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| Scene Title | All Of Us, Part III |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The Company comes together to discuss a series of new cases and revelations in older ones. |
| Date | April 22, 2010 |
Fort Hero, Conference Room
It is under a tense atmosphere that agents of the Company's investigative department have once more been called together for a meeting in the conference room deep below Fort Hero. Familiar faces of the large team of agents running gamuts of young and old, evolved and non evolved have become familiar with this routine. Though for agent Rain O'Niel and Allison Richards, this is their first time seeing their entire investigative team together in one place.
Seated at the head of the table, Assistant-Director Martin Crowley looks more tired than he has in recent months. Slouched forward with his chin resting on one hand, there's a look in his eyes that shows an unspoken burden. Beside him, agent Corbin Ayers is actually asleep, arms folded over his laptop and head down, looking to be trying to catch a semblance of a nap before the meeting begins in earnest, and Crowley for once isn't jostling him awake.
Next to Ayers a chair has been left empty, pushed in to the table and a stack of books left in it. Ever since agent Ichihara's death, no one has disturbed the chair, and no one has tried to take her place by Corbin's side. Next in line down the table, agent Gracie Lee sits with back straight and chin tilted up, the glow of her blackberry cast across her face, quietly typing onto it while casting a furtive glance across the space between she and corbin to the sleeping agent.
Beside Gracie her partner, Grant Fitzpatrick reviews a file dossier, flipping thorugh pages of old field reports, rubbing fingers over his brow and breathing in deeply as he tries to study something likely relevent to what's going to be discussed today. As the investigative team's analytical specialists, Gracie and Grant's roles as information handlers has saddled them with an increasingly broad workload. On the cover of the bright red folder marked with a black sticker, a name is visible to the others at the table: ROOIJKER, David.
Down the line from Grant, agent Ryans sits beside his new partner Rain O'Niel, the youngest member of the investigative force and one of the youngest members of the Company as a whole. Ryans, notably, has an arm bound into a sling from a rumored altercation somewhere on Manhattan earlier in the week.
Just past Rain sits agent Henry Webb, arms folded across his chest and brows furrowed, staring down at his crooked necktie and wondering silently if anyone else is going to notice how hastily he donned it earlier. Webb's eyes flick up and around the office, then back down to the tie in scrutiny, snorting nosily as he does.
At the far end of the table opposite of Martin sits agent Veronica Sawyer, a stack of documents and folders several inches high in front of her, along with a closed netbook. All of the documents with her have not Company filing identification on them, but Department of Homeland Security seals stamped on their covers.
Beyond Sawyer and up the other side of the table, across from Henry, Allison Richards is given one of the corner seats, afforded her first meeting by being situated next to a young woman who by all rights should probably be locked up not working for the Company. But Elle Bishop is the boss' daughter, and while the blonde sits there filing her nails and humming idly to herself, the man further up the table from her furrows his brows and leans forward, resting his shaved head in his hands.
Bryan Buckley has been with the Company since childhood, in that time he's seen the organization go through several changes, but some how the former Kill Squad member seems like an odd fit in the investigative team, and he seems to notice that square-peg-round-hole symptom.
Past Buckley sits Maria Delgado, back straight, hands folded in her lap and notepad out on the table with two pencils and a pen, awkwardly organized and studious in her rookie status with the Company.
This leaves the brooding and lanky man opposite of Corbin last at the table. The Haitian, as most know him, seems to be distracted in his thoughts. Hands folded in front of him at the table, his necklace twirls from side to side, that half strand of RNA catching glimpses of fluorescent light from the ceiling. Notably, Lashirah Lee isn't here today, but the plastic dome of a conference call hub on the table indicates that she's likely down in the lab, working and also listening.
Since it is Allison's first time seeing most of these people, she takes the opportunity before the meeting truly starts to look around at people. A pleasant, plastic smile rests upon her lips as her gaze slides from person to person, observing, both individuals and the interactions between them. The downfall of a shrink. Always studying people.
Her hands rest in her lap, her clothes a simple and no doubt expensive pantsuit. May as well look the part of an agent or shrink while she's here. Her reputation could use a boost, and first impressions are everything.
Rain moves over and settles into a random chair, not really knowing who sits where normally. He slips down, and settles in, his hands clasped in his lap, the kid's eyes roaming about the table. He looks rather nervous, fidgeting and shifting about in his seat, his eyes moving to everyone present and everyone that walks in. After a little while his eyes end up pulling around to stare at the table top, and there they stay for the time being, just watching the table top and nothing more, though he still listens to people coming and going.
Unlike Allison, Veronica's in snow boots, jeans, and a thick sweater, her peacoat hanging on the back of the leather chair, little puddles of water from where flakes of snow have dropped and melted on the conference room floor. Her fingers reach out to tidy the already neat stack of files, as dark eyes flicker to the new face in the room. She raises an expressive brow at Ryans, and there's the faintest tic of her lips to one side, though she doesn't outright smile.
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Fedora resting on the table, jacket across the back of his chair, leaving him in his normal Company Agent clothing. Fingers tap on the table, making no noise, eyes scan around the table until they find Veronica and catches that look. The tapping pauses and his own mouth tugs to one side a touch as well, a resigned look on his features.
Fingers move from the table to tug at where strap of the sling cuts across his neck, Ryan's has never been a fan of slings, it won't be long before it's tossed aside. His head turns back to Martin, the older agent actually looks a touch concerned for the Assistant Director and the man sitting near him. Beyond that, unlike what Rain saw earlier, Ryans is back mostly to that expressionless mask.
Face down on his keyboard, Corbin continues to nap quietly as they gather. This time, it isn't Agent Lash who needs to be woken up, but him— Not that anyone's really made a move to do that. Definitely not his normal behavior for meetings, even when he was spending hours in the archives, it would rarely be him asleep at his desk.
Watching the agents settle in, Martin breathes in deeply and then exhales a tired sigh. "Alright, let's… get this started, shall we?" Rolling his chair to the side, he depresses the button on a remote control and activates the large LCD television behind himself, displaying only a black screen and a subtle hum of the electronics having been turned on. Brows furrowed, Martin stares at Corbin and then offers a look up to agent Grant and nods his head to the sleeping agent.
