Participants:
| Scene Title | Damn Big Radius |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Ryans and Veronica compare notes on where a common target has been and may be. |
| Date | March 29, 2010 |
Fort Hero Conference Room
Down one of the many halls of Fort Hero, a door stands open, the lights dim inside. It is the conference room that the agents have used many times before. Inside an image of Luke Campbell is projected on the wall. A lone figure stands, feet slightly apart, arms cross, a hand rubbing at the stubble of his chin. Duster, fedora and sport jacket are tossed over a chair. His dress shirt is a dark rust red, a shoulder holster blends into it slightly, the hand of another weapon at the small of his back. His slacks are a nice tan and neatly pressed.
There is no reading the man's face to know anything, but that he is thinking. The incident of the night before has been bothering the senior, being unable to call in backup till it was too late, running into an an old target, and the risk to his cover. Added to that being unable to tail the kid, it left Ryans frustrated.
Veronica doesn't usually spend the night at Fort Hero. But due to the inclement weather that makes traveling such an ordeal, after coming in late for her meeting with Martin Crowley regarding her findings yesterday, she chose to spend the night — on one of the rec room couches, so she's sore and cranky today. She walks by the conference room on her way to her office, planning on picking up her belongings and heading back out to the city — Roosevelt Island, perhaps.
Passing the conference room, a glance in reveals Ryans and the picture of Luke Campbell — one of her two main projects, the twain tangled in a messy knot she doesn't understand.
"Ryans," she says as she leans in the doorway, her husky voice huskier than normal from want of use and recent sleep.
"Sawyer." Is offered in return, though he doesn't glance her way. His head dips down, fingers rub at is eyes wearily. "I didn't know you were out here." His head turns in her direction now, giving her a tight lipped smile, the creases is causes brings some of the older man out for a brief moment.
"I haven't briefed, the assistant director yet, but I had a run in with our young subject here." A hand motions to the screen, as he turns away from it, moving to settle into a chair, eyes moving to the agent in the doorway.
"I'm becoming curious of his circumstances." The senior agent admits, leaning back in the chair, leaning to one side so that he can rest an elbow on the chair's arm, and rest his chin against the fingers of the hand. "Something seems off by this whole thing."
The younger agent enters the room, moving to sit on the corner of the long table. "You ran into him? I've got intel that says he might have been at the Roosevelt Island party — I sent it in an email yesterday. The police broke up the little shindig using an LRAD that somehow got melted. Might have been our boy." She looks to the picture, frowning. "I was going to poke around Roosevelt Island, but the flyers for that party were pretty widespread. He might not be around that area, but it's worth checking out. Where'd you see him at?"
"Old Lucy's." Ryans offers simply enough, glancing at Veronica again, head moving to press fingers to his temple to hold it up. "I couldn't grab him there. My daughter works there and she doesn't know what I do." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn't last long. "Though with my age reversal, I told her I was looking at a job in Homeland Security."
Head lifting, Ryans sits up a little straighter. "The owner knows.. not just that her employee, Huruma." There is touch of a growl in that name, then he sighs softly.
"I was told her bar was neutral ground." That actually amuses him some, but Ryans adds, "the only reason I listened was cause Lucille works there, but I didn't let him off the hook."
A hand moves to rest on the table, fingers tap there lightly. "I tested the young man. Told Abigail that he was under aged… and watched." Blue eyes lift to look at the other agent, maybe gauging her reaction to the risk he took with the bar owners life.
"I know the owner. I can ask her to give me a call if she sees him again. If she knows he's dangerous and wanted, she may or may not comply," Veronica says lightly, with regards to Abby. Her eyes narrow at the mentioning of Huruma's name. "Huruma's unfortunately got a clean slate, thanks to some work she did for the government. She worked with Monroe." There's more information that she can't tell in regards to that — why is she always on cases she can't talk to anyone about?
"What happened? My guess is he got angry and his power showed a bit?" she asks, since her theory is he can't contain himself when he's angry or upset.
