A Thesis In Three Parts

Participants:

bf_cassandra_icon.gif devi_icon.gif geneva_icon.gif seren_icon.gif

Scene Title Slip and Fall Hazards and You: A Thesis in Three Parts
Synopsis A mandatory safety meeting at RayTech introduces people to other people, and shows what not to do with training.
Date March 02, 2019

Raytech NYCSZ Branch Office

The Raytech Industries New York City Safe Zone branch office is formed by a mid-sized campus of reconstructed brick and mortar warehouse and office building and on-campus living residential apartments for employees and company guests. As one of the first major buildings in the area, the company is focused on improvements and reconstruction efforts in the local area.


Conference Rooms are the bane of most office workers, since they are places where most people go to watch productivity die. Add in that they’re being talked at by someone with a shred of power that thinks their chosen topic is the most important thing at that particular moment in time, and you get a modern-day torture chamber.

Preston Sawyer Mayes, a just out of college intern, was given a simple task. It was time for the monthly safety meeting and he was assigned the job of running it simply because it was the job no-one wanted to do. One of those jobs that rolls downhill until it hits an unlucky intern. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, since a powerpoint and a funny video with a single-page test at the end of an hour would tick all the OSHA required boxes. The problem with Preston was his work ethic. Give him a job and, dammit, he’s going to do the best job that he can, sometimes to overly extreme levels. And god help you if there’s any kind of budget involved.

This is one of those cases.

The room is set up with several chairs in the middle of the room facing a podium with a screen on the wall behind it, the title of his talk - “Slip and Fall Hazards and You - an Empowering Discussion in Three Parts.” It seemed the boy took a few out-of-date buzzwords and threw them on the screen in the hope that it sounded important. At least the conference table had been laden with snacks and coffee to lure unsuspecting employees. Preston used his budget and managed to find donuts and bagels somewhere in the city, as well as whatever fresh fruit could be found at the marketplace this morning.

Someone must have poked their head into her workroom today, because Devi certainly doesn’t pay much mind to company memos or calendar requests. By the look on the biker’s face as she stops dead in the doorway, that someone hopefully didn’t give a name and better consider witness protection. The raven haired, tattooed femme’s head rolls back as if suddenly waterlogged by the mere thought of the drudgery that is to come. With an unladylike and unabashed groan Devi’s boots thud moodily across the conference room and carry her straight to the coffee.

After a little black coffee is added to a mound of sugar, onyx eyes turn back to the room to see who else was suckered into attendance.

You know, other people might be less than enthused at the prospect of a safety meeting, but Seren is pleased for the experience altogether.

"Good morning, Ms. Devi!" they cheerily greet from beside the conference table, not yet sitting because it had felt really odd to be the only one sitting. Everyone else was milling.

Besides, it was easier to be standing already in case Baird decided something else aside from sitting was more interesting to do. The little creature is even more little than usual today, the winged creation sporting an extra set that shunt down off of its back legs. It scrabbles on Seren's shoulder, paws mouselike, swinging its long tail behind it and flicking its wide, batlike ears. And unlike other days, the creature presents a subdued, nearly pure white color.

Not to be unincluded, it chatters an echo to Seren's greeting, prompting them to smirk and lift a hand to scratch its head placatingly. "It's a little early in the day to be seeing you, isn't it? Wow, this must really be a special presentation."

If Geneva had not been told that there would be ample refreshments at this mandatory safety meeting, she might very well have considered faking sickness to get out of this altogether, consequences be damned. As it is: the young blonde in the cream-colored pleated blouse and dark trousers is nearly glowering as she lounges near the back of the presentation, a quarter-eaten, jam-filled doughnut in hand— clearly the only object standing between her and outright rebellion.

That is, until she spots the familiar figure of Seren entering the conference room. Immediately her eyebrows quirk upwards as she spots this newest form of Baird, and she steps forward to take a closer look, arms unconsciously uncrossing as she does. "Don't worry. If this presentation is 'special', it's only because of how fast it'll make you cry from boredom," she says wryly, but her curiosity-filled eyes are glued to the creature. "Damn, how many different forms can this guy take? He's incredible."

And adorable, to boot.

Cassandra Cain had been seen around the office over the past couple of days. Ostensibly portrayed as a newly-hired researcher, the brunette had done little in the days since her arrival besides arrive on time, head to her office, and leave when the day was done. She was unique in how little she stood out, all things considered and, as she slipped into the meeting room, chock-full of people she hadn’t seen before and a flying…whatever that is…perched on Seren’s shoulder, she paused, wrestling with something silently before stepping into the room, making a beeline to the refreshments to grab a coffee and a croissant.

Preston, on the other hand, seemed pleased - exuberant, even - at the people arriving. From his spot in a folding chair behind the podium, he watched and took notes on a yellow legal pad as people came in, a little light by the door flickering as it registered the arrivals to the meeting using the RFID tags in their employee ID cards. Seren and Baird were, perhaps unsurprisingly, the first to experience the wonder that was Preston trying to be welcoming, since they were the first in the room, but now Devi’s in the man’s sights.

“Miss Ezell.” Preston rises to his feet,, lingering for a second as he obviously reads her name from a screen on the podium. After a second, he steps out from its relative safety, gesturing to the coffee with his chest out, proud, as she charges toward the buffet of caffeine and carbs that’s been laid out. Brushing invisible lint from his perfectly-pressed slacks, Preston tries to sound magnanimous in his all-of twenty-three years old. “Feel free to get something to tide you over. I got the best the Zone has to offer. Once more people arrive…”

And they do. Preston trails off as more people arrive with a squeak, and the gravity of having to talk to these people has him retreating behind his podium again, sitting back and watching the numbers of attendees grow. He had set out chairs for ten and already four were here. Better to get started before anyone else shows up!

