Participants:
| Scene Title | Basic Office Work |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Cat makes an offer. |
| Date | September 4. 2009 |
Maya's Residence
It's a relief, having been able to pull this off. As supplies ran low, she'd not been certain what she'd do and the fear grew she'd have to try placing this particular guest in a place no one, not even others among the Ferry, knows about. But her move, made when she was approached after her Monday morning session at the Suresh Center, changed all that. Time has been purchased.
Cat steps from the elevator on the fourth floor and approaches the door to Maya's unit, eyes looking at the screen of her iPhone. It says 10:03 on Friday, September 4. Two days after Senorita Herrera… no, Senorita Hernandez was given her most recent dose of injectable suppressant. Her hand lifts and she knocks.
Maya comes to the door. She looks tired, as she opens it, as if she hasn't been sleeping well. «Good morning, come in, please.» The formalities are automatic, but she looks exhausted enough that it's debatable whether she realizes she's speaking Spanish instead of English.
Hearing Spanish, Cat replies in that tongue. «Good morning to you also, Maria.» She steps inside and moves to close the door behind her. «You're not sleeping much?» As ever, the dialect is Castilian and the accent is good, though she fumbles a bit when it comes to rolling the letter R. A study of the latina's face is made, her own expression showing some mild concern.
The dialect is different from Dominican, but Maya can understand it just fine. «Nightmares.» she says, letting the one word explain all her woes and her concerns. «Can I get you some coffee?» She's going to get herself some either way, as she starts towards the kitchen.
The woman puts the coffee on to boil, before turning back. «Si. Faces that I would rather forget, but stare at me in my sleep.» She looks rather haunted, truth be told. Finally she seems to push it back a bit, straightening up and running fingers through tousled hair. "What brings you by?" she asks, switching to English.
She also switches languages then, her preference being to use whichever Maya chooses. "I've brought you these," Cat begins as the small bottle is placed on the counter, "and come to talk. Would you tell me of your life before all this began?" There is genuine interest, Maya's face being watched as she leans her backside lightly against the counter.
Maya looks at the bottle. "More pills? What are these?" She moves over and takes down two mugs. "It was normal. I worked in an office. Nothing special, honestly. That was before everything went crazy."
"They're a replacement for the injections," Cat tells her simply. "I found a source and have enough of these to last longer than the injections. It gives me more time to find a biochemist and manage to reproduce them. You take two per day instead of the one shot every other day." But she doesn't linger on that, Maya's prior life is of more interest. "An office. What'd you do in that office?"
The questioning makes her look curious. "Basic office work. Data entry, filing, phones. Administrative assistant things. A little of whatever was needed. It was nothing special, really." A quick look to the pot…nope, not brewed yet. "Why do you ask?"
"I've a few businesses," Cat replies, "as well as ties to things more shadowy like giving people shelter when they need it and stopping insane former Nazis from wiping out ninety percent of the human race." Nothing in her face says she's joking on saying that. "There are things you can do. Adminstration of some sort for the building itself, something of the same nature at the Rock Cellar in the basement, or with the record label I want to start up. The fifth floor has a recording studio."
"I might also make a move at acquiring another business or two in the city which would need staff, and…"
"…on Staten Island Brian operates a place called the Lighthouse. It's an orphanage. He could have need of assistance in that area too."
There's a moment of hesitation at the early offers, and then she all but freezes when Cat suggests Staten Island. The look of horror on her face seems that Cat might as well have suggested working in Hell. "Not there. Never there." Her voice is quiet, and the emotion and tremor in it precludes replying or thinking about the rest. She turns to get the coffee to give herself a couple moments to compose herself.
"Fair enough," Cat replies, letting the Lighthouse topic go. "Working in one of the other places gives you a chance to build a life for yourself without worry of too many people asking questions. It's up to you, completely. Working isn't a condition of staying here and getting the pills."
She answers after a moment "I'd been working with a friend of mine. But it's kitchen work; I wouldn't mind something else. It depends where, and what, and what it pays." She looks back to Cat, and offers her one of the mugs. "Has there been any news on my brother? Finding him has to be my first priority."
