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Scene Title Foresight
Synopsis Agent Ryans comes to handle a personal request made of the Company and finds himself facing his own death.
Date April 19, 2010

The Corinthian

It's four degrees outside without the wind chill factored in. The city is slowly freezing to death, New York's economy has come to a grinding standstill and the world feels like it's stopped turning. Why, then, does the Corinthian New York stay open for business despite these harsh conditions: for the love of money.

Six floors of residential space at the Corinthian are indicative of a lifestyle most people cannot afford, the luxury highrise of the Corinthian had not yet had a chance to fill out before the winter weather bombarded the building and drove away prospective clients. But there's still some people who live here, a handful of residents and Casino-goers spend their days within the walls of the Casino, all their needs tended to in this self-contained structure. Food from room service and the Chambery Restaurant, drinks at the lounge, a night at the casino and then back again the next day to start it all over again. Somehow, despite the odds, these lifers of the Vegas style have hunkered down to weather the storm cradled against Daniel Linderman's corporate bosom.

When the only new arrival all day comes after 8pm t's obvious that business is slow. The arrival of Benjamin Ryans isn't for pleasure, and the gust of arctic chill that bows in behind him on his entrance, the one that plays with the trail of his long black overcoat is as cold as his attitude is on the assignment that has brought the old agent here.

Four hours ago agent Ryans was contacted by assistant-director Crowley that a private request had been placed in to the Company by one of its closest allies — Daniel Linderman. According to the report that is still dancing around in Ryans' mind, Daniel has a sensitive issue that he would like the Company to handle, the matter of a presumed Evolved that has been cheating at his casinos. Mister Linderman's request didn't come with an explanation of how he knew, but only that he personally requested Benjamin Ryans to handle an "extraction" of the offender from the Corinthian with a stop off at Fort Hero. It's outside of protocol, it's outside of procedure and according to Martin this assignment isn't even on the books. There'll be no Institute involved here.

Instead, agent Benjamin Ryans is looking for a contact of another kind in the marble tiled foyer of the Corinthian's grand entry hall. He only knows her name, Doris Anderson, though Benjamin hadn't been noted about her preferences on naming.

For Ms.Anderson, however, her description of agent Ryans is picture-perfect, even if he looks a good ten years younger than the photograph she was shown. Clock and dagger doesn't even begin to cover this situation, and all Ina knows is that the man in the long, black coat coming in to the Casino is here to "handle the cheater problem" and all Ina need do is take him up to the room of the man involved on the 6th floor: James Alton.

What a tangled web fate weaves.

With a name, one can get a picture if they know the right people and soon enough after Ina had been notified of an important person coming to deal with the cheater, she was furnished with a picture of Ryans. Orders put that as soon as he came in the door if she'd been called away from the desk, to page her immediately. But luck would have it, she was there at the desk, tapping away at the screens of the computer, going over check in's - of which there were… none - and see who was checking out - One brave soul.

up from the front desk the immaculately clad woman looks. Green eyes sweeping over his form, a red fitted suit with tapered skirt that comes to knee and pair pulled back from face but still loose behind her shoulders. Just because there's a blizzard, doesn't mean that you don't look and act like it's happening beyond the doors. Storm? What storm? There's no storm, this is the Corinthian and all there is to worry about is the cards and whether you're up or down.

Or the guy who has the audacity to think that he can cheat at the casino. "Morgan, my appointment is here. When Mr. Dorsen comes down to check out, see if you can't convince him to stay. Nothing is moving out there to get him home. Comp his meals if you have to. Maybe he'll play some more" Wring what they can from their guests.

Around the desk Ina comes, heels striking across the floor, hips swaying side to side and chin high with a leather binder under her arm as she starts to approach Ryans. "Mr. Ryans I presume?" She's not going to use the word agent, not here where others can hear. Her hand comes out to offer it in a shake to him. "I'm Ms. Anderson. Welcome to the Corinthian"

This isn't the first off the books case he's worked recently, so at least he didn't blink at it, though there is that part of him that chafes at the change in the procedure. There is a lot of changes Ryans hasn't liked recently, maybe that is why he was so good in the Navy, he clung to structure and change was sometimes hard to bend too. It was the fact that Crowley wasn't involving the Institute, that made him a bit more accepting of the assignment.

Hell, it's just picking up a cheater. Right?

Gloves are stripped off and stowed in a pocker, his hat lifted from his head and held in his hands, a polite gesture as he approaches the woman. "That would be me, yes." A small hint of a smile touching his lips though it never reaches his eye, an automatic gesture really. Her hand is taken briefly, before it's quickly let go. "And thank you. Shall we get this over with, Ms. Anderson?" He asks brows lifting slightly as he nestles the fedora back on his head.

"Please. The sooner this is dealt with and the persons evicted from this establishment, the better it will be." She sweeps a hand towards the elevators. "Sixth floor please" Indiciating where they're going so he can hit the button once inside. "The individual's name is James Alton, likes for us to call him Jimmy. He's been staying here and at another establishment the last few months. In that time, he has had inordinate luck at the tables, no matter the game. Several hundred thousand dollars worth of inordinate good luck."

The elevator dings and slides open and the brunette hesitates for a moment at the threshold to the elevator before she gets in. THere's a roll of her left shoulder as discomfort twinges. "We can't seem to figure out how it is that he's managing to do what he is doing Mr. Ryans. His ability unknown but I have been assured that he has one. I don't take kindly to individuals with abilities using them to cheat. It's unethical" Says the woman working for the Linderman Group who is about to let an agent into a room to disappear a man. It's not lost on her. "Man can't seem to keep it in his pants either. If it has breasts and moves, he's all over it"

Setting in and turning to the buttons, his hand hovers along until it finds the right button. Once they are on the way, Ryans studies the woman as she talks noting details. "That could be any number of abilities. What does he play? Card? Slots? All of it?"

