raith_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif

Scene Title Gains
Synopsis The Company's Assistant Director meets with the mysterious 'King of Swords' to talk about the woman that is next on the Institute's list.
Date July 26, 2010

Ruins of Eagle Electric

Once this lot was the home to Eagle Electric, one of the most notable business collapse in Queens was that of Eagle Electric, a major manufacturer based out of Long Island City for decades, comprised of acres of warehouses and manufacturing plants designed to produce electronic components to suit all sorts of needs. In January of 2009, the entire Eagle Electric facility was destroyed in an explosion that decimated hundreds of feet of property. The charred and burned remains of the administrative building's crumbling brick and twisted steel is all that remains. Shrapnel from the destroyed warehouse was scattered across five blocks, though most of it now is relegated to a heap of twisted aluminum and crumbled stone all piled together within a dilapidated chain-link fence.

One year and slightly more than six months ago, Eagle Electric met with an unfortunate accident involving an improvised thermobaric weapon. The result of the encounter can be seen here and there… And there… And there… And there… And there….

But for as much damage as was done, even more significant portions than were destroyed survived, if not completely undamaged, surrounding the Eagle Electric complex, and to this day still serve the purpose of being an ugly reminder of the past. And, for the more pragmatic, reasonably secure places to hold clandestine meetings. It is for this pragmatic reason that Benjamin Ryans finds himself at the mouth of a dilapidated structure that may have once been an office building. His only instructions, delivered by the enigmatic 'King of Swords,' were to come alone, and to come in the front. Scary, perhaps, but if he got the word from Abigail Beauchamp, he can't be all that bad, since she doesn't make a habit of associating with particularly unsavory people. Right??

That might be easier to buy if the meeting place picked didn't look like it might wall over if the wind shifts too suddenly. The door hanging off its hinges, revealing an interior that looks to be devoid of any life, dark though it is, probably isn't helping, either.

A heavy sigh leaves the old man's nose, as Ryans surveys the door cautiously, from under the brim of his old fedora. His gaze continues to slide over other parts of the building. He doesn't like the feeling of this, but if he wants the target protected….

His brows duster hangs open around his frame, and it flutters lightly around the calves of his jean clad legs. He lifts his hand, a set of keys jingle where they hang from his fingers. The large armored SUV a distance away, with it's fresh scratches, lets off a Tweet tweet and the head lights flash when the alarm sets. Once he's satisfied that it's locked, keys are tucked in his front pockets and he finally steps forward, the soles of his leather shoes crunching on the fine debris.

Ducking past the door slowly, pressing one hand to the door frame and the other holds a file folder. Just inside he allows his eyes to adjust to the dimmer indoor light. Hands out a little, Benjamin Ryans moves deeper into the build. Each step is slow and cautious so that he can hear and his gaze darting about as if waiting for some sort of ambush.

No explosions, bullets or gouts of flame greet Ryans when he steps inside, so that's probably a good thing. Probably. At the same time, it might also be just a little bit too quiet inside the old building, the sound of the agent's footsteps the only real noise to be heard at first.

"Over here."

Off to one side, a light flicks on, a small, camping lantern, and sitting next to it in a folding lawn chair must be the King of Swords, one leg casually crossed over the other, eyes hidden behind dark, round lensed sunglasses, and carbine trained forward, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. Of this picture, the grenade launcher under the weapon's barrel might be the most unsettling. Or the fact that Ryans could have been taken out at any time- and wasn't- might be, instead. Maybe the most unsettling might be that it appears that Raith was eating baked beans out of a can before Ryans arrived, as if he were on a camping trip. "Good to know you can follow instructions" he says.

The agent goes perfectly still at the voice, fighting the urge to go for his weapon, fingers even twitches slightly. When the light comes on, Ryans is glad he stopped himself, despite his instincts. Eyes narrow ever so slightly at the man sitting there, scrutinizing him.

"Depends on the situation." The assistant-director answers in that rumbling voice of his. "And who is giving them." Slowly he turns towards Raith, but doesn't make an effort to approach him just yet. Treating him like a wild animal, don't move too face and don't startle it. "I figured it would be a 'bad thing' to do otherwise."