Grant cracks a smile, lifting one hand into the and and flicks it in Corbin's direction. At the gesture, there's a click against Corbin's wristwatch as a tiny scuff appears on the glass, though to Corbin it feels like someone tapped a knife edge down twice on his wristwatch to get his attention. "Wakey, wakey," Grant chirps with a raise of his brows, toothily smiling as he reclines into his seat, hands folding in his lap.
"We have three very distinct problems to go over today, and I'd like to start with what is unfortunately the easiest but also the most complicated." Rubbing a hand over his beard, Martin furrows his brows, straightens his glasses and looks over to Ryans. "On Monday, a private request to the Company from Daniel Linderman crossed my desk. Now as some of you know mister Linderman has been a long time supporter and administrator within our organization, and the request was a rather simple one. He had an evolved cheater at his Casino and requested an agent's assistance in defusing the situation."
Leaning back into his chair with a creak, Martin steeples his fingers and rests his elbows on the padded arms of his chair. "When attempting to take the cheater, James Alton, into custody, Ryans and a floor manager at the Corinthian were attacked by an armed, presumably mercenary group and were chased to the roof. Evidence of a technopath's involvement in their chase and knowledge of Ryans' family held by the attackers leads us to believe that the entity called Rebel may have been involved. I'll leave agent Fitzpatrick to cover information on that individual."
Looking ot Grant, Martin furrows his brows, then looks over across the table again. "Two of the mercenaries were killed in the altercation and at least three more escaped the scene. Mister Linderman assisted us in covering up the attack to keep other potentially interested parties — and the media — from jumping all over this situation. However, we do not presently know why the technopath may have wanted Mister Alton, or how he knew where to find him. Alton is currently in our custody for the moment, recovering from his injuries."
Offering Grant a nod, Martin relinquishes the floor and the younger agent clears his throat, closing the file folder he was reading inf ront of himself. "We have suspicions that the technopath involved in this attack was very likely the entity identifying itself as Rebel, due to patterns of operation and liklihood of striking out at Company targets. However, I've done some research into who Rebel is, and uncovered some interesting data. Rebel isn't a single individual, but rather a gestalt of three technopaths who seem to have… circumvented their own deaths by becoming some sort of electronic consciousness."
Martin activates the screen at his back, and the image of a middle aged man with ruddy skin and dark hair in glasses appears on the screen. The picture is old, black and white, and looks like a military service photograph from a dossier. "We believe one of the three is a man born David Rooijker, during WWII. Rooijker's family died during the war and he was was brought up in a Monastery somewhere in Europe, eventually landing in Argentina after the war in the care of a surrogate family. The Company had fleeting connections with him through to the 1970s, and last physical contact with Rooijker was in 1977. He is, quite likely, one of the smartest men in the world but also non-violent which makes this situation somewhat paradoxical. Rooijker adopted the name Richard Drucker during his time in Argentina and following his skirting with the Company was tapped by the United States Government to assist in the development and construction to build a nationwide communications network called ARPANET, which… eventually became what is known today as the Internet."
Furrowing his brows, Grant rubs a hand over his forehead. "We… lost track of him in 1985 in Nepal, and in 1992 Robert Bishop led a team of Company investigators to look into rumors of Drucker's death. They met with a confidant of Drucker's that claimed he had perished, though evidence learned at the time indicated that Drucker had somehow transcended the need for a physical body, and existed solely as some sort of… technopathic ghost in the machine."
Flipping thorugh the file, Grant's brows raise and his shoulders rise and fall into a shrug. "Ahhh, we— don't have confirmation on who the other three identities of Rebel may be, though one is suspected to be connected to a Chinese Communist party technopath codenamed Behemoth that was involved in counter-espionage action against the Company during a government-sponsored military operation over the winter, codenamed Operation: Apollo. We believe that Drucker and his accomplice may have recruited "Behemoth" t work with them, or… perhaps assimilated them. We don't know at this point. But we do know that Rebel, as Drucker and his accomplices are colleectively known, have been attempting to operate openly against the government for months now."
"Thank you, agent Fitzpatrick." Martin offers with a nod of his head, breathing in slowly and exhaling a sigh. "Ayers, you can fill us in more on the mercenaries that were killed on the scene, and mister Alton."
Hearing the first problem, Allison tilts her head but otherwise doesn't move. There's no change in expression, no tensing, nothing. However, when the picture appears on the TV her eyes flick from the agents to the screen, and she studies the picture intently. Still though there's no obvious reaction from the hypnotist. If it weren't for that pasted on smile of hers, she might almost be mistook for bored.
Hearing the first problem, Allison tilts her head but otherwise doesn't move. There's no change in expression, no tensing, nothing. However, when the picture appears on the TV her eyes flick from the agents to the screen, and she studies the picture intently. Still though there's no obvious reaction from the hypnotist. If it weren't for that pasted on smile of hers, she might almost be mistook for bored.
Rain sits up as the meeting begins, his hands on the table in front of him, and his pale blue eyes focused on whomever happens to be speaking at the time. The information about the entity Rebel brings a thoughtful look to his face, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. A meaningful look is tossed over towards Ryans about something or another, then Rain is back to listening to agent Fitzpatrick as he continues the report on the being. When he's done Rain leans back in his chair slowly, his eyes going over towards Martin, then around the table, studying everyone else's reactions to what's been said. Rain eventually ends up pulling out a small memo pad and jotting down a few notes onto it before setting it on the table top and resuming listening.
The names of Linderman and Rebel have Veronica arching her brows at the appropriate moments as she types her own notes into her Blackberry. The concept of three human minds fusing into some singular entity is an interesting to the daughter of a renowned neurosurgeon, one who once had hoped to study the same field. How does a mind work when there's no brain? How do three minds work together? The world she once hoped to study makes no sense anymore. She reaches out to push another file slightly out of line with one finger, only to straighten it back again.
