Friend Of A Friend


fedor_icon.gif teo_icon.gif

Scene Title Friend Of A Friend
Synopsis It's the closest approximation to the truth, despite all of Teo's insistence that Felix isn't a friend. Phoenix finds another potential sponsor, whose prospective utility is proportional to the number of warning flags he manages to set off.
Date February 11, 2009


Solid boots drub the dock like a drum, drum, drum, simultaneously sure-footed as a sailor long since used to daring edges over water and casually cautious as a thief loathe to be seen at work. A cigarette burns close to Teo's face, shadowed as it is by the hood pulled up his shaven skull; the brief flare of ember outlines an aquiline nose, a generously proportioned frown, eyes so pale they even retain that impression in the crystalline blackness of the half-lit waterfront and the ocean's limitless void.

The sussurration of water is familiar to him as the grumbling groan of white ships and tied rope. Brine fills his nose.

He stares up at the yacht as if unable to believe it, but it's impossible to refute, the vessel's majestic lines, expansive shape, safe harbor and owner. Who must be aboard, so says the vector location long since deleted out of his phone. Hana's work rarely — if ever — lies, even when her padawan asks to undertake an ill-advised course of action.

The Polikarpov was old, and while the paint was new and she looked very well loved a nautical eye could tell her age. Nobody built big steel ships like this anymore, windows were small and triple paned with only light tint. It was a cold water boat for sure, and really it was quite at home in greenland where its previous owner lived. The only real modern addition, beyond radar of course was a helicopter deck. Tonight at least the deck was empty, but the lights were still on inside. Only maybe two or three boats seemed to double as homes here, most were just toys and by the nature of their covered state that was obvious.

In Teo's previous experience, most people who live on boats do so because they can not afford to do so on solid ground or are otherwise disinclined to do so, preferring small spaces and mobility to the questionable luxury of larger dimensions and a stationary address. This was evidently inspired by different thinking. The baby terrorist flicks ash off the edge of the plank wood, steps back from the vessel's tall side, and reaches into his pocket.

Fedor's phone rings in a text, the next moment: Knock, knock.

"I'd rather not, signor," the other man answers, his head tilted back to see. If it bothers him, the advantage of higher ground, Teodoro at least knows better than to scuttle backward for distance until he falls into the sea. His eyes flick to and fro between the limits of his hood's stark loop of outline. "But I'll board the deck, if you don't mind."

"Your welcome aboard Teo, your the friend of Felix. Your welcome here."Fedor meanwhile traces back inside some to retrieve a tall stainless steel bug of coffee. "You can stand wherever you please, but I repeat that your entirely off my radar nowadays. I found Felix, and I'm not so crass so as to continue following you about and snooping where I dont belong."Goodness, spoken like a man who expected this discussion to center of spookoronomy.

Maybe Teo did too. The circumstances of their last — first — confrontation were, after all, pretty heavy on the spook, that whole niche skill set and stink of paranoia.

The young man trails toward the gangplank, his path veering slightly, either lazy with braggadocio or hesitating on the verge of turning back. "You're not repeating that," he points out, after a moment. His boot touches the plank, and he leans forward into the next climbing stride. "This is the first time you've said that to me.

"And Felix and I aren't friends." It doesn't seem that he expects that information to mean much to the man, as a determinant for his hospitality. He keeps climbing until he's aboard, hands in his pockets, gaze restlessly roving the length of the ship.

There isnt much eyecandy on the Polikarpov, these are hard lines and beautiful welds. "Well,"begins Fedor"Your welcome aboard my ship, because Felix certainly thinks your his friend and so who am I to disagree? In any case, no I wont repeat such dirty laundry. Despite first impressions, I'm really quite discrete. I just needed to get your attention, and you'll forgive me if I've been at this enough to have become very good at it."

Fedor lifts a hand to absently run a thumbnail down his sharp young jawline, clean shaven still as when he woke up this morning. His gaze is soft, but never lingers on Teo. Rather as soon as polite eye contact is made he's quick to avert his gaze to the city yonder or the coffee in his hand.

"It isn't polite to exaggerate," Teo points out, softly, "but I realize it's a little rude saying so. We worked together." He doesn't add 'That's all,' because self-evidently it wasn't. Sex doesn't make you friends, though: he's fairly certain of that.

He's been doing it long enough to have acquainted himself with most of the emotional gymnastics involved. Or lack thereof. Finally, he remembers to smile. Pushes his hood back. "You have a beautiful boat, signor. Ironically, the last steel ship I walked around on was owned by a man who looked a lot younger than he was, too. We didn't get along, unfortunately."

Fedor smiles broadly at that"Thankyou, I was very lucky. Many many years ago she was out of Alaska, and I drooled over her for years. When I moved out here, I saw she was for sale almost by accident and couldnt help myself. These steel ships are so cheap these days, fiberglass boats are so expensive these days and I'm always leery of buying a used glass hull."Fedor steps back, motioning again to the portal. "You enjoy ships?"he wasnt going to get into the boat, ship discussion and frankly this was a far superior subject to Felix's bedroom habits. "I just refinished the bridge, and traded the old gasoline engines for a pair of caterpillar diesels. She isnt very quick I'm afraid, but she's alot more practical than she was before."

