Participants:
| Scene Title | Finding the Center |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Small groups of people trapped within the Dome gather, in hopes of finding something at the center of the bubble. |
| Date | February 8, 2011 |
Mid-day on Tuesday is cold, but mostly clear. Which makes it a good day for a small group of people to go exploring. Searching for something very particular. It may amount to nothing, it may solve the whole issue, but for some people the important part is to be doing something, rather than sitting around and waiting for others to deal with it.
It took time, exploring, a bit of educated guessing, and a teensy bit of math, but Perry, Devon and Melissa worked together to get a rough map of where the Dome was, and around where the center of it should be. And once they had that, they told a few people, letting others come with in their hunt for that spot and the Evolved that they're hoping is there.
The spot they earmarked as the center is actually in Queens, which means crossing water. Problematic, but not impossible. A man by the name of Valentin was nice enough to ferry people across, though they were warned to be inside somewhere at curfew.
A big bubble surrounding them, and curfew is still enforced. Gotta love the government.
They land not far from the building known as the Brick House, and Melissa climbs out, one of the first back on dry land, and she pulls out a folded up map that she'd printed off, one that has pencil marks and a big black X where the center, presumably, is. She checks their current location, it's position in relation to the X, and distance, then looks towards the others who rode in the boat with her.
“Okay guys, take a few to stretch or whatever. We're not too far according to this map,” she says, before folding it up and taking a look around, gaze lingering on the building in the distance, sighing softly and muttering to herself, “I should check in there while we're here. Just to be sure.” She may not be Ferrymen any longer, but they're still allies and, in some cases, friends.
JJ climbs out of the boat, cell phone coming out of his jacket to power up — he'd been keeping it turned off until closer to the center, to preserve the battery life. As he waits, he glances upward, green eyes squinting despite the cloudy day. If looks could cut through that barrier that separates them from the rest of the world, they'd be free.
The phone finally booted, he scrolls to the GPS application, watching the grid on the screen orient to their new locale, and he glances over at Melissa and nods, jutting his chin in the general direction the computer points him in. "Not far off," he agrees.
Following just behind JJ comes Devon. Grief and exhaustion still weigh heavily on him, unexplained and carried alone, yet he still insisted on helping map out the Dome and come on this little expidition. Finding a way out of the dome, or at least answers for why it is, has become a singular task to fill his mind; it's all he's got left at this point.
The teenager's feet squish faintly as he lands on the shore. A look is directed toward Melissa and then back to JJ. His feet carry him closer to the FRONTLINE officer, eyes flicking toward the phone's display and then upward again to survey the spread of land before them.
There used to be another factory - or perhaps a warehouse - out behind the Brick House, and in the overgrown ruins of its foundation this afternoon a rather broad (in all senses of the term) individual is currently hammering a metal stake into a crack between some bits of concrete, one of several that are fairly hidden in the wind-blown dirt and remnants of stone that are scattered over the lot. Climbing pitons scavenged from some store, they look like. Doyle's wearing a slightly worn, puffy grey jacket and a newsboy cap, hunched over his work and ignorant of others converging near his location.
Elle and Jaiden decided to make their way out to the Brick House, now that Elle is fed and not so terrified of what lays on the other side of the water. Mainly, the Suresh center and the Institute. She's got her old pair of jeans on, as well as an oversized hoodie; her head has been nicely patched up, thanks to Jaiden, after Doyle reopened the wound.
Quietly, Elle leads the way to the building that she and Doyle made into a safehouse. She doesn't like Doyle, but it's good to stick together.
Melissa looks at Devon, brow furrowing a little as she studies the boy's face. She moves closer, murmuring softly, "You okay?" She's distracted soon enough though, spotting familiar faces, and she lifts a hand, more to Doyle than the other pair. "Everything going alright?" she calls out, before finally looking to JJ and giving a small nod.
The house is so close to the center they seek, and the three people nearby it instantly get JJ's interest. Jaiden he knows wasn't at the center of the dome the day it went up, but these others get a narrowed-eyed appraisal from the FRONTLINE officer. When Melissa addresses Doyle, JJ tips his head to listen, though he begins to move slowly in the direction that the phone points him in.