When the meeting begins, Ryans settles back into his seat, foot coming up to rest on his knee, a hand gripping the ankle, giving Martin his full attention. The mention of his girls, his eyes drop to the surface of the table, the grip on his ankle tightens and his jaw also clenching. What doesn't show is the worry for their safety.
When pictures flash up on the screen the Senior Agent lifts his gaze to look at the screen paying attention to the information presented. He's fascinated by the idea that three people make up that Rebel entity. In Ryans' mind, Rebel couldn't be sane if it was true.
With a sudden start, Corbin sits up from his computer, blinking and obviously in sleep mode still as he looks around unsure for a moment— eyes settle briefly on the empty chair next to him, before he looks away to the people who woke him, "Sorry, I— Alton case, just…" he trails off, bringing his computer back out of screensaver mode. He's only half paying attention to the talk of all the machine invading ghosts, three people avoiding their own death…
"James Alton is an Unregistered Precognitive," he explains tiredly, fighting back the urge to yawn and stretch, as he flicks the mouse across the screen to show a picture of him. Very recent, since as they said, he happens to be in their custody. "Formerly an investment banker from Manhattan, he had a successful career and family-life until the bomb. His family, including his wife, son, mother and father were all killed in the explosion while he'd been in Los Angeles on a business venture. He— sort of disappeared off the grid after the bomb like so many people did, living out of hotels, apparently, and quitting his job. Most of his person savings was gone in a couple months due to frivilous spending and gambling in Las Vegas." There's a pause as he rubs his hands over his face, before continuing on. "He returned to New York last fall, and was persumed to be cheating at the Corinthian Casino utilizing an Evolved ability. Linderman requested our assistance." A repeat of things already shared, some of that, but he's only half awake.
"The men who attacked Ryans were all former employees of Stillwater Solutions, a private security company. The two were were killed are identified as Terrence Lowell, 32, former US Army Ranger, and Malcom David Bryce, 36, ex-Navy Seal. Both were residents of New York City with no prior criminal convictions, and no family. They were outfitted with military grade ballistic vests and firearms, and each carried a single cellphone that had no record of sent or recieved calls on them."
With the desired information given he finally looks down at his watch and rubs at it, as if checking for scratches.
"So…" Martin offers with a roll of his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "How do we connect a group of former PMC operatives, an unregistered precognitive with no prior connections to either Stillwater Solutions or Rebel to all of this?" Leaning back in his chair, Martin laces his hands over his chest and shakes his head slowly. "There's one, final wrinkle in all of this too, that deserves note. David Rooijker happens to be a blood relative of a former Company agent that has gone rogue as of 2006 with former senior agent Noah Bennet…"
There's a furrow of Martin's brows as he notes, "Her name is Hana Gitelman, alias Wireless. We may have a way to get in touch with her, but at the moment she's not a suspect so I'd like to not burn any bridges there. This also means, however, that I would like a volunteer willing to try and get in touch with her to see what she may know about the Drucker situation. Her ability is a wireless technopathy, she may have… some insight. But we'd have to play it careful."
"Alright, team. Suggestions, ideas, methods of approach, questions…" Martin claps his hands together, "let's put our heads together and see what we can come up with."
And here is when Allison actually shows a bit of life to her by speaking. "What happened at the Corinthian to make Linderman suspect this Alton of cheating using his ability? Was it just a strong winning streak?" she asks.
Rain looks over to Martin, his lips pursing, then his lower one caught in his teeth before he lifts his hand up into the air like he's sitting in a classroom. "I tend to get along with people, and very few think I could possibly be a threat or anything like that. So… I'll volunteer to contact this Hana Gitelman." He Then lowers his hand, his cheeks flushing a bit as he realizes what he did. He presses his lips together, then to one side of his face, and jsut goes silent, glancing over to Allison, then back to Martin. "Could Rebel have been the one who guided the kid to kill the two agents?" he asks in a somber tone.
Rain's offer gets a slight huff of a laugh. "Gitelman will eat you alive. No offense, kid. Good people skills don't count for shit with her," she says dryly. "Gitelman came around to meet me the last time I tried. She wasn't particularly helpful but it could have gone worse. She'll meet on her terms or not at all. She may or may not agree to meet me again, but I can try.
Her dark eyes then move to Allison. "Anything that goes against the averages of a casino is suspect. They'll note his appearance, take his photo off the videos, pass it around, watch the person the next time he's in — next time, same thing happens? It's fishy. Whether it's counting cards or Evolved power. And casinos talk to one another. If he's not showing any of the typical card counting things and he's getting super lucky, the odds would be it's Evo," Sawyer explains. She doesn't have any theories on the rest of it.
"Yes…" Ryans answers Allison, having been the agent on scene. Glancing down the table to the shrink, he continues,"He was having a large winning streak at the card tables and they couldn't figure out exactly how. So they thought it might be ability based. Not to mention he's spent time over at the Speakeasy." A glance to Corbin, "Probably had just as big a streak there as well."
He glances at Martin and turns thoughtful. "It would be a risk, but why not go to the source. He obviously knows everything about me already, so if we want to risk talking to this… thing ourselves, I'm willing to put myself out there." He hand lifts in a pushing away gesture. "Away from the base… with a computer not connected to us. "Another thing, maybe go to Stillwater itself, if it's still around see what we can get on these men." The fact that one is an Ex-Navy Seal chafes the old agent some. "I may be able to go through contacts to see if David Bryce, said anything to any of his old team mater."
He glances at the others a small smile on his lips, "One thing about the teams, we keep in touch. There are networks, boards… hell I still email all my old team mates, get together with others when they come to New York. The teams were a family. I knew the families personally… all that."
That said, Rain gets his attention next. "I don't think so. Not from what I was seen." Ryans glances at Martin, "I don't believe it's related." Not with that photo that Gael showed him.
"I'd love to meet Bennet again someday," Corbin says quietly, voice a little drawn out with sleepy, as he rubs at his eyes, trying to get the dried sleep out while he tries to think how to form his question and move away from his fanboyness over Bennet. "Are we working on the assumption that they would have gone after any agent, or is there a particular reason they might have gone after Ryans? Specifically? You weren't involved in anything with any technopaths in the past, were you? Where they might hold a grudge?"
