Participants:
| Scene Title | Like Prometheus |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Mythic Prometheus; he who stole fire from the gods to give to man. Like Prometheus, Doctor Amber Mitchell steals the secrets of Project Icarus from the Institute and delivers them into the hands of Humanis First. |
| Date | July 26, 2010 |
Meetings like this should take place in the dark, in some secluded alleyway with a steaming grate under a drizzling sky. FI;m noir sensibilities never seem to apply much in the real world, where the center of public attention can be just as obscure a place for covert dealings than anywhere else. It's hard to get more public than Central Park.
Just off the beaten path from the park-goers enjoying the hot summer morning, just off the beaten path from the joggers and the dog-walkers and cyclists, lies the southern border of the park, a portion partly closed due to the proximity to the burn zone from the 2006 nuclear explosion that decimated the population of Manhattan.
Out here the homeless call the park their kingdom, a kingdom of blue plastic tarps making makeshift tents, a kingdom of cardboard box hovels under foot-bridges, a kingdom of the blind.
Seated on a park bench that hasn't seen much maintenance in the last near four years, NYPD homicide detective Daniel Walsh looks out of place with a tent city of homeless men sitting behind him. His powder blue dress shirt is so crisp and clean, sleeves rolled up to stay cool in the heat, but he's still sweating like a pig.
His badge isn't out, but his gun is on his hip just as a deterrent. His presence is enough to keep the undesireables away. Today, out here, he has something more important than his job to handle.
This is not the sort of place that Amber prefers for meets. She's too classy for this sort of thing. Ignore the mad scientist bit, and it's even true. But it's for the cause, so she has made her way down here, looking as though just being here corrupts her in some way. She makes her way to the bench that she's to meet Walsh at, carrying a briefcase with her, full of the files that he asked for.
"Did we have to meet here, Daniel? There had to have been other places that we could've met that would be just as safe," she says, sitting down next to him.
"No," is Danny's answer, wry as always, "but then where'd we be? My office? Your office? It ain't that bad out here, gives some context to our work, yeah? All these people," Danny nods his head towards the direction of the tents, "livin' out here because've one've them. An' we're the ones who wind up lookin' like the bad guys, right? It's nonsense." Motioning for Amber to sit at his side, Danny scoots away to make some space for her, having been taking up the middle of the bench to dissuade passers by from joining him.
"Is that all've it?" Danny offers a nod towards the briefcase, brows pinched into a furrow as blue eyes move from the matte black case up to Amber's attentive expression. "S'amazing t'think it all fits int'a one tiny little box, huh? Somethin' tha' could change the world, jus'… so small an' simple. S'almost like art."
The briefcase is offered out to him and Amber nods. "It's all that I could get, yes. It's an amazing place, the research that goes on there. And they're not exactly all pro-evolved either. It was…" A moment is taken to search for the perfect word, and Amber finally settles on, "refreshing. Unfortunately we've not yet found a cure for being evolved. I hope we do though," she says, sighing.
"Nothin' worth doin' is ever easy." Reaching out to take the briefcase, Danny seems hesitant once its in his hand, and as he sets it down between his feet on the concrete, there's a fleeting look to the locks on the side, then back up to Amber. "So, aside from what all y'got for me in this, what d'you know about the sorts of people that work there? I've got myself some people who might be interested in buyin' some've the information is all…"
Looking down to the briefcase again, Danny's brows furrow and his hands fold together between his knees. "Worried something'd happened t'you, while you were in there. Hadn't heard from you in a while, didn't know what t'think. Glad t'know you're safe though… there ain't many people left in this city I trust." Blue eyes alight to Amber, "Ain't many people in the city I give much've a shit about."
"Well, Doctor Gregor is a…I think he may well be slightly insane, but he's brilliant. He seems more interested with testing the limits of the evolved though, rather than curing them," Amber begins after a moment. "Doctor Sheridan…I'm not sure about her. I don't think she's in the right place. She seems more focused on the mind, which is not what we're doing there." And she doesn't know Bao-Wei, never having had a conversation with him, so she says nothing there.
Amber smiles a little. "I am safe, yes. There's nothing really for me to fear there. The evolved subjects are all kept locked up in some manner or another, and negation gas is used liberally."
"Negation gas," is asked after with child-like wonder. Blue eyes divert down to the briefcase again, then look back up to Amber with a toothy smile. "You know, back in the day I used t'call my friend Bill Santa Claus, because e'd always be bringin' me these new toys from his buddies down in Staten Island. We'd swap gun running contacts, go an' shoot up a truck with a fifty 'cal on a desolate stretch of highway…" There's a wistful look in Danny's eyes before he offers a smile back to Amber. "Maybe you're th' missus, or one've them elves."
Cracking a smile, Danny looks down towards the briefcase. "You'd have liked Bill. Misogynist bastard that e' was, at least y'knew where y'stood with him at any given time. I once heard he punched a lady cop who worked for us square in'na face because she sassed off to 'im… ain't a day that goes by that I don't miss the fat fuck."
Exhaling a sigh thorugh his nose, Danny looks askance to Amber, nodding once. "How long d'you have 'fore they need you back at the office?"
Amber laughs softly and shakes her head. "I'm no elf, Daniel, but I'm happy that I'm giving you information that pleases me. I'll see if I can't manage to get some negation gas for you. You can call it an early Christmas present." She looks at her watch then, sighing softly. "I have to get back soon, unfortunately."
"Ah," implies both disappointment that she has to go, and disappointment that the slim briefcase does not somehow also contain a canister of this amazing negation gas. "Well, maybe you'n I could do something… I dunno, o'er the weekend? I've got some time off comin' up now that the new Commissioner's all settled in. So, a'figured maybe we could do dinner? They still allow you t'do dinner in science land yeah?"
For once, there's a hopeful smile that crosses Detective Walsh's expression, one brow kicked up and an awkward smile spread across his lips. "You know, that is, a'course— if'n y'don' mind spendin' an evenin' with a boring fella like m'self."
That brings a warm smile to Amber's face and she nods, reaching over to lightly pat his knee. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Daniel. And yes, they do allow me dinner in science land. In fact, it's even encouraged. Helps stimulate the brain to keep it fed, you know. And you are hardly a 'boring fella' either. I find you quite interesting."
"Well'en," Walsh notes with a smile as he pushes himself up tiredly to stand, "a'guess we can call that a date then. I'll give you a call once the week rounds out an' see where your schedule stands. Barring anyone dying that shouldn't on //my/ watch, I should be as free as the air we breathe." Bending down to pick up the briefcase, Danny's brows furrow and there's a fond smile that spreads across his lips.
"Thanks fer this, Amber…" Walsh admits with a motion to the briefcase, "an' thanks fer not bein' completely put off by an old man like me." There's something more honest in his smile there, and on taking a step back from the bench, his next words will haunt him for a long time.
"I'll see y'soon."
Not soon enough.