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| Scene Title | Not His Plan |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Magnes Varlane's plan to contact Matthew Parkman gets turned on its ear… |
| Date | April 20, 2010 |
It's 3PM, and today is the day Magnes could potentially make a powerful ally.
He's left all of his electronics hidden in a comic shop before sneaking out the back where there are no cameras, changing his clothes entirely in the dumpster he emptied and cleaned out the night before.
Now, he's crouched with his legs crossed on top of the Golden Luck Dragon restaurant, wearing a red wig and a Mad Mod costume, purple glasses and cane included. And right now he's repeatedly thinking 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds', waiting for Matt Parkman to scan and find his mind.
His elaborate plans are supervillain-like, in that sometimes they don't need to be so elaborate, but… raised to be a (possibly mad) scientist, what can ya do?
Clunk-clank-clunk. It's the sound of booted feet coming up the fire escape from the back alley of the restaurant. There's no way to make something like that subtle, so the noisy approach of the intruder into Magnes' quiet space just continues their ascent unabated. It takes a few moments for blonde hair to come into view, windblown and loose. The young woman's cheeks are reddened by the cold, gloved fingers dusted with show and the fur-trimmed hood of her jacket brushed down over her shoulders. Snow clings to her hair, and the fact that Claire Bennet is climbing up to the roof is perhaps even more surprising than anyone braving the outside during this weather at all.
"Hey," Claire calls out over the roof, brows scrunching together and nose wrinkling as she offers a somewhat curious look to Magnes. "What's with the ascot?" The regenerator asks with a wrinkle of her nose, lips creeping up into a smile aas she tucks gloved hands into her pockets and begins crunching across the snowy roof towards where Magnes is seated.
"What… the… hell?" is probably not the way he's normally greet Claire, but Magnes stands up straight and turns around to face her, shocked, cheeks redder than the cold was already making them, and suddenly he's looking up at his red bangs. "I, um, I mean, what are you doing here? How did you find me?" He was pretty sure he did everything possible to avoid Rebel!
She'll also notice the bruises on his face, and there's a lot of them, so he was in quite a fight recently.
"You called a telepath who I happen to be on good terms with about setting up a meeting. Matt figured you might want to see…" Claire wrinkles her nose, rolling her shoulders, "you know, a friendly face?" Scuffing her fur-trimmed boots in the snow as she walks, Claire looks out over the city, squinting against the freezing wind, then up to Magnes' hair. "You look better as a brunette you know. Did you actually bleach your hair to dye it that color? S'kinda' weird…"
Smirking, Claire takes a few steps closer and looks downt o where Magnes was sitting, then back up to him. "Do… you mind if I sit? Matt's gonna' be a while, he called me earlier and told me something's tying him up, but he's gonna come out. I figured you'd be up on the roof." There's a crack of Claire's lips into a smile, and the blonde slowly settles down cross-legged without an actual invitation to on the same brushed off portion of the roof Magnes was sitting on.
"You think we might be able to… talk?" Blue eyes lift from the city skyline to Magnes, one brow raised, "I mean— you know, about some stuff before Matt gets here?" Claire's brows lower, anxiously, "There's some stuff I think we should discuss."
"I, uh…" Magnes seems absolutely fascinated that Claire is volunteering to sit next to him, but he doesn't argue and promptly takes a seat next to her, legs crossed. He swallows, looking over at her, then forward again. "It's a wig." he notes, and is feeling like a mixture between a geek and his lost cheerleader, and a deer in the headlights.
"Talk about…" Another deep swallow, gaze settling on her again. "What?"
"I dunno… stuff?" Claire's eyes dart over to Magnes for a moment, nose wrinkling before she looks back out over the dim lights of the city buried under snow. "I know you know I'm wrapped up in this whole Messiah thing. I know you're probably doing this just so you can like… protect me," there's a mildly bitter tone at that, and Claire offers an askance look to Magnes. "What I don't know is what you think you're going to do by screwing with them…" Claire's tone of voice is quieter than it normally is, less rough and less accusatory to Magnes.
Making a soft sound in the back of her throat, the blonde looks back up to Magnes and furrows her brows. "You realize that Matt can't protect you, right? That— that if Rebel or whoever's in charge of this group finds out what you're doing, they'll probably try to kill you, right?" Tightness comes into Claire's voice, and she looks away, down to the hands folded in her lap. "Exactly how do you think that makes me feel?"
"I don't even know if Rebel is the bad guy in all this, or his leaders. I've been going over it all in my head, over and over again, running the statistics, the information I already have, rereading 9th Wonders comics and reading the ones I hadn't yet. It doesn't make sense, this CDC thing. I thought it was Rebel, I thought it had to be him, he's a technopath, but…" Magnes seems like he's been going over these conflicting thoughts a lot lately, lowering his eyes to his lap. "There's a part of me, a huge part of me, that just screams Micah wouldn't do this kind of thing, that he wouldn't do something so blatant as to just gun a bunch of people down. What would it prove, what would it accomplish? He's too smart to do something so brutal. But then, I can't think of anyone else with the capability, I don't know of any other technopaths."