Martin's brows furrow when Rain brings up the death of the agents, one hand rubbing across his forehead. "Possibly but— don't get ahead at the moment. That situation's up for discussion a bit later, let's not confuse things we can't be certain of yet." Looking over to Allsion, Martin squints, trying to remember what she asked and offers a breathy huff of 'ah' when he remembers.
"We don't know, Mister Linderman didn't inform us of how he knew, only that he did. However, Agent Sawyer is likely right on the money about this, though it may be worthwhile to speak to a Linderman Group representative about the situation. I'll leave that avenue open, and if any agents would like to talk to someone from the Linderman Group, I'll arrange for a meetin'. I can't say if it'll be entirely fruitful, but it might not be a bad idea."
"Sawyer, if you're volunteering to meet with Gitelman, than I'm willing to have the both of you go, if only because Gitelman makes me more nervous than I would be locked in a cage with a hungry tiger. As far as contact Rebel goes… Ryans, if you feel comfortable making that attempt," there's a furrow of Crowley's brows, "you have my permission to, though if you get into a verbal conversation with him, try utilizing analogue recording devices, an old tape recorder, see if we can get his voice sampled. We may be able to extrapolate identities from it… it he can even talk anymore."
"It could certainly be worth checking out," Allison says with a nod to Martin. "It may just be a small detail, but enough small details adds up to the big picture."
Rain goes quiet again, simply making notes in his memo pad, but not speaking further at this time, blue eyes flickering from person to person as they speak, in the end settling on Martin.
The jaded brunette arcs a brow and gives Martin a Really? sort of look, but she bites her tongue. It's not Rain's fault he looks like a blond Justin Bieber or something. "So you want me to start trying to get in touch with Gitelman? I'm not sure she'll want to meet two agents at a time, to be honest, but we can try. It's possible she'd be more comfortable with someone she hasn't already thrown a knife at, but she might prefer me because she already knows she's downed me in the past," Sawyer says. There's no sense of humility in the words, just a matter-of-fact statement.
"I should have an old recorder floating around somewhere." The Agent says with a small lift to a corner of his mouth, it's a comment about his age. "I think with everything going on, beyond this one case, we could use the information. And like I said… I'm already out there and exposed. I'll take the risk. My girls are already in danger, since they mentioned them… I don't think it's going to make it worse." Ryans' hand rests on his leg as he listens to the rest of it.
"Alright, then we'll have an open offer to an agent to check out the Linderman Group and see what they knew about James Alton before Ryans got to the Corinthian." Martin notes with a nod of his head, elbows coming to rest on the table, fingers steepling in front of his mouth. "Sawyer you can attempt to contact Gitelman and see if she'd be comfortable meeting with two agents, if so bring O'Niel with you. Ryans, get on trying to contact Rebel and see what response he gives." Slouching back in his chair, Martin offers a nod to Corbin, who changes the slide displayed on the screen, the image changes to a map of New York City with several red marks on it, one on Staten Island, one in Queens, two on Manhattan and another to the west in New Jersey.
"This… next case is a bit unfortunate to have to handle. What you see behind you is a pattern of attacks attributed to a current most-wanted by the Department of Homeland Security. The Company, at the request of Director Bishop, is going to be working in direct cooperation with Agent Audrey Hanson of the Department of Homeland Security and agent Felix Ivanov of the Federal Bureau of Investigations on tracking a serial killer that we originally thought may have… been the Midtown Man."
Swallowing tightly, Martin furrows his brows and crosses his arms over his chest. "The Company has bene very quietly handling this investigation as best as we can, but now it looks like we may have to lay the full weight of our investigative team on the subject involved. Agent Sawyer has information pertaining to this case," Martin notes with a nod of his head, looking ot Corbin, "and Agent Ayers is going to give us what little we know about our perpetrator who… we believe may be the biological father of Gabriel Gray." Sylar, The Midtown Man. "Unfortunately it seems the apple truly did not… fall far from the tree here."
"Right, Samson Gray," Corbin says, pulling out of his daydreaming for a moment to flick over to the next file, and a picture of an old guy with big bushy beard and scraggly gray hair and glasses. "This is from a driver's license from New Jersey, when he lived in Newark. As far as we've been able to tell so far, he extracts abilities by removing the brains of Evolved victims. From the ones we know he killed, and abilities he's exibited, we know he has Danger Sense, Smoke Form, Telekinesis and Ability Detection. It seems to be very closely related to Sylar's ability to emulate evolved powers posthumously."
Well that's something that gets a grimace out of Allison. Brains are more interesting inside the skull. Otherwise she'd be a neurosurgeon, not a psychiatrist. She glances up to the map, studying it. "What makes you believe that it's Samson Gray and not Gabriel?"
"Though Senior needs to take his brains out with instruments, unlike Junior," Veronica says, dryly. "I'm working with Hanson and I might be able to work with Ivanov — if we can tag team, and they get him before we do, hopefully that will earn us our bread and water for another day or two, right?" Not that she's sure she wants to. She turns to glance at Martin, not sure how much she is supposed to share of her own plans.
"I have some ideas in the works, but not sure how they'll shake out. Here's the thing — he's got danger sense, so he'll know ahead of time that we're in coming for him if we are. It sounds like Rene's power should out-stretch his by a little bit, but … is there any way we can duplicate Haitian? Got anyone who can make clones for us?" She smirks to show she's mostly joking. "Or we could try and get some of that negation gas the government has." Her eyes shift to Martin. Unfortunately, she probably knows the answer to that question — it's not a toy they have access to, is her guess.
The former Marine's expression is oddly dreamy. He -does- seem to be listening, but there's this wistful, reminiscent, 'how much is that puppy in the window?' air to it. "So, Papa Gray doesn't yet have the instant trepanation ability yet, eh? I wonder how Junior figured that shit out. Like, presumably he stole it….and god knows who or what from." Henry shakes himself like a dog coming out of water, as if to try and free himself from the temptation to daydream.