Ordinary politeness and a certain degree of brain-washed cooperativeness prompts Teo to take a step forward when ushered, but he fails to come closer than that. "I like ships," he answers, after a moment. "Although I've never owned one.

"I grew up on the water in Italy." His gaze veers off to the aft of the ship when the man begins to describe engines, current and past; curiosity there, too sincere to be merely polite, not obtrusive enough to reveal true zeal. "If you don't mind me asking," he says, glancing past the other man and in through the portal, "Are you planning to stay?"

"Am I going to stay, well yes. Felix asked his favor, he asked if I would kill a man for him. So I will, but I cant help but feel he made a poor choice. I would have properly enjoyed the excuse to involve myself in things, he didnt like my way of aiding evolved rights but he isnt helping me to find alternatives." Fedor nods softly, sipping at his coffee before giving it a little swish.

Lucent blue eyes go wide. Too wide. Teo has to shut them a moment later, squeezing a blink out of retinas suddenly dried out by a stray winter wind. "I'm sorry," he says. "He wants you to kill a man for him? Felix?" His shaven head tilts back on its axis a degree or three: apparently this revelation contradicts his preexisting profile of their mutual acquaintance. Either that or, you know. The real extent of Fedor's nature, as known to those who trust him, just registered an even darker measure than an astonishing talent with tails.

Fedor nods softly. "Its really not what I was expecting myself, but he does appear to have something of a list. I will remain, until I've taken care of things. I would have liked to believe, that I was through with such distasteful things."Fedor smiled slightly still, because frankly he was still just talking shop. "So Teo, you know what I'm all about now. You know who I'm here for, what I'm doing here. That, was because I had to be rude with you earlier in church and I do sincerely feel sour over it. If you have any other questions, you'll need to trade me. Information for information, straight deal."

That makes sense to a certain extent; an extent which ends rather abruptly at the fact that Teo lies far less than most people in their trade do. A man of honor in a world of glorified butchers, or merely a pathologically Catholic child among people who operate by different books and take their blessings and curses from ghosts they made themselves. He glances down. Finds a reasonable length of cigarette left; takes another drag, before hurling the thing, over-arm, into the sea.

"Sounds fair. What would you like to know?"

Fedor smiles thinly, excellent. "Who are you with?" It was really all he needed to know, he had his suspicions sure. Years ago, he wouldn't need to ask he'd just know. Our favorite pilot, has been out of the loop for too long though. He's been to preoccupied with hiding himself in small towns to recognize that the world had changed.

"Homeland Security has us categorized as vigilantes, I believe," Teo replies, an odd tilt to his mouth, lopsided, as if he finds that term either embarrassing or insulting. "Mostly because they asked us to do their job for them — the dispensation of justice.

"Back when we were doing our own work, we were classified as terrorists. If you'd like a name, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me who Felix wanted you to murder. Sometimes he ends up pointing guns at people I like, and I think — take it as flattery — you're the biggest gun he has, right now. It's probably going to become more of a problem before it becomes less."

"Gabriel Gray, and some men between me and him."no drama, no sudden musical underscore. This was Fedor, hits had stopped being dramatic in like 1983."Would you like my help? I'm afraid I cant join anything, to be frank I've aged to the point where I dont much like taking orders from anyone much less young pups. I would however, gladly offer you my assistance. I was planning something earlier, but Felix seems to think it would be terribly bad."

What color was left in Teo's face escapes him. Drama happens in a nightmarish blossom of brain chemistry, and the musical underscore strikes through his skull like a bell, all static and thunder, a psychological anvil that seems to leave contusions on the walls of his skull.

He blinks several more times, artless as a new colt. "Figlio di un cane," he mutters, reaching up to scrape the heel of his hand under his brow. "I— I'm going to try to get him to take it back. Your killing Gabriel Gray. I don't know about other assistance right now, but we can— Phoenix could always use more friends, so. I'll let you know, if that's all right? I—

"Sylar. His name is fucking Sylar. I don't know if he sent you away to die or if he's…" His features turn inward, tangling his memory through the impossibly intricate network of alliances he's forged and broken over the past few months. What Felix knew; what Fedor needs to.

"Sylar then, in any case I wouldnt be too concerned over me. Experience and patience, are the only tools a man needs."Casually Fedor turns back tugging open the portal before pausing "I'm going inside, its cold and I'm barefoot. If your still afraid of me, then I'll call you and we can discuss what I can do to help and we can trade some more. Otherwise, please do come in. I've got a guest's quarters your welcome to, and I'm certain its nicer than the hotels you've been staying in."

This isn't the first time Fedor's managed to make Phoenix's baby leader blush. His whole face goes into it, as sanguine and tactless as any curse or apology that ever leaves Teo's lips. Red. Violent red. He doesn't trust himself to speak for a moment, so he doesn't, breathing cold air until that part of himself manages to recede behind some approximation of a poker face. He glances back down the gangplank, shoulders rigid, hands empty; essays forward one step, then another, ducking his shaven head underneath the portal frame.

Just for coffee. Shut up.

February 11th: Cat And Mouse
February 11th: Is That All?
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