Turning to face the door, blue eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat, the Senior Agent is thoughtful. It seemed like a lot of secrecy for just one man. Why not make an example of him? Not just slip him out of the back… And why Ryans? These questions play around in his head.

"Don't worry, I'll get him out of here. Then he can just go on to be a bad memory." He assures her even as the door chimes and the doors slide open, he motions her to proceed him.

"Cards Mr. Ryans" She can't get out of the elevator fast enough and soon, that neuroses will fade from her mind. Likely the same time her stitches are taken out or not long after. From the leather folder, she passes out a bunch of pictures for him to look at. Some from casino security, others from less than official channels that got into databases elsewhere. "This is Mr. Alton. He's just down the hall here. Security informed me that he should be in his room"

Of which she is producing a keycard that's attached to a pull cord nestled inside a small clip at her waist. ID badge, master key, it's all there, tucked neatly under the fitted lipstick red blazer. "I'll open the door for you Mr. Ryans and you can do your thing" That you do.

There's a noise three doors up the hall, the sound of a door opening and the rattle of ice in a bucket. Striding out of the service room with a metal pail in one hand and a can of orange soda in the other, James Alton looks far better dressed than when Benjamin Ryans saw him at the Speakeast Casino several weeks ago. Dressed ina three piece suit and windtip shoes, he seems all the part of a man who has come into a fair deal of money and decided to decorate himself appropriately.

Standing board still when he makes out Ryans' profile, its the red-vested attire of Ina that has his attetion next, and then back to the agent. They're at his door, she's unlocking it for him, and Jimmy's eyes go wide in the moments before—


The ice bucket hits the carpeted floor, spilling its contents out across the rug as James breaks into a sprint, running down the hallway of the sixth floor towards the northeast stairwell. He didn't even so much as say hello.

The pictures are taken and flipped through one by one, as he steps out of the elevator. There is something familiar about the man in the photos, brows furrow curiously as he tries to think where. Then it clicks.

Course, that's also about the time that the bucket of ice hits the floor.

The agents head snaps around and the pictures thrust back at Ina, she better catch or they will hit the floor. "Have them block all entrances… Not like he'll get away easily." And then the agent takes off down the hall after him, hand moving for the tranquilizer gun inside his long coat.

This time, there won't be any worry of a heart attack, at this point they would be about physically the same age, unlike last time they met. "Stop!" The Agent calls moving after the man booted feet thumping loudly in pursuit.

Up comes Ina's walkie talkie, procured from under her blazer and lifted to her lips. "Mr. Alton is making a run for it. Have security meet at the western stair case, track him on the camera's please. Stop the elevator if he gets in one, block all doors, use whatever force you deem necessary for your location" They can write it off as a glitch from the storm if others get caught with him in an elevator. oh we're so sorry, here, let me make it up to you for the inconvenience. She's very good at soothing over ruffled feathers of customers. There's a glance to Ryans as he takes off after Jimmy. "Someone have maintenance come up and take of this ice right away please" Just because Jimmy's running and a federal agent is chasing, doesn't excuse ice on the floor.


Nothing but static on the radio…

While Jimmy is unaware of Ina's difficulty in getting a call on the radio, he's realizing how shouting stop never works. Jimmy Alton's mad dash for the stairwell is picture-perfect rabbiting. "You stop!" he shouts over his shoulder, whipping the can of Orange Crush at Ryans' blindly. It hits the wall instead, bounces then smacks onto the floor, rolling ot a stop by where Ina stands.

When Jimmy hits the door to the stairs, there's a rattle-clack-rattle as he tries to get the door open, and of course it's locked. "Oh son of a— " Hissing out a curse under his breath, Jimmy turns, backed into a corner in the stairwell, a Janitorial closet on one side and rooms on the other; all likely just as locked. "Woah hey— hold— hold on okay? Haha, I— I was just joking with the sprinting thing, calisthenics!" Holding up both hands as if to ward of what he feels is a savage beating coming, it seems like Ryans lucked out.

They always have to run, must be a rule written somewhere about it. Slowing down as the guy hits the door and finds it locked. Ryans, kind of walks those last several feet. "I would rather do this the easy way, Mr. Alton. So lets not struggle."

Coming to a stop, the tranquilizer gun slides easily out of his coat and is turned at the cornered man. "Move and I will pull the trigger." The words are softly spoken, but the warning is there. He'd rather not have to drag him out of here, so the Agent is hoping he doesn't move. There is a small flick of his wrists as he states simply. "Hands on the hand, fingers laced." As he says that he reaches behind him to pull a pair of handcuffs from a back pocket.

"Woah! Woah, woah, woah— don't shoot— holy crap!" Eyes wide and back up against the wall, Jimmy glances down to the snapped open handcuffs and then back up to Ryans. "Look, man," noticing that Ina's not in sigh his voice lowers. "Look we— can't we talk about this? Bussy, I can just— I can slide you like a cool ten grand and you can just say I got away okay? Nobody needs to be a hero here. You— you got kids? You could buy your kids something nice, right?" There's a lopsided smile from Jimmy, hands up but not quite at the back of his head.

"Come on, be reasonable. You— ain't got no reason to arrest me, m'just some schmoe, alright? Just— name it and it's yours I got cash on me. Whatever you want." Breathing heavily, Jimmy's chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from side to side as he flicks fleeting glimpses around Ryans. "//Please?"

Striding confidently and quickly into the service room that Jimmy himself had come out of, Ina plucks the land-line off of the wall and presses the receiver once— then twice— then rapidly a few times. There's nothing on the other end, just dead silence and the hum of the ice box and a soda vending machine behind her.

What crap is this? Out of the service room Ina strides, phone put back down and off towards Jimmy and Ryans, striding like some pissed off cherry red velociraptor. Unhappiness on her features. "Nothing is working here" WHich rankles her nose and rankles her hackles.

"Hands… on top… of your head." Ryans says calmly and evenly, blue eyes cool and emotionless. "Then turn around and face the wall." He doesn't know what the guy does, but he's not about to let him slip away easily. "Trust me, you would be better off coming with me, then the alternative." It's only some money, he hasn't killed anyone that can be noted at least.