Ryans' face is unreadable, his tone even and void of emotion. "Especially, since I want to see this woman stay out of the Institute's hands."

"So do I," Raith answers, pointing the muzzle of his rifle just slightly out of Ryans' direction, "Guess that works out for us then, doesn't it?" This meeting will be not confined solely, it seems to the King of Swords being 'too cool for school.' He rises up out of his chair, at least willing to face the agent on more or less equal ground. As equal as the ground can be when only one of them has a weapon drawn. "Can't help but wonder exactly why, though. Seeing as how your entire career is about making sure these people get put somewhere far away from society. What do you stand to gain from this?" At least Ryans can be certain that they'll try to keep Parmenter out of the Institute's hands whatever his answer is.

"I'm well aware what people think of the Company and the people work for it." The words continue calmly, even as the rifle is trained on him. Ryans doesn't let the concern for his own safety show, years of perfecting that neutral mask working for him. "I could go on about what the Company was before the corruption, and about the disgust many had about what the founders did, but I doubt you'd really care and makes for a long and boring story."

Blue eyes drop briefly to the rifle, "Simply. I've only ever really been about putting away the the killers. Never the ones that wanted to live their lives, were good people." He moves to hold the file in both hands as his attention draws upward again. "What I gain from this?" Brows draw upwards under his fedora. "Someone innocent is protected from the bastards. I don't believe in what they are doing, the experiments and I don't agree with keeping people in metal coffins." He bites out those words bitterly.

"I've done what I can to keep people out of their hands." The older of the two — even tho he doesn't look it — says quietly. "But… The Company is crumbling — it's only a matter of time — and many of my agents are defecting to the Institute ranks… more likely concerned about their employment then what is right. I haven't even a handful of agents I can trust…" One hand loosens from the folder so he can make a small helpless gesture. "Which is why I approached Abby."

Raith cocks his head to the side, seeming to look at a point just above Ryans' head. "Okay," he says, "I'll buy. For now." That said, Raith stands up tall again and extends his left hand, using the right to control his weapon. "What've you got for me?"

The file is offered without protest, after only a moment of hesitation to glance within it. Since one of Raith's hands is full of rifle, Ryans opens it and turns it towards him so he can see the paperwork and photo of a brunette woman, "Everything Agent Ayers could pull up for me." Ryans knows of the agents connections, but has no idea who knows the man. Folding the file closed again, it is offered again. "And it's not hard to see why they want her. She is a walking biochemical lab. Able to transmute organic compounds with her own body as well as produce and control her own internal chemicals."

Should Raith open the file it would contain the following information:

Theresa Parmenter
Race - Caucasian
Age - 34
Sex - F
Status - Registered Evolved (Tier 0)
Ability - Biochemical Manipulation
Further Details
Theresa Parmenter is the CFO of August Telecomm, a New York based telecommunications company. August Telecom took over contracts for the development of infrastructure systems for the Evolved Registry after CitySoft Inc went bankrupt following a devastating attack by PARIAH in November of 2008. Parmenter is a graduate of Columbia University and a mother of two children. Daniel (12) and Andrew (13). Her husband Kenneth is one of the thousands of missing persons following the 2006 nuclear explosion in Midtown. Kenneth is believed to have been one block from ground zero during the explosion.
Theresa's address is a townhouse in New Hyde Park New York, just east of Queens.

"I don't think those boys should have to go without their mother, since they already lost their father." Ryans lets out a soft sigh, looking from the folder to the man. "There is a chance the Institute might not even come after her or already have… or they may set a trap. I can't predict that. The Company has something they want and the Institute will probably do what they can to get what we have… or take them out. They already tried to take out one of my agents getting to the individual… once they saw the target list." A small smile twitches at one corner of his mouth.

Raith doesn't take the file at first, but fixes Ryans with what must be a flat stare. "This woman," he begins, "Is an alchemist? Is that what you're telling me?" The tone of his voice is anything but pleased, and in fact, he sounds rather agitated now that this information has come to light.

