Participants:
| Scene Title | Rent Asunder |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Helena and Teo are summoned for the sharing of information. Bennet is wanted for the same, amongst other things, and gets on the wrong side of Hana. Again. |
| Date | January 5, 2009 |
It started, not with a direct communication, but a message overheard. One Agent Matthew Parkman had no actual need to send electronically… not that Hana has given this detail much thought. The information it contained has commandeered her attention at present, the full of the Israeli woman's considerable focus directed upon this virus… and the man who should have known about it.
Who probably did know about it.
The message sent to Phoenix's leader was almost an afterthought, but not one Hana overlooked. Presently, she waits in what was once a conference room for the Company employees who previously worked in this facility; what frequently serves as a meeting room for Wireless and her associates. The original, massive table is long since gone, along with other such furnishings; the projector in the ceiling doesn't work, but for Ferryman purposes a desktop computer with an overlarge monitor suffices just fine. There's a haphazard collection of chairs huddled in its proximity.
None of them are occupied.
There's far too much pent-up energy in Hana's wiry form to let her do anything so sedate as sit and wait. Too much tension born from the anger simmering just beneath the surface. The tall woman paces instead, prowling along the room's outer wall, because there is simply not much else for her to do with her fury.
At least, not right now.
Perhaps Teo was worried about Helena's emotional state, or Helena herself was quick to invite him on account of the leadership role that they now share. Regardless, Helena is joined by Teo after she receives Hana's summons. She's tired around the eyes, but curious even as she finds her way to the meeting with Teo, having already subjected him to her wonderment as to what might be going on, and not having any real clue. Usually Hana is more forthcoming, and this seemed somewhat abrupt. "Hana," she greets when they arrive. She blinks a bit in startlement, taking in the woman's imitation of a prowling, caged tigress.
Yeah! Yeah. Usually there's— all right, admittedly, Teo's generally the one trumpeting for Hana's presence or scraping up to her door in search of her, rather than the reverse being true. Nevertheless, there does seem to be a little extra intrigue enwrapping the facility when they arrive. There's a conference room. He'd never even known there was a conference room down here. Though, granted, that makes sense. Office building. Probably ought to consist of more than derelict secretary desks and a gym in which he gets beaten up on a semi-regular basis.
He looks less tired than the young woman he walks with, a fact that may be attributed to the possibility that he just got up, his tall frame layered up in the usual array of clothing, his ever-present cellphone given one last bleep and click before he jams it in his pocket and puts his hands in too. "Buona sera, Hana," he greets, customarily polite, despite the momentary lag and blinky squint at the uncharacteristic damage to her calm. He's seen something like it, before, but she was venting then. She's all business now.
And lethal business it is — but when Hana pivots to fix the new arrivals with a piercing stare, then swivels away a moment later, it is made most evident that neither of the phoenixes will be made targets of her ire today. A stiff jerk of her chin directs them both to the computer. Or perhaps to the chairs around it, should either choose to sit in her presence. The words are clipped, terse; Hana struggles for neutrality but fails to keep the snarl entirely out of her voice. "Picked up an email Parkman sent earlier." Her wording suggests Wireless wasn't necessarily the intended, or at least obvious, recipient. The Israeli pauses, drawing in a breath; calm doesn't come, even when summoned. It isn't so much as nearby. "This may be something best kept… close." Hence the meeting, rather than a simple upload to Phoenix's database.
Helena lets out a breath of relief, the whole thing had the air of being summoned to the principal's office, if the principal had Mossad training and was capable of ending your life with her pinky finger. "It sounds sensitive." she broaches carefully, curious to know more but not wanting to do anything to trigger Hana's further ire.
The Sicilian steps away from the weather witch's shoulder, moving toward the computer console with all of the obedience of a well-trained dog. Or a pathologically doleful boy, either metaphor works. His ragged, dirty-blond head drops a few degrees, pale eyes shifting across the monitor with open curiosity. He doesn't have the presence of mind or summary paranoia to maintain Hana in his peripheral vision, despite the continuous prickling awareness that the lioness is still out of sorts. "Are you expecting someone else, signora?" he inquires.
The glare given Teo is nothing personal. Really. Hiss. "Not expecting," Hana grudgingly allows. Bennet will wander along in his own damn good time. Her fingers curl as the pair move towards the chairs; the Israeli herself doesn't so much as take another step. Then she forces her hands to loosen, if not precisely relax. A mental command to the computer brings up a display of images — scanned documents, they appear to be. "Apparently there is a virus capable of selectively killing the Evolved." Snarl. "It was in the keeping of the Company."
Helena looks confused for a moment. "I thought Kazimir Volken had the virus that would kill all the Evolved. You mean the Company had it too? Are they working with them?" She looks well and truly shocked, but not entirely sure what to do about it. She is however, a smart cookie. "Do you think Bennet knows?"
Ffff. Teo resists the urge to check with his hands to see if his face has liquefied. Excepting a brief and slightly squeamish glance up at the ex-Mossad woman, he studies the monitor with intent eyes. After a moment, he reaches for the mouse to blow up one page, slide over to the next. 'Shanti.' Sounds like a girl's name, he thinks, fleetingly. He knows a little Hindi. 'Peaceful.' "I think Kazimir Volken is supposed to have a virus that will kill ninety percent of the world's human population. After giving an assload of them Evolved abilities and hyper-aggression. I…
"I— " his mind skips tracks over Bennet, seesaws to an uncomfortable halt even as Odessa Knutson's head shot and personnel profile sharpens into view. He jerks upright. "Was in the keeping— ? What— when did they fucking— fuck," he finishes, intelligently, finally seating himself one of the computer chairs with a rattle of plastic and bolts.
