Participants:
| Scene Title | Only One Answer |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Raith reaches across the Atlantic to secure assistance in his endeavors. |
| Date | July 6, 2009 |
On Two Sides of the Atlantic Ocean
Time, they say, waits for no man. Recent days, however, have found no men waiting for time. It is in too short a supply, is to precious a commodity, and no one has enough of it. Least of all Jensen Raith, who desperately needs more time than he has been alloted. He must make do with the time he has, and hope that there is someone who can find him more of it. It is under these circumstances that digital information, entered into a cellular telephone, is beamed into the air and travels through the ether, across the mighty Atlantic to its destination, to the one that he hopes will be able to find him the time he needs so badly. The information, a message, contains only five words, urgency hidden within simplicity.
Wireless. Is this comm secure?
Twenty years later, the event that shaped the course of Hana's entire adult life is remembered by relatively few, particularly in light of everything that has come since. Bus bombings, suicide bombings, rocket attacks — even outright war, not so very long ago. Possible hazards that, like the sights, sounds, smells that hearken back to her childhood, settle over Hana in a familiar mantle. She can deal with all of this.
She can deal with annoying, untimely text messages from the phone of Jensen Raith, too.
Long fingers brush against the stones that don't ever change, no matter how much the woman regarding them does, no matter how hard she tries not to. Hana scowls, and it doesn't have anything to do with what her eyes see.
You'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting.
A few moments pass before another reply makes its way into Hana's possession. Forced to use his fingers, Raith's replies are limited by how fast his appendages move, and not how quickly he can think. I feel it is. Please wait.
More time passes, doubtlessly stretched by Raith trying to fit everything he has to send within the character limit imposed on him. Pinehearst has serum: gives abilties. Likely sell to gov/mil, also build priv. army. Have to stop, have info. Will you help? Apparently, a lot can be said in fewer than 160 characters.
Hana closes her eyes as Raith's reply filters through her mind, tilting her face up towards the Israeli afternoon sun. Her silence is longer than Raith's; stretches for reasons he doesn't know, not for this woman who is as of yet little more than an alias and a number to the former member of Vanguard. She looks down at the gravestones, crouches down to hold her gaze level with the names. Ruth Meisner Blumenthal. Zahava Blumenthal Gitelman.
"There's only one answer you would give, isn't there?" the woman whispers, gaze shadowed.
Drawing in a breath, Hana straightens, reflexively looking to the west.
Yes.
But not today.
Go away, Raith.
Finding more time for Jensen Raith is apparently not high on Hana Gitelman's list of priorities today.
High or low, Raith received the answer to the question most heavily weighing on his mind. And that's a great relief. Thanks. You know how to reach. Will send info to secure dest. on request. Keep your nose dry. Out. The message doesn't indicate much expectations of a reply; were Hana in New York, it's almost guaranteed Raith would enforce radio silence, even with her. His initial message hinted to as much. As much as he can be, Jensen Raith is gone, leaving Hana alone, once more, with herself, with the gravestones, and perhaps most crushingly, with the past.
After midnight, NYC time…
Turns out Petrelli's formula isn't so magic. Subjects die after a brief period of stability as Evolved. Long enough for the demonstration to look good.
Worse than grenades. If possible/practical, leak intel; Gen. Sebastian Autumn. Still need Gray/destroy serum. More time now. Good work soldier. Out