The senior agents brows lift high on his head at the next case. Sylar's father. That is a scary thought, father like son. The picture flashed up on the screen is studied thoughtfully. Then his head turns slightly to glance down the table towards Veronica, his brows quirk upward slightly, though his thoughts don't really show on his features.
"Danger Sense… That is a tricky one." Ryans says softly, eyes drifting to the table in thought, hand running over his chin. "The only thing that comes to mind right away is hitting him with the Haitian around." He glances at Corbin, "Maybe look back into the old reports see if there have been any cases similar and get an idea of how those agents took on that ability?" With thirty some odd years of Company cases… it's worth a shot in his mind. "Though Rene has been around for awhile, so there are chances he was the key." He nods at Veronica.
Looking over tot he Haitian, who has — unsurprisingly — been silent thorugh the whole conference, Martin tips his head into a nod. "I'll get Ayers on looking up some previous cases about Danger Sense and see how we can possibly work around it." Leaning back in his chair, Martin folds his hands in his lap and fixes Allison with a scrutinizing look. "Agent Hanson of DHS and Sawyer here discovered evidence of Samson's activities in his abandoned home in Newark New Jersey, furthermore we matched DNA found in the ash residue of his smoke form to medical records on file. We also have another wrinkle in matters…"
Looking to Corbin, Martin furrows his brows and then nods his head, and Corbin prompts the image of Luke Campbell up on the screen. "Our radioactive friend we've been searching for happens to be an old family friend of Mister Gray. It turns out Campbell grew up across the street from Samson's home in Newark, and photographs of the two going hunting together were found at his home. We may well have to find Campbell to get further information on Gray."
Glancing to Veronica, Martin offers a firm nod. "Sawyer, you're still in charge of this, but any Company assets you need are yours. Personnel or otherwise. I'll see what I can do to try an' get my hands on some of the negation gas, but I can't guarantee it, but I'll try. Anyone here at this meeting is officially on call for Veronica. If she needs yout o help look for Gray, she'll call you in an' I expect you to handle it. If anyone comes up with an idea about how to lure out or trap him, also… by all means."
Looking around the table, Martin's brows furrow and his head tilts to the side, waiting to see if anyone else has suggestions on how to handle the Samson situation.
"I think there might have been a case or two— how we handled precogs may be helpful as well, I'll look into it," Corbin says, rubbing briefly at his forehead as he takes a note on a little notepad file on his computer, keeping track of what he might have to be looking up later. How to capture a guy with danger sense or precognition 101. Or as he'll probably end up framing it in the future, what would Bennet do? Information on Gray through Luke Campbell, who they've been looking for anyway…
Rain shrugs his shoulders slowly as he turns hsi eyes on Martin. "Well, trapping him seems pretty simple to me. You put a power out there that he simply cannot afford to pass up. Something he will come for regardless of the fact that he will know it's a trap. Greed is an easy way to bring down powerful people. Make them greedy for what they can't have, then use it to lure them in and take them down." The young man's shoulders give a slow shrug, an idea and a moral lesson in one. He jots down a few more notes into his memo pad, then looks about the room before settling his eyes on Martin once Martin, and Ryans, his gaze moving equally between the two men.
Veronica gives a nod to Corbin and then Martin, though there's a slight nervous scrape of teeth on her lower lip. She's used to working alone, not being in charge of anyone.
"We're working on that, but to no avail," Veronica says with a nod to Rain. "It's possible we have the wrong power, but… you'd think he'd want what we have." She glances at Crowley, not sure if her two cohorts are up for being outed. Odessa's power, Jack's power, the trap of clocks and the clockwork puzzle. "The snow could have something to do with it. Right now, he has a smorgasborg of powers to choose from; if he goes to a shelter with a couple of hundred people, there will be more than a couple of powered folks there, and he can have his pick. It hasn't worked yet, but it doesn't mean it won't. With the knowledge of his danger sense, I'd like to add the negation component — he may be greedy but he's not stupid."
As for Luke Campbell, she frowns and shakes her head. "The kid is all over the city — no real rhyme or reason that I can see yet, one day in Greenwitch, the next in Roosevelt, that sort of thing. I don't think he knows anything of Samson — prior to the encounter at the shelter. He seemed surprised, according to witnesses. I don't think he knew he was in the city, and now I doubt he wants much to do with him. But if anyone sees Campbell, I want to know immediately."
"Will do," says Henry, like it was directed at him specifically. He looks more alert.
"Good." Ryans says softly to Corbin, giving the younger man a short firm nod. His head swivels back to Veronica and he nods. "I have someone I'll talk to… someone who has been around him before." Ryans looks to Martin now, his face unreadable. "I'll more then likely owe a favor… but it may be worth it to find Campbell, if it'll get Samson off the street."
His head swivels back to Veronica, "I'll let you know more, when I know more." There is a grimace and he tugs at that neck strap again, stretching his neck to one side. "But, no guarantees."
"All this talk of Campbell unfortunately brings us to our next problem. Monday evening he struck again, and… the situation's become worse." Martin furrows his brows, leaning to one side in his chair and resting his hand against his forehead. "Gael Cruz, the national supervisor beneath all of the regional directors of the Company came up because of what's been happening here. Two Company agents up from Washington D.C. were found murdered in the Bronx. We believe Campbell was responsible…"
Shaking his head slowly, Martin offers a look down to the table, one hand lifting his glasses off the bridge of his nose and the other squeezing gently where the frames rest for a moment. "We've reason to believe that the attack was planned and that someone— possibly Rebel — " there's a nod to Rain, "may be at the fore of this problem. However, information agent Sawyer obtained in her investigation of Campbell has revealed that an individual going by the name of "Batsu" may be responsible in some part…"
Motioning to Corbin, Martin dips his head into a nod and furrows his brows. "Ayers, let's go over what we know about this… unfortunate turn of events."