He takes a step forward, the weapon flicks to the side as he repeats. "Hands on head. Turn around and face the wall." He wants to glance back to check on the worker who accompanied him up there, but he doesn't dare take his eyes off the man.

"Well, at least it seems we've got him under control for the moment at least, Ms Anderson." His head tilts a bit at the cornered man with a 'Right?' expression on his face.

"Y— Yeah I— " The moment Jimmy starts to turn and move his hands behind his head, the young man snaps into motion, turning around and slamming his shoulder into Ryans' mid-section, pushing the older agent up against the opposite wall with a slam. When Ryans lifts his tranq gun up, Jimmy's flailing to stop it, like he'd already seen it coming. Grabbing Ryans' by the arm, he slams his hand into the wall, one, twice— the gun goes off with a thwip and a dart lodges into the wall right beside Ina, buried all the way down the end of the needle, red tassled end bristled.

Jimmy manages to wrest the gun out of Ryans' hand, sending it clattering to the floor and skidding away in the shuffle of their feet, but then — unfortunately — Jimmy tries to headbutt the agent after his gun clatters to the floor, but all that accomplishes is making Jimmy see stars, staggering back with a red welt on the middle of his forehead, dazed and aching — it looks so much easier in the movies. Dazed as he is, the tall and athletic younger man is still trying to pin Ryans, unfortunately Jimmy isn't trained in much aside from running.

Unlike Ryans.

Why. Are. People. Shooting. At. Her. Yes, she's wearing red but that doesn't meant SHOOT! There's a shocked stare at the dart before the jimmy choo's are kicked off and she's running forward. There's a certain brunette who is a runner and she is coming down the rest of the way to Jimmy so that she can plow into the guy with her shoulder. Son of a bitch is a probablity or outcome predictor.

Son of a…

This is what Ryans is thinking when he's very suddenly slammed up against the wall, the back brim of his fedora hits the wall behind him knock it up and it falls off. It does that just in time for Jimmy's forehead to connect with his own making him dazed for a moment as they struggle.

"I've never liked predictors." The senior agent growls out, before he gives both his arms a twist, and then to yank at his hands right out of the other guys, while the other sees stars. If that succeeds, well, one hand will go for the man's neck, while the other seeks to try and grab his wrist and give it a nasty twist inward.

Well… except for the part that Ina is trying to bowl the man down at the same time.

Somehow in all this chaos, Jimmy Alton becomes airborne. Knocked clear off of his feet when his balance is disrupted by Ryans, the young man is bowled over by Ina's wiry form, sending his legs up into the air, body spinning and dragging agent Ryans with him. The pair come crashing down to the floor, and there's a very audible snap when Jimmy lands on his arm, followed by a howl of pain and—

Snow whips across concrete and the sky is darkened pitch black. In the driving, freezing wind, Ryans can feel his cheeks going numb. Laying on his back in nearly a foot of freshly fallen snow, James Alton's eyes grow wide as he stares up at Agent Ryans, blood has dried across one side of his face in a splatter pattern and Ryans can feel both of his own hands laid down over Jimmy's shoulder where blood leaks out between his fingers, cold enough to freeze to the agent's skin on the frigid air.

Trying to listen to the sound of Jimmy's wheezing breath, the younger man offers a throaty sound of warning that isn't //quite recognizable as words, though the sound of a hammer clicking back behind Ryans is warning enough, but too late for the eruption of a high-caliber handgun's explosive discharge//

" — broke my arm! Fuck you broke my arm!" Writhing around on the ground under Ryans, Jimmy's eyes are wrenched shut, cheek pressed against the tile floor and mouth open, sweat running down his forehead. Ina has, rather miraculously, kept her footing through all of his, one body-slam later and she's only short her shoes and a somewhat awkward sense of her own strength from sending two grown men toppling to the ground thanks to leverage and gravity and sheer bad luck.

The choking noise of pain coming from Jimmy matches the suck of breath from Ryans as reality comes rushing back around him, and seconds later the power goes out in a flash. The hallway is flooded with darkness, even the emergency lights from the exit signs go black after a flicker and the hallway, save for the sound of Jimmy's whining and whimpering from the break of his arm, is silent.

"Next time, do as the good man says and don't run. Secondarily, Don't Cheat in my casino or next time, it might be worse" God, she hates doing dirty work and there's a pain in her shoulder that either means a stitch popped or is protesting so very loudly. The lights go out as she's leaning down, sinking a hand around Jimmy's throat and she squints in hopes of it being just a fuck up. The brunette opts to sit on top of him instead, plunking her weight heavily on the man as the only way to assure that he'll be staying down, broken arm or not. "Mister Ryans. Handcuffs? Then you can have him"

When reality comes back Ryans is on the ground, that whole experience leaving him dazed. "What the hell was that?!" He exclaims, shaken by what he just saw, right before the lights go out, leaving him to let his eyes adjust. Or he would if he didn't have a small high powered flashlight tucked away, a man has to be prepared. It's fished out and turns on lighting the hall in an eerie glow.

Rolling to his hands an knees, Ryans looks to the man withering on the floor, eyes narrow dangerously. One foot is planted on the floor a hand on that knee so he can get to his feet. Reaching down to pick up his tranquilizer gun, he aims it at the younger man. "Will we have anymore problems, Mr. Alton?"

The handcuffs are pulled out and tossed to Ina. "Be quick. I need to get him out of here." He needs some answers and he doesn't feel like talking about it in front of Linderman's help.

"Ss— son of a bitch, a— ah!" Jimmy groans, Ina's weight on him keeping him down, though from the lack of struggling it's obvious he's not going anywhere. "I'm done— I'm— I'm done." Eyes still wrenched shut, Jimmy's rather complient, though one arm is pinned in front of him, broken somewhere though his other arm is straight out at his side and fingers spread so as to not give the impression he's reaching for anything.

