Participants:
| Scene Title | Rooftop Rendezvous |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Helena and Cat meet up to talk about Cat recently killing a man. Later, Alex joins them. |
| Date | October 26, 2008 |
Deveaux Building — Rooftop
There's a briefing to give, on the events of a certain evening, and other matters to also discuss if the opportunity allows. For this purpose, Cat is here on the Deveaux Building's roof, waiting for her, having somehow let the younger and blonder one know the time. It's just before sunset now; Cat's got her backpack and guitar case with her. They're resting nearby as she looks out across the city below.
"So." Helena knows this building pretty well, and she's gotten good at making approaches without being heard. She leans against the wall of the chicken coop, studying Cat carefully. "I'm sure we could have found a spot in the library, but it is a something of a view up here."
"Yes," Cat replies, without turning around to look at the person who's arrived and speaks from behind her. "We could. But the place is new, there are people around, and 1407 might be compromised now." One hand reaches down to open the backpack by her left foot, from this she pulls out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Darfur," she remarks, as the cork is removed and liquid is poured.
"Lost Boys." Helena replies, and for the moment abstains from the wine. She walks over to an abandoned ironwork chair and takes a seat. "You freaked Peter out really badly, Cat."
She remains standing, and sets the bottle down when both glasses are filled. Given that Helena abstains, Cat leaves hers undisturbed as well. As she begins to speak, her voice is somber. "I had no idea he would show up, Stormy. It's unfortunate I wasn't able to brief you before he did. Things don't always go as one would hope." There's a pause, during which time she begins to replay the event in her mind.
"That night, I was headed to the Wench, to play. I decided to stop in Greenwich Village along the way and take a brief look. To compare images from the place's better days to how it is now. I'd dreamt of playing there, some years ago, when I was even younger than you. Needless to say, the visitation proved to be more interesting than I'd expected."
Helena remains quiet, keeping her own thoughts as to what Cat's said so far. "Go on." she prompts, waiting for the meat of the story.
"Silence was broken by the sound of an explosion. I heard breaking glass, triggered car alarms, and screaming. The two people between me and the noise, a man who turned out to be a teleporter and that woman who was there that night at Dorchester Towers, when we stopped Agent Woods from abducting us and recovered Rock, also noticed the sound and started moving toward where it came from. I stayed back, watching the area. There were dented cars, broken windows, people running and screaming. Behind them came two men. One was spraying acid from his body. The other was glowing. He started to throw bursts of energy around, making things explode. It seemed a situation that needed quick thinking and action. My bow was in the trunk, so I got it out and shot him in the chest. He fell." Her voice is hushed in saying so, the tone indicative of not being at all happy about how it played out, but also not sorry for her actions.
"Why would Peter seem to think the man wasn't able to help what he was doing?" Helena asks. The question is not accusatory, but rather a request for clarification. "How did the situation seem to you?"
"I can't speak on the man's motivations," Cat replies in that same tone. "He was flailing his arms around, they both were, lashing out at anything and anyone nearby. Shrieking. It's possible they didn't have control of themselves. I can neither confirm nor disprove that. Rock may have had more info than I did, in any case it wouldn't have mattered. A choice had to be made, Stormy. To act, or not act. There's no way I'd just stand still and let things go on as they were. Radiation was in play, explosive force. After my arrow, it wasn't."
Helena studies Cat for a long time. "I know you think what you did was right." she says. "And I know that you acted with the best of intention. I'll leave you to try and rebuild the trust between Peter and you if you want to bother at all, but he's hard to find these days. With the directions that PARIAH is going in right now, we can't afford violence unless it's absolutely necessary, and yes, I understand you thought it was. I'm going to put this away, but you need to be careful, Cat." That seems to be as far as Helena wants to go on the matter.
"I thought of that, Stormy," Cat states. "You and I both know the secret of how so much destruction happened here. The source of our problems, the reason Linderman's Act came to be. The way our abilities became public, the fear so many people have as a result. I think you'd have acted also. You did, when Rock began to lose it that night. The difference is you've got tools I don't. I couldn't knock him unconscious without getting close and being at risk. If I could, I would have.
She draws in a slow breath and releases it, then turns to face the blonde. "I don't know if the man lived or died. If he died, he's the first person I've killed. The only thing I can say more on how things played out is that he might've been building toward an explosion. It could be right, or wrong. Because I acted, we don't have to find out. We don't face the consequences of another nuclear blast. If Rock cares to ask me, I'll tell him the same. He can believe, or not. Things are what they are."
Helena doesn't comment further on the issue. If she's got more to consider about it, she keeps it to herself. "What else did you want to talk about?" Helena inquires. She shivers in the cold, and then with a moment's effort, makes the air around her a few degrees warmer.
"I'd hoped we might have general conversation," Cat replies, tapping one of the wine glasses as she speaks. "Such things, I can imagine, are all too rare for you, Stormy. And I thought about a few things, in terms of minor operations." One hand dips into the backpack and pulls out a few sandwich bags with cash money inside them. "You know Mr. Gestapo is having a party for Halloween."