"Right, unfortunate incident— we have an unknown individual we'll be calling Batsu. Likely just a nickname based on some certain things, like the translation meaning punishment— it also means 'incorrect answer' in Japanese gameshows, like when they put a big X next to your name and say 'you fail.'" Corbin explains, bringing up pictures of the kanji for batsu, multiple versions of it. Some looking like dried blood, others obviously taken from books or websites.
"What we know about him, thanks to Sawyer, is he's a middle aged Asian male, who frequents Staten Island shelters until the weather changed the situation. He was recently seen with Luke Campbell, and there have been two Company Agents, Andre Perez and Robert Ferguson who were found murdered in the Bronx on Monday evening, identified by their dental records and their bodies melted beyond other recognition by microwave radiation— I'll spare you having to see those pictures, but if you really want, Agent Lash will probably be more than willing…"
Instead, he pops up pictures from the dossiers, so people see how they looked before they got crispied, and then minimizes all but the kanji smeared in dried blood. "This kanji was found at the scenes, one for each of them. It is Batsu, same as the name we're giving the guy, and like I said already— it means punishment. Or 'wrong answer' in Japanese gameshows, but in this case— likely just punishment. Hopefully this isn't a game to some guy."
"Are we sure that this Batsu is actually doing this? As opposed to someone using his symbols to frame him or take the heat off themselves?" Allison asks, still studying the pictures that keep popping up on the computer, as intently as though she's trying to memorize them.
An arching of her brow at Melissa's question, Veronica shakes her head. "From the sound of things, he's the type to seek his own brand of justice out on people. Might see himself as some sort of vigilante doing the world a favor. Apparently he went after a drug dealer for selling fake blue fairy — glow sticks, if you can believe it. My informant seemed to think he was pretty creepy, and it's hard to creep out the folks who live on Staten," she says dryly.
"Wondering if maybe he's a Persuasive? The kid on the island said this Batsu almost got mugged, but the two guys mugging him started fighting and shot each other while he walked away like nothing happened. Sounds like he has a power — Telepathy, Persuasion, Empathy? Not sure. He might be impacting this kid Campbell to do his bidding." Not good news for them, if that's true. "I mean — Campbell tried to play the hero in that shelter… and he controlled himself in Lucy's. But with someone who might force his power into effect?" She shakes her head. "Bad news."
"Shit. Using another Evolved as a murder weapon. That's….gloriously evil, actually," And Henry's tone is full of respect, of all things. Incredulity and disgust as well, but….
Glancing at the picture, Ryans frowns a bit, having seen that photo before. His foot slides off his leg and he sits straighter. This whole thing is a worrisome, he glances around the table looking at each agent. Veronica's words grab his attention and he turns her way. He nods in agreement, with what she says. "That makes sense. When talking to Doctor Harve Brennan he mentioned Campbell being disoriented and surprised at the body. He had to be told it was a body. If he's blacking out…." He motions at Veronica with his good hand, "…it could be as she says."
"That's an eventuality we may have to face, it's highly possible that 'Batsu' could possess one of these powers, and it would make sense with Campbell's erratic patterns of movement as well what Ryans just mentioned. We just don't know enough." Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Martin shakes his head. "The major problem with all this, is that those bloody kanji markers," there's a motion of Martin's hand to the screen, "were found painted on photographs of the dead agents. Those photographs are identical matches to records in the Company's private archives from agent dossiers. This means that— " Martin's brows furrow, "Whoever did this, had access/ to the Company's database of agents, and it not an //electronic database either, it's paper only. A technopath couldn't have plucked these photographs from the ether, these are copies of archival information, and only a handful of agents have access to the archives."
Shaking his head slowly, Martin pulls up a list of names. "The current living agents who have access to the archives are Robert Bishop, Sabra Dalton, Eric Thompson, Angela Petrelli, Corbin Ayers and myself. Retired agent Len Denton also had access within the last year. As you can see this is a remarkably slim margin of individuals who could have current access to the files. No living retired agents outside of Daniel Linderman have had access in the past either."
Rubbing a hand over his beard, Martin looks up and across the table, then back to the pictures on the screen. "I believe we need to start canvassing homeless shelters to see if we can find this Batsu individual, whether or not he's involved, for questioning. If he is homeless the weather will drive him to find food and shelter, which means his options are limited."
Glancing askance to Ryans, Martin arches one brow slowly. "See if this mystery contatc of yours may have information on a man by that alias, it's a shot in the dark, but we're talking about murdered agents here. I… do not take this sort of thing lying down, and when I find out who was responsible for this, so help me, I'll grind them into the ground with my own bloody heel if I have to."
"Well, we did have some animals loose in the archives last year, that may have gotten off with some stuff, too," Corbin says quietly with a shrug, remembering that case, whether they found out what was behind it or not. "Probably not connected, but— did any files go missing when the Bronx complex was taken down? It could also be connected to that, as well, but we'd probably know which files went missing since— we're still in the paper stage of a lot of those things." And with all the technopaths around, he actually understands why most of it hasn't gone digital yet.
Rain purses his lips as he thinks this all over. He turns his eyes though towards Martin. "Well, that's assuming that there's not a shape shifter on the loose, or a mind readoer. Or an invis… didn't we have an invisible agent? Bennet's old partner I think?" he looks at the table for a few moemnts, then shrugs. "Evolved abilities vary as widely as the stars int he sky. We have no idea how they got those files. Were there copies of them at the Bronx facilities that could have been grabbed by whomever raided them? Do any of the people on that list have files in thier homes that could have been raided?" he shrugs his shoulders a touch, then goes quiet. A slight smile is seen on his lips when he and Corbin ask about the same thing with the Bronx facility.
"None of those would," Veronica says quietly. There are other possibilities — how long was Brian angry at the Company before he disappeared? That thought tickles the back of her mind, but she pushes it away. "We know there are agents who in the past year have changed what team they were playing for," she points out. Goodman, being the most notable. Grimalkin and Winters, or seemingly so to the eyes of the Company agents. She pushes away that line of reasoning. "Anyone test the blood?" she asks, glancing over at Lashirah and then Martin.