"G— Oh fuck this hurts. Oh god please get off me I— I'm not gonna' go anywhere oh god my wrist please just— just get up!" Whatever it was that Ryans saw, it seems that Jimmy either didn't see it, or is too blinded by pain at the moment to consider it. The lights aren't coming back on, and now as Ina's keeping Jimmy down on the ground and being handcuffed, something else is dawning on her.

The power doesn't go out at the Corinthian. There's three backup generators in the basement that can keep the Casino powered for a week if the main grid goes out with minimal maintenance. The blackouts have been going off and on for well over a week now, but the Corinthian hasn't been handicapped by the power outaged once.

Hey now. She's more than just the help. Handcuffs are caught, taking far too much ease with them as might raise some brows about how she knows her way around them. That is until one remembers that Linderman's Help has probably cuffed a few other errant individuals who chose to cheat the man out of profits.

"Mr. Alton, dear Mr. Alton. I'd like to formally relay to you that should you find the gumption or nerve to enter into one of Mister Lindermans properties ever again-" Snap goes one cuff, a little, little mindful of his broken wrist, so she only does that to the good one before handing the empty circle to Ryans.

She pauses only to frown - ever so breautifully - and derailed by niggling in her mind. Radio's out, internal phone lines out, power out but now back on. Her left eye twitches and she looks around. "Should you ever set foot on a Linderman property again, Mr. Ryans will not be the one to come and deal with you and the appropriate consequences will occur, are we clear Mr. Alton? You are banned from our properties everywhere. We'll have to take the Stairs Mr. Ryans. The elevators will be down" Which is just.. "One moment please?" ANd she's trying her radio, and if that doesn't work, trying her own personal cellphone.

Shoving his tranq gun back in it's holder and the flashlight away, Ryans reaches down to grab the ring of the handcuffs. "Thank you, Ms Anderson." He then couches down so he can grip the guy's good upper arm and help pull him to his feet. "Let's go and trust me when I say I know the owner… he won't be so nice a second time."

"Now… Mr. Alton. Anyone else I should know about? Accomplices? People you owe money?" A glance goes down the hall, even though they are not outside, but the cold pit of nerves, makes him a touch paranoid. It might not show outwardly, but the Agent is shaken up by seeing his death and possibly Jimmy's as well.


Static on the radio when Ina tries it again, and when she clips that walkie back on her belt and switches hands to flip open her cell phone, there's a red circle with a line through the antenna: Out Of Service Area flashes on the middle of the screen. Having been flipped around and handcuffed, Jimmy Alton looks like he may have heard Ina's words, but Ryans can see why he's in so much pain. It's not that the younger man's wrist is broken, but from the incorrect wya that it's twisted, his wrist is clearly dislocated. That's a remarkably painful thing to have happen, more so than even a shoulder dislocation.

Fortunately for Ryans, he knows the method by which a dislocated wrist can be set, unfortunately for Jimmy, it hurts as much as dislocating it does. "I— " there's a hiss of pain as hes' pulled to his feet, eyes forced shut again. "I don't— owe anybody anything. Christ I donate half'a what I win to charities! I'm— not some fucking crook. God, don't— don't do this!"

Off him she goes, sauntering the few steps to fetch her shoes. THey're scooped up, one foot lifted and balanced while the red jimmy is slipped on. Same for the other and a flip of her hair to make sure it's all behind her back. Straighten her skirt, open the lapel of her jacket and peek. Crap, just a little blood, not bad though. She'll have the first aid types within the building take care of it when she's done. "This way Mister Ryans, the stairs. We'll have to take them. Mr. Alton. You used an ability, to win money. I don't care if you gave half to charity. It's still cheating. It's un-natural luck and it's not welcome in Mr. Linderman's properties. So really, I advise that you shut your mouth, really tight and let us get going so I can find out what is happening. Everything seems dead" ANother twitch of her left eye.

"No accomplices, then?" He asks again, as he looks at the man's bad wrist, lips pressed into a thin line. "I know what you are and what you do, believe me when I say, you are much safer coming along with me." Though deep down after that vision, he isn't so sure.

"Be right there, Ms Anderson." He glances at the younger man, there is nothing to read in his expression, before Ryans says."I apologize for this." Then he doesn't give Jimmy time to react as he grips the mans wrist and hand again, to pop the wrist in place so that he can cuff him fully.

"I— accomplices? No I— Aaah!" There's a pop-snap when Jimmy's wrist goes back into place and his scream rings down the hall. Thankfully only he and Ina live on the sixth floor here, no one is around to even hear the noises of Jimmy's pained shouting. Staggered by the blinding pain of his wrist being reset, Jimmy is in no condition to fight the handcuff being tossed over his wrist. When Ina comes to the door, keys jingling and unlocks the stairwell access, there's a noise in the hall that should not accompany the opening of a door.


A silenced handgun reports in noisy snaps from the opposite end of the hall from where Ina stands, from the direction of the stairs down past the elevator on the other side of the floor. Muzzle flash is still bright despite the suppressor turning what should be explosive gunshots into less obtrusive sounds. Bullets punch into the wall near Ina sending showering flakes of drywall and plaster over shoulder.

Another round whips past Ryans and grazes his left shoulder, spinning him around and sending Jimmy up against one of the walls at his back. Marching down the hall, a gunman in a black ski mask and dark green winter jacket with fur trim is marching towards the end of the hall where Ina, Ryans and Jimmy are, both hands gripping the firearm and training his sights on the long distance shot in the dark. It's hard to tell who of the three he'd intended to hit.

Can this day get anymore enjoyable? More guns. Guns with real bullets in them this time instead of red feathery ones that would look so good tucked behind her ear and match her outfit. Oh yes it would. Keys are fumbled with, finding the master and starts to unlock the stairwell doors and open the door. One foot props it open, the other hand snags into Jimmy's wrist and yanks him towards the stairwell.

