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| Scene Title | Not Recommended |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two Lighthouse Teens pay a visit to the leadership of the 41st Precinct Gang. |
| Date | August 29, 2018 |
The old brick building that makes up the 41st precinct building has stood abandoned for many years, though the old building has certainly withstood the test of time. The southeastern side of the building is painted up with blue paint, a cracked and fading design that says, "New York's finest needs all of New York's Finest", and beneath that, "Call 212-RECRUIT", with the crest of the NYPD on one side and a picture of an old paddy wagon with an old web address to the NYPD's website.
The building seems to have been fortified — the front door appears to be welded shut (and contains all manner of debris blocking it in the first place. All windows appear to have metal or bars over them, and the parking lot behind the building is tall and heavily fortified as well, with barbed wire running over fencing that has been reinforced with sheet metal and various other heavy and otherwise difficult to break through items. The parking lot itself contains several vans and trucks in various states of repair (or disrepair), some sporting NYPD logos, while others clearly come from other sources. The entrance from the parking lot are similarly fortified, and are often heavily guarded by well-armed men; the parking garage, with its ground and basement level, has been fenced off, the entrance heavily guarded as well.
It's another busy day here at the 41st Precinct — a lot of the construction and fortifying has been completed at this point, and now life is going on as usual. Most of Keira's employees are out and about, doing their various jobs. Some are handling the food business, some are out selling the various wares that Keira has had smuggled in, and very few are here enjoying some time off — one of the former conference rooms has been turned into a Recreation room of sorts, and a few men are gathered, playing pool and chatting among themselves.
The two young men who have arrived are received as old friends — Joe, at least, is a common face around here, and Lance, while less known, is still welcomed as a brother. If Keira has done nothing else with her life, she has certainly built a thriving little community here, with good morale among her employees. Tanith herself brings them in, leading the way to the office. "Vernon's here today." Tanith and Joe, at least, know what that means. She stops at the hall leading down to the former commissioner's office, gesturing for Lance and Joe to close the distance themselves — she has much more important things to do than to guide the babies to the boss. "Just knock."
Joe greets some folks, but it's not the normally bright happy bubbly sort of Joe. There's none of the jokes and none of the chattering. No Joe is very much in business mode at the moment. Which isn't to say he's rude. If people greet him he'll greet them back, but he's on a mission. He's focused. His steps are quick and almost hurried as they walk through behind Tanith. He dips his head in a nod to her when she says that they can just go ahead and knock. He walks up to the door and does just that, his knuckles rapping on the door to the boss's office. There's very little conversation from him, even to Lance whom he's here with. He breathes in slow and holds it a few moments, then lets it out in a long exhale that does nothing at all to banish any of the tension in his shoulders.
Lance offers an affable nod to the others as he walks down the hall, though the hood of his grey hoodie's up and he's keeping his hands together in the front pocket of them. There's a serious air to the normally jovial young man, his brow darkened as he stops beside Joe to wait for the door to get opened.
"Ah, come in." A man's voice sounds from behind the door; when the two enter, they will find the tall, lanky frame of Vernon Cross seated at the desk, his feet propped up on the desk. He's dressed rather sharply, a tailored suit fitting his slim frame, thick glasses set over his nose as he reviews a file folder thoughtfully.
Brown eyes turn toward the door as the pair walks in, eyebrows arching as he notes their general mood. "Joe and Lance," he greets, nodding toward the two and gesturing for them to have a seat across from him in the chairs across from him.
Joe closes the door behind Lance and himself, then moves forwards to take a seat, a quick glance to Lance, hands moving just a bit in Lighthouse Cant, asking him to put up a sound barrier for them. Then he settles into the chair in front of the desk, taking in a deep breath again, and letting it out. He looks over to Lance. Joe is emotional right now, so he's actually looking to his brother to start the discussion. Which is rare for Joe. Joe's mouth isn't moving. It's an unfortunate miracle. Joe has been angry non stop since Squeaks told them what happened to her. He's been getting ready, getting equipment together, gathering what intel he can. And well that's why they're there after all.
Lance's chin tips in a slight nod, and as he steps over to the chair and sprawls back into it, all the little sounds outside the room— faint conversations, the creak of movement, the usual background hum in an occupied building— is suddenly lost to silence, leaving only the trio to hear anything said between them. "We need some information," he says quietly, seriously, regarding the man across from them with strikingly blue eyes.
After a pause to let the statement sink in, he leans forward, drawing a rolled paper from within the pocket of his hoodie and unrolling it onto the desk. A map of Staten Island, reproduced by Brynn's ability, with various territories marked. A finger lands on the one labelled traffickers.
Rich brown eyes turn down to the map, and Vernon slowly removes his feet from the desk. One hand reaches out, picking up the rolled up map and examining it. "Mmm, the human traffickers," he murmurs, a frown appearing on his face. "And why, pray tell, are we looking for information on those awful fellows out there on Staten?" He lifts a hand, adjusting the thick black glasses on his face as he examines the map and the territories.