"I'll see what I can find out." Ryans says softly to Martin, resting his good elbow on the table. "And don't worry, Crowley, I'll be right there beside you helping to make sure they are ground in good." A hint of danger in that tone. "Especially, if they are using a kid to do their work." Campbell maybe over the age of eighteen, but that doesn't exclude him from the title of 'kid' in Ryans book.
"What… about these other groups. Department of Evolved Affairs or The Institute or Homeland…" He levels Martin with a look as he leans forward on the table, "How many of them have or had access to our files. I can't imagine the government allowing us to completely keep our stuff under wrap." He straightens. "Hell… we obviously had a leak before in the Bronx Facility. So it wouldn't be the first time.
"Just going to have to assume they have information on all of us, hell… mercenaries seemed to know me." He glances at the others, "Going to have to walk carefully and go on the assumption we're all targets."
"We haven't analyzed the blood on the photos yet, Sawyer, that's a good catch." There's a nod of Martin's head slowly. "Lee's lab has been bloody busy, I'll send the photographs down for analysis right away and see if Lee can get us a match." Looking over to Ryans, Martin furrows his brows and shakes his head. "Our records are sealed, no one outside of the Company has access, which might be a bit of a prickly situation with the government. There's no access outside of those people I mentioned, and we have considerable security on the archives for that reason. As far as the Bronx facility goes…" Martin's expression darkens a touch, "Essential files weren't lost at the Bronx facility," and that's all Martin says about that, keeping the rest of the details close to his chest there, lest Sabra tear his head off and spit down his neck stump.
Something Rain says though elicits a sweep of Martin's tongue across his teeth, there's a furrow of his brows and a quirk of his head to the side and a look to Corbin of all people, then a glance back to those at the table.
"O'Niel, you're… you might actually be on to something there." Picking up his cell phone off of the desk, Martin dials something from his directory and offers up a hand of pause to the rest of the group at the table. "Yes, this is Crowley. Miss Reid, can you pull up a file for me from 2006 from the active case log? Should be… AB607." There's a pause as Martin waits for a response, shifting in his seat as his jaw skews ot the side.
"Excellent, excellent. Ah, could you tell me what the status on the files were that were checked out? Bloody brilliant, Reid you're a darlin— " Martin winces and ducks his head, "N— No miss Reid I'll never say that again." Kayle can have a bit of a temper on her.
Closing his phone, Martin waggles his brows and offers a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, we may have paydirt. In 2006 the Company was undergoing a reconstruction of the archives, our chief archivist had taken a collection of paper files to work on an updating of Company agent dossiers at a remote office in Midtown that was operating under the Primatech cover. This office was operated by a now deceased agent, Akado Ichihara. His daughter, Hokuto, was our head archivist at the time. Following the bomb that Primatech office was destroyed and we presumed the files lost or destroyed."
Tilting his head to the side, Martin furrows his brows and nods his head. "I just checked in with Reid down in assigning, and according to the incident report the files were categorized as a loss. I was looking over cold cases the other day that had yet to be closed, and noticed that no formal investigation of agent Ichihara's office was ever performed due to the chaos following the bomb. The assignment was lost between the cracks. Since his death I don't believe we've sent anyone out there either…"
Nodding his head once, Martin offers a look around the table. "I think that might be a fine thing to look into. If Akado had copies in his office prior to his death, there's a possibility that these are what the killer's using, especially if we can find proof that the files might have survived the fire. I don't know what sort of safes or infrastructure was there, but tha' might just be it."
Akado Ichihara. Corbin sits up a little at the mention of the name, glancing at the empty chair next to him, and then shaking his head again and settling back into his chair. There's a deep breath that needs to happen for the moment, which can likely be expected. He now knows exactly what his best friend was going through that moment when the bomb happened, and her father was killed. Cause he saw it in a dream. The panic, the fear, the worry… And the phones that didn't answer and didn't work. All from the bookstore, that she inheriated from her mother, who died never knowing what they did, and the bookstore she would die just outside of…
"Hokuto retired about six months before the bomb," he says quietly, eyes shifting to stay on the table. "A lot of things shifted around when she did. If she'd let him borrow them… she might have forgotten due to grief over her mother's death and never went after getting them returned until the bomb happened. I may not have even noticed. Those months leading up to the bomb were really busy, for all of us still in the archives. But that doesn't explain why her dad would have kept them so long. Or why he checked them out at all… I'll check out her— I'll check out his office, if that's okay."
Corbin's reaction has Allison looking in his direction, even before he begins talking. And even once he's done her gaze lingers for a long moment before shifting back to Martin.
Rain looks over to Martin, a thoughtfulness in his eyes as he considers all of what the man has said. "His daughter you said? What if she has a grudge against us? Blames us for her father's death? Ichihara sounds Japanese. You said the symbols on the pictures were Japanese. Are we dealing with his daughter out to get revenge against us for her father's death? Was she ever classified as Evolved?" He begins to jot down more notes in his little memo pad, pen working furiously along the paper.
"I'll see if I can track down his daughter. If the files were in his office when he died, she may have found /all/ of them, and would know stuff about almost all of us. I however, wouldn't be in those files, so she wouldn't know my face. So, if I could track her down… I might be able to find a few things out without her going on full alert." he goes quiet as Corbin speaks, his head turning to look at the man, seeing what he thinks of his suggestion that newer agents check into this since older agents she might very well have on file.
Awkward silence reigns for a long moment, and eyes glance from Rain to Corbin before Veronica sighs, glancing at the empty seat with the books in front of it. "It wasn't Hokuto Ichihara," she says coolly to Rain. "She's deceased."
She turns to look at Corbin again, then Martin. "However, maybe he associated with the Ichiharas somehow. Unfortunately, like you said, Batsu sounds like a fake name, a nom de guerre, so finding out the real connection might be difficult. It's something worth looking into." She frowns. "Maybe he blames Company for … what happened to her." She glances down, restacks the very neat stack of files.
