Knock Knock


the_haitian_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif montag_icon.gif rami_icon.gif

Scene Title Knock Knock
Synopsis Three agents stop by Magnes's place of work and residence to lie a lot, drag him out back, and toss him in the trunk. Politely.
Date December 6, 2008

Pizza Place

Early in the cool evening, Magnes has decided to take a break from skating and just chill out inside on his last day off, flipping through channels. "Dangerous evolv" "Pika" "Harvey, it doesn't have to be like this!" says the voice of the animated Batman.

Magnes just chills out and watches, wearing his skates due to his general fear of the government busting in since the hospital incident. "That's what I should be doing, wearing a cape, saving people, but where am I supposed to find ninjas to teach me?" he asks himself as he munches on a slice of anchovy pizza.

Recently arrived outside: one car, three agents. It's an odd sort of sausage party, all sinister in its containment within a sleek black sedan and dark tinted windows. Gavin is the first out, passenger's side door swung open over the curb so that he can unfold himself there and set about the process of straightening out the knot of his tie. His suit is as black as the car, and he is gaunt as ever, but decidedly cheerful when he closes the door quietly behind him and starts for the pizza parlor at a business clip.

Rami is behind the wheel of said sinister-looking sedan. He puts the car into park and shuts off the engine. He pushes open the door and stands beside Montag. He tugs off a pair of black gloves. "So. Are we expecting a struggle with this one?" He's got his game-face on. Then again, rarely does that look come off.

Dark flick over to Rami for half a second. This isn't his assignment. The door sweeps open and the graceful figure of the Haitian swoops out of the back door of the vehicle. Unlike his counter parts, he is dressed in a beige suit, a violet shirt underneath. Closing the door swiftly he looks back to Montag, then to Rami. He will allow them to do their work, and watch for now. Until they mess it up. The blackest member of the trio hovers about the vehicle, leaning against it nigh lazily.

The shop is small, there are only three workers, one average looking blonde girl in her late twenties, a dark skinned Italian guy with slicked back black hair in his early thirties, and the oldest of the three, Mister Panucci, a short Italian slightly heavyset man with no hair except the grey hair combed back hair on the sides of his head.

They're all occupied with something, the younger of the two males is leaning on the counter watching the small TV hanging up in the corner of the shop. Magnes is no where to be seen, based on his description, and as far as the company knows, he still has a pretty bad gunshot wound.

"Dunno," says Montag, amicable despite the December chill and his conspicuous lack of layering against it. "I don't think he'll be a problem, assuming we drug 'im before he has a chance to leap out've any windows." A glance spent over his shoulder the car and the Haitian, he speaks as he walks, one spidery hand checking after the contents of a suit pocket when he swings the shop door open and holds it there for Rami to follow.

Rami makes a subtle shift and reaches to straighten his jacket. What he's really doing is moving the holster of his weapon ever so slightly so that it's more accessible. He holds the door open in turn for the Haitian. "I suppose if this all goes south, we can still have a calzone." He chuckles, but it's not really a humour-filled sound.

He shakes his head to Rami, a silent indication that he will not be joining the two, paler Agents. The Haitian pops himself up from the vehicle and instead of going straight towards the shop like Rami and Montag, the third Company agent makes his way casually around the block. Towards the back of the store. An inexplicable inkling that individuals being invited by two dark suited man might have an inclination to make for their immediate exit. And so, the Haitian walks silently towards the back of the store, his black shoes tapping quietly on the ground below.

Mister Panucci walks from behind the counter to greet the two men with a smile, figuring these are high class customers who might order quite a bit. "Hello, and what can I do for you? I'm the owner Mister Panucci, and if there's anything you want, I'll take care of it personally." he offers in a thick New Yorker accent, causing the other guy to roll his eyes.

Montag has no weapons on him at the moment — just a capped syringe that he accidentally half pulls out instead of the billfold he was actually after. The swap is made with a flick of his fingers, fortunately disguised by his ongoing lean into the door, and in he goes. The billfold is flicked out, badge gleaming dull gold at the the pizzeria rabble, then more specifically at Mister Panucci when he puts himself forth as someone in a position to be of assistance. "Pleasure to meet you, Mister Panucci. Gavin Montag, Homeland Security. We're concerned that one of your employees, a Mr. 'Magnes J. Varlane' might have come into contact with a particularly virulent strain of anthrax during his recent stay at the hospital, and we'd like to make sure he's alright. Any chance you might know where he is?"

Rami lets Montag do the talking. He stands just behind the other agent with his hands clasped in front of him. He glances to the other employees, but his real focus is on any entrances to back rooms or staircases.

The back door opens and closes in a hurricane of silence. His hand leaves the doorknob steadily, eyes sweeping his new surroundings. Staircase.. The silent Agent takes a casual glance before tucking himself away in the back room, hiding himself from sight until the story unfolds itself more upon the group gathered. He presses his back against the wall, waiting.

