Bone Deep


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Scene Title Bone Deep
Synopsis Goodman and Canfield discuss future prospects.
Date August 12, 2012

"Having a younger sister, growing up, means you learn a lot about how cruel boys can be."

It isn't the topic either of them expected to be discussing within the margins of a larger topic, but none the less, Stephen Canfield and Roger Goodman are discussing family. Sitting around a polised, black glass table flanked by cream-colored sofas, the two men recline in suits with drinks in hand as though this were a social gathering. It isn't.

"Being an only child's totally different," Goodman replies, "because there's nobody to look out for you. Chicago wasn't a friendly place back in the late sixties. Only got worse in the seventies. I was alone when I wasn't home, and even when I was… I was alone in where I wanted to go with my life." Sipping his vodka and tonic, Goodman looks across the divide of the small glass table to Canfield, who lounges back with a gin and tonic, regarding the Manhattan skyline outside of green-tinted windows.

"I hear you," Canfield notes, swirling his glass around. "Born in Harlem here, watching out for my sister, parents who didn't give two shits about either of us." His brows furrow, lips downturned into a deep frown. I don't need to tell you what New York was like in the seventies. Especially Harlem." He brings his drink up to his lips, thoughtfully sipping. "But look at the two of us now, right? Your dress uniform's got enough medals on your chest to look like a Christmas Tree, and I got to watch the people who locked me in a hole hang by the neck."

Canfield cracks a smile, sipping his drink again. "Sometimes, you get what you deserve."

Pinehearst Tower

Goodman's Office

August 12th, 2012

7:13 pm

"Sometimes they do," Goodman agrees, leaning forward to set his drink down on a mocha-colored coaster, and picks up a file folder from the table beside it. "What do you think Mr. Bellamy deserves?" Goodman raises one brow, holding up the file. Canfield's smile becomes lopsided, then fades as he switches his drink from one hand to the other.

"Bellamy's a straight-shooter, right down the sights." Canfield can respect that about him. "Special-side, he's got that attractive ability to cockroach his way out of situations. I know if I want someone hauling my ass out of a fire, it's probably someone like him. Or close enough." Canfield motions to Goodman with his drink, then tips it back and finishes it.

At Canfield's assessment, Goodman nods slowly. "Agreed. Luther has all the qualifications we need in an operative, and I think he'll make a fine addition alongside Ms. Henrique." Goodman sets Luther's dossier down on the table atop one that reads R. Henrique. Then, he picks up another file, looking to Canfield for recognition before he leans back.

"Woods?" Canfield's response is dubious. "I dunno, former Company-man. No offense intended," he notes with a motion between himself and Goodman, "but you were on Arthur's side the whole time. Woods? He was a Linderman appointment, and that never set right with me." Glancing down at his drink, Canfield furrows his brows, then looks up to Goodman expectantly.

Goodman fires the same expectant stare back, then waves his hand from side to side. "I'm on the fence. But Woods' track record with the UEO is spotless, even when he found out about Edward's arrest. Plus, part of me finds it amusing that we could have three teleporters on our squad. I think there's tactical merit in that."

"Tactical," Canfield echoes. "You think there's gonna be much call for that, on the other side?" With glass in hand, Canfield motions to the window, implying the distant beyond the reflection of them in the green-tinted glass.

Goodman doesn't answer immediately, looking through Woods' file. "Arthur does," is his diplomatic response. "But that's just it, neither you nor Arthur knows what to expect over there. We have the world's top scientists bashing their heads against a wall, trying to find a crack in it, but none of them know what we'll find once we open it."

"Maybe the other half of a bus?" Canfield jokes, then cracks a smile as Goodman joins him in laughter.

"We can only hope something so mundane." Is how Goodman views the situation. "We've only been able to confirm two of the intruders. Both have been relatively quiet, just getting by. But outside of what Peter was able to share with us about where they came from, we know next to nothing about their intentions or how they even got here in the first place."

"Why?" Is all Canfield asks in response, and when Goodman fires back a puzzled expression, Canfield throws his shoulders up in a shrug. "Why aren't we hauling the two we know in? Right? We've got telepaths, we've got lie detectors, we've got every weird truck under the sun and no way they can escape us with Molly Walker. So why don't we just wrangle?"

The sigh from Goodman is one of wordless agreement. "Arthur doesn't want to risk an incident. We don't know how many of them there are, and if we go grabbing people he thinks it could escalate into violence. The last thing we want to do is destroy everything when it's only just been built." Though the reluctance in Goodman's tone implies that he doesn't entirely agree.

"I think," Goodman continues, "Arthur's more concerned with getting the Looking Glass up and running than he is finding out why we need it in the first place." That assertion has Canfield raising a brow.

"We were working on it before November 8th, 2011." There's a narrowing of Canfield's eyes as he delivers that truth, and Goodman stares him down with an accusatory look. "Honest to god, I heard Schwenkman talking about it. The Natazhat facility? They had a science team up there experimenting with quantum mechanics. The lead researcher, Eric Kravid? She was working hand-in-hand with Schwenkman. He just wasn't on-site the day the whole thing blew the fuck up."

"You're sure about this? I asked Arthur." Goodman's jaw sets squarely, and Canfield raises his brows and smoothly waves with one hand in a well there you have it motion.

"He give you a straight answer?" Canfield's crooked smile returns. Goodman says nothing, but sinks back down against the sofa. "Now, maybe they didn't know exactly what to expect. I heard the Company scrambled Schwenkman's brain like eggs, so maybe they didn't expect to go to Wonderland. But they were messing with the mirror, my word to God."

Deflating with a sigh, Goodman leans forward and retrieves his drink and finishes it in one long draw. When he sets the glass down, there's a frustrated look in his eyes. "How deep do you think knowledge about this program went?" It's an honest enough question, but one that Canfield can only speculate on.

"I've got guesses," Canfield admits, "but my best guess?" He raises his glass in a toast to Goodman. "Real deep."

"Bone deep."

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