Participants:
| Scene Title | One Foot On The Gallows |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sarisa makes a noon appointment with Abigail, to try and barter for something. By barter we mean 'tell me or else'. |
| Date | September 20, 2010 |
Masoned stone has a certain ring to it in canverously large places when a boot treads hard on its surface, hand carved stone a different tone. The sound that square-heeled boots make on the floor of the Bethesda terrace is distinctive, a click-clack and reverberating echo that carries down the opulent looking length of this covered passage.
From the inside, the Bethesda Terrace looks like a palace, from the white-washed stone columns, to the gray and red stone blocks that compose the floor. The ceiling is decorated with elaborate ceramic tiles of goldenrod with detailing in cinnamon and azure shades of paint. Lanterns hang from the ceiling, unlit during this high-noon hour.
The sound of those heels belongs to a single woman, dressed primarily in a sleek black suit with a crisp blue undershirt and black tie. Blonde hair is tied back behind her head, a ragged fringe of bangs hiding her brow. Agent Sarisa Kershner looks wholly on duty at the present, her gloved hands folded behind her back, pace deliberate and blue eyes sweeping around the column-lined interior beneath of the terrace.
She stops at the mouth of an archway, opening out towards the brick plaza of the Bethesda fountain. From the entrance of the terrace, Sarisa's dark silhouette blends into that of the statue its protruding stone wings extending to either side of her shoulders, giving the blonde devil faux angel wings.
Lifting one hand up, she checks the time on her watch with an expectant raise of one brow.
12:03PM. Her noon appointment should be here any minute.
Sarisa will see Abigail far sooner than Abby will make out who the blonde woman is standing and waiting. parking was a pain in the ass, but she found a place and started making her way towards the terrace. Hands in the pocket of her hoodie, jeans, tank top, hair back in a messy bun, the much younger blonde had only uttered a yes ma'am when the call had been made. Sneakers make little to no sound as eventually she comes to a standstill in front of the psychometer.
With currently being in the process of having her ass handed to her by the united states government, when a significantly higher up member of the CIA calls, she comes running. "Miss Kershner" She offers the name out in greeting, seeing a woman she hasn't laid eyes on in nearly a year. "I hope the day finds you well"
The non-committal grunt Sarisa offers to Abby in response is descriptive of how her day has been. "This is strictly about your day," Sarisa explains with one brow raised, turning to fully face Abby, arms crossing over her chest, "and how it's either going to get better or worse with remarkable expediency."
Looking the blonde up and down, Sarisa's attention hangs at Abby's legs momentarily. "Fashionable," is a sarcastic joke about the anklet the pyromorph is forced to wear, "but I imagine more complicated than its worth, especially given the company you keep." Which could be referring to any of the sordid organizations Abigail Beauchamp gets tangled up in on a day to day basis.
"Straight to the point, I'd like to make this problem of yours go away. I think I have a pretty clear understanding of how someone in your position could have wound up with another — wholly different — Evolved ability after losing her first, but in order for me to make your day better, you're going to need to make mine better."
Shifting her weight to one foot, Sarisa looks up from the bulge of the GPS anklet under Abby's pant leg. "I won't be asking you to compromise anyone you work for, but I will be asking you a few questions I'll need answered honestly."
She prefers nice Sarisa. She prefers envelope bearing Sarisa than answer my questions or I'll make your life hell Sarisa. If Abby had a tail, right about now, it would be strictly between her legs. One leg does move, the left leg shuffled closer to the right as if that alone might hide what's beneath the pantleg. The flush at her cheeks is partly out of embarrassment, and partly something else entirely.
"I want to know who gave you the Formula that gave you your ability, I want to know how long you have had it, I want to know where the Formula came from, and I want to know if you know where any more of it can be obtained." There's a knife-like quality to Sarisa's smile as she lifts both brows, then exhales a huffed breath that blows her bangs from her face, just a little bit too long now and encroaching on her eyebrows and eyelashes uncomfortably.
"We'll call that, for starters," Sarisa amends with a playful wrinkle of her nose, "and see where we can go from there."
"Two months, I've had my ability Miss Kershner" She forgets what the woman's rank is so that she can call her that as manners dictate. Abigail's feet remain planted on the ground opposite the woman, out of arms reach. The reason for it pretty evident between the pair of them. Surely. The rest of the questions, it seems, go unanswered. Either because she doesn't know, won't say, or .. pleading the fifth.
Sarisa's brow arches slowly, one look askance to Abigail before she turns to look out towards the fountain and its winged statue. "Last chance, you can tell me the details your withholding and I can make this problem of yours go away, or I can let you sit and take care of it yourself and however it may crumble down on top of the people you work with. I needn't remind you that shit rolls downhill, Abigail." Blue eyes tick over to the pyromorph, and Sarisa's lips creep up into a dishonest smile.
"I'd also like to point out that by your not helping here, you will now be knowingly endangering the life of Francois Allegre." Sarisa lets that warning hang in the air before she looks back to the fountain. "I don't have to be your enemy," she explains quietly, "but if you continue to be evasive that is exactly what I can become."
