Participants:
| Scene Title | New Shoes |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Felix reports his encounter with Sylar to Homeland Security |
| Date | October 30, 2008 |
Homeland Security Holding Facility
Some generic HomeSec interrogation room.
Of course, when a new development on the Sylar case - the reason why the telepathic detective was recruited to Homeland Security from the NYPD - came across the proverbial desk, Matt Parkman passed along the investigation of the debate gunmen to someone else in order to put all of his attention on that large and somewhat dog-eared file once more. He waits in a rather bland interrogation room. To any member of law enforcement, it is recognizable as the standard affair - blank walls, a single table with few chairs, and one wall sporting a mirror which is likely two way. Cameras are perched like sentry birds in the corners of the room, their red recording indicators like watchful eyes.
With his forehead furrowed in concentration, Agent Parkman rubs his jaw and chin with one hand as he reads the newest additions to that file. When Felix enters, he snaps his head up and manages a strained but cordial enough smile as he rises from his seat and extends a hand. "Agent Ivanov," he greets with some of that classic interdepartmental cooperation, but there is an ever-so-slight squint to his eyes and tilt of his head, indicative of his attempt to turn up the volume of the thoughts around him. "Thank you for coming in and talking with me today. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"
«Him again. So he's the one who worked with Hanson on this, when it was a Bureau case?» There's no particular tone to Fel's recognition. He settles himself in the opposite chair, trying to control that faint, skin-crawling unease. He's innocent, and far from the perp. But he's interrogated enough men in his time that the response is reflexive. "Water would be great," he says, simply, setting his hands in his lap, after shaking Matt's hand firmly.
"Water it is," Parkman says with an easier smile, nodding to the young man who escorted Felix this far. It's not as if he needed to be supervised, but Homeland Security, like any office or government building, can be a confusing place to navigate if you don't know it by heart. And that smile just might be Parkman's attempt to prove to Felix that yes, he is competent and an all around nice guy, when it comes down to it. That heated scene in the NYPD office, when Kaydence Lee first went missing, is too current in his memory to behavior otherwise.
Sinking back into his own chair, Parkman lets out a sigh. "I'm going to assume you know most of what's in this, if you know Agent Hanson," Parkman says to open with, letting his fingertips rest on the open file, his hand slightly lowered and unintentionally resembling some sort of thick arachnid. "Especially the newer pieces of paper that are in, and will be /put/ in it. So I think it'd best if we start with you telling me what happened."
Fel's gaze goes a little vague, as he searches his memory, arranging the events in their proper order. "To make a long story short…..just over a month ago I moved into Cliffside Apartments in Queens. I'd little contact with the neighbors, with the hours I worked. Gray was apparently already resident in the building. Now, I'd never worked on that case, so I didn't have any sort of visual on Gray before. I'd heard the name, but…." He shrugs, before looking more directly at Matt. "I'd seen this guy around, heard his name as Wilkens. A few nights ago I saw him in the company of a young woman who'd apparently just moved into the building. She'd given me her last name as Eileen Ruskin. On the Missing Persons list, but not wanted for anything herself. Something seemed off, but nothing I could put my finger on, you know? I thought there was something odd about the neighbors, but weirdness is hardly a prosecutable offense. Last night I was up on the rooftop, which has been fitted up as some sort of garden, just having an afterdinner coffee. Gray came up the stairs….and basically attacked me telekinetically. I don't know how he knew I was Evolved, unless he, too has a copy of the registry. I ran - took the fire escape back down to my apartment, got my gun, but he seemed able to deflect bullets, so I didn't try firing after the initial two rounds. He winged me with a shard of glass he yanked out of my bedroom window." He indicates his arm.
Without any apparently altering of the story going on in Felix's head as Parkman listens intently, the Homeland Security agent looks back to the file, confirming the fact that Felix is Evolved. "He caught you off your guard, or he was too fast for you?" he asks with a furrowing of his eyebrows, trying to visualize the situation. "How'd you get away?" The subtle implication being that people don't often /do./
"The former. I knew he was….wrong, but not how. I didn't suspect him, really," Fel says, pulling a wry face. Not an admission he's happy to make. "I ran. Happily, he apparently -doesn't- have a match to my power, or I'd not be here to discuss this," His expression is impassive. He inclines his head to the file folder. "I'm capable of short bursts of speed beyond human normal. Not something I can sustain, but it was enough."