"Come on," he says gently to Devon, reaching with a gloved hand to pat the younger boy's shoulder as he begins to walk — slowly enough that Melissa can catch up.
Devon casts a glance toward Melissa, and then past toward Doyle, Elle, and Jaiden. His jaw works, tightening for a long moment before relaxing. His gaze returns to Melissa, with the same tired and troubled expression, though he gives her a small nod regardless of where her attention stands. It saves him from having to answer questions. JJ also earns a nod, the teenager glancing up at the officer as he falls into step with him.
What? What? There's someone else here, waving and calling in his direction? Eric's head jerks up, his eyes widening in momentary panic - the fake glasses having been discarded as useless, although the ridiculous cap is starting to grow on him - as he straightens, dropping a step back from his work, hammer in one hand and his other raising…
Oh. Wait. That's someone he recognizes, although he's not so sure about the pair with her. He hesitates for a moment, "Uh. Hi?" He tries a smile, waving the hammer a little.
With Devon's vague reaction, Melissa gives him a shoulder squeeze as well, before she too starts heading towards Doyle. "Hey Eric. You doing okay here? And don't mind us, we're just on a hunt for the center of this fucking bubble," she says, making an absent gesture towards Devon and JJ.
A sudden crackle and pop of incoming radio waves brings the walkie talkie at Mel's hip to life, a white noise buzz that resolves into a familiar stammer. "M- uh- Melissa, it's- uh- it's me. Your- uh- your position? Are you- uh- are you receiving?" The signal, for all that it's a little rough, sounds strong. Perry must be close, though not yet in sight.
"You haven't seen anything strange, have you? Since you … live…" one can hear the question in JJ's words as he throws a skeptical glance at the Brickhouse, "so close to where we think it's at and all? Any strange people? Don't got a Neighborhood Watch or nothin' like that around here we can interrogate do you?"
The FRONTLINE officer's words are said with good nature as he glances back toward Doyle, then to Jaiden and Elle as they head toward the building. "Hey, Aussie," he throws to Jaiden with a nod. "Free to join us if you want."
Devon continues forward, without changing his pace. Those who decide to can easily catch up but he feels like continuing the search. He studies the ground as much as the outlying area. Someone had to create the dome, and someone should still be here. Or there ought to be sign of someone here, flattened grass, footprints in the ground. The teenager does glance over his shoulder, checking to see he doesn't travel too far from the others.
Soon, they're close enough to the Brick House to see those approaching. Elle squints over at those gathered, brows raised. "Here we go, Jaiden." She murmurs this to her travelling companion, before turning to peer at the man calling out to Jaiden. Brows raise further, and the woman seems to kind of…shrink, behind the tall Australian, hiding herself to the best of her ability.
Elle Bishop doesn't like strangers these days.
"Not unless you count a bunch've gangbangers," Doyle replies with a rough snort of breath at the question, "We're… surviving out here, did Brian tell you we were here?" He pushes the edge of his cap up, looking worried, "I asked him to contact everyone he could, let them know we had a place to— to gather, you know, safety in numbers? But nobody's shown up. I was starting to wonder— I mean— if they'd gotten rounded up or something."
If there's anything about Jaiden, it's that he's noticible, what with the hat and backpack and all. Straightening his shoulders and glancing back at Elle, he nods. "Let's go…" And he heads down to the group.
The sound of her walkie has Melissa jumping. She's never used it before. Never had to, not since the Ferry sent it to her in a care package of sorts. But she pulls it free and hits the button to transmit. "We're not too far from where we marked the center. You know that building nearby? The brick house? We're there."
She lowers it, and shakes her head as she continues heading towards Doyle. "I haven't spoken to Brian. Ever, actually. We're trying to find the center of this thing, and from what we mapped out and some math, we figured that it's not far from here. Down near the bridge supports. Or at least that's what we can figure."
"Uh- y- yes, yes!" Perry's voice comes over the receiver, "I'll- uh- I'll backtrack, meet up with you. It's- uh- it's clear here, by the way. No- uh- no trouble so far. Pretty- uh- pretty quiet, really." It's hard to tell over the connection, but it sounds almost like Perry's disappointed. "Any- uh- anyways, see you soon. Over- uh- over and out." The connection cuts out.