"This has nothing to do with Francois. My situation has nothing to do with Francois so please don't bring your grandfather into this conversation please. You're threatening me Miss Kershner, to make my legal situation of which is already one big ol ball of a mess, even more because I refuse to provide you with answers that you think I have. Am I right in assuming that doing so is illegal? CIA are not allowed to operate on native soil. Last I knew" Sweat beads on her forehead, tiny little infinitesimal droplets that glint in the daylight.
Abigail drags her palm out of her jacket, the iphone in it active and the face flashed at the woman.
Recording.
"I am a cornered woman Miss Kershner. I am also a woman who has limited control of her new ability and I don't want to have to sit here naked and explain to Agent Sebastian why I melted their GPS anklet. You know, and I know, that I know quite a few people of varying abilities who may or may not be listening in on this conversation via their own ability."
Sarisa's blue eyes look to the iPhone, then back to Abigail. "Have it your way," the blond infers with a cold tone, her jaw set squarely as she tucks gloved hands into her pockets. There is no goodbye, no further warning, just Sarisa turning heel and heading towards the archway that empties out into the plaza, the very same place where Abigail has come to view the past on more than one occasion.
If Sarisa Kershner is giving Abigail one last chance, it's going to involve catching up to her. But this particular opportunity only knocks once.
"It doesn't exist" Abigail calls out to the woman as she starts to go, phone dumped back in her pocket. Not because she's really got the potential to fuck up her life. More because in truth Sarisa hasn't done anything bad to her. "It doesn't exist anymore. Teodoro screwed up the timeline, Agent Kershner. There were only two, to the best of my knowledge, that survived the trip back from where it was created"
Survived the trip.
Sarisa turns at the call, looking over her shoulder with brows furrowed and blue eyes locked on Abigail in the same way a wild dog watches a rabbit. There's silence exchanged between the two as a cool breeze whips through Belvedere plaza, pulling at errant locks of Sarisa's hair before she turns around and heads back through the archway, her pace slowing the closer she makes it back to Abigail.
"I need to know who you got it from, where they got it from, and who else you know was a recipient of it. I'm not trying to bring back the Pinehearst Company here, Abigail, I'm not going to make a funhouse like the Institute did. My investment in this is solely to protect Francois Allegre's life before that narrow window of opportunity I have to do so closes out entirely."
Dark brows furrow together as Sarisa adds, "You know I don't want anything bad to happen to him as much as you do, but he is in a dangerous situation right now that he is not aware that I am aware of, and I need to be able to cover him. For Francois sake, I am asking for your help."
"No, I don't know Agent Kershner, that you don't want anything to happen to me. I'm useful right now, because of what's swimming in my veins. But when I'm not useful, the government has a tendency to do away with and the only reason you are asking is because you are holding a really big axe over my head and you do have the ability to make sure that before I even leave this park there are men in white suits to take me away and no one will know any the better. YOu want it to save your family"
Abigail shifts in her spot. "I didn't jump forward with Phoenix Kershner. I wasn't part of the raid on Moab to get Helena and the others out and the incident with time. To the best of my knowledge, they brought some back, so that those who wanted abilities, could have the chance. But they broke and spilled. Only a couple survived. What survived, is swirling around in my blood and in someone elses. One was used in Antartica, the other one, was injected into me, hoping that I would manifest healing again. It failed. I got the furthest thing possible I think, from healing."
"I don't know if there's any more, she just showed up a week or so after Richard talked to me and asked me to think about it, that he was desperate and wouldn't ask if he wasn't. What would it hurt? He saved the world from a flood and I had this chance to save him. But it didn't work. I'm sorry. If you're looking for a healer, you won't get it in Francois. What we shared is something else entirely, like a parasite. It didn't leave an imprintation on our DNA."
"It doesn't matter what Francois does, as long as he does something. Otherwise Francois is going to find himself on a very unfortunate end of the Institute, and his last hope of rescuing Teodoro goes out the window." Blue eyes sweep aside as Sarisa furrows her brows and breathes in deeply, then exhales a steady sigh.
Something nags at the back of Sarisa's mind, brows knit together, blue eyes focus on the detail of the walls, then back to the paramedic she's wringing for information. "You and Cardinal have both told me that neither of you know where the Formula is, and while I don't trust him to give two shits about Francois Allegre, I know you do. Find out where the Formula came from, find out if there's any more left. There's places I have influence in, Abigail, and places I don't."
Sarisa's head cants to the side, one brow raising slowly. "I need a confirmation that there's either none left, or where I can find the rest, by Thursday. You do that for me, and I'll make sure this problem of yours goes away."
"I Can't" She sounds apologetic.
