Participants:
with an appearance by…
| Scene Title | Now an Errand Girl |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | An agent is temporarily reduced to a menial. All in good cause. |
| Date | October 12, 2008 |
JFK International Airport, Queens
Despite the increased airline security, courtesy first of the bomb and now of potential local terrorists and the Evolved in general, JFK International still sees a great deal of traffic. A massive number of planes move in and out of its airspace, and even more passengers arrive and depart by them. The buildings are immense structures of steel and glass, although more horizontally stretched than most in New York, which tend to the vertical mode. It is full of shops, restaurants, and people — always the people, from security guards to travelers, thronging the halls in search of food, souvenirs, and whichever place it is they're supposed to be.
It's not typical for agents to run more menial errands, but when word comes from on high to go fetch someone from the airport and bring them back… well, it's not like they're going to take 'no' for an answer. On the plus side, Claudine receives directions to meet a private jet, and to do so out on the tarmac itself — Company perks the average citizen won't ever even see, and which save her from having to deal with midmorning traffic inside the terminal. The small plane is currently at rest in its parking place, having just settled in, its engines winding down to silence.
This is annoying. It's things like this that make Claudine seriously reconsider her allegiances. She's a doctor damnit, not an errand girl! However, she can fake her way through things, and so she's waiting next to a limo that was brought out for the person. This person better be important or powerful. And so, the young Filipina just waits.
In short order, two passengers disembark from the plane — a diminutive, silver-haired old woman and a rather taller man who isn't yet old enough for his sandy hair to start showing gray. She's dressed in a soft blue sweater and black pants that are high-quality despite being relaxed in style; he wears a neatly pressed suit, complete with tie. Carrying two suitcases, he hovers a bit behind the woman — possibly an attendant of some sort, a servant or aide.
Blue eyes light up with a genial smile as they settle upon Claudine. "My dear, I am so sorry they dragged you out here like this; I said I didn't need anyone special, but Bob just wouldn't hear of it." There's a hint of accent to her words, possibly French. She offers a delicate hand to Claudine. "Call me Sabra, please — I stopped answering to 'Ms. Dalton' a long time ago — and don't mind Ashton's silence. He's mute, you see." Said attendant moves around the limo to put the suitcases in its trunk.
There's a moment's pause as Claudine replies, the elderly woman giving her an incredulous look. "Are you saying he didn't even tell you why?" Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Sabra shakes her head even as she gets into the limo, Ashton taking a seat beside her. She looks over at her assistant. "I can see I'm going to have to teach him the meaning of the word 'memo' again. Make a note, please?"
Looking back at Claudine once the young woman is also seated, Sabra offers her an apologetic smile. "It's been decided that Bob's absence leaves too big a hole in the New York branch. I'm supposed to help fill it." It's a good thing, at least from Claudine's perspective, that Sabra's willing to supply this information verbally — because apparently both she and Ashton think in French.
"It seems the only a decade of loyal service to the Company means I'm still on a need to know basis. Apparently, I wasn't important enough to know…" Claudine says ever so saccharine sweetly, as she runs her fingers through her hair.
At that, Sabra laughs softly. "Honey, take it from one who knows — everyone is on need-to-know. Time doesn't change that." Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she gives the young woman a rueful smile. "For example," she points out gently, "they didn't bother to tell me whom I'd meet here." I introduced myself, and my aide too — now who are you?
"Claudine Salonga.." the young Filipina says, introducing herself while extending her hand out towards Sabra, smiling warmly, this time quite genuine. "I'm this branch's counselor and psychiatrist, though I spend most of my time in residency at the moment. I'm studying neurology and psychiatry, due to my own skill set that is closely involved with it.." she explains.
The hand is shaken with a friendly, honest smile on Sabra's part. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You don't mind if I call you Claudine, do you?" None of this 'Agent Salonga' nonsense, at least for the time being. "How lovely. Psychology is such an interesting subject — I wish I was able to keep up with these things, but I'm afraid modern advances outpaced me a long time ago," the lady says with another regretful smile. "So tell me, what are you working on at present? Aside from being required to entertain a decrepit old woman, that is," she concludes, apparently not adverse to making jests at her own expense.
"A woman has a case of dissociative identity disorder, the new name for multiple personalities. She's been recruited to help with Miss Bishop's disappearance, and so the rule of 'one of us, one of them' has been broken, in that we are both evolved. However, as I am the only one who can take care of her without her injuring someone due to her enhanced strength, I have become her keeper of sorts.." Claudine explains as she idly runs her fingers through her hair and takes a deep breath. "And please, I dont mind if you call me Claudine..most actually just call me Dine."
The smile broadens. "Thank you, dear. It's a lovely name." Sabra considers Claudine's statements for a few moments of silence, then shakes her head a bit. "How is Elle's recovery coming along?" she asks, with honest concern in her voice. "I haven't seen that girl since she was really little — a very cute child she was, too. It's a terrible situation."
And that's when Claudine hrmms for a few moments, chewing on her bottom lip a bit. "Elle is still being held by the Level 5 escapees. We have..or rather, I might say had, Petrelli. I haven't seen him in a while and well, I fear that members of PARIAH may have gotten a hold of him once more. However, I believe there is a way. I've been looking over Molly Walker's files, and I feel that with my own telepathic abilities, I may be able to find Elle, but that would require me opening myself telepathically to the entire city. I..still do not know my limits, and that's my only hesitation in trying. I'm meditating every night, seeing how far I can sense people's minds…" she explains.
Sabra looks sidelong at Claudine. "That's an extremely dangerous power to overextend, honey. You're taking a great gamble with your sanity even considering trying it." There's a beat of silence, and a slow shake of her head. "I've seen telepaths burn out, and it is not a pretty sight. I don't believe this idea is well-advised."
"No, I know it's incredibly dangerous, but I fear it may be our only option.." Claudine admits ruefully, idly running her fingers through her hair once more. "When Petrelli blew up and killed thousands, I was still in medical school. The psychic residue of the event left me in a coma for a few years.." she says, sighing once more. "But I think that's the only way. No one tells me anything, so I don't know what other options are being pursued.."
"Well, that just will have to be the very first thing I fix," Sabra declares, wrinkles deepening with a confident smile. "The facility can't very well afford to lose its psychiatrist, especially if you're closely attached to a case, now can it?" Turning slightly towards Ashton, the elderly woman signs something quickly with one hand. Presumably another note for him to make.
Claudine ahhhs and nods, smiling warmly as she runs her fingers through her hair. This new boss is hopefully not like the old boss. "Well, that's good to know then.." and with that,she just relaxes and leans back in the limo.
This memorandum was sent to all New York-affiliated Company agents and employees around midmorning of October 12th:
From: Sabra Dalton
Apparently the administration has failed to inform its employees of its plans, for which I do humbly apologize. The decision of who needed to know was made, as they say, above my pay grade. While Mr. Bishop is out on medical leave, however, it has been determined that the New York branch needs someone to fill his shoes, and that task has been assigned to me.
Therefore, until such time as Mr. Bishop is of condition to resume his duties, I will be in charge of operations here. If all agents and supervisory personnel would please schedule an appointment with my aide so I can meet each of you and familiarize myself with current operations — ink and paper records are no substitute for face-to-face meetings — it would be greatly appreciated.
Regards,
Sabra Dalton
 October 10th: It Is What It Is |
 October 12th: Big Rumble in Little Harlem |