James Bond and Doogie Howser


odessa_icon.gif veronica_icon.gif

Scene Title James Bond and Doogie Howser
Synopsis Agent Veronica Sawyer meets her new partner, Doctor Odessa Knutson. She's beginning to wonder if Martin Crowley is trying to kill her.
Date March 13, 2010

Central Park

Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.

An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.

Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.

Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.

The corner of Central Park that Agent Sawyer chose to meet her "mystery partner" in is far from hills and slopes, though far in the distance the laughter and squeals of sledders making the most of the late and unrelenting snow can be heard. Veronica stands, bundled in a black wool trench, a jade green scarf around her neck and sunglasses shielding her eyes from all of the whiteness as she surveys the pale landscape.

She has a guess of who she's looking for — Martin Crowley's cryptic email sent her on a search of temporal manipulators, finding a photograph and a description and a "shoot on sight" order for one anonymous threat. It makes Veronica uneasy, not knowing the basest of facts about this person she is supposed to work with. She's already paired with a madman — what else is Crowley trying to throw at her, and to what end? Both Jack and this Jane Doe time manipulator are enemies of the Company; her being even seen with them puts the agent in danger — not to mention the danger they could pose to her themselves.

"I know sunglasses aren't exactly indicative of anything, but you do look the part of an agent," intones a woman's voice behind Veronica. "I thought you'd be taller."

Black patent leather thigh high boots crunch in the snow, a pseudo-substitute for leggings to ward off the chill. A red wool toggle coat is left unbuttoned, revealing a black skirt and corset top. Just about everything about the blonde woman's apparel is inappropriate for the weather, save perhaps for the glittery Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses she wears to cut down on the glare created by the snow. She comes to stand in front of Agent Sawyer and look her up and down if the tilt of her head is any indication. "So, what's your name?"

It's not like her sunglasses are FBI-issued aviators or something. They're Dior, and they're classy, thank you very much. Just about everything on Veronica is designer, if one know their cuts and fabrics — they are just understated and simple classic pieces. Veronica arches a brow that can't be seen behind them, of course, at the comment about height coming from the shorter woman.

"Sawyer. Veronica Sawyer." She offers her right hand for shaking, though the hand is encased in a cast. "And you are?" her head tilts as well. Odessa in person is the woman from the photograph, she can see that well enough. Her mind is still a-whirr with all the implications of the Crowley's decision to put them in contact with one another.

The shorter blonde takes Veronica's hand to shake and smiles thinly. "Ooh. Bond, James Bond," she teases, her smile broadening to a grin. "All you agents talk the same." Releasing her hand, Odessa feels the fabric of Veronica's coat between her ungloved fingers and nods approvingly. "At least you've got taste. Haven't seen that since Bishop." She steps back and quickly clarifies, "Elle, of course. Though I would say her father at least had some eye for dressing appropriately as well."

Settling back with one hand on her hip, a sort of awkward position one might find a model standing in for a photo shoot, she watches her new partner for a moment. "Doctor Odessa Knutson," she finally offers, rolling her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she gauges what sort of reaction her name might cause.

The agent chuckles at the teasing of her delivery — she hadn't intended it, of course. She had simply used Sawyer because that's how agents address one another — but Odessa is not an agent, so she doubled back to give the first name. "Thank you," she says with a chuckle, glancing down at her coat sleeve.

"Doctor Knutson. What sort of doctor are you? PhD? Medical?" she asks, curiously, and perhaps even a touch enviously. "What would you like me to call you, Doctor?" There's a cautious civility to her tone and perhaps a touch of uncertainty. It's clear the name doesn't mean anything more to her than the name of her new "partner."

"Oooh. You must be a baby agent," Odessa assesses with a smirk. "I'm a medical doctor," she confirms. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. Not that I consider myself terribly important, mind you. I'm just considered dangerous." There's a shrug of her shoulders as if to indicate that she doesn't quite understand why anyone would think that.

"As for what you can call me, I admit that it's been such a long time since anyone has referred to me as Doctor, and I have missed it so, but I will be content with Odessa. Whatever makes you most comfortable." She shakes her fingers through her hair and tilts her head to one side slightly. "So tell me, Agent Sawyer," because Odessa is used to referring to Company agents by their titles, "what do you require of me to make your little operation run smoothly?"

Baby agent? So says the female counterpart to Doogie Howser or something, if it's been a such a long time since anyone has called Odessa by that title. "I'm not a rookie. I've only been in New York about a year," Veronica says coolly enough. Her pride's been bruised enough without having a company foe maligning it farther!

"As far as my operation, I will admit that Crowley seems to have some grand vision that he hasn't shared with me. I don't know what you can do, aside from the general idea. I have no idea of your boundaries or your limitations. I'll need an idea of those before I can come up with any sort of plan. Did Crowley mention who and what we're up against, by chance, or did he leave you in the dark as well?" No, she's not annoyed at Crowley at all.

