow, but evidently that's it for today.
A trip to the Garden first, check in and see how people are there, if there's anyone who needs medical attention - Likely. After that, it's back to the Brick House and it's ill inhabitants, healthy ones and Liette. Time there to stare at the syringe and ponder whether he gives it to her, or not.