A glance at the clock on the wall shows that it’s five-till nine. Shakily, Preston stands and taps the microphone. “Um…Thank you for coming.” his voice squeaks. “P..please get some food and we’ll get started. I know that we’ll all do our best to learn ways to avoid slip and falls in the workplace.”

A scintillating start already, isn’t it?

Dark eyes take in Preston from over the lip of a cup o’ joe when he’s only halfway through inviting the femme fatale to indulge. The cup is lowered slowly and Devi tilts her head, a rogue strand of darkness tickling across her tattooed cheek and nose as she simply watches the over-eager intern. Then, there he goes! She’ll chalk that up to the intensity of her gaze and now his overbearing need to welcome the others.

Devi turns to Baird and Seren with a much more pleasant smile, though that could just as well be a result of the jelly filled donut she’s grabbed in the same moment. “Hey Baird. Hey, Little Bird.” Yup - Seren is Little Bird. A little lift of the chin is given in Geneva’s way, but then a new face is gracing the doorway and giving it pause. Slowly, the left corner of Devi’s lips draw up before she calls, all too loudly, “Come on in. I won’t bite hard unless you ask real nice. Promise.” Good thing this isn’t one of those presentations. HR isn’t here, right?

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be that bad," Seren assures with the cheer of someone bearing endless positivity. Someone who hasn't suffered through enough of these kinds of meetings yet. They grin broadly while the small creature on their shoulder purrs with delight at Geneva, head tossing to one side. It just might have to show off soon!

Seren huffs at the Baird with a touch of melodrama to it before they give the question some thought. "You know… I don't know if there's a set number. He just is what he wants to be," they remark fondly, not seeming too worried about the specifics of it.

When Devi calls attention to the new, unfamiliar face in the room, their attention shifts. "Ms. Devi, I'm not sure that's the most friendly way to change up that saying…" they aside with some amusement. Though Devi and Seren might look like peas from similar pods, dark hair and clothes and visible tattoos, their grey eyes are warm — even delighted to see someone else new. "Hi! I'm Seren, and this is Baird. I don't think I've seen you around here before." They lean forward to offer their hand out for a shake.

With Geneva nothing short of enraptured by the furry Baird, whom she reaches out to tentatively stroke, it takes her a few delayed seconds to notice and return Devi's acknowledgement— but then return it she does with a short up-nod of her own. "Geneva," she offers by way of short introduction to those around her, though nobody had asked specifically; at present, it seems she is surrounded by those she had seen, but not interacted with before.

Besides this, she is nearly rolling her eyes in her effort to seek out anywhere to look in the room but Preston. She was an intern as well, but at least she had some dignity. Fuck.

"You new here?" she directs casually at Cassandra, the only completely new face here. "I'm so sorry that this shit is what you have to see first.”

Oh God, she’s been noticed. So beckoned, and not asking to be bitten, Cassandra enters the room, bobbing her head politely as she passes to the conference table of goodies, snagging a bagel and a heavy mug for coffee.

She pauses at the table, halfway through filling her cup of coffee and takes a second to study the room and the occupants within. The newly-minted badge on her lapel has her name listed as ‘Cain, Cassandra,’ with a smiling picture of her on a light blue background. Devi and the rest of the employees there might recognize the colors on Cassandra’s badge, too, the light green text indicating that she’s a member of RayTech’s research department, although she might not have been met or even introduced just yet. Cassandra pauses, looking from Preston, who quickly is sorted to the ‘well meaning, but probably unhelpful’ portion of Cassandra’s rolodex, to Devi and Geneva, and then to Seren and Baird who all get a second look because they’re far more interesting, and not just because of the tattoos or the flying creature.

After all, there’s no time like the present for introductions.

“I don’t know how much your good attitude is going to protect you from this meeting.” Cassandra’s voice is quiet, a hint of teasing as she glances over to Preston. “I’ve been in a few meetings like this before. Lots of common sense questions and a test at the end to judge whether or not we have common sense.”

“It’s not just common sense.” Preston protests lamely from behind the podium. “There are some very interesting and uncommon ways to slip and fall. I mean, I have three slides on unmarked ramps and waxed floors.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes a little and turns back to the group that welcomed her, switching her coffee from right to left. “As I said…I don’t know what this will teach us that we don’t already know. Living in New York has its own set of rules and hazards.” She reaches out and gives Seren’s hand a firm shake. “Seren.” she repeats. “And Baird.” She’s far gentler, shaking the little winged being’s paw. “I was just expecting a boring safety meeting. I wasn’t expecting to socialize much. I’m Cassandra. Cassandra Cain.” She sounds pleased, in fact.

Apparently odd things are taken in stride. A good way for Cassandra to face the day at RayTech, where raptors man the front desk and anything can be found climbing from the basement if you’re unlucky enough to pick the right day.

Geneva gets a nod and a smile. “Yeah, first day here. Guess Mr. Ray thought throwing me to the sharks just after orientation was the best way to get me stuck in.”

“Yes, well.” Preston stands behind the podium and pokes one of the buttons on the computer, half the lights turning green, the other half red. “Um…”. He pokes another button, then another, the lights strobing, turning off, dimming and brightening randomly with each press, Preston becoming more flustered with each light change until, mercifully, he finds the one that turns the lights back exactly as they were before, albeit 10% brighter.

“Welcome….”. His voice cracks, so he tries again, at a lower register. “Welcome to Slip and Fall Hazards and you. We've got a lot of slides to go through, so let's get started.”

Devi nods at Cassandra as introductions are made, sipping her coffee passed a tilted smile as dark, mischievous eyes take in all parties, sans Preston, in turn. Geneva actually gets a fair share of this side-eye, as if the biker didn’t quite believe the simply offered name the blonde ha provided. Finally, she lowers the cup and tpis her head, free hand migrating absently to the raven stamped several layers deep in flesh on her throat. “I’m Devi,” she offers Cass. “I work over in R&D, but please don’t knock unless you bring a really cool gizmo…” She pauses, considers, and add an afterthought, “Or beer.”