Caliban is going to have a fit. She can just picture it now. "Into the stairwell!" She yells at Ryans. It'll lock once it closes again and provide some protection against gunmen.

The burn of the bullet grazing, gets a hiss of pain from Ryans, but there is not time to stop and think about it. Even as Ina is yelling at him, Ryans is bunching a fist into Jimmy's shirt and pushing him towards the door, ignoring the flare of pain from the wound. "I suggest you don't resist if you want to live."

His heart pounding with adrenaline, the other goes under his coat to yank out his actual handgun, so that in the doorway he turns back long enough to send a few rounds down the hall to give them a few moments, before ducking in to slam the door shut and follow after the others. "Keep close to the wall out of the line of sight of the top."

When Ina slams the door shut and locks is, only then is Jimmy panicking, eyes wide. "Who— who the fuck— oh my god, oh my god what the hell is going on who are you people!?" Because in Jimmy's mind he is bundling up Ina into this insane night. Huddled in the corner of the stairwell, Jimmy's staring up to the floor above with a tremble running thorugh his body, one hand clutching his wrist that still sends shooting pain up his arm. "Oh God what the fuck is going on, what is going on?"

Breathing out rapidly, he looks to Ina, just staring as he starts to open his mouth to ask something, but as Ryans is heading to the stairs down he hears something two floors below, footsteps storming up. Just as those sounds register on agent Ryans' ears, there's a report of gunfire in the stairwell, this automatic but low caliber, likely a machine pistol. The concrete walls of the stairs roar with the sound of unsuppressed gunfire, bullets richcheting off of the stone walls as at least two men are trying to make their way up from below.

While Ryans is dealing with the gunfire, Ina hears something clack in the door, the sound of the magnetic security lock being engaged. They're one of the many state of the art security features in the Corinthian, designed to lock down the hotel in the instance of a break in so floors can be isolated. The magnetic locks can only be undone from the security console on the second floor by the chief of security. Upstairs, Ina hears another clack, then another, and another higher up. The only door that doesn't have a magnetic lock is the roof access, and that is simply because of the accident months ago on the roof during the gala where a water mane broke and damaged the wiring. It was never a priority to replace.

"I'm a floor manager you jackass" Click, clack, click, clack go the doors and there's an incensed look on Ina's face. "Up" That's all she states, heading up, Jimmy choo's tossed off again and up she goes, Jimmy in tow - not the shoes - with her hand on his arm and sticking to the walls like Ryans instructed. It's a bitch to go up in heels. "Someones fucking with us and I don't know why and Mr. Linderman will be furious. Up, roof access hasn't been repaired yet. There's other ways to get down in an emergency, snow is removed often to prevent collapse" Up they go the extra flight to the roof access and keys to the door procured.

"So much for state of the art…" Ryans comments roughly, before leaning out enough to send a few rounds blindly down the stairwell, make them dive for cover before. The older agent suddenly feels very set up. "Quiet extraction, my ass." He also growls out pushing the other man man up the stairs.

"Move it." The orders are barked loudly at Jimmy, even above the report of gunfire. "I think they have a technopath working on their side." He really hope it is. He bumps into the wall a flash of pain from the graze, a smear of blood left behind. The alternative playing in his mind, just doesn't work, cause for the life of him, the senior agent can't think why, what would Linderman gain.

While she messes with the door lock, Ryans keeps the gunmen slowed with occasional burst of bullets.

No one need to tell Jimmy to run from the sound of gunfire, and his shoes slam against the stairs as he hurries with wheezing breaths up to the next floor. Futily he tries the door at the seventh floor, "Fuck, fuck!" While the sound of the men below coming closer continue to approach. By the time Ryans and Ina are on his heels, Jimmy's running up the stairs again, winding his way up the staircase as fast as he can in this condition, cuffed hands held together in front of himself.

From below, another spray of gunfire explodes through the building, automatic weapons peppering the bottom of one of the staircase with gunfire, followed by a curse from one of the assailants down below. Two floors up, three floors up and still six more floors to go. Jimmy pauses on the ninth floor landing, breathing heavily, hunched over and cradling his injured wrist to his chest. "Fuck— Fuck this— I— I can't keep running oh my God."

When gunfire explodes up the stairwell again, bullets whizzing over Ryans' head, Jimmy lets out a sharp yelp and finds instant motivation to keep running up.

"I don't care if you can't" Ina huffs, hauling him up, suppressing the urge to smack him upside the head. Bullets give motivation and she shrieks, flattening against the wall before keeping it up. Round and round they go, where it stops, no one… knows. Well they do because there's the door and she's got her key's out and shoving them in the lock like some fumbling teenager experiencing his first time with a girl. Jab, jab, jab, there we go, in the slot.

Ducking, Ryans flattens himself against the wall, while he ejects the clip in his own gun, dropping it in his pocket, another is pulled out and slammed into place so he can fire again before finishing his own path to the top. He doesn't wait for her to twist the key, his hand drops on top of hers and turns it for her, pushing the door open and shoving them both out the door."Go!"

Retrieving the keys, he slams the door shut making sure it's locked. "How do we get off this roof?" He snaps at Anderson, free hand moving for his Company issued Blackberry, to check it for a signal.

"You don't." Comes a sharp growl from a man standing in the snow with a cell phone held in one hand and a pistol in the other. He's dressed like the others, a ski mask and black flack jacket beneath a heavy winter jacket. Leveling his pistol on Ryans, there's a shout from behind the agent, followed by a body check from Jimmy as he tries to slam the agent out of the way. The gun goes off, a sudden explosive discharge of a .45 caliber handgun and a spray of blood that comes up one side of Jimmy's face as he spins on his feet and lands on his side in the snow, blood pooling out in the few inches of fresh power that's fallen since the windy rooftop had been cleared.

"Son of a bitch!" The gunman shouts, ready to take another shot, only to have the driving wind and blizzard conditions reduce visibility to almost nothing on the roof. The wind is so cold is steals Ina's breath away, stings her cheeks like a slap and makes her eyes water, those tears freezing in her lashes. Ryans can just barely make out the dark-clad man's silhouette in the whiteout.