Their small group suddenly doubled, JJ gives a nod of appreciation to the new ranks of volunteers, glancing at Melissa as if to gauge her judgment on their character. "All right," he murmurs, glancing down at his phone, as if he's strayed anywhere off path in the few steps hes taken since the last glance.
Looking back up, long legs jog to catch up with Devon, and he nods toward the supports to the bridge. One hand reaches into his pocket and out comes a canister of negation gas, courtesy of the Stillwater goons and subsequently Ygraine — just in case. He glances back to make sure the rest of the group is following. "We'll get outta here," he says quietly to Devon. "I promise. Somehow, okay? We will."
Devon continues walking, and searching, even as JJ catches up. A hand lifts to absently comb through his hair, an action of small frustration and at least something different from present demeanor. When addressed again, he looks toward the Frontline officer, offering a small shake of his head. "Sure," he replies, despondently, "I know we will."
Elle quietly follows behind Jaiden, her eys on the ground. Trying to blend in, be inconspicuous, and generally not be recognized at her. Hopefully, the dyed hair helps the act of blending. For now, she's happy to stay right behind Jaiden. She doesn't know a lot of these faces.
Jaiden recognizes a few of the faces. The FRONTLINE man he helped raid pantries and the like, but the others…not really. It appears they're all in the area looking for the same thing so, pushing his hands into his pockets he scans the area around, looking for anything that could conceivably hold a person or something that could generate this kind of field. "Any ideas, ladies and gents? Who do we get to bring to justice for this imposition?"
"The center?" The idea hadn't even occured to Doyle, and he frowns, straightening… and then there's Elle, and a friend! She gets a brief glare, a scowl, fingers curling at his side into a fist before he turns pointedly away from her to Melissa and JJ's group. "You want me to tag along? If there's trouble…"
Please god say yes, he needs to get away from Amadeus for awhile.
The radio is replaced at Melissa's hip and she glances around briefly, trying to spot Perry. After a moment she looks back to Doyle and nods. "Sure. The more the merrier. Can't promise that we'll find anything useful there, but we won't know until we look, right? And who knows. Maybe we'll find the one responsible there and we'll all be out of here by dinnertime."
Melissa doesn't have to look for too long. In minutes, Perry's lanky shape lopes into view, a walkie talkie in hand, a mild, thoughtful frown furrowing the brow above muddy brown eyes. He lifts his free hand in a loose salute, smiling as he catches sight of Melissa and what looks to be a pretty robust band of people…
…including a member FRONTLINE. This does not set the young man at ease, but he tries his best to hide this dubious reaction as he steps into a more conversational distance. "A- uh- a lot of people with common cause, hm?" he asks of Melissa, glancing about at the assembled faces. Not about to introduce himself, not if he can avoid it. Anonymity is a luxury he would like to keep a hold of for as long as he can, especially with a representative of Power present.
Devon gets another pat on the shoulder from the FRONTLINE officer who then juts up his chin toward the newcomer Perry in the typical guy-speak for men of their generation. "Sup.
As the group trudges along, he glances at the display on his phone again, tugging his glove off with his teeth so he can touch the screen and zoom in. After several moments, he nods toward the area in front of them, close to the supports of the bridge that looms over head. "Should be just about here," JJ says with a vague gesture to the nondescript road they stand on that runs parallel to the bridge. "Not precise measurements, but probably a radius of a couple hundred yards, maybe?" He shakes his head. "I don't see anybody here. Anyone got any voodoo who-doo that might be able to tell us if anyone's about?"
Another glance is directed toward the rag-tag group, Devon half turning as he looks over his shoulder. He catches the generalized gesture, the area they should be looking over, and turns to seperate just a little from everyone else. His eyes go to the looming remains of the bridge for a moment, eyeing the supports that still stand, then return to the ground.
Drawing a little further away, Devon scuffs a foot against the ground as he continues his own little circuit, the grass giving way then springing back into place after he's passed. Nothing stands out as remarkable. Another step and he drags a foot again, this time something catching, a tink instead of a scuff. The teenager sinks into a squat, one hand pushing the grass aside while the other reaches out to pick up the tink, a seemingly empty syringe, just a drop of something left in the neck between plunger and needle.