Speaking of Noah Bennet, a large, broad-shouldered shape with lean lines appears in the conference room doorway. He lets the scuff of his leather loafers against the ground underfoot serve as a 'hello' in lieu of a spoken greeting, saying nothing as he moves to take up a position on the fringe of the gathering and loom over Helena and Teo like a darkened omen with the light of the computer screen glinting off the lenses of his glasses. It isn't until Teo has sat down that he places a hand on the young man's shoulder and leans in for a closer look at the monitor so he too can see.
The approach of a familiar cellphone is the first clue, albeit not one that gives much warning. The scuff of shoe soles against the conference room floor also becomes apparent to the ex-Mossad's ears in very short order. Stiff silence is the only answer Hana offers to either Teo or Helena; the silence of a serpent setting its coils before it strikes, of stormclouds looming before the first lightning bolt.
And Noah turned his back upon her.
The Israeli woman doesn't bother with words. Words are Noah's weapon. Two swift steps bring her close enough. Her left hand shoves Teo's chair aside, graceless; whether it crashes into something, topples over, or just clatters across the floor (and takes the Sicilian with it) is irrelevant to the storm unleashed. Her right hand slams into the closer of Noah's shoulders, twisting him around; the left comes up to drive him against the nearby wall, the point of a throwing knife held just above the erstwhile(?) Company agent's throat.
"Don't tell me you didn't fucking know." Low, gutteral words infused with a bitter anger. "You fucking had it all along." 'You' does translate to 'the Company' here.
The chair full of Teo goes because Wireless wills it. The half a smile he'd provided for Bennet, by way of salutation, vanishes utterly; his only effort to steer is to put a hand out to stop himself from taking out the computer and its display of data, a jarring bounce that manages to keep him from going end over end as well. He winds up going into the next segment of table instead, his seat tilted wildly and head thumping on wood, long limbs a gymnastic snarl of partially-recovered balance, blue eyes wide and a slightly winded curse abbreviated on his lips. It takes him next to no time to realize that he isn't the subject of Hana's wrath. His jaws are locked, and he stares at the former Company agent and ex-Mossad. He's never heard Gitelman swear, before.
"Oh my god, isn't that the woman in the database? The one who atta-" And then there's Noah, and then there's Hana with a knife at his throat and Teo starting to pitch over. Helena lets out a short, abortive yelp that comes out like more of a squeak; she starts to crouch to try and grab Teo's arm and right him, ending up somewhat still bent over and gone absolutely still while the incredibly deadly woman faces off with the incredibly deadly man and there's a weapon involved. She's got a grip like death on Teo, but it's the two she's staring at. There's a lesson being learned behind her eyes as she watches them.
Bennet is bigger than Hana, stronger too. He does not, however, have a weapon in hand or an ace up his sleeve. The more time you spend around someone, the more accustomed you become to their presence — and the more accustomed you become, the easier it is for you to let your guard down without realizing what you're doing until it's too late. The expression on Bennet's face is one of surprise — how could it not be? — but there's anger there as well, bubbling up with the flush of red in his cheeks. He peers down at the woman, his back to the wall, and answers levelly, "Don't tell me it matters this late in the game."
Hana has a habit of shoving lethal weapons in Noah's face. Guns. Knives. Ballpoint pens. But not one of those times was he ever so close to death as he is right this very minute.
Hana snarls.
"The leopard doesn't change its spots, does it?" The knife slams forward — but not before the woman moves it just a little to the right. Its point etches a scarlet line across the side of Noah's throat as it drives home into the wall behind him, plaster dust shaking loose and drifting to the floor. "I am not your fucking puppet. Not anymore." Hana steps backwards, leaving Bennet to stand on his own power or slide down the wall. Stalks all the way to the door without ever taking those darkly burning eyes off her enemy.
Not her ally. Not anymore.
"Don't fucking call me again, Bennet. Ever."
Then she's gone.
The girl's grip on Teo's arm almost makes his bones creak, but he welcomes the strength of her grip because it both balances and grounds him. It's hard to breathe. Across the room from Hana and Noah, Helena and Teodoro are frightened children, spun around and flustered, their hands empty of knives. Jerky as a string puppet, Teo grasps the arm that Helena's using to hold him, teeters closer to upright with an awkward squeak of chair parts and the gust of an outgoing breath. He knows better than to say anything, even if he doesn't think Hana should leave, aborting before words, his lips parted and head turned at her. Then back at Noah, nervously. Stop her. Stop her.
Helena's grip does not cease during the course of Hana and Bennet's exchange, her breath held until Wireless draws blood. And as Hana steps back and tells Bennet not to call her, Helena releases her grip on Teo, because in her mind she's seeing the potential for everything falling apart. They need the Ferrymen, but they also need Hana. Teo and Helena's thoughts are one and the same, but Helena is more proactive, she moves swiftly to follow the woman as she exits. "Hana —!" She tries not to sound as desperate and frightened as she feels.
Stop her? Bennet returns Teo's stare, one hand on his neck, the other balled into a fist at his side. You stop her, his eyes seem to say. What do you think I am, little boy? Suicidal? Fingers come away from his throat with blood smeared across them. It isn't a lot — just enough to sting, just enough to incite his ire. He makes a visible effort not to direct it Helena's way when she starts after the retreating technopath, but it's difficult to miss the muscles tightening in his jaw or the way he darts her a sharp, sidelong look as she goes. "You're wasting your time," he advises her lowly, but that is all.
Helena hesitates only in terms of speed. "I've got to talk to her." she says in a determined murmur. "Things are going to fall apart." That's about as much consideration on the issue with Noah that Helena's going to give. Hana has done more for Phoenix than Bennet, at least in the most direct sense, and as such, Helena's not willing to see her disappear into the shadows entirely.
 January 5th: Conspiracy Theorists |
 January 5th: You Were Leaving |