Big damn hero moment.

Maybe. spinning around at the shot taken at Ryans, Ina peers through quickly freezing lashes and in a repeat of downstairs, she's launching herself forward while he's distracted by Ryans and Jimmy bleeding. Gaint momentum, drive him backwards, distract and give time for Ryans to shoot. Fuck Caliban and her boss, they're firing weapons at them all and damned if she was going to move to fucking New York and die on a roof in a blizzard in april. She was going to go back to Vegas, just as soon as all 5'7 of her distracted him.

The senior agent is almost spilled into the snow, stumbling a few steps before regaining his footing. There is no waiting to recover, there isn't time, he lifts his gun to fire at the silhouette in the snowfall. There is simply no panic in Ryan's voice, even though the sound of his beating heart is loud in his ears, as he barks, "Anderson, get that fool behind…." . He is hoping he can keep the focus on him, but then she's launching herself at the bad guy.

That woman is insane!

"Dammit." He growls out, the agent's mask falling away with worry as he tries to see through the falling snow looking for an opportunity to shoot and try not to shoot her. When he finds the opportunity he fires and prays.

Ten years of better eyesight, ten years of heightened reflexes that had begun to dull with age, decades of practice have prepared him for this moment among so many others. Behind Ryans, Jimmy rolls onto his back, breathing out an exasperated breath and suttering in shock. The gun reports once, a single shot and flash from the muzzle, and that .45 caliber round fired from the Company issue firearm rips through the air towards agent Ryans' target.

The rooftop assailant has no choice but to train his aim down on the woman charging at him, cell phone coming free from his hands to drop into the snow. Ina's body collides with the attacker, sending him skidding backwards on ice and snow as the wind picks up. The attacker's gun goes off, twice, Ryans can hear the report of the firearm and see the muzzle flash. The roof is slick with ice beneath the snow, and Ina's momentum refuses to stop once she's barreled into the gunman and sent him skidding backwards.

She feels a rush of air over her shoulder, a buzz in her left ear and a crack accompanied by a warm spatter across her face. The gunman is lifted off of his feet by the force of the shot, a drooling line of blood trailing thorugh the air from his throat. His ankles hit the railing at the edge of the roof, and he flips head over heels and disappears over the other side, followed by a smash of one of the metal awnings, a moment of silence, and then a crash from street level, followed by the wailing of a car alarm.

Ina continues to slide, slips, lands on her knees and continues to skid to the edge, bumping harmlessly into the slippery, ice crusted railing. Shaky hands tremble from both cold and adrenaline, and after a moment of thoughtful consideration she realizes the remarkable — She's okay.

"Ryans! Close the door!" She screeches, Ina knowing and rememebering that there were others that were coming up the stairs. A moment or two to get past the needles of cold that prickle at her skin, the wet on her cheek that's quickly cooling and freezing, the brunette starts to crawl her way back towards the pair and try to snag the guys phone along the way. It works, presumably, and she can use it to call for help, doing so even as she makes her way back to Ryans and the downed Jimmy. Smears of red from her knee's and stockinged feet where ice cuts skin are nothing to her, in light of the chance of having been shot. 911 is not dialed, but the downstairs desk is. The security office is likely compromised.

"Anderson!" Ryans shouts, listening for her, he moves towards Jimmy now, but he's wary. , gun still held, eyes wandering the roof. "Anderson? You okay? I need you over here." He sinks to a knee next to Jimmy's head. "Alton?" He does hazard a quick glance at the man in the snow, noting the splatter of blood on his face, but then he's scanning the roof, with his gun up, a feeling of deja-vu tickling at the back of his mind. "Talk to me James."

He doesn't like this, he would normally try to help stop the bleeding himself, but..

The silhouette of Ina, gets a gun pointed at her til he sees it is her. "Already shut when we came up here, now I need you to come over here and put pressure on his wound." He unwinds the scarf from his neck and thrusts it at her, to use as a compress.

"Oh— oh God I'm gonna die— I'm— oh god I'm gonne die!" Clutching his bleeding wound, laying on his back and staring up at the snowy sky, James Alton sees the snow falling through blurry vision, tears streaking down the sides of his face from the pain of both his dislocated wrist and the gunshot wound to his shoulder. "Oh God," he hisses sharply, eyes wrenched shut and fingers curled into the blood at his shoulder that is seeping dark red into white snow.

When Ina comes over, she can see the rooftop door shut from the force of the wind, see Ryans handing her his balled up scarf, see the snow whipping across the rooftop as the wind picks up again and hides visibility. Finally, after ringing for what seems like ever, Ina recieves a busy signal from the other end of the phone, then a beep as signal lost displays on the screen.

"Oh god— " Jimmy's still panicking, "Oh god I can't— I can't feel my arm it— Oh god I'm going cold, I'm gonna die!" Of course laying in several inches of freshly fallen snow without a winter jacket and suffering from shock is more likely, from where Ryans is standing, but Jimmy has lost a lot of blood.

"Fuck, busy then signal died." Great, just great. "Shut up Jimmy. You're still banned" Even as she takes the scarf and does for him what someone did for her. Her should twinges, but she glances around, her weight bearing down on his shoulder. "How now brown cow?" She asks Ryans, hoping he has smarts to figure out how to get out of this situation but glances over to the side of the building and the ladder that disappears in a loop over the side. "You come take his shoulder Ryans. They aren't shooting at me. There's a fire escape, I can get down, get in through the ground floor. I'll freeze if I stay out here much longer"

He's alive… that's all Ryans needs to know. "Alton, shut it." He can't think, another glance at his phone and he makes a sound almost like a growl in the back of his own throat. It's dropped in his jacket. Ina's words get a glance from the older man, and he starts to shrug out of his coat.

