Participants:
| Scene Title | Green Isn't Good |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Abigail runs into Ryans at a gym and has some questions about a green hand-print. |
| Date | April 2, 2010 |
Carmine Recreation Center, Financial District
Three floor exercise facility.
Despite the cold weather and the high piles of snow outside, the Carmine Recreation Center is just about as busy as ever. Just because winter won't go away, doesn't mean people will slack on routine. The three floors of gym are busy with people going about their work outs.
Benjamin Ryans is one of these people, though he is a newer member. While the company has a very nice facility, the older agent isn't completely comfortable there yet. At least when it comes to his weight training. Just cause he got younger doesn't mean he got all that strength back, and call it pride, but he doesn't want them to see he can't lift the same amount of weight he could the last time he was in his late thirties.
Until he is up to snuff, his pride will keep him going to a gym outside of Fort Hero for this sort of thing.
Laying on his back at one of the machines, Ryans is currently doing a sort of bench press. The T-bar gripped tight in his hands as he pushes the weights upward, listening to the soft clicking of the cable moving along its track and a little rattling of the weights as the man's arms shake slightly from the strain he is putting on his muscle. He's lost in thought, his mind probably thinking about what he needs to do that day work-wise, even as he lifts.
There's a familiar looking blonde on a rowing machine, seating and bending forward then back, pulling on handles that link to weights as well. An infrequent sight in the gym, but she's there now and then when she's not derailed by other things. But she's there, in yoga pants and layered tops with a thin layer of swear, working off emotions and looking tired, the kind that doesn't come from being in a gym too long.
She stops when she's hit a certain number and climbs off the machine, grabbing a towel so she can go find an elliptical. But Ryans grabs her attention, spotting him just out of the corner of her eye and she wanders over towards the bench press, easing into the spot where a spotter would normally stand so she can look down at him from above.
Arms are showing signs of muscle fatigue, as he pushes the weight upward again they rattle a bit louder, then something slides into view above him. Those blue eyes of his shift to focus on the blonde standing above him, a touch of surprise, the bar dipping slightly before he lowers it with the thunk on the holder.
"Abigail." The older man offers politely, his voice pleasant enough, hand reaching down to pick up his towel, the other angling him up to sit up, legs straddling the bench still. He is wearing his typical work out gear that simply consists of gray sweatpants and a white tank top, not all that fashionable, but then gym isn't really suppose to be.
The towel a drawn over his face and slid behind his neck to wipe at the sweat. Strands of sweat damp hair falling along is forehead. "Nice to see you again."
"Is it?" It's not meant rudely, she just seems surprised that he would actually say that. How many company agents actually like to see people who know what they do and aren't part of the company. "I'd almost make a joke that you're stalking me, but I know you're not. You come here often?"
There is an actual chuckle to the man, as he casts a side long look at her, "You have not yet tried to stab me in the back, make vague threats to my family, or tried to kill me. I would say that goes very much in your favor, young lady." The small hint of a smile doesn't fade as he swings his leg over the bench so he can sit sideways on it and look at her.
"Here? Occasionally." He offers softly, towel draped over his shoulder while he considers her. "You?"
"No, I just cut your daughters hours. But. But I had a reason and she's not hurting for money like the others might be where the bar is their only job" Lucille is on the cover of a magazine. "Hey, I have a question for you, seeing as you're not exactly as retired as you told me you were. Do you, could I take you out for some coffee and some place more quiet?" AKA, more private.
"I did not lie when I said I was retired. When I met you, I was." Ryans explains, leaning forward on the bench resting arms on his knees for a moment. "I was brought back in a few weeks ago." His head tilts to the side so he can look at her, eyes narrowing. "And, Miss Beauchamp, I do not think ill of you for cutting Lucille's hours. You need to do what you can and you're right. Lu is modeling again, she does not need the hours like the others."
