Participants:
| Scene Title | Point of Origin |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In at least one respect, things are about to get a lot more even. |
| Date | April 6, 2011 |
Unknown Farm Road: Upstate New York
Roundabouts an hour or two north of New York City things open up a bit. There are highways and farm roads and — farms to go with them. Grassy hillocks. Maybe a few cows.
There are cows here, to be sure, sleek hides glancing yellow in the night under the wash of a familiar SUV's headlights. A cottontail rabbit veers wild off the asphalt; bovines move like barges through a sway of waist-high grass dried yellow by the season, heavy feet and horns low. With the land as low as it is, a decent scream might carry for miles, but there's no one on two legs 'round to bother listening.
It's a few minutes of driving more before Calvin finally steers (ha) the armored black behometh he's driving onto the shoulder, GPS coordinates agreed upon in advance checked and doublechecked before he unfastens his seatbelt and pops the trunk.
Therein, through a drift of dust and bound about the wrists and ankles by plastic garbage ties, lies Hortense. She's blindfolded, of course. Thin. Still got a bit of hay stuck to her pants. But other than that, you know.
Healthy as a horse.
Or healthy as a Hor(ten)se
When the engine slows, the car pulls over, no longer jostled with every bump - you fucker, you aimed for each one didn't you - Hortense starts up with her screaming and yelling again, putting a sailor to shame with the things that she is threatening to do to Calvin, to those bodypart between his legs and his dreads.
Being locked up with very little to do except envision what you're going to do to the two assholes who chloroformed you and only a pile of hay and paper for your personal needs has left the masseuse in a very, very, very put out state of mind. She'd shifted on the trip and when that trunk is popped, out comes her bound feet, aiming for roughly the middle of the open trunk, heels first, trying to catch the "Ginger haired deviant son of a bitch asshole evo".
Maybe she's PMSing.
Enter the White Horse shortly after the black vehicle of Calvin. Perhaps a little cliche for the scene, but the black limousine is guided in to the designated location. The lights are killed as the car rolls to a stop, silence and stillness hanging beyond the darkened windows for moments at a time. The driver's side door is opened, and a giant of a man in a black suit lifts himself out of the vehicle, wordlessly moving to the rear door and pulling it open. A pair of expensive black shoes in dainty little feet sweep out into the open, and the large man's hand is held in offering.
There is a certain flow to which a much smaller and well manicured hand is delivered into the palm of the man, and assisted in ascending from the inside of the vehicle. Her long and slender legs peek from the split up the side of her black dress, which otherwise hugs along her hips and other curves with the finest fabrics. Yana manages to get a look at the area she is in with her dark eyes, her hair swept to one side and cascading down the front of her left shoulder like silk.
A small internal sigh is given. She is not wearing the proper shoes for this, and she is certainly not one for this type of.. rustic atmosphere. All kinds of allergens and despicable things floating about. Why, someone could catch something awful out here. And that would be a shame.
"Alright." she remarks lowly to Christopher, and after the doors are closed, the car made secure, the pair of them head over, with Christopher hanging back.
This is a meeting with Dr. Yana Blight, so. Calvin's in a dark three piece suit with no coat against the cold, and he is not of a mind to be kicked. His right hand hooks deftly down and around to divert the angle of her ankles (and her kick) — mostly harmlessly aside. Old training. Muscle memory.
…And a fresh bruise when her heel manages to catch him right on the edge of the ilium anyway.
"Yyyou little cunt—"
Teeth bared and brow hooded, without supervision he's on the cusp of snatching her by her ankle bindings to drag her straight out into a two or three foot fall to the earth when the rumble of the limosine's engine turns his head and stays his hand. Headlights follow next, and he forces his shoulders to relax, allowing Hortense to flail and shriek as she will in the open trunk behind him without intervention. His side's still smarting, but he refuses to let it show.
Somewhere a cow says mrooooo.
"Evening," he says, once Yana's near enough to hear without him having to raise his voice. Too much. Christopher gets a considering look, mainly for his size, and quick as that, the full of his focus is on Yana. "Dressed for the occasion, I see."
Success. She made him curse at her. Such a bad word, ladies don't deserve to be called that, and it only spurs her on further, calling out Calvin and adding a generous sprinkling of very vicious words, staying still, waiting like a rattlesnake, though with what body part she'll lash out with, he doesn't know, until he tries to make another try. Not even the addition of more people keeps her from letting loose her foul mouth.
