Participants:
| Scene Title | ¡Ay, Caramba! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Phoenix has some questions for Agent Bishop. Things briefly get catty. |
| Date | May 16, 2009 |
Village Renaissance Building - 4th Floor Safehouse
It's a two bedroom unit Elle and Trask have been placed in, the one with the door marked 408. It's a fairly new looking place with carpeted floors and modern appliances, furniture too. Washer, dryer, stove, refrigerator, microwave, television, couch, chairs. The whole thing is approximately the size of a New York City middle-income apartment. There is food in the cabinets and refrigerator, the place is kept clean, beds have fresh sheets, the bathroom has towels.
Cat approaches the door with people in tow and slides her master keycard in the slot. She opens the door and holds it for the others to enter.
And it's Helena who comes in first. Her expression is neutral as she takes a look to see how Elle and Trask are situated, and once she's in, she takes a seat, her body-language surprisingly relaxed.
Diego follows through the open door, dog companion conspicuously absent for this round of misadventure. Hands are slid up to their thumbs inside the pockets of his cargo pants, and he goes back situating himself with his back leaned up against a wall.
Elisabeth is on Diego's heels, and she seems uneasy. Or thoughtful. Hard to say. She stands behind one of the couches, leaning a hip against it.
Trask has decided to…surprise surprise… cook for the meeting. He is making fajitas and the smell fills the apartment.
The person part of Phoenix has come to see is currently lounging on the unit's couch, both legs stretched onto the coffee table, looking rather contemptuously bored. Hoop earrings dangle from her ears, one of the few — intact — remnants of everything Elle had attempted to bring back from 2019. Her eyes glance up sharply at the sound of the door opening, but even when she sees her visitors filtering in, she doesn't move. Only gives a slight snort. "…What makes me this popular, all of a sudden?"
"C'mon Elle, haven't you always wanted to be Homecoming Queen?" Helena's tone is slightly wry, her gaze flicking back to Trask. Degrees. Of Respect. Sinking. Here they are, looking to question Elle, and Trask's busy making Tex-Mex. Ay Caramba! Her gaze flicks back to Elle. "We've got some questions. Obviously we can't keep you here indefinitely, so some decisions have to be made."
She takes in the sights and scents in the unit, eyes settling on Elle briefly. Cat doesn't speak for the moment, choosing instead to watch and listen. To record, by virtue of her presence.
Trask brings the fod in from the kitchen, he has grilled steak and chiken, onions and peppers along with some rice and tortilla shells.
Elle's gaze swivels towards Helena's face, finally. There's the barest hint of a shaken head, in conjunction with continuing condescension. "Ask to your heart's content, Barbie." Not like she has anything better she can be doing right now. She does close her eyes and exhale briefly when she spots Trask entering with his load, amused.
Watching Trask go all Martha Stewart in the middle of this just… thoroughly wierds Elisabeth out, honestly. Not that she can't sympathize with needing something to do with her hands, but whatever. She's mostly window dressing at this moment, so she sits quietly against the back of the couch.
"I want to know, given what you've seen of the potential future, what your take on the Company is." Helena says plainly. "Because a good portion of the future we saw would do well for all of us, and maybe, if you played the right part, even you. Are you still a Company Girl?"
She's curious, but hiding it behind a poker face. In this Cat's perspective, she'd never met Elle before. It's the same woman, ten years younger, as the one who invited her to breakfast on the roof of this same building, except that one had seven floors. And a helicopter which she was given the aerial city tour and then some in.
Diego is, like Elisabeth, mostly window dressing until some random thought floats across his brain that might bring about useful information. For now, he just folds his arms across his chest and watches.
"If I told you I wasn't, would you believe me?" Elle questions plainly, in return. It's a fair thing to take into consideration, given both that the agent is effectively in a hostage situation and has all the track record of a snake.
Trask makes himself a fajita and smiles at Liz, no place for a touchy huggy hi right now though, he waves for others to have a bite then takes a seat and settles in to listen.
"Maybe." Helena replies. "But I'd still like to hear what you have to say. I mean, from this angle, you're in a great position to fuck Sergei here up the rear. Which would very likely be the case if you went back enthused as ever about their intentions. Your purpose may have changed, because of the world you saw, because I'm pretty certain you know what happened to the Company, and because of him. That's a lot of reasons worth investing re-thinking your situation. We can listen to what you say and see how much of it sounds like a crock of shit, and if any of it sounds truthful."
"By him, you mean Goodman." Elle's tone loses perhaps a bit of its flat haughtiness, becoming just a touch more patently thoughtful. The rest of her physical stance remains unchanged, however. She glances at Trask again when Helena mentions him, indicating more entertainment than ever, on that end. "If you think anybody would drop it all because of one, single possibility they saw, you're even dumber than I thought. Even now, it's not gonna be the same if we went back. You know that."