After a moment, his long fingers grasp those glasses, removing them and setting them on the desk. There's a strange sound that comes from him, then, like bones and meat shifting, and slowly, the man melts before their eyes, revealing the one-eyed Keira, complete with a gaping hole where her left eye used to be. She looks tiny in the tailored suit. She then reaches into a drawer, pulling out her eye patch and replacing it. No use keeping up the facade with the boys, they at least get the privilege of knowing what shapes she can take.
Joe looks slightly relieved when he hears the sound cut out from outside the room. He breathes a little bit easier, and his shoulders ease just a little. Not a lot, but a little. His head turns to look at Lance as he pulls out the map and asks for information. "They've tried to take two members of our family now. Shot one, abducted the other and tried to sail off with her. They're done slaving." Joe's softly spoken with his statement, but there is a cold hard edge of resolution to it. He watches the man melt and the woman appear. The boys have seen plenty of war scars, so just like last time he saw it there's no revulsion or ducked eyes at the sight of Keira's old wound. He doesn't say anymore, though anyone watching him can see the way his hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into palms that will never bleed no matter how hard he presses with his nails.
The sudden melting away of the man into the woman is watched with a curious eye by Lance— but no surprise. It's likely no surprise that he was told of her ability (or at least, this aspect of it) by Joe. He tips his head in a bit of a nod towards Joe, and then says quietly and simply, "Any intel we have about the positioning, numbers, security and political alliances of the enemy would be appreciated."
It might irk the two teens to see the amusement dancing in Keira's eye at Joe's statements. She remains quiet for a moment, before shaking her head slowly, leaning back in her seat. "I really don't recommend that you guys do anything." That's a big statement coming from Keira of all people. It is pretty well known that the boss(es) hate the traffickers with the fiery burning passion of a white hot sun.
Then, she's turning in the fancy executive chair she's got set up here, rolling over to a file cabinet. This is opened up, and after trailing her fingers over a few files, she pulls out a thick one. "Seriously, going up against these fuckers alone would be a bad idea." The file, which must have at least a hundred pages contained within, is slapped down on the desk. "I don't even have the manpower to go up against them." The file is flipped open, a picture of one Eugene Arrowood on top of the pile.
"They're huge. They have hundreds of people working under them, and the rest of Staten either looks the other way for their own benefit, or they do business with them." Keira frowns across the desk at the two teenagers. "Alister Black over at the Staten Island Trade Commission took out one of their bigger hubs back in June, but it hasn't done much to slow them down." She leans back, clasping her fingers across her lap. "You would need an army to take these guys out. If I had one, I would've done it already."
Joe bristles at Keira's amusement and her statement. His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens, and he definitely gets his hackles up, even if he doesn't actually have hackles. "Dozens, hundreds. Doesn't matter. People will stop looking the other way when we prove that they can’t protect their people, let alone themselves. When they turn up mutilated, and their men turn up mutilated? It will send a clear fucking message. Lance wants to kill them. I want to as well. But I try my damndest not to kill. And I think mutilating them would send a much better message. Men without fingers and tongues can't speak or write. Men without knees can't walk. And when a dozen of their men wind up that way? Two dozen? Three? It will break morale. It will break their organization. And that's if we don't find a way to take the bosses out directly."
Joe looks at the picture that they're shown. "You don't need an army. You just need a few dedicated and capable people." Well Lance and Joe make two. "Where are their hubs? And do you know where we can get some high grade explosives?" With or without her assistance the boys are going hunting. The determination is very clear to see on their faces.
Lance brings a hand up, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Joe," he says quietly, "Calm down— we're not going to start blowing up hubs. We're not in a war anymore…" They were, once. "We need to go at this differently. Criminal groups are snakes. Cut off the heads and the rest dies — most of their guys are probably just trying to eke out a living like the people here. There’s no common cause or zeal aside from money."
Then he gestures to Keira, "Their leaders. That guy— the picture? Who is he? Who else is there at the top of the heap? They were taking our sister in a boat— do you know where they dock at, what ship they're rendezvousing with? They said China so I doubt that they're going to take a shitty riverboat around the world."
The shapeshifter watches Joe’s reaction with her head slightly tilted — she can’t help the slight amusement that shines in her eye, though she’s certainly not brushing the two off — if anything, Joe reminds her of a much younger her, so full of bluster and passion to the point that it might complicate their lives.
“Or,” she replies to Joe, leaning forward and resting her chin in the palm of one hand, “It will piss them off and prompt them to start hunting you — and they hunt Evos for a living there. You might be inaudible and invulnerable,” she glances to each teen in turn, “But for all you know, they have access to negation drugs, and they will chain you down and sell you to the highest bidder.”