"That's why I don't intend to name names or tell Mister Parkman speculation, I want him to know I plan to dig deep, to get all the information. I'm in a position to, a position he can't possibly get into, but I need him ready for it all, waiting for it, y'know?" Then, when Claire mentions how it'd make her feel, he raises an eyebrow and turns to her again. "How would it make you feel? You can't even remember me, Claire. I love you, more than anything, but I know I'm still very much a stranger to you, and I know the result of my risks wouldn't impact you as much as it would have before…"
"No, you're right." Claire notes with a furrow of her brows, head tilted to one side. "Just because I can't remember why you care about me, I won't feel bad if someone who thinks the world of me suddenly dies alone in an alley when a negator turns his one power off and he becomes a boneless and helpless guy who can't even stand up." Claire huffs out a breath, leaning her shoulder against Magnes, then furrows her brows and turns to look up at him.
Claire's close enough now that Magnes can feel what little warmth she radiates off of herself from her face, and there's a hesitant smile there. "Just because I don't understand doesn't mean…" there's a huff of a sigh, and Claire tilts her chin up, leaning in to press her lips to Magnes' cheek.
"Claire…" Magnes' fingers tighten around his cane, clearly suppressing the instinct to follow up on the brief physical gesture. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." he apologizes as his entire demeanor, posture, and even his tone softens. His defenses have completely lowered, and yet his heart is threatening to pound directly through his chest. "I miss you."
After the kiss, Claire leans back, one blonde brow lifted. Her lips crook up into a smirk and she slowly pushes herself up to her feet, brushing off the back of her jeans with gloved hands. "He knows a lot," Claire states to the air, blue eyes moving to an unoccupied corner of the roof, then back to Magnes, "and he's not lying when he says he's in direct contact with Rebel, either." Slowly, Claire's form shifts and changes, gaining several inches of height, her hair smoothing out and lightening a shade as it grows longer, trailing down to the middle of her back. Her jaw squares, blue eyes become colder, older and her jacket changes to a white fur trimmed black leather, pinstriped slacks covering long legs.
Sarisa Kershner.
At the corner of the roof, a figure is standing that wasn't even there a moment ago. Dressed in a black wool overcoat with the collar pulled up over the back of his neck and gray scarf wound around his throat, DHS Operations Director Matthew Parkman looks much different than his 9th Wonders incarnation, given that his hair has turned a silvery gray. "Negate." Parkman states into the sleeve of his jacket at a concealed microphone, and a moment later Magnes feels the weight of gravity crushing down on him as his power is immediately sapped.
"Good to see you again, Magnes." Sarisa notes with an impish smile and a lift of one blonde brow, "really good to see you again."
"What the hell?" Magnes states for a second time today, staring at Sarisa and Matt as that grip around his cane gets even tighter. "You just, pretended to be, and you… Do you have any fucking idea how I feel right now?" he asks with a shout across the roof, standing up to try and get closer, then promptly falls to his knees.
"And you, Mister Parkman. I'd expect this kind of thing from Agent Kershner, but… I can't believe you used Claire!" That seems to be the only part of this whole ordeal he's angry about, and his expression changes to one of apparent realization as he looks around the roof, seemingly trying to find someone else, but he doesn't say anything as he focuses on Kershner, apparently assuming she's in charge. "Just tell me what you want."
Sarisa lifts both of her brows and smiles smugly in self-satisfaction, folding her arms over her chest as she looks down to Magnes then over to Matt, one brow lifted. "We wanted answers," Parkman states as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket and begins approaching where Magnes has crumpled to his knees. "It's surprisingly easy to try and fool a telepath with suggestive surface thoughts if you know one is listening, but it's nearly impossible to fool someone with an ability like miss Kershner's here." There's a nod of Matt's gray haired head towards Sarisa.
"You do realize that association with a known terrorist like Rebel is grounds for immediate incarceration without due process under the auspices of the Patriot Act, don't you, Magnes?" Sarisa's tone of voice is a bit sharp with the negated gravitokinetic. "Your clean slate could effectively be blackened by your willingness to cooperate with terrorists, regardless of your good intentions. You're not a federal agent, you're not even a police officer. At best you're a vigilante which makes you just as liable to become a problem like Rebel or his ilk in the long run."
"But now we have a name to go on. West Rosen," Parkman states, clearly having been sharing some sort of unheard communication with Sarisa about what the psaychometrist pulled from Magnes in that kiss. "Which means once we determine his whereabouts, mister Rosen will be going away for a very long time. His prior association with groups like PARIAH not even withstanding. Exactly how did you think this was going to go down, Magnes? We'd let you run around as some sort of ineffectual mole? You're not trained for that, and you're certainly not trustworthy. Were you a professional you wouldn't be in the situation you're in right now, and Sarisa and I wouldn't have been able to compromise you of everything you know."