But before Helena - or anyone else - has a chance to interject, she continues with patient impatience. "But there are a lot of things I learned when I was there. Not all of which I liked. Which is what you should've asked. Right now, my priority is going back and finding out how much of that is a 'crock of shit'."
If Helena is insulted by Elle's seeming opinion of her, she's keeping all the bristling on the inside. "Things have already changed." she agrees, "But certain elements may or may not stay the same depending on what we allow - or don't allow - to happen. If we were to help you find out whatever it is you're looking for…what's that worth to you?"
"How do you think you could help me?" is Elle's next question, both wondering and skeptical. "I've been offered, but," she eyeballs the woman who is, even now, slipping quietly out of the room to take a job call. "Blowing up more prisons, or whatever you usually do, isn't going to help in this case. Unless you have a metamorph who's also a mindreader and a lie detector. Finding out what I want is going to have to come from the inside." None of which Phoenix is.
Now seems to be the time Cat feels she can offer something to the proceedings. She moves from her spot, writing something on a sheet of paper from her pocket. We do have access to Mr. Bennet, and if it's data about the Company's past she wants, he can perhaps tell her where to find it, if he can't answer the questions himself.
The message is handed to Helena, after which Cat steps back.
"Just because you've seen some of what we do doesn't mean we don't do other things." Helena points out mildly. As she's slipped the paper, she takes a look at it, raises her eyebrow, and nods thoughtfully. Her gaze flicks up to Elle. "We've got ways to access information, if it's information you're looking for. But then we'd also need to know what it is." Presumably, Phoenix plans to let Elle go. When, and what state she's in? That's what's being determined here.
"I hope you don't mind telling me what you mean by ways." If it's a lie-planter Helena is hinting towards, either through Evolved or plainer means — nuh-uh. Forgive Elle for being a touch cynical. Her eyes narrow critically as they flick towards the retreating Cat, and back. "Tell me. And then I'll judge for myself. But I eventually do want to find out firsthand, too." With all the implications that has.
"Contacts." Helena says plainly. "People who've had longstanding experience with the Company. That would be a primary source. If it's data you're looking for, there might be ways to get that as well." Sorry Elle, no specifics.
Trask leans back in his chair, putting his feet up and listening, his eyes move back and forth between Elle and Helena like watching a tennis game on tv or a ping pong match. He takes a bite of his Fajita and stays quiet.
"People who used to work for the Company," Elle interprets. Helena might not be providing specifics, but she's doing a decent job of being clear right up to that point. The offer of data makes her visibly pause. "If you had easy access to the kind of data Goodman had, though, you could've taken out the Company a long time ago," she points out. "I mean, if it was as easy as pushing a button. Or asking someone."
"Information isn't resource." Helena volleys back. She shrugs. "Not that you're banking on my intelligence to begin with, but I'm pretty sure if we knew what you were looking for, I could honestly say whether we can help you or not. If you're not in the mood for sharing, then we'll make other arrangements." There's a brief look at Cat. Kinson may be next on their list to pay call to Elle.
Elle tenses distinctly, her voice dropping to a snarl as she reaches for the tray of Trask's fajitas so she can take one for herself. Hey, as long as he's the only one eating. "I'm looking for info about the kind of experiments the Company might've done in the past. There. Do you mind?"
Trask says, "Elle doesn't beleive that all of the Company's experiments were completely above board, she wants to verify if some of the..travesties she was told about in the future are true.""
"We already know about the virus work they've been doing." Helena studies Elle sharply now, and still doesn't reach for Tex-Mex. "And obviously bag and tagging. Presumably, these are things you already know about being Bob Bishop's daughter." Yeah Elle, Helena knows your daddy's name. "So what kind of travesties are we talking about otherwise?"
"Do you think he lets me know everything? I didn't even know about the virus until someone told me. Bagging-and-tagging is like… threat security level zero to figure out, especially since it's happened right to some of you." Geez Hel, get your priorities straight. Elle is starting to appear increasingly annoyed. "Do I have to spell them letter by letter? If you payed any attention whatsoever when you were in 2019, you should know, even better than I could explain."
Helena's eyes narrow. "Why are you getting so upset, Elle?" And then, succinctly, "Daddy's little girl can take it, can't she?" Oh, hey.
Trask says, "Cat you have lightning insurance right?" He looks between Hell and Elle "Hell, provoking her isn't going to get us anywhere….She discovered some uncomfortable truths about the Companies practices she didn't know about, she wants to find out if it was revisinist history, or actual fact…Is it enough to know that if it is true, then I doubt she will stay in the Companies pocket much longer?"
One of Elle's hands clenches, a look of pure murder entering her eyes as her feet finally slip off the coffee table. "Say it one more time, bitch." Mercifully, because Trask is there, nothing comes of it. No sudden spiral of electricity. But if it comes down to an old-fashioned, no-holds catfight, she'll do it.
"I might have lightning insurance," Cat replies dryly. "Whether or not it would do me any good here, I won't say. Maybe this is my building, maybe it isn't." She's still listening, standing some safe distance away. "I think we have common cause here, Elle. We'd all like to know specifics of what the Company's been into, I'm fairly certain. It doesn't have to be a war between us."