"If you're meant to have it Sarisa, it'll show up on your doorstep. It's a pre-cog who had it. If she has more, if you're meant to have it, if Francois is meant to take it, then it will show up she'll show up and give it to you, or she'll give it to him. It's how we ended up in Russia in the first place." Abigail's palms turn up, as if showing empty palms and a lack of being able to do anything. "She comes and goes as she pleases and she's not in the least bit coherent, and I don't know how to get a hold of her, only know that if you're supposed to meet her, she'll show up"
Both her palms go back into her pocket, her back and chest hurting and her temperature up. Francois was doing something to rescue Teodoro. Their Teodoro. "I was injected, April seventh. When I manifested, it was a month later. I'll be surprised if the department of Evolved affairs doesn't figure it out that I wasn't telling the truth. Dreyfus didn't burn down my bar. He was there, but he didn't burn it down. Peter's abilities came back instantaneously out on the ice pack. We've compared stories. I don't have control over where it is, how to get it, where it's stashed. Hiro can't go and get it, that future is dead to the best of my knowledge."
"Sarisa" She uses the woman's first name. "I can't help you, either way other than having had this conversation. Whether you get me thrown in jail and blackholed, or you get me out of this bracelet and that's all, I have no control over anything. And I don't want to owe you anything either. I got myself into this mess because of what's in my blood and… I have to live with the consequences of my actions"
Sarisa's stare becomes vacant, a thousand-yard and vacant stare that goes through the blonde, but not because of some supernatural ability. Sarisa is thinking. Those blue eyes fall shut, Sarisa draws in a slow breath and when her eyes open again her stare is locked on Abigail. "You can do one last thing for me," Sarisa admits with a crease of her brows, "you can tell me the name of the precognitive."
"Tam" Apologetically spoken. "I don't know how you'll find her, but if you set out to find her on purpose, she tends to show up. Think really hard Sarisa, tap your heels three times and say there's no place like saving my grandfather, she might very well appear" Could be an attempt at humor, an attempt at sarcasm. Who knows. What is known is that Abigail's closing her eyes and seems to be trying to work at calming herself. One can very well imagine why as she wipes an arm across her forehead.
"If it works, just keep me from being tossed into an institute tube. That's all. If she doesn't show… just stand back. I tend to provide enough of my own rope to hang myself without any help"
"Tam. Just— just Tam?" There's a stern tone to Sarisa's voice as she takes one step closer to Abigail, as if intentionally pushing the blond's buttons. "I need a last name, Abigail, give me a last name, an associate, something I can go on. I don't want to trust that clicking my heels together or clapping my hands and believing in faries will make a difference here. This is an absurd world, but…" she flashes a grimace, "there's some things I'm not willing to put to chance."
Or, apparently, not willing to put to fate.
"I know you know more than you're letting on, Abigail, you're one of the most well-connected people in your circle that I know of. Give me this, Abigail, give me something worth the trouble of clearing your name."
"I don't have a last name. have you been dense? So focused on everything else that I'm saying? I don't know where she li-" Oh. Right. Wait. She does. Abigail's mouth claps shut as the proverbial light bulb dings in her head. "Le Rivage, I think. brought me to Detective Demskey's a long long time ago. Before Staten Island was cut off. A floor down and just a few away from where I live. She goes there. They know her, they know her enough she had a key but I don't think she lives there. But I don't know her last name"
"Demsky." Sarisa rolls the name over with an arch of one brow, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek as if taste testing the palatable nature of the intelligence. "I'll see how this pans out," she notes after a heavy pause, letting her head tilt to the side, bangs sweep across her forehead, only to be brushed aside by a gloved hand. "I'll start the ball rolling on trying to get that ball and chain around your leg undone, but I can't do anything for the people who registered you. That's sticking my neck out too f— "
There's a ringing coming from Sarisa's pocket. Blue eyes look down to the pocket of her suit jacket, one gloved hand sweeps inside and withdraws the phone, checking the number displaying on the front of the Blackberry. One black brow raises, a look crosses her face like she's seen a ghost, or perhaps more likely found Providence.
"I need… to take this," Sarisa offers with a halting cadence to her voice, looking back up to Abigail. "I think we're done here anyway."
"I can't put on pantyhose with it, and I'm afraid that I'm going to melt it unintentionally. Which I'm sure which will make them all scream that I need to be confined to a cell somewhere dark." She can't practice my control either with it on either, which is what the government wants right? To have every little dangerous evo out there with air tight control over their ability. "If she has any more, and if you're supposed to have it…you'll get it Sarisa."
But there's phonecalls and she's being dismissed by the CIA and Abigail can take a really big clue by four to the head and turn, shoulders hunched in and heading out. "Liz is taking care of Detective Nash, I'm sure" Tossed about before she's gone, exiting stage left like the shamed puppy that she is, that Claude would surely say she is if he was here.
"No," Sarisa offers as she looks over to Abigail, "Vincent Lazzaro is taking care of Nash." Maybe she wasn't supposed to say that, but therein lies the one glimmer of intelligence that the former(?) spy can give to Abigail as she turns and flips open her phone, turning to walk towards the Bethesda Fountain without a further word on the topic of Prophets and Formulas.
"Bonjour," is smoothly offered over the phone as Sarisa moves away, her head tilted to the side and a smile spread across her lips. "Tell me you have some good news…" As her voice trails off, pigeons filling the plaza scatter from her path, taking alight to the noonday skies, some whipping thorugh the shelter of the terrace with the echoing flap of wingsbeats.
As for Abigail Beauchamp?
She still has one foot on the gallows.