As soon as those words are out of Rain's mouth, Corbin looks as if he's been struck. There's just enough time for Vee to half explain why he might be so affected, before he gets himself together and jumps up out of his chair, "Hokuto was my best friend and until someone murdered her she was sitting in that fucking chair next to me. If you want to track her down then her remains are still in the facility because it's too fucking cold to put her in the ground next to her mother and father." There's cold anger in his blue eyes, and he looks quite ready to try to go around the table and attempt to punch the young man, as he has a few men before him…
"It may be someone connected to her family, but it is not her. So just— " he bites back the words, fist clenching, before he begins to pack up his laptop. The anger is turning into something else.
As soon a Corbin is on his feet, Ryans whole body tenses, injured or not, he looks ready to grab the other agent should he attempt again thing. "Rain…" Ryans says quickly, a hand lifted in the kids direction, a motion to stop, though the Senior Agent's gaze goes to Corbin, his words calm. "…as Sawyer says she is dead. There is nothing you can check out that Corbin can not do himself." That is his cross to bear, not anyone else. The old man has been where Corbin is, so has others.
When Corbin sits down, Ryans relaxes only a little, his attention turns to the youngest of them. "That is the end of the subject. No more questions or comments." There is a firm order in those words, an edge to them. "Do you understand?" There is not anger there, just a wish to preserve the baby agents life.
"G— Gentlemen." Martin stammers frustratedly, lifting a little out of his seat like he was going to intervene had that gotten violent but not really— it's all for show— because honestly Corbin could probably beat Martin to a pulp, all things considered. Clearing his throat, Martin furrows his brows and rubs one hand across his forehead, "O'Niel didn't know… Ayers, it— it was a misunderstanding." There's a furrow of Martin's brows and a grimace, "I'm sorry O'Niel it— she passed away just before you rejoined us, she had just come out of retirement it— It's not your fault for not knowing."
Furrowing his brows and looking up to Corbin, Martin interjects as the agent starts packing his things. "The job's yours, Ayers… The office, that is." Martin notes with a nod of his head slowly, "Just— take someone with you when you go check it out. The ruins are bound to be even more dangerous now tha' the snow's gone in, and the last thing I need is you gettin' mauled by a polar bear or somethin'." He tries to lighten the mood with a little levity, though it's uncertain if Martin actually read the paper today and knows there's a pair of polar bears on the loose in New York. He may have worded it differently, knowing. Maybe not, it is Martin.
Allison watches the incident with the same damn smile that she's worn the entire meeting, and with a detached interest. Clearly she wouldn't have cared if someone had gotten violent. But again, as with the previous times she's focused on an individual, her gaze quickly returns to Martin.
When Corbin stands up like that looking all angry and such, a barrier springs up between Rain and the table, that watery looking wall of anti kinetic force shimmering and distorting everyone's view of him, making it waver and wobble in odd ways. Unfortunately for Rain? He was sitting at the table, so the barrier pops up, and bounces him backwards. With a yelp of surprise Rain goes down, his chair flipped as he bounces off of his own barrier and ends up flat on his back on the floor.
The barrier dissipates from where it was and reappears over top of him, though the position is embarrassing, it definitely has more protective value down here. "Ahhh…" he calls from the floor at Martin's statement. When there appears to be no Corbin leaping over the table Rain dissipates his barrier and sits up, his eyes peeking over the top of the conference table and scanning the room. "Sorry?" he offers towards Corbin, then glances towards Ryans, giving the older officer a little look that says if there were more to ask he would. He picks himself up off of the floor, then rights his chair and plops down into it, his cheeks flushing a good solid crimson in embarrassment.
The whiskey-brown eyes of Veronica Sawyer turn with sympathy to Corbin before growing wide when the youngest agent falls on his back. She arches a brow and gives a soft "Heh" with a smirk in the corner of her mouth. She too reaches for the computer to shove it in a bag, adding the files along with it, ready to get up and follow Ayers out of the room should his fight instinct kick in now that his fight instinct has stalled.
"I think someone needs to go back for training," Corbin says quietly as he closes his laptop and begins to pack it up, dropping it into the case that he has with him. "I'll take you, Sawyer," he adds, to the woman across the table. "It's connected to your case, you may as well go, and Ryans has hired mercs and family to worry about." And if he'd considered taking Rain, that probably got shoved out the window when the kid's lack of information happened to insult him too much to get over.
Yeah, someone still has anger issues. And other issues as well.
Then his 'partner' goes down, Ryans doesn't move to help him up, that look wasn't missed. His head turns to Martin, with a flat look. There was a long road ahead. A glance goes to Corbin, out of his eye, his head turning ever so slightly to do so. "The threat to my family will not stop me from doing my job, not the first threat on my family. But you're right… in that case it is probably best to take Sawyer." His hand reaches for his fedora and pulls it close, as if readying to leave as well.
Rain mumbles something under his breath about experiments never covering that little bit of his ability. The color in his cheeks slowly fades towards a gentler pink, eventually fading all together. He turns hsi head, his eyes settling on Corbin for a long moment as he makes that statement. "It's not training I need. It's experience." He states simply to the other man, his eyes goin gdown to the table top, focusing on it's surface for the time being.
Grumbling quietly, Martin slouches forward and rests his head in his hands. A chair scuffs out as Elle slowly rises up from her seat, twirling the white stem of a lolipop around in her mouth, brows raises as she rises up onto her toes and looks down over the edge of the table at Rain as he's getting up off of the floor. "Nine point five, blondie," quips the electric blonde herself before Bryan grabs her by the arm and Elle flashes a look to the vemomous agent, "fine, fine…" she grouses, letting him lead her out of the conference room.
The Haitian slowly rises from his seat, looking over to Martin, before turning towards the door and hesitating. Just a silhouette lit in the doorway, Agent Paulson motions towards Rain, using a careful brush of telekinesis to dust the young agent's shoulder off.
"Careful," Paulson notes with a smirk, "I don't know the last time those floors got washed." Shifting dark eyes to Martin, Paulson lifts both of his brows and jerks his head out into the hall. "I just got out of the meeting with Cruz, I'm gonna need you for a bit." Martin nods slowly, offering a quiet sigh as he turns to the rest of the room, head hanging as he mumbles something that needn't even be said.
"Meeting Adjourned…"