Taking her mug of coffee, Cat fields the topic of location and pay first. "That's good. Plenty of room to keep working with your friend if you like, Maria. Paywise, I'm fairly generous. Fifty thousand dollars per year good for you? The location isn't sure yet, it'll probably be in the building, unless I decide to buy out some other places."
"Alejandro, sadly, hasn't been sighted. We've still got our eyes open and ears to the ground looking for him. I wish I could tell you otherwise." And this she genuinely regrets is true.
Maya…or Maria…nods. "It's better. But who's we? And what's this about Nazis?" Now that the initial Staten Island shock has passed her, the strange statements are larger in her mind.
"The world is a dangerous place," Cat begins with the mug in her hand, "since a few years ago when Nathan Petrelli made his announcement. There are groups who hate people with unusual abilities. The one getting all the attention right now is called Humanis First. They don't mind publicity. But they weren't the first. Another faction, called the Vanguard, was around even before we were outed. Their leader was a man named Kazimir Volken. He was one of the Nazis in World War Two, and was possibly over a hundred years old. He could steal life from others, and transfer from body to body."
"He attempted to release a very dangerous virus in late January. A group of my friends stopped him. These friends are a group we call Phoenix. Phoenix is, in turn, associated with a larger network called the Ferry. The Ferry basically helps people when they need it; offers shelter and relocates them to new lives sometimes. Phoenix is more proactive. We are not, however, terrorists."
"You probably know Abby," Cat remarks quietly without mentioning where from, "she was a key part of that. At the time she could heal others, and she literally healed Kazimir Volken out of the world. She's not proud of that, though; it's just something unpleasant that was necessary."
"The world is a dangerous place," Cat begins with the mug in her hand, "since a few years ago when Nathan Petrelli made his announcement. There are groups who hate people with unusual abilities. The one getting all the attention right now is called Humanis First. They don't mind publicity. But they weren't the first. Another faction, called the Vanguard, was around even before we were outed. Their leader was a man named Kazimir Volken. He was one of the Nazis in World War Two, and was possibly over a hundred years old. He could steal life from others, and transfer from body to body."
"He attempted to release a very dangerous virus in late January. A group of my friends stopped him. These friends are a group we call Phoenix. Phoenix is, in turn, associated with a larger network called the Ferry. The Ferry basically helps people when they need it; offers shelter and relocates them to new lives sometimes. Phoenix is more proactive. We are not, however, terrorists."
"You probably know Abby," Cat remarks quietly without mentioning where from, "she was a key part of that. At the time she could heal others, and she literally healed Kazimir Volken out of the world. She's not proud of that, though; it's just something unpleasant that was necessary."
Maya has heard of some of this through the news. She frowns a bit at the mention of Abby vs. Kazimir. "I see." She's quiet as she sips. "Some of these were the ones responsible for the building burning on Staten Island, no?"
"The burning of John Logan's operations?" Cat asks. There've been a number of places burnt, she wants to be sure they're talking of the right ones.
A nod is the answer. The Latina sips her coffee, watching, as she keeps herself calm. She hasn't taken those pills yet, after all.
"I know a man who operates an aviation activity based on Staten Island," Cat confirms, "and it was probably his group who did it. But they're not part of us."
There's another nod. Maya's thoughtful. "Does the job offer extend there?" She finally asks. She's being somewhat terse, likely from the rein on her thoughtsd.
"You mean joining with us?" Cat queries, "or being asked to do things which are part of that?" She too is contemplating.
"Both. As much as I don't like to think about it…there are people this world is better without." John Logan, for one. "If my…"ability"…were used against the right people…it might make up for some of what I have done with it." Some of it is motivated for her desire for revenge, but some of it is penance, too. God was the one who struck down all the firstborn, after all.