That is generally all Christopher has to do. Yana leads a dangerous life, but it isn't action packed daily, so he doesn't need play bodyguard much at all. Appearance does a good enough job of keeping her from getting mugged, and appearance is something that Yana places a great deal of importance upon. So it is nice that he looks huge and ready to eat off someone's head, even if it isn't the case. The large man, seeing Calvin for the first time since Yana mentioned him, regards Calvin with a look he is probably used to getting. Trying to figure out what is the deal with the extreme appearance. Not quite 'What the fuck is that' but almost.
Yana catches the exchange as she draws nearer, and she can certainly assure herself that she isn't impressed with the young woman's rather liberal wording, even in her situation. It raises a dark brow over Yana's eye, and she pushes her lips together to keep from showing the bad taste Hortense's anger leaves in her mouth.
"As always. It is a special occasion, so I felt it was appropriate to don something elegant, as opposed something cliche." Like her lab coat. "I see that the subject is most disagreeable with the situation." Yana gets a look at Hortense in her bound state, admiring her fair features through the roughening she had been given. Appreciate your prey.. or test subjects as the case may be.
As ever, Calvin's dapper enough that the general state of him is all the more surreal: from starched white dress shirt to freshly shined shoes, he looks as ready to go swinging into an invite only gala as Yana does. Even with the mane of ginger dreads and scruff. And the eyeliner.
A scuff of heel-shaped dust on his jacket is brushed away as an afterthought as she advances, the knot of his tie still too loose from the ride over. It shows more when he tips his bristly chin to her over. Appreciative from afar.
Christopher's presence is evidently enough to keep him from saying whatever comes to mind first.
What comes second is a more evenly keeled, "Well you look lovely," and a glance back to Hortense, who's lucky she hasn't had the trunk slammed on her feet yet. Repeatedly. He clears his throat. "Yeh. She's been like this the whole time. All fuss and muss. Like a rabid cat. I can knock her out if you like."
"You fucking chloroform me again you fucking son of a bitch, the moment I get loose I am finding the biggest fucking cleaver that I can find and I will cut off all your fucking dread and shove them down a garbage disposal before I cut off your god damned balls and feed them to you like fucking Hannibal Lector" Hortense screeches oh so unladylike.
She's come for the meeting in cotton PJ bottoms that have desperate need of a good wash, a tank top and a bathrobe. Slippers have long since been lost
Healthy as a horse she may be, she's starting to smell like one from the hay, a few bits of such stuck in the dark hair of hers. "Let me the fuck go asshole. What did you do with my boat? Who the fuck is that woman" She can't see the other man.
"No no. That won't be necessary. It'll probably be much more entertaining if she is awake." Yana holds out her hand, off to the side, which is a signal for Christopher to pull out a small, rectangular box from his jacket pocket, and hand it over to her. While she prepares, flipping open the case to reveal a rather nice, antique syringe. Not one of those disposable jobbies you find at the hospitals no a days, but this thing is glass. It's so poetic and epic that you would think that it were something that is used on a horse in fact. Very beautiful, very well taken care of. "You look intriguing this evening. I can honestly say that your look is on the borderline of many things. A perfect blend of sensible, well-made and madcap all at the same time. Kudos to you for being able to pull it off." The syringe is empty, and properly sterilized for this occasion. The doctor needing a sample of Hortense's blood for further study.
The bound girl might as well have slapped Yana in the face with the words she used, as there is a clear effect on her expression. Like something sour was given to her. "You might want to hold her still while I get this in her arm." she says to Calvin and motions to Christopher to help, "And conversely, dear? You might want to hold still for this. It would be a terrible shame for there to be damage done to your vein. Don't want you getting a blood clot. And phlebitis would be most uncomfortable for a while. Won't kill you, but in your state, I'm certain you'll wish it did."
"I am that I am," says Calvin, who's only too happy to hook a hand into the trunk and round the crook of Hortense's left arm. A stiff jerk of his shoulder drags her to the edge. From there, Christopher's help will probably be necessary to get her up on her feet between them whether she likes it or not.
Assuming that the 'or not' is more likely, Cal produces a robust semi-automatic out from under his jacket, gunmetal grey muzzle pressed warm to the girl's throat while he adjusts her against his side and forces himself to breathe slow through his sinuses. "You even think," he tells her close and quiet at her ear, once he's settled, "of spitting on her and I'll tangle you up in barbed wire and leave you to dry out in the sun like a rabbit."
