Crazy Stunt


alia_icon.gif hana_icon.gif

Scene Title Crazy Stunt
Synopsis Alia asks Hana to do a job on Cardinal's behalf; Hana refuses to take secondhand orders on principle.
Date April 19, 2011

A meeting point in Harlem

A quiet little abandoned storefront in Harlem serves as the office, a message passed through contacts, that D.Crypt wants to meet Apila… face to face. Alia sighs. This is not going, she believes, to be easy. She leans back in her chair, her backpack at her side. On her lap is a sheathed rapier. Nervous? Yes, Alia is nervous.

In contrast, the woman who steps into the neglected little building, eyes going first to the rapier, then to the room, and only last to Alia herself, doesn't look anything but self-assured. She nods briefly to the younger woman, moving forward with the quiet punctuation of footsteps on concrete. "Problem?" Hana prompts, inviting D.Crypt to explain her summons.

Alia looks up, then nods slowly. “A few.” The words are short, clipped…. just like her digital speech in the past. She sighs and shifts a bit, still finding the world too bright, too loud for her liking, even if she’s more used to it now then she was just a few months back. “Need help with request from Redbird. Physical skills. Planting papers. Also… a warning. About digital places.” She hesitates, briefly. “Traps out there. Meant for us. DoEA had me. Head of them is Humanis First. Great fun.” The last two words are dripping with sarcasm.

“Need to plant proof, on a few. Digital side, I can… I … can’t do the physical side.” Alia admits her limits. At no time during the whole set of words does she reach for the weapon on her lap. Perhaps that was there in case someone uninvited showed up?

The Israeli considers Alia for a moment — or, more likely, the words of her explanation. She folds her arms across her chest, and proceeds to consider it more, lips pressing together into a narrow, musing line. "Planting what, on whom?" Hana finally prompts, dark eyes narrowing slightly as they flick back up to met Alia's gaze. "That kind of infiltration can get damned tricky." And, when it comes down to it, not really Hana's forte.

Alia closes her eyes. “A mayor. The head of the DoEA. A General. And one other high-arse.” Alia’s clipped tone continues… and she reaches for a small bottle of ibuprofen she kept in the backpack, taking two. “… need it in their offices. or homes.” She closes her eyes. “as for problem… lots.” She admits. “Two months out of body does no favors.”

The furrows which have drawn themselves in Hana's brow don't become any lighter. "It doesn't, no," she agrees distractedly. "Exactly what kind of evidence are we talking about, here? Planted in what kind of way?" The woman lets her arms fall, the better for her to pace, long-legged stride rapidly eating up the width of the room. "Files slipped into a public office, I might manage. Depends on their security." Speaking to herself as much as Alia, turning the proposition over in her head.

Hana pivots on a heel to face Alia squarely, the sound of boot striking concrete loud in the enclosed space. "Seriously, Chavez? Not my skillset. Why should I agree to a crazy stunt like this?"

Alia sighs a moment, and shrugs. “Ask Cardinal. His bloody idea.” She admits and closes her eyes, even as she reaches into her bag an pulls out a manila envelope. Inside are various bits of paperwork. Ones suggesting that Humanis First has political control of the city. Letters, mostly, to and from the four people named. “… Not my skill either. Digital? Sure. This? ugh.”

She pauses, then speaks softly. “Just know, that something done soon… or we’re all in trouble.” Alia digs out a separate folder, which she hands to Hana. This one has diagrams of the hunter bots. “They likely copied me.” She says without further explanation at the moment. It’s a very tired-sounding voice as she leans back. “They might even still have me.”

Arms folding at the decided non-answer to her question, fingers of one hand tapping silently against the inside of the opposite elbow, Hana doesn't move to take the envelopes Alia holds out in her direction. She doesn't stand there long, either — stillness isn't Hana's natural state, and she doesn't have to adopt it here. "Not fucking good enough, Chavez," the woman replies, snarled words and loud footfalls the antithesis of Alia's own quiet speech. "No way in hell I'm sticking my neck that far out without a damned compelling reason."

Her route takes her, direct and forthright, to the door by which she entered; here, Hana pauses. "You ought to know when data's being accessed," she states, which may or may not shed any light on the one subject. She doesn't leave without final words on the other: "If Cardinal wants it done so badly, he better fucking deliver his own sales pitch."

Alia wishes it shed light on the subject. She doesn’t object to Hana’s departure, and offers only a nod and a quiet sigh as she closes her eyes and tries to figure out her next move in the crazy dance her life had become.

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