"Speaking of my daughter," Ryans pins her with a pointed look, hands moving to rest on the bench and push himself to his feet. He still relished the fact he could do that without his knee paining him. "I would appreciate it if you keep what I do to yourself. If possible. All she knows is that I took up a job at Homeland."
"Either way, I will be happy to field what questions I can, though I imagine you are aware that I can't talk overly much." A small ghost of a smile touches his lips as he looks to her, "But I will do my best to supply what answers I can."
"I know you don't think Ill. It was a joke Mr. Ryans" She won't call him agent, the same as she doesn't call Veronica that unless in private. "Your daughter would be the last one that I would tell that to. It's not for me to tell her when the time comes. I'll go get dressed" Which means he should probably do so too. "I'll meet you down in the front" A tired nod for the man, and she's disappearing off towards the locker room.
There is a downward tilt of his head, hair sliding along his forehead, which is combed back with fingers. "Thank you.." He rumbles softly, before watching her leave for the locker room. Lips press into a thoughtful line, before he too heads for the lockers.
Later, she'll find him standing down at the front, wearing a dark gray knit henley, dark blue jeans and hiking boots. Seems his daughters have gotten him out of his 'old man' typical of slacks and a dress shirt. His canvas brown duster is already on, the maroon and cream scarf laying around his neck.
His hair is still damp for the quick shower he took, he had after all been sweating, blue eyes are cast to the world outside, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He only looks away from the outside winter scene at the sounds of footsteps.
She's damp too, hair back in a braid and most of it covered by a white knit hat with … blue angel wings on either side. They go with her blue wool jacket. "There's a Coffee Bean around the corner. I have a question to ask" Abby gets right to business since she doesn't know how long she'll have the agent. There's a gesture to the door and once they're outside and away from people, Abby's voice is low.
"I used to heal all sorts of homeless people Agent Ryans. I stopped, once I couldn't. But, i ran into one the other day. Says that someone touched him and left a hand-print on his arm. Really strange green hand-print, like someone dipped their hand in my UV stamp pad at work and pressed it to their arm. Have… has the company heard about anything like that? He was pretty scared"
The door is opened and held for her, before Ryans moves to step along side her, his head tilted towards her to listen to softly spoken words. His duster is pulled around him, the belt tied against the cold. His face does not betray the sudden interest in her words and the quickening of his heart beat.
"Yes." The word is clipped out, his gaze focused ahead of them, squinting against the light of the morning.
"In fact, that person should be grateful to be alive." Ryans' head turns slightly to gives her that neutral look of his, his tone suggests others were not so lucky. "I urge caution when being around this individual, whoever it is, is dangerous."
That gets Abigail's attention and her hand comes out to touch Ryan's arm and stop him. "What do you mean?" That doesn't sound good. Mel's lucky to be alive? "Agent Ryans…"
The hand on his arm, does stop him and the Company agent turns to face her, his expression grim. Glancing around them to make sure are no prying ears, his hands moves to push into the pockets of his duster as he considers his words. There is a long sighs, before he explains, "We have found those hand prints before. On bodies. Cause of death unknown, but for the hand print, we would not have known something was up." He keeps it rather vague like that.
One hand moves to rest over the hand on his arm as he gives her a meaningful look, "Much like that young man the other night, I want you to be careful if your around whoever put that print on your friends arm."
"I won't ask you if you have information where to find this person, I have no desire to force it out of you," The Company agent studies the young woman, before his hand slides away. "But the problem needs to be addressed before someone else ends up in the morgue."
"They found me and asked me because I helped them before, they thought I might know" Abigail does look worried though. "Besides dead… does anything else happen? I mean, he's not gonna go sprouting green skin or .. you know.. suddenly die a couple days later?" Please, oh please don't die a couple days later.
There is a stiff nod of his head, Ryans has no reason not to believe her. "We know very little about this one, it is a new case, but no… no green skin." There is a touch of amusement at the thought of someone turning green. "Just watch over the person, but I suspect if they are still alive, that they will be fine."