Then the lights are strobing but there’s not badass bass to get their dance on. Those sharp, near-black irises on Preston beneath a finely drawn arc of a brow. The biker-bitch-turned-Raytech-bitch’s husky voice flits across the room, “‘Scuse you, doll, but I gotta ask-” She leans back into the wall, folding her arms with the carefully balanced coffee. “Is that really what you want to be doing right now?” She makes a gesture with coffee in hand towards the small throng of pleasant enough people mingling around Preston’s alter-to-goodies. “I promise to sing your praises and announce that your slideshow was the biggest I’ve ever seen if you just… don’t.” She disentangles her arms to make a finger-wiggling gesture at the slideshow wall. “Why don’t you just relax a while, hm?”

Seren seems surprised that Cassandra goes as far to shake tiny Baird's paw, head turning to the side, but the little imaginary creature just adores the gesture. They start to grin as the little creature creaks out a crow of delight. It's getting all the attention! In order to better get an angle on pets from Geneva, it begins to crawl down Seren's arm, prompting them to lift it up so the creature continues to have purchase on its new perch, tail swaying in slow, luxurious curls.

"You have to be real gentle with him," they advise Geneva carefully, shooting a sheepish look off to Preston. Hopefully they don't steal too much attention away from the presentation! That would be an absolute shame, assuming Devi's attempts to shut the event down don't go as planned.

At the suggestion that perhaps Preston should relax a little, from nowhere emanates the sigh of a breeze and the kiss of ocean meeting shore. One could swear they hear the call of a gull. The sound settles around the intern in particular but can be easily heard by most.

Seren blinks, shaking their head. The moment passes again with the soft sound of another wavecrash.

Jammy doughnut all but forgotten, Geneva does not need telling twice from Seren: from her free hand, Baird is receiving very soothingly awed pets worthy of the absolutely magnificent beast that he is. Just look at that tail! And those ears. Without turning from what she is doing, she does cast a glance in Devi's direction at the sound of the distraction attempt, a smirk slipping into her expression. "Good luck with that, Preston has… a reputation." What that reputation is, she does not bother to elaborate, and she does not need to. Poor man.

The pleasant rumble of what is apparently the tide coming in does cause Gene to waver, and she casts a glance Preston's way finally. "This supposed to be part of the presentation?" she wonders aloud. If so, it is certainly not very thematic.

The smirk Cassandra gives Devi is genuine, more amusement than anything else. Glancing down at her ID card, she tilts her head and shrugs. “Keeping me out probably won’t happen,. And I don’t have any interesting gizmos, but beer I can probably swing. Used to be a brewery near a park in Bushwick I used to go to, before everything went nuts. Might have to check to see if they’re still operating. With luck they’re still doing their Contract Killer Coffee Porter, but who knows with the way things are around here.”

Baird did get a shake of the paw, because it’s right and proper. After all, he might be a Rada Loa - a water spirit from the Voodoo religion she was exposed to as a child - and it’s good to be polite, no matter what the case may be. Cassandra sits back slightly, watching the interaction between Geneva and then glancing up to the speakers mounted in the ceiling when the sound of crashing waves swirl around them. She shivers, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her, simply listening and enjoying the company.

With the intro of his talk a complete and utter failure, and with the lights a little brighter than they should be, Preston tries the light panel again. Miraculously, he somehow finds the right combination of buttons to make the lights dim slightly, the room becoming it a little more comfortable and less like being in an interrogation by the Company in the days before the war. The blinds had already been pulled, and now aside from the lights in the back half of the room - where everyone is sitting - the screen is on full display, the title of the talk sitting there. “Where’s that sound coming from?” Preston twists a knob, feedback howling through the room before he powers off the sound system entirely. This really isn’t going well.

“I really need to do this though, Miss Ezell.” Preston’s perfectly gelled hair is starting to melt like an ice castle, parapets of hair starting to wilt from sweat. “This talk is part of my internship. Just…just let me get through it and enjoy the refreshments and we’ll be done before lunch.” In three hours.

Preston drums his fingers on the podium, taking a sip of his water before beginning his utterly forgettable and completely mundane talk on the hazards of slipping and falling in Raytech. There are the usual slick floors, spills, hidden steps and the like, but there are other things, he added in, and not always entirely as a joke. Things like gravity reversal or robot stampede. Normally, this would be humorous, but Preston isn’t a very practiced speaker. He stops and stutters in places, restarting a few slides. The information is presented well, albeit boringly, and he absolutely refuses to go off script, reading directly from the slides. He doesn’t stop to ask questions or maintain eye contact with the audience - it’s more like he’s just trying to get through it as fast as he possibly can to get through the slides. And it’s about slide four of 86 that he realizes he overdid it completely.

“S..slide six. P…properly fitted shoes.” He swallows nervously and obviously stares right at Devi’s feet for a solid six to ten seconds before stammering out the rest of the slide.

The lulling atmosphere of waves rushing forward only to tickle at the sands of a beach has Devi considering Seren with a lofted brow. There’s a single nod of silent ‘way to have my back’-approval and Baird even gets a wink. Hell, for all she knows, Baird is the mastermind with the ability and Seren is the figment!

Gene’s comment raises two brows. “Reputation? As having the world’s largest stick up his ass, perhaps…” The Raven Queen turns an amicable smile Cassandra’s way. “Now we’re talking. Woman, I need to get outta this building. You knock on 108 and we’ll go poke ‘round this brewery together.”

From there, one might be inclined to give Devi ample amounts of credit for the willpower it takes not to put on a distracting, perhaps even childish, display. One would be sorely mistaken - it’s just the donuts and fruit that keep her occupied and therefore, at least temporarily, tame enough to allow Preston to make it even as far as slide six. The hesitation draws the biker’s attention away from the half-eaten strawberry at her lips… Her dark eyes follow Preston’s attention downward, across the flood and now they are both staring at her feet. Black leather in a cross between boots and gladiator-wear with thin metal stilettos that nearly reflect her face and halo of dark hair back up at her before realization hits. Her chin shoots up, flipping her waves back in total beach style befitting the earlier ambience, but her eyes read less confident. They share a silent statement akin to ’Oh shit.’