She'd be spared this indignity of a gun pressed to her throat once she started trying to jump and kick at everyones - especially that lady with the god damned scary ass needle that she can't see - knees and groin. Be spared the decision of whether to swallow that spit she was building up in her mouth or to let it loose. It's like Calvin can read minds.
"Ooh, that reminds me," Yana calls back to Christopher with an Epiphany, "I would adore hossenfeffer for dinner. With a nice glaze and some lovely seasoned potatoes." She adopts a thoughtful look, pondering the details of her meal while her hand busies itself in preparing the needle. She pushes the plug all the way to the top to prepare for extraction. "Hm. Red.. or maybe white wine perhaps? If you use coriander, I believe white will do. Just surprise me, you always do." Not the type of conversation to be had in a situation like this, but Calvin's threat made her think of it.
Yana scowls a small bit, finding this woman's behavior to be very offensive. "You know." she begins once Christopher moves forward to reach and hold Hortense's lower body still by the legs, while Calvin seems to have the rest under control, Yana following suite in getting close to Hortense. "You should really be thrilled about this. Being the first? Not exactly the very first for it as a whole, but for this particular version, yes. You'll go down in history, I'm sure… Well— I'd like it if you didn't really go down. A living specimen is much more useful than a dead one. But either way— Little stick—" Yana warns as she inserts the needle into Hortense's vein, extracting a sample. Of course, it's difficult for the blindfolded woman to tell if Yana is injecting or extracting, but that is kind of what she is going for.
While in contact with the woman, Yana's eyes shine over with green, and she calls forth the particles of the altered H5N10 hanging out in her body to pass over into Hortense with it's orders to resume it's natural and new process. Would normally not affect her, being non-Evo, but that has all changed. She passes enough of the virus into her system, through touch, for it to be difficult for the girl's immunity to fight it off. "—Congratulations. It's a boy."
Having not been invited to dinner, Calvin does his part holding Hortense still and keeps quiet. The stink of metal about him is eternally distinct: acrid iron and a touch of rust harsh against the warmer scent of the setting, his breath like a bellows hot on her neck.
He watches the transmission process closely, a little furrow etched out across his brow for the flicker of green at Yana's eyes. Taking mental notes and keeping very, very still. Until it's done, apparently, and he loops the hand he had gripped on Hortense's arm around her waist to squeeze her into a tough-love hug instead. "Mazel tov."
This is stuff that happens in horror movies, friday night thrillers. The bite of the old fashioned needle into her arm, the pain that comes with it on top of the firm grip that the group has on her means that Hortense is unlikely to be going anywhere. The comment of 'It's a boy' leaves her more than alittle bewildered. Sure, a needle full of something, shot up into a uterus might get you pregnant.
But last she knew, her elbow was not her uterus. She can't see the green eyes, can't sense the change in her body or Yana's pet sent in with that touch. Just the heavy smell of nature and Calvin, Yana's perfume as he yanks her close and squeezes her.
"You're dis-invited from the fucking Bris, all three of you" Because there were too many hands for just one person and Calvins comment. "The fuck did you just do to me"
Dinners at home are normally left between just Yana, Christopher and her nephew. She rarely entertains for dinner. Had she wanted to go out for dinner, most likely she would have poked Calvin to come along. Though she'll likely invite him to the celebration she plans on having. She might just rent a hall for a party, that could be fun.
True enough, she feels like a proud mother, setting her child off into a new school for the first day. Waiting at the front doors, waving to him as she wanders in nervously with his backpack slung over one shoulder, going to make his mark on the world one day. It is just unfortunate that Hortense is that school. Yana gets what she came for, needing Hortense's blood before the virus took hold. She can work on her next phase with it at home.
Once the extraction and infection is done, Yana hands the needle off to Christopher, who deposits it back into it's little case carefully. Dr. Blite does her best to ignore the girl's foul mouth, deciding to answer her last, as punishment for being so improper. "I'd give it perhaps, a few hours. At that point, she'll be at her peek infectious state, so it would be advisable to ensure that you aren't around her at that point, and to have other subjects you might want to add to this experiment near. I gather it'll spread about as much as the original, and with this version no one is safe, so.. take caution." Yana holds out her hands towards Christopher, who actually squirts a bit of hand sanitizer, ironically into her palms, where she rubs them together ritualistically. "Eventually, the threat to Evolved with be eradicated completely, which will of course take a bit more time but.." she looks at Hortense, letting her eyes glaze over with the glowing green again, checking her over, "This is a start."