There is a narrowing of his eyes at Abigail, "Would this person be willing to talk to me about what happened?" A hand is held up, to forestall her, "Check, because it would be nice to know more about what we are up against." They haven't a clue about this ability, it is a complete mystery to the company. "If thy are evolved, unregistered, it is none of my concern. I only care about the cases and those that are truly dangerous."
"You may not care if they are Agent Ryans, but sometimes, your employer's do and I know about bags and tags" Abigail points out. "I don't know if I'll ever come across this person again. They're over on -" Abby rattles off an address in the financial district. "Andrew" There really was a homeless guy there, but whether he's still there or not. "It disappears though. I know that. That's what freaked him out. He couldn't wash it off. I checked his vitals, he was fine. Said someone had touched him, by accident and had sparked. And then he'd seen it when he was trying to get warm at some rave or something" The lie, sorta, falls from her lips easily. Someone know knows her better might detect it for what it is, sorta. "Said it was gone a couple days later"
Lips press together, Ryans knows all about the way people view them. Much like cops are seen as bad guys. "True." The agent says softly, watching her quietly. Though with as few as agents were now a days, many things have ended up on the back burner, but last thing people need to know is how the Company seems to be a dying breed.
The financial district, he'll have to find some time to look for that 'Andrew.' See if there is any truth in the claim. "If you can keep me informed of anything that comes your way on that or anything else, I would greatly appreciate it. I never realized how bad things have gotten since after Midtown."
The senior agents expression is grim, "Had I known it was this bad, I would have asked to returned to the Company sooner."
"things have gotten bad Agent Ryans. And there's an atmokinetic playing with the weather and there are… Russians that are trying for revenge and killing people. There's a man out there slicing open skulls pretending to be Sylar. There's so much out there that no one knows. They just go about their day and don't know that the world's come close to ending twice and if it wasn't for what I had, or for a man who took a nuke into shadow Agent Ryans, and let it implode him to shreds, we'd be who knows how many feet under water and dead."
Her hand has long since retreated back to her own pockets, coffee seems to be abandoned. "The company may do some good, but so do the various groups out there who aren't trying to destroy the world. It took healing for Phoenix and Pariah and the other side too, to know what goes on under the noses of everyone." Temptation to tell him that the president he see's every day, isn't the real president is great. But some things, aren't meant to be shared quite yet.
"I have a history of working with the federal companies, I even have a letter stating so. I've worked with the company before on things you're probably not cleared to know about and me not to even hint at it. If something bad is coming, I'll let you know"
"Since I've returned, I'm catching up on what has gone on before." Ryans says softly, "I have been in this game for almost thirty years, doing what these vigilante groups are doing. It's good there are others out there, as long as they don't stop me from doing my job." A small emotionless smile tugs at his lips. "The Company was one of the first, even if it fell into corruption. I am not proud of some of what they did… but I am proud of the work they did to protect people from the dangerous ones."
"I have no qualms over those with abilities, though I do not envy them." He glances away, looking at the snow covered landscape. A chime from his pocket, has him digging out his blackberry. "Sadly it seems, Miss Beauchamp, I must take a rain check on that coffee." His gaze moving to offer her an apologetic smile. "Work is calling me in."
"I have a shrink appointment. So I guess timing is everything" The blonde replies. "Dr. Richards. because even good christian girls sometimes need a little help with their life" Abigail offers a weak smile, turning around at the comment of work calling, Shoulders hunch in against the cold, head tucked down. "Take care Mr Ryans" She calls back. Abigail, consorting with company agents. Cat would have a fit.
Eyes narrow when her back is turned, Dr. Richards. Fantastic. The thought dripping with sarcasm. It takes everything in him not to warn her about the shrink. It is really not his place. Though he'll be watching the young woman, should the doctor to something to her.
A small sigh and Ryans turns to walk, fingers punching at the numbers of his phone, glance over his shoulder to make sure Abigail is well out of range. There is a pause as the line rings, before he says. "Assistant Director… I have a small bit of information on the green hand print case."