Mister Panucci's eye widen, then he quickly points to a door in the cooking area that leads to the back, then to the stairs that the Haitian just started. "I hope the kid's alright, he's my best delivery boy. Go ahead, he's through that door and up the stairs, then you'll find another door, that's his room."

Meanwhile, Magnes sits up, turning on his PS2 and idly taking another slice. He seems absolutely harmless enough, and his door is unlocked.

Smile twitching sidelong at Panucci's helpful concern, Montag looks to the door in question and chuckles. "I'm sure he'll be fine. But. Better safe than sorry, as they say. We'll only be a moment." That was easy. Doot de doot doo. Montag doesn't quite leer back at Rami as he starts for the indicated door to start quietly up the stairs. So professional.

Rami nods in thanks to the pizza man and follows after Montag. "How are we going to prevent him from spooking?" he murmurs to the other agent as they head for the staircase. "He's liable to be jarred if we just knock on his door and say hello."

And when the two come back, the third Agent is aready waiting for them. Stepping out, he watches the two of them, as if bored. Waiting for them to go up the stairs, Rami is given a knit of the brows for a moment, though no verbal response is given.

Magnes can be heard blowing things up in his game if they're just outside the door, getting really into it. "Aries! Come on!! Yeah!!! Ah crap, damn!" he suddenly throws his controller on the floor and groans in frustration.

"By lying more and knocking him out at the earliest opportunity," says Montag, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The Haitian gets a tip of his head as he ascends, all the way up to the flat of Magnes's door. Granted, he does have to listen and think a moment before he lifts his knuckles to knock. "Mr. Varlane?" His accent is distinctly British through the door, and very polite. Even the knock was polite, for that matter. "My name is Steven Beatty — I'm with the National Enquirer. We're doing a story on delivery boys and after speaking with your boss downstairs it seems you've come highly recommended. Could we ask you a few questions?"

Hey, Rami doesn't underestimate how dangerous people can be, even without their powers. He ascends the stairs after Montag. When he hears the story, he can't help but roll his eyes. "Must be a slow day at the Enquirer," he murmurs. His hand is held in such a way that his gun can be drawn at a moment's notice.

Stepping up after Rami and Montag, he remains silent at the British Agent's cover story. Though if negative thoughts made noises, Rami and Montag might be deaf by now. Though he does step forward, placing a hand steadily on Rami's chest. The man is gently pushed back so that the darker skinned Agent is the closest to the door. Who needs guns when you can take away a mans mind. And so the Haitian is ready to do just that…

Magnes perks up, what? Well, that story might normally sound suspicious, but this guy is /British/, this is obviously legit. He stands up, realizing it's a bit harder to skate for some reason, but he stumbles his way to the door and says, "Really? Wow, someone finally recognizes my work." Then the door is opened, and he looks over the men with a raised eyebrow. "Who are those guys? Are they gonna take my picture or something?"

"Always a slow day at the Enquirer. Elsewise they wouldn't have to make shit up all the time," Montag murmurs back, voice low behind the closed door. And lo! There is Magnes, all proud and wearing roller skates in his address of the three politically correct stooges lined up like chess pieces before him. Gavin stands up a little straighter, both brows lifted back at Magnes's one. "Actually we're here to kidnap you. Sorry."

"You wouldn't think they would have to make anything up," says Rami. He eyes the Haitian, but backs out of his way without further motions. His hand goes to his tranq gun as the door opens. "Won't be much of an inconvenience. Well, perhaps a little." He's British too. If Magnes was going to remember any of this, he might start coming up with conspiracy theories.

And once the formalities and the declaration of what they are about to do is clear, the dark man steps cleanly into the room. One hand is swiftly raised to Magnes' mouth. The other hand moves swiftly to seize the man around the shoulder. He steps forward a little bit, his hand on Magnes' shoulder tightly gripping him to slowly ease the boy to the ground, as he slowly looses his grip on consciousness.

"That's my purs—" he almost yells purse, to kick Gavin in the nuts, but before he can do anything the Haitian grabs his mouth and eases him to the ground. He struggles for a bit, and his eyes slowly but surely close.

"…" says Montag, pale countenance tilted slightly aside to watch the passing out process from beneath low-pressed brows while he puzzles over Magnes's last words. His nuts are safe. FOR NOW. "I'll sort things out with Papa Panucci, unless one of you'd rather have the honors."

"Oh no. I wouldn't dream of it. You're better at public relations than I." Rami motions from Montag to the stairs. He steps over to Magnes and looks down at the unconscious pizza boy. He makes a clucking sound with his tongue. "Right then. Let's get him in the car."

December 6th: Trust
December 6th: Lollerskates
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