"That's what my sources say, yes." Ryans states honestly, meeting Raith's gaze with that same neutral look. "And a mother of two teenage boys." He points out, since as a father, that means a lot to the agent, always does. Kids are a weakness for him. "It is as much news to you as me. I only got this file today. Only a few hours before this meeting."

The manila folder lowers a little when Raith doesn't take it right away, Ryans's mouth pulls just a little to one side. "I don't have anyone one else to take this too." His concern for the fact that it won't be taken at all. "But I also don't want an ability like this getting in their hands. Who knows what kinda of things they could produce using her. Nothing like a good ol' biochemical weapons to ruin a day." Brows fall into a deep furrow, the first hint of irritation at the information.

"No shit." Although his hand remains extended, Raith pushes it out just a bit more. "Absolutely, they cannot have her. I'll take care of it. The boys, too. Discreetly, if it is reasonably practical. If that doesn't work out, just try to keep the heat off us, if you can. Can you do that?"

"Don't let them know who you got that from." The file handed off, Ryans frowns a bit. "It gets back to them and it ruins what we're trying to do with what life is left in the Company, but this… is just not something I could let slip by without action.

"Keeping the heat off you — I — am not sure I can do it. We have no clout at this point and we are being battered about pretty badly. Everyday the pile more restriction on us. So try not to expose your contingent if you can. If done right they will think it was the Company, since we have the list and the person responcible for it and well… " His hands spread out slowly before him. "… to bitch about it would be to admit their guilt when it comes to kidnapping innocent people." A small smile touches his lips. "It's a tricky situation."

A glance goes to the file, expression briefly lost in thought, "I no this will not be taken up, but I told Abby this as well. should you need a visible Company agent, I offer up my assistance." The assistant-director looks up again. "I am pretty much a thorn in their side."

"Duly noted." As if to show that they aren't enemies, or at least the same grade of enemies as they were before, Raith directs the muzzle of his carbine down at the floor and away from Ryan. Raith gives the file a glance of his own. "By the way, before I go and start making plans to save the damsel in distress…." A brief pause, perhaps for drama. "Do you happen to know where the Institute is keeping people they pick up off the street? They've got some of my people, and I'd like to have them back."

The change is noted with a small tip of Ryans head, but what he says may not make the Ferrymen very happy. "Not a damn clue." His fedora topped head, shakes slowly back an forth, he almost looks apologetic. "Wish I did, because they have one of our agents. I'm sure you have heard his name since Abby was the one that brought him to us, Darren Stevens. We kept him for our ranks to keep him out of the coffin they brought for him and they took him out from under our nose.

"Not that we can prove it, there is no evidence of how it happened. I only know who it was, cause of the information Abby brought to us." Ryans doesn't fully relax, but he shifts his stance a little to appear to relax some. "I want him back and taken somewhere by the Ferrymen where they can't get him. He can resurrect the dead… possibly those dead for some time." If the missing body is any indication.

The news clearly does not make Raith happy, but what can either of them do about it? "I'll see what I can turn up," he says, and that's all. "Who'd have guessed both of us wanting the Institute buried would work out so well? The more you know. Both of us have work to do, Agent Ryans. I think we should get to it."

"Admittedly, if you asked me, thirty years ago when I was a fresh Company rookie, if I thought I would be playing this dangerous game, I would have called you crazy." There is the slightly ghosting of a smile, as a hand lifts to tip his hat forward in acknowledgment. "Time changes all things." Features fall into that unreadable expression again. "You have my information, my phone is always on. Don't hesitate to call."

He starts to take a few steps back, not yet ready to turn his back on Raith. "Oh… if you could press upon Noah Bennet the urgency of the situation. My little stunt" — if you can call killing four of the Institute's retrievers a 'little' stunt — "may have shortened the time table on things." That said, he takes a few more steps, giving the man a small salute, "Here's to cooperation," before actually turning to leave.

Raith doesn't offer any acknowledgment of hearing Ryans words aside from not shooting him in the back when the opportunity presents itself. "To cooperation," he half-whispers when he is alone. With a degree of measured aggression, the ex-spy turns off the camping lantern, folds up his chair, and stalks off to disable the surprises he left around back in the event Ryans didn't come alone, summarizing verbally the situation with three simple words: "Fuck my life."

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