Elle turns, scowling at Doyle rather halfheartedly, before she turns her eyes to the group of people she doesn't know, frowning. Any one of these people could be with the Institute. Paranoia running fairly strong, the blonde-turned-redhead stays fairly close to Jaiden's side. She'll just stay here, in the back, hopefully a bit more out of sight.
Quietly, she watches JJ, brows raised as she peers around at the surroundings thoughtfully, a frown on her face. Then, her attention is drawn toward Devon, and that syringe he has. Hmmm. She slowly pulls away from Jaiden, wandering over toward the teen. "What's that?" Hopefully, nobody here wants to turn her into a battery. Her gaze darts around a bit nervously.
There's a moment or two when Jaiden reaches in to grab a bottle from his backpack, unscrewing the cap and drinking before offering it to whoever else would like a sip. being a guy who can pull water out of air is good sometimes. "No voodoo on my end to help find anyone, but the easiest thing would just be to look around and see if anything is about. Let's try to find the center, or as close to it as we can. That thing you have, Devon." Jaiden nods toward the man. "It got the circumference or radius, estimated, of this place?"
"I don't see anything," Doyle admits, knuckling his cap back a bit as he looks over the street with a frown, "Nobody around here, if there was someone here… I'm guessing they buggered out."
"Best I can do is blanket the area in pain, and count how many people are hurting," Melissa says a bit apologetically. Then she eyes Jaiden. "This is the center. And the bubble is…" She glances at Devon. "Six thousand feet, right? One of the guys on the other side, military type, gave us that tidbit a few days back. Before the train wreck."
Nodding to Doyle, she says, "I don't see anyone either. Doesn't mean there isn't someone here though. It was a long shot from the beginning. Still, for something of this size…I figured that whoever did it had to be in the center to be able to maintain it." And she's clearly not happy about being wrong.
Turning around again after surveying the 360 degree panoramic view, JJ frowns, moving to see what it is Devon has. "Hey," he says quietly, brows rising again with curiosity. "Lemme see that?"
JJ shoves his removed glove into his pocket along with the phone and the negation gas canister before reaching for the needle. When Devon hesitates, he waggles his fingers in a way that says, 'come on, hand it over.'
Once the needle is in his hand, he holds it up so that the gray light that filters through the dome's top and the clouds above that shine through. "Black." The word is meaningful, and he raises a brow to see if it means anything to the rest of the group. "This is Amp. That's how this was done."
He may be a government goon representing the Power, but he's not trying to keep secrets from their ragtag fellowship.
He clears his throat, and nods to the others, eyes falling on Jaiden especially. "I'm gonna check it out. But it means I'm kinda out for a bit. You guys got my back? If you interrupt me before I come up, I might not get it all, so … unless I'm in trouble, don't shake me out of it, okay?"
Apparently he trusts them because he doesn't wait, green eyes fluttering closed and his brows knitting in fierce concentration.
Brushing his hand against the leg of his pants, Devon stands again. He shoots a glance toward the others, silent question. Brows furrow and he turns his attention back to JJ, watching the man as much as the syringe.
Elle turns, peering quietly up t JJ with raised brows. Amp…yeah, that makes quite a bit of sense. The woman nods slowly. "I'll make sure nobody touches you." She can at least do that much. He may be FRONTLINE…but last she checked, FRONTLINE was under Liz's command, not the Institute. That's got to account for something, right? Besides…he's trying to figure out what happened here. Whatever he's going to do.
"Don't get snared or anything." Jaiden says solemnly, turning to scan the horizon surrounding them, watching for movement, haze, or anything unnatural while the man with the syringe does his thing. "If you can find out what the hell's going on, all will be a hell of a lot better."
As the man sinks into some sort of trance, Doyle steps along over to stand closer to Melissa; leaning in a bit, he asks in hushed tones as he watches JJ with a furrowed brow, "What's his ability? Psychometry or something?"