The corner of Helena's mouth creeps up. "Trask and Cat are willing to help you. I'm even willing to help you. There were people in that video who can coroborate the truth, and we could possibly even aid you in getting access to the video. Do you want to work me over more than you want to know the truth?"
Trask 's head whips when Helena mentions the video. She knew the whole time? His first thought is that Elle might assume he told her. He gives Elle a look that makes it clear he is either innocent, or one of the best actors this side of Bollywood.
"You — you knew about this all along." Ignoring Trask, Elle's voice is nothing short of a warning-filled growl. Standing up abruptly, knees unfolding in the gap between couch and table, she curls her fists at her side. Unabated fury radiates from her. "Why the hell would you even bother calling this interrogation?" Because srsly, that's going a little far in humiliation tactics even by Elle's standards.
"I wanted to see how forthcoming you were." is Helena's reply. "Let's not pretend that you didn't try to kill me twice, Elle, whether by direct intent or as collateral damage. You probably don't even remember one or both. Still, I'm here - we're all here, offering you help. And when you think about it? This is a barely a fingernail's worth of crap in comparison to what was done to you. So what do you want more, to punch me in the face, or get the truth?"
Trask says, "We aren't offering the two for one special anymore?" Trask has risen so he could get between the two blondes, assuming he really wanted to take his life in his hands, "Maybe we should stop the games and treat everyone here like adults?""
Crack.
Too late. That's the sound of a full-forced, staggering slap landing on the bone of Helena's jaw. It's source? Elle's palm. "Get over it." The electrokinetic curls her lip, a combination of scorn and clear regret that she didn't succeed in finishing the job tinging her voice. When Trask comes between them, she remains glaring at Helena through what she can see in the gaps behind the much taller man.
Helena's head snaps to the side. She doesn't get up, she doesn't lunge for Elle…she sits there, calmly, and gingerly touches her jaw before grinning up at the sociopath. "So now that you've gotten your lick in, what's it going to be?"
That causes Cat to move from her spot again, moving to intercede between Helena and Elle, to perhaps not let there be a fight breaking out, but Trask is there already. Soon as the ten foot range is entered, she looks confused. One hand goes to her temple, and her head shakes a few times. What the hell is going on? Where is she? Who are these people?
Looking a bit freaked out, she staggers back and gets outside the range. It's like switching on a light. All clears up, and she seems to self-chastise for a moment.
Trask looks between the two woman, trying to gauge if he needs to break out the childe wading pool and the 15 buckets of chocolate pudding he keeps in the closet for this occasion. "Ladies?"
Elle simply stands there and seethes at the other woman, trying to work down her rage to a level where she can control it. "That's not much of a choice, is it?" she snaps, moving back an inch and lightly bumping her lower leg against the couch's exterior. "If you want to help me, and you know it'd be -really nice-, quit being all morally superior." Oh, how she'd love to wipe that calm smirk off the atmokinetic's face. But something tells even her it's not the best idea, right now.
"Well," says Helena, still calm (perhaps infuriatingly so), "The other option is that we let you go. Not without taking some steps, but we could release you into the wild, so to speak." And that would mean Kinson.
Instead of visibly making Elle more aggravated, though, she chooses that moment to sit back down and cross her legs, expression saturated with disgust. "Fine." Her eyelids flutter a little, a tense-jawed, sardonic smile slipping onto her face and off again. "As I said— not much of a choice."
"We'll start with corroboration then." Helena says calmly as she rises, hands where they can be seen. "If it's not enough, will look into data retrieval. You and Trask will still be operating on the buddy system for another day or two, and we'll see if we can let you out to play after that."
Trask looks and sees both seem to be ok and backs off, returning to his chair he picks back up his fajita and takes a bite.
Hahaha. Trask thinks Elle is okay. That's funny, because she still most certainly isn't. "You're going to get it one of these days, barbie," she comments icily by way of (apparent) acknowledgement, not touching her own bitten-off fajita. A direct threat? A more general remark? Hard to tell, though at least she doesn't seem inclined anymore to be hostile, beyond that.
There's a twitch of a smile. "Look at this way. Now the cuffs will only be for if you and Sergei get kinky." With that, Helena heads for the door to make her way out. "Cat? Do you think I can borrow one of your suits? I have a meeting tonight." And with that, Helena heads out the door.
Resisting the urge to tramp right out of Trask's range and aim a parting bolt at Helena's back, Elle stays right where she is, an irritated glower following her all the way out. Before she can stop herself, she shoots a totally unintentionally meaningful look at Trask.
She chuckles, looking at Helena as she's asked for one of her suits. It seems to amuse her a bit, but the weathermaker is in luck. Cat turns to follow, remarking "Not one of mine, but I have some things that'll fit you." Five feet eight inches versus Helena's nearly six inches less height. Cat's suit indeed.