"That's not my decision, Maria," Cat replies, "I'm not the top leader in that group. But you can soon meet her and discuss it. Your ability, also, and our abilities, aren't all there is to us. We're not all about killing, violent action. When the need exists, we've done so and will again. But we prefer to act in other ways instead. Educating people, inspiring resistance."
"Some of the people I've given jobs to are with the group, because they've needed jobs and I trust them, but most aren't. Being with the group is something our people chose to be without getting paid." She lifts her coffee cup, about to sip from it, eying the pill bottle for a second.
Maya nods. "Thank you then. When can I meet with her?" she asks. Now that she has a purpose again, it's given her something to focus on. "I'm tired of sitting around, doing nothing."
"I can imagine," Cat replies simply. "Hopefully within a day or two," is her answer to the question of meeting Helena. Her cup lifts, she takes a careful sip to test the heat and not burn her mouth as fingers rest on the bottle with those two pills.
Maya looks at the bottle, and then back to Cat. "Only two…are you going to be a daily visitor, then? It's a thin margin for error."
"It may be me bringing those to you," Cat replies, "it may sometimes be another person. I'd give you all of them, but there could be others who'll need the medication here and there. I trust you to take them, of course, but there's benefit in you being seen to take them. If anyone asks, the answer's yes."
A few beats of silence follow. "I meant what I said, I believe you can control it, and I'll still say that until you believe it too."
There's a hesitation. "I killed Brian." she says it after a pause. "His idea of "training" wasn't the best one." It's quiet.
"How did he approach it?" Cat asks, taking another sip of her coffee. Maybe she heard, maybe she didn't, maybe she wants to hear the account of events from Maya's viewpoint.
Maya sighs. "He drove me out to the middle of nowhere, and then pulled out a gun and pointed it at my head."
Her eyes close on hearing that. "And…?" Cat asks, hoping there's more. Much more.
The Latina sighs. "He told me if I didn't control it, he was going to shoot me. And then it came out. And it killed him."
"If I said that was a flawed plan, it'd be an understatement," Cat replies dryly. "I'd pictured him going with you and staying at a distance, sending a copy to you again and again until you felt it coming out and were able to pull it back in."
She draws in a slow breath.
"Sometime in the near future, I may see if you can take a trip like that with someone else. Someone who can withstand the toxin." Claire comes to mind.
Maya shakes her head. "It was not that. It was frightening. I…" She shakes her head. "I do not want to try it again. Not like that."
She just nods. "You don't have to. We have the pills." Cat lifts the mug and takes a sip from the contents, her eyes closing. Ah, nectar of the Gods.
Maya frowns. "I DO want to make it go away. Or control it. Without the pills. But not with someone pointing a gun at my head. There needs to be some kind of better way."
"I think," Cat muses, "you could make it come out on your own without the emotional trigger of a threat like that. Remembering things you felt, recalling what was in you mind at such times could make it start. From there it's a matter of getting a handle and making it start. I know someone else who can withstand the effect and work with you on building that confidence." She won't say the name, but Claire is in mind. "You could also be on your own, with no one around, and work the same way."
The other woman shakes her head. "No way to test it…without something there. Unless we stock up on lab mice or something like that. And even then, I don't know if it works on anything but people."
"I know someone who can take it," Cat replies calmly. She lifts the cup again and takes from it. "I'll speak with her soon, and with the leader about meeting you." Up the mug goes again. Her eyes briefly rest on the two pills, but she doesn't speak of them.
Maya nods. "Thank you then." She now takes the bottle and opens it, and looks to the pills. "Any side effects?"
"Not to my knowledge," Cat replies.
With that, down go the pills, washed down by a gulp of coffee. A curious expression comes over Maya's face, and she says "We should find out how long they take to take effect. It could be important."
"Yes," Cat agrees. "That's something to test when another attempt is made at control, perhaps. To take the pills and measure how much time passes before you find it doesn't come out." She finishes her coffee and sets the mug down. "I need to be on my way to see the leader and tend some business." Like making arrangements to confront unwanted observers and asking Claire to do something for her.
"We'll be in touch soon."