A sigh of accomplishment, "No, miss.. I'm not quite sure what your name is… I suggest that you run and tell everyone you possibly can that something weird happened here tonight. Find someone to display affection to. Hug and cry on them, promiscuity would be advisable as well. I'm certain a girl of your— caliber has many gentleman callers. Basically.. strive for human contact. It'll help out in the long run."
"Yes ma'am," agreed over Hortense's ear without fanfare in the wake of instructions and advice delivered, Calvin wastes no time in holstering his firearm so that he can snag Hortense around into a rough 180. Bitch needs to go back in the trunk. She does so with more centripetal force than is necessary, bits of hay drifting itchy in her wake. In, in, in, with adjustments made for writhing and kicking and biting as necessary. Calvin's quick about it, especially now that he's already been clocked once.
The trunk's only left open for as long as it takes Yana to deliver more personalized instructions for Hortense's suggested care. He reaches up to slam it down as soon as she's done, cutting any further protests (or curses) off into an instant muffle. Whumph.
"I can't thank you enough for taking the time to come out to meet me like this," he murmurs, quiet. Earnest because the cant of his brows suggest that he is. "I recommend having your ride washed down on your way back; you won't want any of this soil on your shoes or in your tires should the boys in blue come calling."
There is very little kicking, or biting, more just horrified listening of the suggested care and feeding of Yana's babies before the trunk slams down and Hortesene is left alone.
Great work was done here tonight. A woman who is most likely a little innocent, other than bringing offense to Calvin in some way, was just made the 0-patient for the possible start of stage 1 of a pandemic. She couldn't wag fingers however, because Yana has punished people for far less thing then what Hortense had probably done to Calvin. "Oh, it is not a problem at all. I find that I rather enjoy our meetings, even if they have been so few. They seem to produce the most productive of results, which some of the company I keep is lacking in, but they're learning. Not everyone can be as dangerously impressive as you." There is an amused smirk that crosses Yana's lips, ranging in the sinister, of the kid that just did something bad.
Christopher gives a solemn nod, indicating that he understands his job in what Calvin just said. It'll certainly be taken care of as he is pretty thorough. "Should you need anything else at all, don't hesitate to contact me. I plan on visiting the others that you have provided, so I will keep you posted on the outcome of my visits. Hopefully.. we'll see a complete turn around of the H5N10, and Evolved will have nothing to fear from the virus as a whole.. They'll still be carriers of course, but the beauty will be that it will only affect non. Meaning— Well.. I'm sure you get the jist."
The growth of Calvin's ego in the presence of praise is nearly tangible — so distracted is he in the midst of his own warm fuzzies that he has to shake himself out of it. A hard blink and a swallow do the trick. Clears his head and dulls out the rakish slash of his grin. Reminds him of himself and all of that quickly enough to avert a pause that's long enough to be awkward.
He exhales all at a gust instead, relief and agreement and a tingle of (repressed) excitement in one. The ball is officially rolling.
No going back now.
"Likewise," covers it all in a sweep, because it's possible he wasn't listening all that well. "You've been a pleasure to work with thus far and I'm looking forward to seeing what the future holds for us. And our kind." The agenda slides in there at the end like a little squid slippery wet up onto a dock. Flop.
"Is there anything else?"
Yana is a pretty smart woman. Give her a trail to follow, and she can likely deduce things on her own. She has an idea of what Calvin's ultimate goal would be, and she has spent time considering its merit. Either way, she seems to be on board, if only for the sake of science. "No, I believe that is all. I'll retire for dinner, and then back to work on the goal after that, though I am having a little breakthrough celebration at some point, you should attend. I'll contact you when I get things solidified." Yana smirks, "Good evening—" For a second, her manners almost make her speak his name, but she is quick to correct before it happens and just smiles and offers a nod and a smile, "Good evening." she leaves it at that and moves back to her vehicle.
"I look forward to it," says Calvin. Who does. Backwards steps already carrying him slow back to the driver's side of Benjamin Ryans' hulking SUV, a few days overdue for a good wash. "Enjoy your dinner and have a nice night. I look forward to our next contact."
A moment or two later he's back in, door snapped shut behind him, key turned and radio flipped on after a bit of toggling. "Seatbelts!" he calls back to the trunk, which is blissfully quieter now than it was on the way over.
And they're off.
"Fuck You"
That's the answer coming from the back seat.
"Fuck you and the hor(ten)se you road in on asshole" Hortense bites out from the back. At some point, she'll stop it, but for the next few minutes, sailor mouthed Hortense is back since it seems they're taking off.