"You mean the Linderman/Petrelli masquerade?" Helena asks. "Yeah, I've heard about it." She blinks at the bags. "Where did you get this?" she asks, curious.
"I'm not poor," Cat replies, "it came from my bank accounts. Each bag holds three hundred dollars, plus enough to acquire suitable costumes, should you decide to make an appearance and/or a statement. Enough for you and a few others to get in the door. In addition to that, or instead of it, charitable contributions in the organization's name could be made, given the stated purpose is to aid reconstruction efforts."
Helena looks at the money ruefully. "We can use it to help fund the miracle day. I don't think it would be a good idea to mess with their Halloween event, though I am considering leaving a present for Petrelli at his campaign quarters the Monday morning after. The security is going to be too heavy."
A nod. "I thought about that, and the chance you might not want to make a statement there. There would be risk of spin going against us for interfering with a charity event. If you did, it would definitely take some creativity to make it bulletproof against negative commentary." Cat tucks the money back into the pack and straightens. "Drink with me, Stormy?" she invites.
Helena rises from her chair and moves to join Cat. "Truth is, I'd want to go to something like for entirely selfish reasons that have nothing to do with the cause. And I really can't afford that."
"Fair enough," Cat quietly replies. She pulls out one of the bags and offers it up. "You can get in with that. Doesn't have to be about statements. You've been through a ton." She places her back to the roof's edge and leans a bit, with one hand picking up her wine glass.
Helena shakes her head. "I can't." she says firmly. "And there wouldn't be anyone there I'd want to dance with anyway. Believe me, I'll survive."
Alexander has arrived.
Again the money is tucked away. She takes a slow sip from her wine glass. "How are you, Stormy?" Cat asks quietly. Eyes study her, as if gauging her mental state. Looking for signs of failure to sleep and ill health possibly caused by stress or sorrow.
Helena is sitting on the edge of the building with Cat. The pair are sipping from wine glasses. "Tired." Helena admits. And she does look it, but she's not looking like she's about to expire.
Al doesn't bother to conceal his approach. He's got nothing to hide, and he knows who he expects to be there. There's the sound of boots on the stairs, and he comes ambling out, hands in his pockets, eyes on the few stars visible over the city's light pollution.
Her eyes remain on Helena, noting the tiredness. The voice is calm when she speaks, the volume kept low. "You're a remarkable person, Stormy. I don't know what your life's been like, I can only imagine it's been nothing like mine was at your age. You'll talk about it, or you won't. Either way, I'm listening." She trails off, eyes resting on the chicken coop for a moment. The solemn tone remains when she speaks again. "Some may doubt you, underestimate you because of your youth, and possibly for being female as well. I'm not one of them."
Helena shakes her head, starting to speak, when the boots herald and arrival. She turns her head. "Alex." she greets warmly. Then, "There's a few in PARIAH who underestimate me. They want things to go back to the way they were before. I'm going to let them leave."
"We've got room for a rooster," Cat replies with a chuckle as Alex asks his question. She shows a slight smile toward the man, followed by a single word. "Darfur." Then she's musing on a tangent. "Dolores O' Riordan. Cranberries. Zombie."
"We do." Helena confirms. "How are things coming at the library?"
Alexander grins at Cat, though it's an oddly sour and cynical expression. "Good. Ah got a bathtub or two up in there, now, hooked up some pipes to make a real shower. It looks real jury-rigged, but it'll work," he says, puffing up a bit.
"Will you crow at dawn, Rooster?" Cat asks with a slight laugh. She lifts her glass and sips from it, then eyes the man. "Sorry we don't have a third glass, but you can drink if you can find something to hold it, Al."
"I was brought up with the whole caring and sharing." Helena says with a soft laugh. "Here, Al." She holds out the wine glass, half expecting him to teek it to himself.
Alexander's smile is suddenly a touch smug. And indeed, the wine glass does go bobbling towards him, as if borne by invisible hands. No spilling, even - it's very Sorcerer's Apprentice. "If you ask real nice, Ah will."
The bottle rests against the wall near Cat's feet, close to her guitar case and backpack. The wine is a red one, of a decent vintage. It's by no means cheap stuff. She takes another sip. "You know, when things first started for me, I tested myself. Got seriously drunk to see if I'd forget anything."
"And did you?" Helena asks curiously, seeming content to lean back against the stone and watch the two of them bemusedly.
Alexander catches the glass out of the air, lifts it to them two handed in salute, and then takes a generous sip, before sending it back to Helena.
"I didn't," Cat replies with a mildly rueful chuckle. "Sometimes it's a curse, to never forget." Her glass is raised to match the toast. Whatever she might have done while thusly inebriated she won't say. But Dani might know.
 October 26th: Not Quite Clandestine |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 October 26th: Cherry Cobbler |