"Life's not what it's printed out to be in the comics, Magnes." Sarisa notes with a crooked smile, tilting her head to the side and running her fingers thorugh her bangs. "It boils down to the fact that you're incapable of being a mole, because if you know that's what you're doing someone will be able to figure it out."
"Which is why I was going to ask Mister Parkman to temporarily erase my memories. I know I'd be ineffectual while knowing, because they more than likely have telepaths. Statistically speaking, telepathy is probably one of the most common abilities, reports of it go back long before people even thought of a comic book." Magnes sounds almost annoyed at being talked down to. Apparently he really hates getting his intelligence insulted.
"I didn't have to reach out to you." this is offered to Matt, peering at him with a forced calmness. "I don't believe in terrorism, I don't believe in blowing things up to change the world, or murdering people to do so either. I wanted to find out, definitively, who attacked those CDC people, so I could make my choice, and so justice could be served. West is stupid, you can't just lock him away, whatever he's doing, it can't be anything that bad."
He slumps, dropping his cane, just overall seeming rather defeated. "I just wanted to do the right thing, I wanted to protect people, I wanted to save my friends from being used if that turned out to be the case. I don't support what you're doing, with the camps, and creating that virus, but I don't support extremism either… I can't just take a side, everyone's so black and white about it all."
"Stupidity doesn't equal innocence, Magnes. I'm glad you figured out the memory wiping part all on your own, and I'm glad you want to do the right thing. But your idea of what's right and what actually is are very different things. Let alone that you've never discovered the difference between what's right and what is legal." Approaching Magnes, Matt crouches down and rests his forearms over his knees, one dark brow lifted slowly.
"You're going to play ball by our rules now, because otherwise you're getting locked up for a very, very long time. First of all," Matt looks up to Sarisa, then over towards the fire escape ladder where a new racket of someone on approach comes from, "I want you to listen to me very carefully." Matt reaches one hand up, placing black-gloved fingers beneath Magnes' chin and lifting his head up to look at him. Dark brows furrow, and Matt's eyes search Magnes' for a moment.
You were here on this roof the whole time. I never showed up. You were here alone, then you were tired, and dozed off.
As Matt begins forcing information into Magnes' mind, Sarisa turns to watch the darkly dressed form of a tall and lanky man emerge onto the roof, the bundled up figure of the Haitian still distinct despite the layering of his clothing. Matt's head tilts to the side, and he layers another suggestion into Magnes with a squint.
You should trust Messiah. They are doing the right thing. You shouldn't tell anyone you've been talking with them. You should hide your identity when working with Messiah. The Ferrymen are trustworthy. You should devote time to helping them and getting to know them all.
Up behind Magnes, the Haitian slowly walks, brows furrowed and eyes tiredly cast over to Sarisa. The blonde CIA operative nods her head once, tucking her hands into her coat pockets and dipping her chin down behind her scarf. "Clear out most of the last hour," Sarisa explains, brows furrowed, "leave the suggestions."
"Wait a minute, Claire said that too many memory wipes are harmful! And I won't let you make me blindly follow someone and become some unethical terrori—" Magnes is shut up once the suggestions start, staring at Matt as his mind is penetrated by tricky camera angles involving his eyes and forehead. He just has a rather blank look right now.
When Matt's eyes move up to the Haitian, there's a wordless compliance as the negator leans forward and rests his hand on the back of Magnes' head. His eyes close, and soon flickering scraps of memories begin flooding past him, head tilting from side to side as he clips, cuts, removes and edits portions of Magnes' consciousness and recollection, adding a layer of scarring within his mind. As the memory wipe is taking place, Matt slowly rises to stand up straight and turns to look at Sarisa, dark brows furrowed and head tilted to the side.
"Thanks for the assist." Parkman notes with a glance down to Magnes' reflexively twitching facial features. "Keep an eye on him for a little while, make sure it takes. He lives in Dorchester towers, but I can't wire the place for sound with Rebel keeping an eye out. What I'm going to do is put an audiokinetic in apartment 306, we'll know if he so much as breathes heavy. I'll send transcripts to your office."
"Alright," Sarisa notes with a nod of her head, blue eyes settling back in on Magnes, brows furrowed slightly. "I almost feel bad for— "
Sucking in a sharp breath, Magnes bolts upright as if waking from a dream. Clinging cobwebs of something play at the corners of his foggy mind, cheeks are sore from the cold and the sun has set over Chinatown, plunging the cloudy skies into darkness. The rooftop is empty, snow windblown and looking undisturbed, and Magnes Varlane finds himself staring at empty streets and the distant glow of city lights.
He can almost smell Claire's perfume, like some distant memory.