Vibrant violet lips scrunched off to the side, she stage whispers to the other attendees: “He’s one of those.”

Baird feels unreal to Geneva, most likely because it is. The creature is soft as fluff, a mixture of downy fur and feathers over leathery skin… impossible combinations that can't really be captured. Its wide ears flick and it turns to look at Seren after commentary is passed about the audio figments, its human's sheepish expression growing even moreso. Seren lifts their other arm to rub at the back of their short-shaved head, hand falling shortly after to rest over their tattoo… and the scar it mostly covers. Their finger twitches over the mark, a silent attempt to rein in slips in their ability.

Devi's look of appreciation is the one saving grace, and she receives a timid grin for it. Seren murmurs quietly to Baird before pulling their arm back to let the creature resettle on their shoulder. Their head tilts to the side to let the creature nuzzle their cheek before they reach down to pick up their abandoned cup of coffee to sip away at it.

When Preston loses his mojo — whatever of it he had — looking at the armory capping Devi's legs, Seren lets their gaze drop as well. "Judgey…" they agree over the lip of their cup. "But for a cause?"

Ever the optimist.

"…If 'one of those' means a brown noser." Unlike Devi's theatrical whisper, Geneva makes no effort, fake or otherwise, to conceal her automatically spoken insult to the room. This is not Preston's day today, and the girl is not really helping to ensure that it will ever become so.

Gene halts in her petting of Baird when a brush of her finger accidentally penetrates right through the mesh of reality forming the lining of the little animal. Her brain does not know what to make of this; it registers simply as a very odd tactile sensation meriting a reflexive withdrawal.

Whoops. Well that was— weird. She eyes him with some surprise, taking her hand away and simultaneously noting the ebbing noises of the beachfront around her. "Is this presentation going to be over soon?" she grumps, though in a somewhat more understated way than before.

In the ensuing discussion, with waves and Baird having a hand innocently rammed through the small of its little back, Cassandra has taken a seat near the group, but not entirely with it. Close enough to easily listen in and add to the conversation when the time is right, but far enough to not seem to be inviting herself to join it. It’s a very high-schoolish reaction to things, all things considered, like she’s not entirely sure about the social norms of how to interact with people in an office setting.

Watchers may consider it to be first-week jitters, but if they only knew…

Cassandra is, of course, unaware of what ‘one of those’ might be, but the lust-hungry gaze that Preston is giving Devi’s footwear is a little unnerving, but the subtle jabs coming from the rest of the party, followed by the stick up the ass comment, get her to giggling, the brunette hiding her mouth with her hand as she glances away.

Things are not going well for Preston at all. His carefully laid plans of impressing everyone with his knowledge of safety is going awry, and now he finds himself to be the butt of jokes. And it’s not like he planned to have Devi sit in the front row wearing such lovely shoes - it just happened, and it’s more of a distraction than he’s comfortable working through.

“Yes.” he says succinctly, trying to snap the clicker used to progress the slides in half with great effort, failing, and then flinging the control to the floor in front of the lectern, the slide stuck on #7 - Abrasive Floor Mats. “The presentation is over. I’m not going to stand here and be mocked. This is important.” He’s like a petulant child, being told he can’t have another cookie. “Here.” A folder of neatly photocopied pages is held up. “Here are your tests just…” He stalks out from behind the lectern and heads for the door. “Give them to your supervisors. You pass. Congratulations.” The papers are flung over his shoulders as he retreats from the room, defeated, the pages fluttering down like leaves.

“So.” Cassandra says, glancing to the gathered group. “I guess training is over, then?”

“Ay-” But, then there’s some giggling. “Ee-” Preston begins fuming. “I-” Oh hell, there he goes. “… Oh.” Devi’s stuttered and failed interruptions peeter out and her shoulders slump at the same time as the fluttering pages flit this way and that. She blinks at the empty doorway and then holds up both her hands like a person surrendering to the authorities. “I would like go on record by saying I in no way intend to fet-shame that poor boy. Feetsies are valid a kink as any.” She glances around. “Just sayin’.”

Unbenounced to all but one, some days later, the strange little intern known as Preston would find something waiting in his office mail slot. The item is a keychain, an unassuming circle with a small winding gear on the back. A few turns and the discretely thin metal unfolds like a rose that blooms outward so far as to fold back in on itself in many complex, intricate little petals until it transforms into a sharp, rosey stiletto. The little trinket remains this way for only thirty seconds or so before tiny tension rods and coils reverse the process.

Devi turns in her seat to wag a finger at the other corporate-tortured souls before bounding up, long legs cutting the distance in a few quick, heeled strides over to the podium. “That being said-” She starts jamming the console buttons willy-nilly. “The food and company ain’t ‘bout to go to waste.” The lights flicker a few times and she looks every bit as frustrated with contraption as Preston had. “How do you get some music up in this bitch?”

"Oh no," Seren croons, beginning to wilt. They'd been so caught up in the moment they'd not seen how badly it was distressing poor Preston until it was too late. A sympathetic wince happens when he tosses the papers over his shoulders, essentially dropping the mic on his way out.

"It was a disaster," they agree, "but perhaps we were a little rough on him."

Baird must feel similarly, taking flight with a flare of the wings on its back and a scramble of its feathery limbs to direct it. It tumbles onto the ground near the door, sticking its head over the threshold with a tiny croak for attention from someone who is likely well gone. It turns back to Seren for direction, but they shake their head gently. "Damage is already done, bud." they murmur almost too softly to be heard.

But maybe they could stop by his desk later and offer to help him with his presentation skills and confidence.