"I do that, he and I are certainly dead." The senior agent explains, offering over the coat, ignoring the twinge in his own shoulder, the shoulder of the dark blue sports jacket soaked in blood. "See if you can get this about him." He quickly explains, "He's a precog of some sort and somehow, shared a vision down there. His and my possible death." He gives a huff and glances around, they need some sort of help though and she is a civilian. So it is with reluctance he says.

"Bind his shoulder the best you can, quickly…" There is a moment before Rynas adds, eyes glancing to Ina, "…then go."

Blinking away the pain, Jimmy stares up and over at Ryans, swallowing shakily as he shivvers in the snow. "How— how'd you know I— " there's a huff of breath and the wounded gambler's eyes art between Ina and Ryans. "I— I showed you ss— something?" Disbelief hangs in his voice, eyes wandering away from Ryans, trying to focus on anything but the blinding hot pain in his arm and the corresponding hand. "You— it doesn't work like that, I— I only see like— it doesn't… Oh God this fucking hurts." Rolling his eyes Jimmy glances over at Ina, then back to Ryans before biting down on his lower lip.

The snow picks up again, whipping across the rooftop and cutting thorugh Ina like a knife. Jimmy can't feel the cold as much, gone into shock as he has, but these bitter temperatures have already numbed her fingertips and her nose, lips stinging and cheeks blisteringly painful from the cold. Too much longer and frostbite will do what bullets haven't yet.

Ina has a better Idea, to go with his. Brilliance really. What snow there is, is heaped onto Jimmy's shoulder, packed in under his shirt. Cold slows blood down. Will hopefully make blood vessels contract and slow the bleeding, She ties the scarf then around it, her own hanky added into the mix with quickly stiffening fingers in the cold before heaping more snow onto the shoulder. "Shut up and save your breath Jimmy and if I don't, then you and he and I are dead from hypothermia in this weather in ten more minutes. You have a jacket and he…"

She doesn't finish speaking because the tying job is done and like that, she's off ignoring the burn in her feet that counter the cold and gone towards the fire escape and starting to clamber down. Get help the old fashioned way. Help, help, ryan's stuck up on the roof, find lassie and the town folks.

Watching her leave, Ryans gives a long sigh, shoulders slumping some. He takes a moment to check the clip on his weapon, while he says calmly, "I have no idea, but you did. I was holding your shoulder and someone shot me from behind." Blue eyes glance down at Jimmy. "You have no idea who would want you dead?" He asks, before turning his attention to guard duty.

Though, there is a chance they are after him, a throb of his shoulder reminds him of that, he gingerly rolls the shoulder, but he doesn't dare check it. That idea still doesn't make sense to Ryans. If it's him… why?

"It's not him, mister Ryans, it's you." Crunching bootfalls more across the icy rooftop, and thorugh the haze of snow Ryans can see a gun trained on him in the dark. "He's pretty damned amazing if his ability let you know I was up here, and that I was gonna put a bullet in the back of your head. So— let's do this different, alright?" Masked just like the other men, the gunman takes a few more steps forward as the wind dies down, making him easily visible to the agent. "I want you to put that gun down, nice n'slow. I ain't here to put a bullet in the middle'a your eyes, I don't wanna' kill nobody if I have to, but you get between me— " the he nods to where Jimmy lays in the snow, "and him, and you got yourself a problem."

Only partway down the ladder, Ina can hear the conversation up on the roof, even if she can't quite make out the words. Fingers practically freezing to the railing, the brunette catches sight of something just within reach. Precariously balanced on the ice-crusted and snow draped copper awnings over the the windows she's climbing beside, Ina spies the .45 that the man who tumbled over this side of the building had been carrying; It's just barely within reach, is she stretches.

"Come on Mister Ryans, I don't wanna' shoot you. 'Cause right now, there's a bigger cut of the money for me since we're down a man. I ain't gonna' hold that against you. So— put it down, nobody gets hurt, and you get to go back to your girls like nothin' ain't ever happened, kay?" His girls.

That's what the person was waiting for. For her to leave and make a pass at Ryans? The hell was going on here. Had Mr. Linderman even wanted this to happen? The gun is spotted and a quick second decision is made. Gun. Freezing fingers reach for the weapon, fingers skittering against the metal till she gets a good grasp on it and is hauling herself back up the ladder, popping up just enough so she can rest her arm on the ledge, legs intertwined in the metal rungs so she doesn't end up falling off and a quick sight down the barrel of the gun, Ina aims for the source of the mysterious voice and fires off a shot, followed by another and hopes that she aimed true.

Then mention of his girls makes a cold brick of fear settle into his stomach, and he struggles with a decision. Jimmy is in his care, but his girls are much more important. This man knows his weakness, that sends a white cold heat of helpless anger through the agent. It infuriates him further as he has to hold the gun out to the side, pointed up and away, the other hand up in surrender. "Sorry, Jimmy." He murmurs, meaning it.

As he starts to lean to put down the gun, he's caught be surprise by the loud report of a gun, hitting the masked gunman. The man jerks, but it only clipped his vest. It's enough of a distraction to make the man turn towards Ina, giving Ryans a perfect opening. His hand tightens around the gun and he brings it up to shoot the man, aiming for his head, two shots. Double tap.

Four gunshots, one corpse. The explosion of red mist from the side of the gunman's head comes seconds before he collapses to the ground, bleeding out in the snow, gun landing at his side. Jimmy flinches at the gunshots literally right over his head, a hot shell casing landing sizzling in the snow next to his ear. Looking up and towards the railing where Ina is hunched over, gun trained out, Jimmy breathes out an exasperated breath and just sinks his head back into the snow, unable to vocalize just how confused and also how dizzy he is.

After a moment of silence where only the freezing wind blowing across the side of the building is heard, there's a rumble and lights come on along the side of the Corinthian, roof lights illuminate again and the power comes back on, along with a crackling blurt of the middle of a conversation from Ina's radio.

« —nderson!? What's going on, where are you!?»