There's a definite air of anxiety as JJ draws moments from the past, intersections of this object with Being and intent. At least, that's how Perry feels about it. He fiddles nervously with the antenna of his walkie talkie, casting glances towards Melissa, trying to get a read on her state of mind, her thoughts.
Amp? That has Melissa frowning, but she nods. "Yeah, that makes sense. Dammit. Still, if that's here…that means that whoever put it up was here. But how the hell could they maintain this for this long, even with the drug? And where the fuck did they get it?" she mutters. She nods again, to JJ specifically. "You'll be fine." And she starts to move closer, just in case. Just because she doesn't expect trouble doesn't mean it won't find them.
She glances at Devon, concerned about him, then looks to Doyle, pausing when he approaches. "Seems like psychometry. I barely know the guy though, so can't say for certain. But touching something and getting info? Screams psychometry to me," she murmurs to him. There's a long pause, a glance around, then she drops her voice ever more, "How's your group doing? Heard anything from any of the other houses? Any word on this whole thing from the outside?"
While she talks she keeps an eye out, not at JJ, but at the area around them. Trouble, if it comes, won't be coming from him, but for him. Perry does get a look, a quick, reassuring smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes. Not quite.
J's oblivious to those around him; he stands statue still, fingers gingerly gripping the syringe, careful of the silver dart at the tip. His closed eyes flutter, like a slumberer in a dream. He sees the needle being plucked from Devon's fingers, a gap, then the same hand picking it up from the street; the conversation they'd just had repeating again from Devon's perspective, himself looming toward the teen, and then something he hasn't seen before.
The neglected coast of Queens stretches in front of him, the Queensboro Bridge, intact, to one side, and the squat shapes of abandoned buildings to the other. The weeds and grass tickle and blow damp beneath the winter breezes, the pepper-shake fall of snow. He sees the tops of worn, damp boots on the ends of legs sprawled in front of him where he sits in the dunes, dirty jeans, winter layers of clothing. The man holding the needle looks down. Distant traffic of cars on the bridge beeps and growls.
Feelings crash against a worn soul, like sea spray against weathered rocks. Despair. Loneliness. And utter paranoia.
The underside of the arm is starkly white, deep veined, masculine in the ropey chords of muscle that bulge between greasy, abused skin. Needle digging into the soft flesh as thumb with grimy, bitten nail depresses the plunger, black fluid thick as sauce forced into those blue veins, and a blue shimmer not unlike the dome-walls flashes over the man's body, before seeming to leap off like sizzling water off a superheated pan. The vision tilts upwards at the falling snow, which spends a few more moments settling, fine and flaky, before being no more.
Silver minnow dart of needle is retracted sharply, and then it and syringe both are pitched away, vision snapping closed and black in the same movement.
JJ's lips press together as if he's in pain, though none will register to Melissa's mind. He doesn't open his eyes yet; his scowl deepens, but he remains still, upright, a statue but for those changing expressions on his face.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Devon shuffles back a step. His eyes remain on JJ, watching the Frontline guy with a quiet intensity. He glances toward Melissa, Doyle, and Perry briefly, when JJ's expression changes, but his attention returns to its former query shortly thereafter.
Giving a glance to Elle, Jaiden forms some small orbs out of water - about the size of billiard balls, and tosses them from one hand to the other, idly, still watching the distance for anyone who may be observing them.
"No. I'm in contact with the outside world, but nobody knows shit yet… put out the word about the 'House, but I haven't seen much of anyone. And Bishop over there took off, so pretty much it's just me and this psycho little shit that found us," Eric whispers in hushed tones to Melissa, pausing, "Where're you guys staying at yourselves? There's room, and we've got some supplies…"
Perry tilts his head to try and pick up on what the big man is telling Melissa, not wanting to be too obvious but assuming he has a right to the information as well. His lips thin momentarily, more in thought than distaste, not sure about what a change in location would mean, not knowing just who this man is. Rather than intrude on the conversation, however, he listens, though he gives Melissa an inquisitive look. She can… fill him in later, at least, right?