"I'd say so," Parkman remarks, his tone obviously impressed, though his eyes stay on Felix rather than flit back to the file. "We've got controls on every road, bridge, boat…every way out of the city. If he tries to leave, he'll have trouble slipping through the net." Unless he decides to act in extra-slippery ways. And a sketch doesn't necessarily help in a case where your perp can change what he looks like, but it's still nice to know Sylar is fond enough of his old mug. But even with threat level codes and whatnot, and the election days away, such measures can't be kept up for long when there isn't much chance of a positive return. "Our agents are canvassing Queens to see if we can find out where he's gone; it seems he's not your neighbor any more."
Fel leans forward a little, hitching his chair quietly. "I've a request. This isn't my or your jurisdiction….but see if anyone else in the building has recently abandoned their apartment. There were way too many people who seemed uneasy at having a Fed down the hall, even for that rough a part of Queens. I've no idea if it was related, honestly…"
Requests of Homeland Security by a FBI agent are…well, a bit unorthodox, really. But as Felix speaks, Parkman continues to look interested, if not even potentially willing to do his best to grant a request, if he's able. "Go on," he says when the man pauses, but then he chooses to interrupt. "Are you /advertising/ the fact you're a fed? Cliffside isn't exactly the lap of luxury."
Felix actually laughs at that - a smile that broad looks utterly weird on those angular features. "Well, I don't go around wearing a t-shirt, but when people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them," he notes. "I think the super likes to boast about it, under the assumption it will make the law-abiding citizens feel safer. And you and I both know that most low-level criminals won't dare fuck with law enforcement directly." And then his smile fades. "I'm going to have to ask that my registry be taken off the public list. My address being posted for everyone to see…..if Gray's hunting Evolved again, I don't know that I can take him on a second time, now that he knows just what I can do."
That brings up the question of not just Sylar's rampage starting again, but this new string of murders that have caught the eye of Homeland Security. Parkman is silent for a moment, then nods with a pursing of his lips. "I can't make any guarantees, but I'll see what I can do." After a pause, during which Parkman closes the file in front him, he adds, "I know apartment hunting's a pain, but have you thought about moving?"
"As far as we can tell, this is separate from the other string of Evolved murders, with the desiccated bodies. It doesn't seem that Sylar has changed his MO," Fel says, quietly. "And yes. Already working on that. Sylar did a number on my old apartment, anyhow. Wrenched the doorframe right out of the wall."
Who's the mind reader now? Parkman checks himself, making sure he hadn't unintentionally projected anything. Still, he looks quite a bit ruffled when Felix's next comments are regarding the very things that had been running through his head, not just his question. "Like I said," he repeats in a slightly firmer tone, "I can't make any guarantees. But if you move, it will be awhile before the public list is updated with your new address. Assuming Sylar's on the run, he might not have access to a recent version. For all we know, he's operating on a copy that's months old."
Felix permits himself a thin smile, noting that fractional hesitation. Enough training in physical tells, and you're not exactly a telepath, but you do have a leg up on the usual not-terribly-astute human. "I hope so. And good," he says, quietly. "Dried to ash or having my head hollowed out like a pumpkin is not how I want to go."
"It'd be a loss to us all," Parkman agrees. The door opens and the man who escorted Felix here reappears with a styrofoam cup of water. Parkman smiles at him, but shakes his head. "I think we're done here, Rennings, but if you'd like to show Agent Ivanov out?" Standing, Parkman offers his hand across the table once more. "Thank you again, Agent. If you do move, please make sure you inform our office as well as your own, in case we need to contact you again for more information."
"Of course," Felix says, tone almost demure. «I wonder how long until that chip system is implemented….» He shoots his cuffs, and rises, brushing nonexistent lint from his sleeve.
Any additional notes fall to the bottom.
 October 30th: Vessel |
 October 30th: Presidential Debate |