Fifteen stories below, there is a man smashed on the roof of a car perked out front of the Corinthian that once belonged to Benjamin Ryans, and now will be the second such Company car to be brought back into the shop in the line of duty in as many months.

With Ryans and Anderson sharing a look between one another, it becomes clear that whatever was going on up here has stopped, and somehow the future that James Alton had shown Ryans was circumvented.

All this does is raise more questions.

Over the rail she goes, back onto the roof proper and thankful that Ryans took out the guy because there's quickly becoming less parts of herself that she can't feel. The radio is unclipped and button depressed. "Rooftop. Call 911, get our emergency services up to the roof. I have two gunshots, shock, hypothermia. Call the police and alert Mister Caliban there has been an armed altercation on the sxith floor floor and the west stairwell"

Into the lee of the stairway Ina moves, then around, digging out her keys from her waist so she can unlock it, take a chance on gunmen not being there. Need for warmth and life outweighs life. "Up you go Ryans" Chattering and hunched in. She bends down to grab Jimmy and carefully start to haul him in.

As the gunman goes down, Ryans lets out a sigh of relief, a plume of white sent into the snow heavy air. "Get him inside." He moves towards the downed gunman, ignoring the shiver that starts to rattle his teeth together, leaving Ina to Jimmy for a moment, so he can carefully peel the mask away, ignoring the black gore melting into the snow, and the squish of blood on his fingers from soaking into the mask.

There is a bit of a grimace, it's not exactly pleasant, but necessary. Once he can see the dead mans blood splattered face and surprised look, he pulls out his cellphone. The one thing that impresses him about cellphones is the cameras, nice ones even. Once Ryans snaps a few shots of his almost killer, the agent pulls on his leather gloves and starts to pat him down looking for wallet or something.

"No— no wait just— Ahhh!" Jimmy lets out a scream as he's moved, bullet-perforated shoulder screaming with pain and the formerly dislocated wrist twisted awkwardly in his handcuffs. Dragged thorugh the roof access door, Jimmy isn't quite lucid enough now from the pain to hear the crackling report over Ina's radio.

«What!? Ina are you alright? What the hell happened? I've got someone calling 911 right now, it might take the emergency crews a while ot get here in the snow though!»

When Ryans hears that report over the walkie, the first thought that rolls thorugh his mind is what will happen when emergency services get here. Paramedics will arrive, radio in the situation, police will do the same. Jimmy will be escorted in an ambulance, and all of this will be recorded over the open airwaves. Whatever happened here smacks of two things: An inside job, or the presence of a technopath willing to go to these lengths to secure someone.

Benjamin Ryans is relatively certain that James Alton won't be seeing the back of an Ambulance tonight.

"Shit in a can is what happened" Ina snaps once she's inside the stairwell and Alton is as well, she sinks down to sitting then, leaning against the rails, willing feeling and warmth back into her flesh. "Just get our medical people up here now god damnit and stop asking questions!"

Rising to his feet, Ryans glances over at Ina, his phone retrieved again, he's dialing back to Fort Hero… specifically Crowley. "I need a team here five minutes ago." His voice rumbles smoothly over the phone, as he retrieves the man's weapon so as not to just leave it there, before following Ina. "Otherwise, we may end up with the Institute breathing down our necks and we want to get this one hidden. Precog. In fact…" The phone is held against his chest, though Martin will hear the words.

"Anderson… Does the Corintian have a car?" The Senior Agent owes it to James Alton to try and get him away, since well… the guy saved his life. One less body for the metal coffins. "One that I can use, once your people get him patched enough I need to get him out of here just in case. We have medical personnel that can finish the job." He'll let her think there may be another attempt.

Snow is melting on James' shoulder, blood darkening it red like a cherry snow cone. Swallowing paintully, he looks over to the wound, head swimming, then up to Ryans. The agent's voice is a muffled blur of sounds that no longer make sense. Pain, blood loss and the crash from an adrenaline high has him visibly passing out beside the agent and Ina. Somewhere several floors below, the sounds of a door opening one floor below into the stairwell are heard, and the commotion of the Corinthian's small emergency medical staff entering in from the 15th floor to head to the room access echoes noisily.

«Ryans what the bloody hell happened t'the car I just gave you?» Martin's voice crackles over the phone like a frustrated parent, all that east-end London accent coming bubbling up in his stress. «I told you t'handle tha' bloody case carefully! Sodding hell I'll get a bloody car up there if that's what you need but you'n I need to have a conversation afterward.»

Yes. Yes Ryans, there is a car. The keys to an SUV are peeled carefully off the keyring at her waist, fumbling a time or two thanks to unressponding fingers before holding it up. "Make sure to clean the inside, I'd like to not be sitting in blood. It's mine" There's a frown at the whole need to get him out of here before normal ambulance and the like comes.

"Institute?" Ina inquires, huddling on the stairs beside Jimmy, hands pressing down on his shoulder. "Is that some new hospital here?" She looks down to the pre-cog, and one could imagine that she'd be wrinkling her nose in disgust at the fact that the cheater got a little more than what he deserved. If she could move most of her face. "up here" she hoarsly calls out.

Bringing the phone up to his ear, Ryans' eyes narrow dangerously at the Assistant Directors words. This will be the second time, Martin will hear the anger in the Senior Agents voice. "It would be easier to keep something quiet if I didn't have a fucking technopath and several gunmen trying to put a god damn bullet in my head, Crowley." And one of the few times he'll hear the older man really swear.

Pulling the receiver from his mouth he says to Ina, "Long story." One he's not in the mood to share, as he turns away and paces to the edge of the building, casting a glance down, his body shivering harder now, the chatter probably heard over the phone. "As for the car… a body hit it, okay?" His tone seems to ask 'satisfied?' "These men wanted James Alton, which means they may try again, I want to know why. If the car isn't here by time they get him stable, I'll meet our car on the road, so send one of our medical guys."

In Ryans speak that means, Hurry the fuck up.

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