Even though Melissa can't feel any pain from JJ, she does recognize the signs of it on people's faces, and she frowns a little while watching him. She glances back to Doyle, smiling faintly, but it's not a happy smile. "DHS has demanded that I live over in an apartment in Summer Meadows. So I'm staying there with him," she nods to Perry. "And he," she nods to Devon, "is one of my neighbors. Remind me though, to give you my number before I head back thataway. In case you do hear anything."
She doesn't seem to care when Perry seems to be listening in, since likely she will fill him in on anything he misses. And she's not talking quite so softly now that she's not discussing the Ferry directly anymore, so it's easier to overhear. "You have many people injured on this side? We had a couple caught by the bubble, and a subway train got caught in it, injured a bunch, killed a few."
Despite the cold winter day, sweat beads on JJ's furrowed brow, and his face is a little paler than its usual caramel hue, freckles standing out on nose and cheeks in all the starker contrast.
The vision blooms into being as soon as the syringe is laid down in sweaty, slightly dirty palm. His beer is untouched on the table next to him, and JJ can hear the sounds of a bar. The hand withdrawing is gloved, encased in wool against the cold outside, even if it's not particularly cold outside in here. It would be good, maybe, if the man holding the item would just look up.
Look up. But he's consumed by a kind of warring dichotomy of emotions, of supreme guilt and wariness, of sick distrust and uncertainty. It feels to JJ like the same man in the last vision, that scattered array of feelings and thoughts, self-indulgent, introspective, without particular context as to his surroundings.
"- can pay me later," a masculine voice is saying over the music. American, unfamiliar. "You don't exactly look like you're rolling in- "
The voice and the vision both cut off as JJ witnesses the syringe get pushed into a pocket. Forgotten.
JJ sways slightly on his feet, the cost of the vision clearly fatigue and exertion as he suddenly gasps for breath, a bead of sweat dropping off his forehead as his eyes open.
"I don't think it was the government," he murmurs. "Something… he got the Amp from someone private. He's … he's not sure and he's afraid, and he feels guilty… it's a guy, but that's… that's all I know." His eyes close wearily.
Devon half withdraws a hand at JJ's gasp, his movements rushed, intent on steadying him lest he fall. But as the man keeps himself upright, the teenager's movements slow. Both hands come out of their respective pockets and he turns away from the Frontline officer. "So much for getting out," he states quietly, discouragement slipping into his tone. He turns, looking toward one of the many directions of the mostly transluscent wall.
Elle levels a scowl on Eric Doyle as he calls her out, before her gaze turns back toward JJ. Psychometry, definitely. Her brows raise, hand running through her hair as she watches him. As he comes to, Elle tilts her head to the side. "Did he sit anywhere when he did it? If this is the center, and you've got psychometry, then maybe you can learn more from something else." She tilts her head to the side, fidgeting slightly as she peers up at JJ.
A sudden step back, Doyle's eyes widening slightly. "You're… working with DHS on this?" He sounds startled, a bit suspicious. There's almost an accusation to his voice. "And I can't call you. We don't have power over here, the government cleared out the 'House back on the eighth, we…"
Then JJ is talking, and he snaps his mouth shut, frowning at the man. "That's it?"
Doyle's reaction has Melissa snorting softly. "It's part of my probation, for being a bad little girl who resisted arrest when they hauled me off to Moab," she murmurs with a sneer of disdain for DHS and those who did the hauling. "Trust me, I didn't choose to live here or be on probation."
When JJ speaks she looks back to him. "Yeah, I didn't figure it was the government. Too stupid for them to do this," Melissa murmurs, nodding and unsurprised. "No sense of who the private dealer was? Anything about the user other than male? Short, tall? Black, white? No identifying marks? Any sense of why he threw this thing up to seal us in?"
She falls silent for a long moment, starting to pace slowly, her brow furrowing. "Hopefully…he can't get out of his bubble anymore than we can. Which means that he's somewhere in here with us, and still alive. Which means…" She pauses, turns towards JJ. "If you touched him, or something of his, you could tell if it was the same person?"
"Power doesn't work like that," JJ says gruffly to Melissa, reaching up to scuff a wrist across his glazed forehead. "Needs to have fingerprints. He's sitting in a patch of dirt and weeds and sand, ain't gonna leave fingerprints. Sorry."