Lance is given a less amused look — he seems to have his head on a little bit straighter than most. “They’re not talking about China, they’re talking about the Triads, I’m sure. You do realize,” she places one hand on the picture of Eugene, “that if you make moves against these people, you’re not just going against them — you’re going against some of their biggest customers, too.”
She frowns. “I don’t know where they dock, but I can give you the leaders.” The shapeshifter in the ill-fitting suit lifts her hand from the picture. “Eugene Arrowood. He’s a terrifying piece of shit and you’re better off staying the fuck away from him.” She flips the page, revealing a picture of the man’s brother. “Buddy Arrowood. He’s the dumb one. You might be better off going after him, first.” Another page is flipped, revealing another picture. “Sylvester. He was involved with the Alister attack, and I’m not sure if he’s alive or dead.” Another page, revealing a woman with blonde hair. “Astrid. She stole an Ocelot from Alister.”
She snaps the file shut, frowning at the two teens. “I’ll help you with weapons, but if they catch you, you’re just a pair of jackass teens that bought your shit from my stall on Staten Island. I don’t know you, you don’t even know who the fuck I am or what I can do.” She narrows her eye. “I feel you guys, I really do. I want these fuckers gone just as much as you do, possibly more.” She then gestures toward the door. “But this is bigger than me. My boys rely on me. They have families, they have bills to pay and food to put on the table. They trust me, and I am not going to risk their lives or livelihoods for my personal moral convictions.”
Keira narrows her eye at the boys. “That said…if you manage to get your hands on one of those people I showed you? Don’t kill them.” She leans forward a little more. “Bring them to me alive. I will kill them, and then I will use their fucking faces to help you. But only if you let me get the final blow — won’t work any other way.” It’s a hint about how her ability works, but she trusts the kids.
"Our family Lance. Our sister. Your /blood/ sister. Twice they've tried to take our family from us. Next time it's Brynn. Or it's you. Or it's me. Caught surprised and unawares. No. Ekeing out a living slaving? Do you hear yourself?" Joe's eyes narrow, but he pulls in a deep breath, calming himself. Lance is on his side, and he reaches a hand over to squeeze Lance's shoulder. "Sorry." He murmurs to him, then turns his eyes and attention back towards Keira. He goes quiet as Lance speaks. He's more level headed than Joe is. Joe is emotional. When he's happy he's happy. When he's angry he's angry. And his emotions always show. He would be a terrible poker player.
He sits and he listens to Keira as she speaks. He has some respect for the shapeshifter, and so he sits and he lets her speak, though it’s clear he wants to pipe up at various points. But when she mentions taking the face of one of the men Joe’s head tilts slowly to the side, his eyes flickering to Lance. His hands move in quick and furtive Lighthouse Cant, checking with Lance to see what he thinks of the idea. Joe is okay with the idea. His lack of vocal protest is a clear enough indication. But he also knows his judgement is clouded at the moment, and he knows he’s emotional, so he’s taking Lance’s lead on this at least.
“I know, Joe” The silence, for a moment, just encompasses Lance and his Lighthouse-sibling, leaving Keira to just see mouths and hands moving, “ we need to think strategically here. Do you just want to kill a bunch of scumbags, or do you want to put the whole outfit out of operation? Just— relax for a minute. We gotta take this slow.” One hand comes up to cover Joe’s hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
That acoustic bubble sweeps back out again to encompass the room, and he looks back at the file, “Can you get me copies of those pictures? And— I don’t care if you eat their brain or whatever, if we get the opportunity, sure. We’ll do what we can. No guarantees.”
“Now who’s this Alister guy? I’ve never heard of this ‘Trade Commission’ except in passing.”
Keira watches thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs as the two converse among themselves. Idly, she opens an elegant-looking box on her desk, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up with a zippo. The precinct is one of the few places she’ll allow herself to smoke indoors. “If you give me even one of them, I can get in there and find out a lot more. I just can’t be connected — not just for my own sake, but for their sake.” She gestures to the door again.
The request for copies of the pictures is met with a nod, and Keira pushes the folder off to one side. She taps a button on the preexisting intercom system. “Tanith,” she mumbles. Moments later, the door opens, with Tanith on the other side. Wordlessly, she takes the file from Keira, nodding to her and disappearing, the door closing once more.
Then, Keira glances back to Lance, taking a long draw on her cigarette. “Alister Black. Head of the Staten Island Trade Commission. Has delusions of grandeur,” she murmurs, letting the smoke drift out of the corner of her mouth. “He also hates the traffickers, and has publicly attacked them.” Obviously. “He’s an ally of mine,” though by the tone of her voice, she doesn’t actually respect him. “He may have information that I don’t have.”