When Devi assumes control of the situation to try and salvage what remains of the scheduled time, they let out a sigh with a faint grin. "Here, Ms. Devi." She's nudged aside so Seren can station themselves at the terminal the PowerPoint is still visible on, swiping it away and pulling up something possibly more friendly to see: YouTube. "What are we listening to?"

"If there's no consensus, we listen to what Baird wants to!" they announce a little loudly, hoping to reclaim the attention of the distressed little dragon by the door. Its long lion-like tail flicks, the worried green at the tip of it mellowing into blues and yellows as it turns back with a grumble.

And then there is Geneva, who takes Preston's visceral reaction as a sign of a minor but highly entertaining personal victory. She has to suppress a giggle at the sight of a full-grown man expressing defeat in such a flamboyant manner— and if there is also a part of her that feels slightly bad, she does not show it.

"Hey, Preston, you're already done?" she does call aloud after retreat of the more hapless intern, though from the derision in her tone, it is very clear that this question is not coming from a place that is sympathy-based. Without waiting for an answer, because she doesn't care about one, she turns her attention to what Devi and Seren are respectively doing with the lights and music.

"…This morning's been too quiet. Let's get some rock beats going up in here."

Literally anything more exciting than How To Not Die From Stubbing Your Toe.

That would have been a more interesting discussion, certainly. Everyone could add in their own stories about slipping and falling, embarrassing moments and the like, all while munching on donuts and fruit. A win-win for all involved. Preston, sadly, went above and beyond, doing a presentation worthy of a high-tech rollout or an announcement of a new initiative being undertaken for high-level people who need to know the nuts and bolts of things. If there was ever an example of over preparedness, this would certainly be it.

Cassandra watches as Preston storms out, the fluttering of paper heralding his exit, his fancy shoes clicking as he walks down the tiled floor toward his office to lick his wounds and hopefully recover a little bit of his mojo. At least there were only four people watching the debacle - any more and he might have to hide in his office for the remainder of his internship.

Devi’s tinkering with the light panel goes much better. When you’re not panicking, it’s fairly intuitive, and whoever installed it seemed to know what they were doing, including settings for almost every conceivable iteration of lights, up to and including a party with flashes that syncs to whatever music is playing over the sound system.

YouTube and the like operating still is comforting to Cassandra, who watches quietly from her seat as music is debated over behind the podium. She notices Baird by the door and moves over to him, crouching down to offer a set of arms to leap into and be cuddled if it’s okay, standing after a moment to retake her seat, pushing the door of the conference room closed. “Not enough beer for zydeco or country.” she offers. “Just something good to listen to. Rock would work.”

And with the door closed, they shouldn’t be interrupted.

“Rock and Roll.” Devi agrees with a whoop, one hand throwing up the obligatory devil horns symbol. She even throws in a headbacng of wild, raven-dark hair for good measure. With a flip of those long, glossy tresses back, she comes up grinning at the group and slides out from behind the podium and into the party lights. Okay, they’re a bit disco, but this is corporate, what do you want?

“Alright, now it’s time for a real team-building exercise, oh-wonderful-co-workers.” Devi’s husky voice is as sing-song as she can make it. She holds up her hand in front of her nose, index finger pointing out and squiggling around in a pointy gesture from one person to the next. “One secret each, as big or a little as you want it. Did your dog really eat your homework in third grade? Or, did you sleep with your best lady’s S.O.? Come on, whaddya say?” Devi’s vibrantly painted lips take on a cheshire quality as she sashays her shoulders.

"Rock…" Seren murmurs, drumming their fingers along the edge of the keyboard and backspacing accidentally-entered keystrokes. They look over to Baird for a moment in contemplation, the tiny creature leaping onto Cassandra. Every time she thinks she'll get a hand on it, the dragon-like Baird scampering up her arm and around her shoulder, its movements light before it leaps away, soaring across the room in no particular direction.

In that time, Seren's brought up a music video, an echoing bassline starting to thrum in the speakers. They blink, not having expected it to be that loud. Baird croons happily along with the opening notes to Come As You Are by Nirvana.

Not a bad choice of music. At all. Geneva perks up the instant she hears that very recognizable opening riff, a quick grin spreading across her features as she feels the new vibrations the speakers have been repurposed to. "Nice," she calls over to Seren, lifting her voice to be heard above the noise of the lyrics.

It is Devi's antics that have grabbed her full attention, however— and to this show, she exhales loudly through her nose, already primed to be amused at however this will go. "…Well, it can't be worse than the last 'exercise.' Why don't you start us out, Devi?"

With the door closed and the lights suitably party-like, Cassandra, from her seat, unwinds just a bit, letting her arms come down from hugging herself tightly and just watching the show going on, giggling as Baird scampers all over her and then flies off into the room. Luckily there's enough food for everyone - imaginary friends included. Preston’s exodus was watched incredulously, a few of the flung tests fluttering down, one of them landing on her lap. She turns it over, glancing at the five multiple choice questions - all common sense answers, one an obvious trick, and a final one obviously a joke. (Greasing floors is an appropriate treatment for tile? Really?).

“Secrets or no, if Preston can't handle four people throwing shade in a safety meeting, he won't do well at all in corporate settings.” Cassandra observes, relaxing at the familiarity that Nirvana brings to the setting. It's really an odd situation - Nirvana and a light show in a corporate boardroom - but this is Raytech. It fits. Everyone gets a measured glance as truth or dare is suggested, and Cassandra is thanking her lucky stars that there isn't any alcohol bouncing around. The last thing she needs is to spread some of her deeper secrets. “I can go first. Like ripping off a bandaid, y’know?” Cassandra finally steps up and joins the group, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders. “Something no-one knows is that In high school, I manifested my evo ability at a party after a few too many drinks. Ended up showing a party of teenagers the memory of an assault on a beach during D-day.” She pauses. “Sword beach, I think.”

After all, it has been a long time since it happened, and three universes ago.