"Crowley believes you and I are up against Sylar himself," Odessa muses, looking Veronica over the top of her sunglasses briefly. "But everyone knows he's dead." There's a small amount of venom, and maybe even a little sorrow there. "I personally feel we're dealing with a copycat killer. Sylar was far less messy the last I knew." Or at least was getting better about cleaning up after himself, in her eyes.

"As for what I can do…" Odessa sweeps one hand out, and her fingers peeking beneath the sleeve are splinted - healing after apparently having been broken. The flakes of snow are suspended in their descent from heaven, the children, their parents, and the children at heart on their sleds are frozen in motion. Nothing in Central Park moves except she and Veronica. "This is what I am capable of."

Finding herself in a freeze-frame, Veronica turns slowly in the snow, looking around their surroundings. A hand reaches up to close around a snowflake, before she turns back to look at Odessa. "That could be useful, yes. And I'm not sure if it's Sylar or not, but I do know that death in this day and age is not a permanent state for some people. It's possible he survived somehow — we do not have a full list of the powers he's attained. However, it does seem that it's likely a copycat. The question is, is the copycat simply following, lock step, through the murders for the sake of copying, or can he or she do what Sylar can do? If it's the latter — he's just as dangerous. Perhaps more so, if he has Hunter's power."

She shoves her hand back into her pocket. "I have another untraditional partner in this case. Are you familiar at all with Mortimer Jack?"

"If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say we're dealing with someone who can do what Sylar can, if it isn't the man himself." A thoughtful frown skews Odessa's face as she considers the possibilities and ramifications both. She can only hope that it's actually Sylar, if one should really hope for such a thing, if only because she feels she knows him. Of course, what she feels, and what is truth are definitely two different things.

The name Mortimer Jack pulls Doctor Knutson from her thoughts and the fury on her features assures that, yes, the name is familiar. "You have got to be kidding."

"I'd love to say that I am, Odessa. Martin Crowley has a seriously sick sense of humor if it's a joke, though." Veronica doesn't know what problems the temporal manipulator has with the man, but it's clear that she has some. "Apparently Crowley thinks that Sylar — or Pseudo-Sylar — would want Jack's ability. Not that he has one anymore. The plan is to use him as bait. The problem is, once he's close enough, if he actually has Hunter's power, he'll know Jack's not Evolved — if Hunter's power can give its user a sense of active powers as opposed to latent or removed ones. Not sure if it does or not, and it's awfully hard to ask her."

Veronica shoves her sunglasses up to the top of her head, allowing the first glance into her whiskey brown eyes. "I'm guessing Crowley thought you could help us with the trapping part — perhaps stop time when he's within our sights, give us more time to detain him." Or kill him. "Unless you have any other ideas as to how your power can be of use."

"Wendy Hunter?" Odessa squints and frowns. "Yeah, her ability will tell him that Jack's not Evolved." She remembers Wendy Hunter. They met only once, it's true, but anyone who could tell what she does with only a shake of her hand is destined to leave an impression on the secretive blonde.

"I think you're right. My power will make it easier to detain him - whoever he is." Assuming it's even a man at all. "I wouldn't be surprised if Crowley suspects I'll make excellent secondary bait, though." Colour Odessa less than amused.

"From what I understand," Sawyer says slowly, "Hunter could tell someone was evolved at a distance… but not what their power was until she touched them. If you were in the vicinity, that would help confuse the suspect longer, though we could accomplish the same with any Evolved person if that is all we were using you for. Besides stop time — what else can you do? And how long can you do that for?"

Odessa looks around at the world still stopped in motion. "Depends on how much I have to hold. If I'm not, say, averting armageddon, I can keep my hold on time fairly indefinitely." She shrugs one shoulder. "I've had my fair share of practice on Sylar, so any Sylar wannabe should be a cakewalk," the temporomancer boasts.

"You can let go, if it's taxing you and all," Veronica says, nodding to the far side of the park where others can be in their strange stop-motion stance. "If you've any ideas on how to best take down Sylar, I'm all ears. Shall I arrange a meeting between Mortimer Jack and the two of us?" she asks. The words are ridiculous, even as they fall from her mouth, and she can't help wondering why she has this task, unless Crowley is hoping to see her fail — or worse.

Odessa quirks a brow. "It isn't," she says simply. Taxing her, that is. "Perhaps it would be best if Jack doesn't know I'm involved with this. Though I suppose I should trust your judgement, being as you're the agent in charge. Whatever you think is best. I will abide." The woman's lips twist into a smile. "You know how to reach me." With the wave of her hand, the world not only picks up where it had left off, but the woman has vanished.

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