After a moment of thought, she points to Lance. “I’ll introduce you to him, if you like. Need to get some updates anyhow. Joe, you can join, but you need to keep your mouth shut.” She glances to the invulnerable teen. “Like, pretend you are as mute as your artist friend — I think he may hate you if you get started talking.” This is said in the fondest of tones — Keira likes Joe, but Alister will probably think him an obnoxious plebe, as Alister does.
"I know we need to think strategically. And you know once we're dug in and actually doing something I'll calm down." Because Joe will. But right now he's angry, and he's got no outlet for that anger. Nowhere or way to vent that anger. But once they start actually getting something done Joe will calm down, and he'll think tactically. Not all of Brian's lessons sank in perfectly. "I want to take them all down. The whole organization." He murmurs after a few moments, then turns to regard Keira after Lance drops the sound bubble. "If we get you even just one of their thugs. Will that help getting in? Maybe getting one of the big players?" Joe asks in a soft tone, his eyes narrowing as he runs through possible plans.
“Even if we just work our way up through the organization a little bit to get to one of the bosses. We could learn a lot that way, and maybe take down one of the big players in the process." Joe pauses when Keira tells him he'd have to keep his mouth shut, looking like he's about to protest, but he stops, and his eyes shift right to left before his shoulders shrug. "I mean that's fair. But I can't make any promises on the being quiet thing. I'll try though?" There's a half hesitant smile from Joe. It's forced, but he's trying. He huffs out a breath, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Nobody hates me. Some are just more annoyed by me than others." A quick normal Joe grin, though it dies quickly enough and he sighs, but nods his head. "I'll try my best to be quiet."
“Okay.” Lance nods, glancing to Joe and then back. He understands the other teenager’s behavior, but he’s always been better at controlling those emotions— both because he needs it to be stealthy, and because horrible trauma has made it easier to stuff that sort of thing down deep.
“Get us a meeting with the guy. Preferably outside of Staten,” is his suggestion, “Here works, if he’s willing to come here, or anywhere else really. I’d rather not risk one of these guys overhearing, or trying to capture us on the way.”
Keira watches Joe thoughtfully. “I’m going to have Lance silence you if you come with.” Well then. “No offense. I like the shit out of you, but Alister is a different level of asshole altogether.” She leans back, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Alister Black will find you obnoxious. Alister Black is a petty asshole with an entitlement complex the likes of which you have never seen and will never see again.” She rolls her eyes. “The kind that comes from old money,” she adds.
Then, her blue eye turns toward Lance. “I can’t promise that you two won’t be on a boat to Staten with Tanith and I and a few more men. They won’t fuck with you when you’re with me,” she adds. “I’ll try to get him up here, though.” It’d be nice to show Alister what she’s working with, in any case.
Then, she glances toward the door as Tanith returns, handing her two files. One is passed off to Lance and Joe, the other placed in her file cabinet. “You didn’t get any of this shit from me. And remember,” she takes one last puff from the cigarette, before snubbing it out in the fancy glass ashtray. “If you get one of the folks in the pictures, bring them to me alive. Especially if you get an Arrowood.”
She pauses for a moment, watching the two teens. “Please be safe and don’t get killed. I kinda like you two, and I’d hate to add another reason to hate those dipshit traffickers to my list.”
Joe shrugs his shoulders slowly, lifting them up and then dropping them down, his eyes darting between Keira and Lance a few times. "I would rather not spoil your relationship with the guy." Joe admits, though he's not really worried about Alister's wrath he can understand why others might be? Sort of? He doesn't really know the guy, and nothing Keira says could ever truly prepare Joe for meeting Alister. Nothing. Ever. "Thanks Tanith." He offers her a hesitant smile before he looks into the folder at the copies they've been given. "We won't get killed." Joe promises in a bland tone, looking at the pictures, memorizing their faces. "We'll be fine. Small unit tactics against a large enemy force. Guerilla tactics so to speak. Ambushes, traps, hit and fade. We won't over commit. We know how to fight this kind of war." He does smile this time, a confident though not quite cocky smile.
“We’re not engaging yet,” Lance says firmly, “Not until threat assessment is completed.”
Sometimes they sound more like soldiers than the kids they should be.
“Thanks,” he says with a faint smile, pushing himself up to his feet, “Let us know when you can get this guy for the meeting.”
Keira watches the pair thoughtfully, leaning back in the cushy office chair as she quietly ponders the existence of these way-too-adult children. “I hope what I have will help you keep on being alive, then.”
She removes the eyepatch — the hole is only visible for a moment, however, as she reverts back into the shape of the lanky and well-aged Vernon Cross, the suit going back to being well tailored — befitting for one of the leaders of a crime ring.
“I will, ah, let you two be on your way, then, and I will be in touch about our next meeting.” Vernon claps his hands once, and then Tanith is standing with the door held open, waiting for the pair to step out as the man returns to whatever it is he was working on before Lance and Joe came in.