The biker bitch's gaze flits over to Seren with a look that is more than mildly impressed. She nods approvingly, in time with the beat. Geneva's reaction earns a swivel of Devi's dark gaze too. "Aw, where's your sense of adventure?…"

But, their new co-conspirator, er… co-worker, Cassandra jumps in feet first. Devi turns her grin onto the other woman with an obvious eagerness. Why do they ever let the biker bitch out of her lab or apartment? Really? Cassandra's admission comes with a lofted brow. "Damn. That's dark." Despite that, she's still smiling. "Musta really made you the life of the party. I'd like to see your shit at play some time," she adds, pointing flippantly over Cassandra's body from head to toe and back again.

Devi turns back to Geneva now and gives and obliging, exaggerated bow. "But, if you insist." She straightens, nearly neon lips pursed thoughtfully. "My mom thought she was a witty little thing - she gave me the initials D-E-E, Dee, and my brother L-E-E, Lee. Also, I like drugs and motorcycles more than people." She chuckles into the brim of the coffee being brought back to her lips, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes turned back out on the room to see who is next.

It isn't often Seren gives someone the stink-eye, but they don't hesitate to elbow Devi in the side when she leads with a particularly weak secret. "Ms. Devi," they chide. "I thought you were supposed to be sharing something people didn't already know." A grin accompanies the jab, shying away from a return physical jab they expect.

As for their own story, they look toward the table of food that Baird is delicately prowling, face in everything since it's not been chastised to get down yet.

"I was tagged as a kid," Seren says easily enough. "My second tattoo covers up the mark." Mostly.

Grinning at Baird with a wave of their hand, the little creature spreads its wings and soars from the table to reunite with its best friend, somehow not sending everything flying as it does so. It has a chip clutched in its paw, though no chips were on the table, and it deposits it into Seren's hand dutifully when it lands on their torso, hugging onto their form. "Thank you, buddy, that's very thoughtful," they murmur.

"My ability doesn't really turn off, so, I guess it was bound to happen." They trail off for a moment, but Baird chirping at them returns them to their usual bubbly state. They pet the tiny feathery dragon's back affectionately. "But, yeah, could you imagine me as a Company agent?" Seren laughs at themselves at the seemingly far-fetched thought. Them neither, apparently! "Though I do look dashing in a suit and tie."

For effect, they're suddenly dressed in one, and they turn a hip out to show off their duds. It's not the same with Baird in the way, but the little creature attempts to compensate by shifting colors to at least imitate the coloring of what the tie it's laying over would look like.

Very dashing indeed.

Geneva definitely raises a single eyebrow at Devi's admittedly weak 'secret', and she indicates her tacit agreement with Seren's assessment by tossing her hair back over a shoulder and sending an expectant and sardonic look over in the direction of the dark-haired woman. Surely, she could do much better.

Plucking her doughnut from her plate, the teenager turns in anticipation towards Seren when they begin to divulge their own secret, though this attention devolves into something much unhappier once it turns out that the Company is the chosen topic.

Once the colorful display occurs: there is a microburst of heat.

The sharp odor of burning jelly, cutting above the smell of fresher food. What remains of Gene's half-finished doughnut is now a smoldering and briquette-like lump. "I lost my older sister to the Company," she remarks resentfully, breathing in as she does so. Blackened crumbs flake out of her clenched fingertips onto the plate below.

"Fuck them. And everybody who used to work for them."

“It’s not like I chose that vision to show them.” Cassandra explains with a blush coloring her cheeks. “My ability works kind of the same way Seren does. If there’s not a hand on the brake and I hit something that’s a little more powerful than just your run-of-the-mill memory, it might just come out. I’ve got it under control all the time now, but those first few months were…interesting, to say the least.” She scuffs her toe on the ground bashfully. “I’ve got some pretty cool chunks of memory that I can pull out for parties. Stuff from New York before it all, Mardi Gras, rock concerts…stuff like that.” The quality of Devi’s secret is left unsaid but she does give the other two a look and a small shake of her head. “C’mon, she said as big or as small as we wanted. Besides…drugs aside, machines do have their own allure to them. Put them down and they stay there, fix them and they work without complaint, change them or modify them and you don’t get yelled at. Oh, and you can give them away or sell them and people don’t start going ‘oooh, slavery.’” Yes, she uses air quotes for that.

Cassandra quiets as Seren and Baird tell their admittedly better secret, and it takes everything she has to not blurt out ‘what’s a tag,’ making a mental note to look it up later. “Even after mine, I wasn’t tagged.” Cassandra says softly, chuckling when Seren and Baird morph into the Man in Black. “That’s a handy trick for wardrobe changes. You’d probably do better in Hollywood or on Broadway with a skill like that. Put a thousand costume designers out of business in a second.”

Geneva’s reaction, though, that gets Cassandra’s instinctual responses going. At the first whiff of burning the brunette whirls, scanning the room and finding the source of the burning smell coming from the formerly jelly-filled donut held in Geneva’s hands. Briskly, a metal trash can and a bottle of water are found, the plastic liner yanked free, and the whole contraption is held in front of Gene for her to deposit her scorched donut, after which the bottle of water is dumped on top of it all.

“It’s hard to not have a visceral reaction to the Company. Hell…that’s probably my biggest secret. And no, the secret isn’t that I worked for the company before getting on here at Raytech.”

Cassandra doesn’t explain, letting that lovely hook linger.

With half lidded eyes, Devi watches on. Seren's jab earn them a loft brow and a half smirk. She even feigns going after their retreated half-step, but stops short and winks. But, then others pick in on the value of her 'secret'. She watches those that take their turn at the impromptu trust-building exercise, each getting a fair share of her attention. The biker sniffs loudly and hoarse cough clears her throat, but does nothing to clear her naturally husky tones.