"Yeah.." There is a small humorless gaff of a chuckle from the older agent. "I am painfully aware of her clean slate." And he doesn't sound at all happy about it, his brows dropping some into a furrow. "When I came back, she was one of the first I checked into. I was disappointed to see the hunt orders were gone."
"Either way, at this point it has to be water under the bridge." Ryans grates it out, moving to sit forward. "It showed, his drink boiled." Eyes licker to the screen. "Then he simply left. I moved to give chase, but seemed he took his frustration out on a hapless snowman outside."
"He at least didn't point it at a human, with a reporter just outside, shortly after he left." Sighing his head dips down and he turns thoughtful. "That means there is at least something of a moral compass in there. But… it also shows that he does have some control over his ability."
Veronica shakes her head at the story. "Some control — but it seems he doesn't have control on whether or not it … wells up, so to speak, though it looks like he can control its direction, maybe," she muses. "I'll see what I can get from Abby Beauchamp, if she's seen him before, if she sees him again. But that's a pretty damn big radius — Staten to Roosevelt to Greenwich… especially in this snow — the kid gets around. Makes tracking him harder. And I need to find him — he may be connected to that other thing I'm working on. If you find him, let me know, because I'll need to question him. Immediately."
"Central Park as well. Doctor Brennan spotted him there a second time there." Ryans supplies, with a small nod, leaning back in his chair. "Keep me apprised of the situation with him on your end?" There is a small sigh, fingers rub at one eyes, it's obvious he didn't get much sleep last night. "I've got Department of Evolved Affairs breathing down my neck on these cases."
The fingers pause and pull away, so he can look at her. "What do you know about a Vincent Lazzaro?" His voice bland and emotionless at the mentioned of the smoky man. "He showed up after Campbell left, he had a gun out when he poofed into being." Brows crease slightly, "I would almost bet he saw Luke leave, but…" The Company man was pretty sure he wouldn't have pointed him in the right direction.
"I know the name and the title, but I've never actually dealt with him," Veronica says with a single-shouldered shrug. "You think they're trying to cover it up, help Luke escape? That doesn't sound like it'd be in their best interests. The more evolved murders that occur, the more their office looks like it's screwing around, I'd think." She hops off the table. "You wanna take Summer Meadows and prowl around there, and I'll check out Greenwich?"
"I have no idea what their deal is. Between this agent, the refusal of vaccines for our agents, and the ones at the telekinetic site trying to keep us out." There is a slow shake of the older mans, head as he pushes to his feet. "They are up to something, I feel it. But why they want us to fail, is beyond me." Fists press on the table, and he leans towards her across the table, eyes peering down that long nose. "If you run into one of them, we owe them little. They are not us, they are not the authority… and more importantly, they can't stop us from our work yet."
A small smile touches his lips, but you I trust to know that, your one of the better new agents." Compared to him, all of them are new. "Summer Meadows?" He asks curiously, a brow arching and he turns thoughtful. There is a short nod. "I believe I can do that."
Veronica chuckles as he compliments her, and she arches a brow. "Believe me, I never owe anyone anything. Except maybe some revenge here and there," she says lightly. "Summer Meadows seems a likely guess, if he was at that party. It looks like the city's his oyster, but he has to lay his head somewhere, and it'd be easy enough for a kid on their own to go unnoticed there. Plus, he wasn't one that the police rounded up — might suggest that he had less far to run to get away, right? Lots of young people, lots of people down on their luck — they probably wouldn't ask too many questions of someone needing a place to stay." She shrugs, and heads for the door. "Glad that you used 'new agents' instead of young, because you don't look too much older than me these days, Gramps."
There is a small chuckle from Ryans, he moves to turn off the projector. "I might not look older, but I still feel it. Especially, with the fancy coffees, ipods, rap music. Texting." There the man actually rolls his eyes. "It's a new Company. It'll take this old dog time to adjust."
The image flicks off and the room darkens. "Take care, kiddo." He fires right back, with a crooked smile, again looking more like the old man he should. "And, Sawyer, be careful out there, can't afford to lose another good agent." Eyes drift to the chair Hokuto once sat. "We're becoming a dying breed."