Participants:
| Scene Title | Know Not Wisdom or Fear |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two impossible beings have a brief conversation. It's possible now that they have come to some sort of understanding. |
| Date | November 15, 2008 |
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. The western warehouse of the Eagle Electric lot is an enormous and foreboding red-painted building made entirely from sheets of ridged steel. Amidst the grass growing up through the cracks in the pavement and the burned out cars in the parking lot, it seems just as uninhabited as the rest of the area. A large and ruined sign at the top of the office and manufacturing building prominently reads, "Eagle Electric—Perfection Is Not An Accident."
The doors to Eagle Electric open with the hesitance of someone who isn't sure if they belong here or not. It should come as little surprise when it's Doctor Odessa Knutson who steps inside the structure and closes the doors behind her. Though she doesn't look frightened, she does seem a little nervous. At her sides, her fingers flex restlessly before reaching up to undo her black winter coat, leaving it open as she steps inside. Her attire doesn't suit an outing to a warehouse, but when your wardrobe consists of a blood-stained sweater dress, one business casual outfit that's still hung over the shower rod and dripping cold water, and a cocktail dress most suited for a bar? Well, you go for the one item that doesn't need laundering. The hem of the cocktail dress is tugged down slightly, though it doesn't make her stocking-clad legs any warmer. Carefully she makes her way over the floor Munin swept only a few days ago, affording her a less tricky path in her red patent heels.
"When our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors." The voice resounds through the warehouse, a hollow and empty tone that rings with the rough and gravely tone of Kazimir's voice. The quotation is spoken loud enough to rouse the ravens perching in the iron beams overhead, the sound of their wings shuffling and fluttering is accompanied by black feathers falling down from above. "Shakespeare, my dear doctor Knutson. Are you much of a reader?"
An angled piece of glass Odessa passes by gives a distant and reflected view of Kazimir seated on his cloth-shrouded chair at the center of the warehouse, his pale eyes settled on her as she passes between the tall stacks of abandoned freight. "I did not expect to see you here, not at this hour." Some brevity still remains in the old man, evident in his tone as he leans back in the chair, only now coming into view as Odessa rounds the corner of one stack of crates. Finally, when his eyes can settle on her directly does he ask, "What brings you to me, at this hour?" His voice is joined by the pinging notes of raindrops striking the metal roof, as the weather outside ever so slowly shifts from damp, to drizzling.
Something about the moment Kazimir comes into view causes the ghost of a smirk to flicker across Odessa's features. It was something she said to Sylar, actually. "You know not whether it was his wisdom or his fear," she recites easily. "I am familiar with the Bard." She comes to stand a respectable distance away now. Close enough to see and be seen, but not close enough to be presumptuous about her welcome. "I thought it appropriate that we might take the time to speak. You must have questions." She smiles pleasantly enough. "Everyone has questions."
Leaning back in his chair, the creak of old wood joins with the subtle creak of old bones as Kazimir settles in to survey the blonde woman with a steady gaze. "I did," he answers simply, "But my Conscience has alleviated much of my concerns, and any further questions I have…" One weathered hand gestures towards Odessa, "I feel you would not answer to any level of satisfaction." There is a moment of consideration as the hand comes to rest on the chair's arm, and Kazimir's blue eyes drift up and down Odessa. "Do you feel that you would answer my questions with satisfactory answers, Doctor Knutson, or would you merely waste my time?"
Odessa's eyes widen ever-so-slightly at the mention of Kazimir's Conscience. But how did he— She didn't let the zealot touch her! Now, her eyes narrow faintly. Sylar. How could you? "That depends on how much you require to be satisfied." She folds her arms under her chest loosely. "I can do naught but my best."
"Full disclosure." Kazimir states flatly, one hand coming up to rest and his mouth, fingers lightly stroking his chin. "I want to know what you do, how you do it, and then I will determine how best to utilize your skills. Your little disappearing act at Central Park did not go unnoticed." Kazimir shifts his weigh to the side, creaking the old wood of the chair. "I would prefer if you elaborate on your capabilities of your own volition, so that I am not required to discover them by other means."
"No." The girl's tone is firm, but she backs up a step. "The thing I learned the quickest was that if I want to stay alive, I don't tell anybody what I can do." She swallows the lump in her throat before continuing. "I can do whatever I want to do. Through my own methods." She bristles a little at the threat leveled at her. "My resources are limited, but I do the best with what I have. Forgive my sense of self-preservation, but I'm not inclined to give Sylar any reason to kill me." Odessa's choice of words seems to imply that she doesn't believe Kazimir would do it himself. Though the look on her face says otherwise.
"Need I remind you that it was Gabriel who saved your life, and I who nearly took it?" One hand settles upon the cane laid across his lap, fingers tracing over the steel wolf's head. "You needn't worry so much about Sylar wishing your death, so much as mine should you continue to challenge my authority. I don't know how your former keepers trained you in your little cage, but my touch is not a gentle one." He leans forward, moving the cane aside to stay gripped in one hand. "Perhaps you should have considered this before coming in to my doors."
Kazimir lets those words linger for a moment before leaning back in the chair, "Now…" His fingers rap lightly on the haft of his cane, "…as I said, I have no questions for you, as I feel I will not find suitable answers." He pauses for a moment, "You will have a task to perform in due time, once your laboratory equipment arrives. But for now, I have no need for you. I pray you do little to upset me until such a time as you are needed."
Odessa's blood just burns in her veins. She always took it for granted that the people within the Company knew she was useful. She's a doctor, after all. Doctors are useful people to have. Her lips tighten, just on this side of pursing together entirely. "I merely followed Sylar. I did not come to you by my own choice. However, as long as you have his loyalty to your cause, then I shall do my best to further his goals." She traces her fingers gingerly over the wound in her throat, eyes alight with anger. Slowly, her hands ball into angry fists and then open again suddenly, fingers outstretched. After a second, she lowers her hands back to her sides again and smiles serenely. "I shall continue to aid your men as they see fit to ask me," she informs the illustrious leader. "I can promise you, I will prove that I'm needed long before you would make that decision on your own." With that, she turns on her heels and begins winding her way back toward the doors.
Leaning back into his chair, Kazmir rests one hand over his mouth, the corners of his lips tightening to the faintest hint of a pleased smile as Odessa begins to walk away from his dais and towards the exit of the facility. "Oh, my dear…" His eyes follow her in the reflection of a broken piece of mirrored glass, "…of that I am without doubt."
 November 15th: In Need of Help |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 November 15th: Which Peter Was It? |