"Never told anyone she called me Dee…" Devi hesitates, just in her voice. On the outside she bobs her shoulders once, in the universal body language for 'no big'. She touches her tongue to her canine in a thoughtful way, and her pupils expand rapidly. "Haven't seen her in a few years." There's a coarse chortle. "Actually, she's been dead since the day I graduated high school, but I haven't seen her since I dropped the Glow a few years back." There's a pucker sound as she runs her tongue along her teeth and, with a blink, her pupils dilate back to a more natural circumference.

Seeming to realize the group is still there, Devi grins with an instant refresh on the mischievous quality. She lifts her mug and extends her index finger, gesturing round the group. "Don't get any smart ideas. To the rest of you I'm still just Devi… or… Miss Bitch, whatev'." The left side of her lips comes up a bit more and she chuckles.

Geneva's reaction provokes one from Seren, a startled one given the resent and anger in what she says. The color — what little of it there was — on Baird recedes from it, its form returning to a pure white down to the color of its eyes while it shrinks against Seren's shoulder. The suit too vanishes in a blink, same as it had appeared.

Who could have known any of them would have also had a brush with the Company, and one so foul? Then again, Raytech employed a lot of Evolved. Everyone in the room was! Seren attempts a grin for Cassandra's compliment, but is clearly more attentive to Geneva's distress. "I agree," they voice carefully. "And I'm glad they're gone. People shouldn't have to hide who they are." Dipping their head in a gentle nod, Seren adds, "I'm sorry for your loss, Geneva."

And after Devi speaks again, also with a heavy note, it's clear something needs done to lighten the mood!

"How about a weird fun fact, instead? Maybe the secret thing is a bit much for a first meeting?" they ask with an edge of hope to their voice, trying to inject cheer back into the room as they look from one person to the next.

Vacantly, Geneva extends her arm straight out in front of her and drops the entire blistering mess she had created into the trash can that Cassandra proffers, plate and all. She does not look at it as the bottom of the receptacle thumps and the lid closes over it, being focused instead on eliminating the thoughts from her head.

"Sorry," the blonde teen grouses irritably, but also with a grudging note of contrition as her gaze sweeps towards the now drained, monochromed Baird. Sorry about that, little guy. "Were you a Company agent?" she inquires at Seren, squinting suspiciously at the architect who now appears to be just a touch too cheerful and dapper.

It also appears the time for secrets is not yet over, at least as far as Gene is concerned, because the next person to become the target of her cynicism is Cassandra. "And what's your secret supposed to be all about?"

Cassie remains silent until she’s wheeled on, maintaining her distance, even taking a step back and putting down the smoldering trash can. “To put it bluntly, I don't know who I was before 2013, or really much of anything before high school.” Cassandra turns and sits carefully facing the group, crossing one leg over the other demurely, her comfortable skirt and sensible shoes exactly what Preston would enjoy looking at. And when she speaks, it's with a cool certainty. This is true what she's saying.

“You really want to know what my secret is about?” Cassandra closes her eyes for a second, seemingly steeling herself before continuing. “Fine. Before 2013, I was an unwilling part of an illegal institute experiment - that's all I really know - that gave me the face and memories of the person you see here. Anything I was before is completely gone. Who I was, family, friends, anything?” She shakes her head. “All gone.” She lifts her hands, looking at herself for a second. “The template I was based off of was a precognitive named Cassandra too. She has the same powers that I do, like twins, almost. Worked for SESA, from what I understand.” Cassandra sighs, the front feet of her chair lifting off the ground as she rocks back, then forward with a clack on the carpeted floor. “My job here at Raytech is the US government trying to figure out something useful to do with me, since I was an innocent bystander to the Institute’s plans.”

Cassandra looks to Devi, then Seren, then finally to Geneva, holding her gaze. “So my secret is this: every morning I wake up to a face that's mine, but doesn't feel right, even though it should, even after six years of seeing it. I get flashes of memory I can't recall or even tell that's mine, and I have an evolved ability that lets me project the past from objects with perfect clarity - except not mine or anything to do with who I was before. Threads are too messy for that.” She explains with a sigh, shaking her head before straightening again. “Sorry for being a buzzkill. Weird fun fact…um…” Cassandra thinks for a moment. “I can play zydeco accordion. Badly.”

Devi watches Seren carefully shift from serious to lighthearted at record speed in much the same way she had attempted herself. So, she watches a moment longer and then smirks. It’s a good effort, but the Geneva’s anger seems to have left hot embers of tension scattered about - especially while the group awaits Seren’s answer.

Cassandra’s real secret, well… “That’s a mind fuck,” Devi blurts out aloud. She lifts a hand, rubbing roughly at one cheek so that her face gets all mushed and stretchy till she drops her hand back to her side with a sharp clap against her thigh. Devi’s painted lips part a few more times - open, close, open, close - but ultimately she just shakes her head at Cassandra. That cluster is going to need some processing before she touches that topic again. Between Cassandra’s persona-transplant, face-swap, and accordion playing, she’s earned herself a couple of silent blinks from the normally chatty biker.

“What were we-Oh… weird fact.” Devi bobs one shoulder and then leans her torso back in an almost lewd way. Then she starts fiddling at her belt line. Seriously good that HR wasn’t invited to today’s show. Ultimately she just reveals the only slightly intimate area near her hip bone - whereupon there is a tattoo: Invader Zim riding a unicorn farting rainbows. “My first tattoo was a bad decision.”

"No." Seren answers Geneva directly, immediately. "No, I was not."

They're reserved after that, listening through the rest of what's said without looking at any one person in particular, hand on Baird's back as the creature lays its head on their shoulder. If possible, its color has disappeared even further, drifting from a pure snowy white to a darkening gray. Mostly, Seren comes back to the conversation only when they hear the term 'evolved ability', eyes flitting back up. "Projected psychometry or something?" they ask easily, trying to drive focus to the not buzzkill moments in the sharing adventure. "That's primal."