He shrugs to Melissa. "American voice, that's about all I got. No one I've heard before, but I wouldn't expect that. The guy who did this," he nods up, "he's white. Dirty hands, nails bitten down. Not a lot of detail. I saw it from his point of view."
He pulls out his phone, starting to type swiftly. "Yeah, I could probably tell, not 100 percent. It'd be based on feelings. But has to have his prints on it."
The needle is carefully stowed in the other pocket. "I'll rest and see if I can get more from it later. I might be able to get some more information on it. It's all I can get right now." His words hold a tone of disappointment in himself, in his ability. "'Scuse me."
He turns his back on them, pressing the send button and holding his phone up to his ear, voice low as he steps away from the others, presumably to tell someone in FRONTLINE what he's found.
The turn of conversation has Devon turning back a little, enough to watch those actually speaking with an occasional glance toward Jaiden and Elle. It still seems futile, he'd have given up if not for the others who're trapped within the dome. "Why not just ask to see everyone's hands," he suggests, directing his question at Melissa and Doyle. "Chewed nails… could be habitual. Being stuck in here…" Well, he'd be chewing his nails too.
Oh, look, Doyle's getting paranoid. He looks to JJ as the man pulls out his phone, then to Melissa, a look of suspicion - and worry - furrowing his brow as he steps back a little from the gathered, chewing on his lower lip a bit.
"Maybe we'll find something. But for now…yeah, take a rest." Melissa looks towards Devon and smiles. "It's not a bad idea. First things first…we should try and make a list of everyone who's in here. We can rule out the women, children, and anyone who isn't white, which should narrow it down. And anyone with a perfect manicure is out. Accents can be faked though. That sound like a plan? Narrow it down to a short list of who it could be, then see if JJ can work his magic to narrow it down further?"
She pauses, considers, then moves closer to Doyle, dropping her voice again. "Seriously, I'm not working with DHS. I hate the bastards. I hate everyone who put me in Moab. But they caught me, threw me in jail, and only released me on probation for a little PR. Trust me, we're still on the same side, Eric. I swear it." And she certainly sounds sincere.
The man murmurs his findings in that weary voice to the person on the phone, one hand coming up to press a palm into his temple, eyes tightening into a wince.
After hanging up, he turns and shrugs to Melissa. "You can try," JJ says skeptically, turning to look toward the buildings in the distance that fall within the barrier that traps them. "There's a helluva lot of places to hide, if someone doesn't wanna be found. But it's a starting point. I'll go deeper if I can — my power has limits. I need fingerprints to read something, so that counts out a lot of stuff. If 1,000 people have touched something since our guy last touched it? Good luck. We already found a needle in a haystack, but now we have to find another one."
His green eyes lift to squint up at the distant and removed sky. "Luckily it's the same haystack. Might be doable."
Devon rakes his fingers though his hair, giving a glance toward JJ. Dropping his hand to his side again, he sighs and shrugs. "Just thought, place to start…" Less futile than trying to break through the barrier by force, at least in theory. The teenager shrugs again and ducks his head, eyes going to the ground.
"Mhm." Doyle slants a suspicious look to JJ, adding in hushed tones as the man talks on the phone, "And him? I don't want the House getting raided…"
Melissa glances at JJ, then back to Doyle, still whispering. "He seems okay…but he's FRONTLINE." She takes a step away and nods, looking around at the people gathered. "Okay, so we've got a new plan for now. If everyone can help by starting to get a list together. You can exclude the women, children and non-white men if you want. I figure we can hook up in a few days, check lists, see how narrow we can get the list. If you have access to a phone, I'll give you my number so I can coodinate between people. For those who don't, I'm at the Westview Apartments in Summer Meadows, 303. And just so I'm not pissing anyone off…I said coordinate, not get bossy. Someone comes up with a better idea, I'm totally all for it."
Drawing in a deep breath, she smiles a bit. "I know we didn't find what we'd hoped here, but we found something, and we have more information than we did an hour ago. We have a new plan, a good plan. So think about that the next few days, rather than dwelling on the fact that we're stuck in a bubble.
"Because I promise, one way or another, we're getting out of here."