When Devi leans back to show off her first tattoo, some life starts to return to them, visible in how the color shifts in Baird's palette. The creature lifts its head, its face gradually shifting from gray to a soft blue. One of its tiny back legs darkens to a green. Like a sneeze in slow-motion, different hues sprinkle its body, bleeding a little bit here and there at a time. Like most of Baird's changes go, Seren appears oblivious to it. They're too busy shaking their head, cheeks warm with color as they laugh. "What about that is a bad decision, Ms. Devi!"

Though the embers of her irritation have not quite died away fully, Geneva greets this information with an amount of surprise on several levels: she had not expected such a thorough explanation- probably because she would not have given one herself- and what is given is intensively appalling.

"Fuck the Company, and fuck the Institute," Gene reiterates as she takes all of this in, and this time it is more like a spit as it exits her mouth. Seren's shorter declaration is judged next, and this she looks uncertain about for a greater length of time. Eventually however, she lets it go with a reluctant acceptance, and the sight of Devi's ridiculous tattoo does at least seem to ease her tautness somewhat. "I've seen… alright, I haven't seen much worse than that."

She can't very well lie.

Well, Geneva could tell a lie. It would be the polite thing to do, to tell a lie or, at least, to bend the truth, but it seems that honesty is the best policy in this case. And, truth be told, that willingness to be truthful moves the intern up a few notches in Cassandra’s rankings of interns. And Geneva shouldn’t worry - the list is only populated by her, blank space, and Jordan somewhere near the bottom.

Letting out a breath, Cassandra crosses and uncrosses her legs, pushing herself to sit on the front edge of her chair, leaning over a little, her hair falling a little over her face as she does so. “I’m sorry for bringing the meeting to a crashing halt. And yes, fuck the Company and fuck the Institute.” It seems to be a sentiment held by the majority of the people that she’s met who have knowledge of such things.

Turning to Devi after a moment, Cassandra straightens and nods. “It is. You can imagine that things are kind of crazy when you don’t have much of a base to build off of. Starting over in New York was the only thing that I really could think of doing.” After all, there’s not much better of a place to go and disappear to that’s safe for evolved than the middle of a rebuilding city after a massive war. And if there was, Cassandra couldn’t think of it.

And then Devi’s showing off Invader Zim, and that earns a small chuckle and a snort. “Admittedly, I would have gone with Gir myself, but at least it’s a story to tell about a decision you might have wish you made otherwise.” Cassandra says. “But considering the subject matter, your artist did pretty good.”

Seren’s comment gets a nod. “To break it down to Preston levels, my ability can overwrite your senses, and the senses of everyone else in about a ten square foot area, and show you - live and in living color - things that happened before, based either off of objects that they hand me or the location I’m in. It’s like Devi said - I’m the life of the party if I get a good memory to replay. My favorite go-to was Queen at London from the 80’s. I managed to find a T-shirt bouncing around that was there, so I can show most of the concert, with you about ten rows back, watching Brian playing and Fred singing his heart out.”

Devi’s gaze flits from one person to the next in a semi-glossed state. She’s taking it all in, but it seems to gunk up the gears somewhere in processing. Things aren’t burning any more, there’s only a small number of profanities, and no-one’s throwing fits or punches. So, Invader Zim has done his job and is tucked away for another day, but Devi’s attention span seems spent. The biker turns away from the group and grabs three donuts - two’s not enough and four seems excessive - then begins to cut a path to the door. “It’s been fun. Next team building exercise is at the nearest bar, though, ‘kay? And, if anyone asks - the paper shredder turned into a Death Spider and ate our homework.” There’s only a brief glimpse of her grin before it’s stuffed in a donut and she’s slipping out the door.

"Is it odd that that's a valid excuse?" Seren asks. Rhetorically, of course. "Because I feel like that passes for a legitimate reason around here."

Turning toward Cassandra, they lift their shoulders in a shrug, color still in the process of bleeding back into the imaginary being curled up against them. "Well, welcome to New York, Cassandra. Welcome to Raytech. And fuck the Institute." Because that seems to be the general sentiment right now.

"I might take a sheet from Ms. Devi's book and head back to work myself…" they trail, shrugging one shoulder. They're in no rush.

As much as the scowl on Geneva's face now seems like a permanent fixture, she also wraps a new doughnut in a fresh napkin before exiting through the door with all the chagrined stiffness of a slighted cat — even though on her part, it is without any further parting words. Going back to work is actually something she is looking forward to, and working on her ability to set things ablaze may just help her deal with the latent frustrations awoken by this gathering.

Just in case it really needed be reiterated yet a third time, fuck the Institute.

As Devi heads out the door with her donut, Geneva doing the same, Cassandra, in her seat near the front of the room, just watches and nods. “Nearest bar. Done. I hear the Cat’s Cradle is an interesting spot.” And then Devi is gone with her donut and warning of a cantankerous paper shredder. Seren’s comment gets a chuckle and a nod. “I agree. It’s not an entirely invalid excuse. I heard something about a raptor receptionist that chased someone out of the atrium before the shutdown codes could be broadcast.” There was a slide in orientation about it, after all. Everyone who leaves gets a wave and a small smile before she slumps back into anonymity. A soft sigh escapes as she revels in the sudden silence of an abandoned meeting room, a stack of pastries and fruit left there, unattended, along with the remains of Preston’s test.

One of the pages is scanned and quickly answered with the pen that Cassandra keeps in the inside pocket of her jacket, circling each right answer, signing it and dating it in the appropriate spot, and taking note of the names of the people who /were/ there. A day or so later, each participant (Seren gets two - one for Baird) will receive an envelope with the answers already filled out, awaiting their signature, to be handed to the appropriate supervisor. The bounty of the room is also divided, each person getting some of the pastries and fruit and bottled drinks to squirrel away or distribute in their departments as they see fit. And to anyone’s knowledge outside the room, Preston did a fine job, with each person getting 100% on their test on slip and fall hazards in the workplace.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License