Side Projects


corbin_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif sabra_icon.gif

With an Appearance By


Scene Title Side Projects
Synopsis Turns out Corbin isn't the only one with 'personal research' going on; after getting caught, he gets just thrown deeper in.
Date July 14, 2010

Fort Hero: Sabra's Office

The setting is Sabra's office, the hour late; right on the cusp of when an average workday would be over, employees free to retreat home. Other employees: people who are not Sabra Dalton, Benjamin Ryans, or Corbin Ayers. The door into the office is open, as it often is during the day; Ashton is the only person in the main room, the computer quietly powering itself down, the aide busying himself with putting papers and files and folders back in their rightful places. He keeps a watchful but unobtrusive eye on the door as he does so; a part of his job, sometimes, is filtering those who seek the director's attention. Sabra herself isn't in sight — but the office's side door sits slightly ajar, though not enough to more than glimpse the room beyond.

With an external hardrive turned over and some paper files, Corbin doesn't bring anything to the meeting except himself, and a notebook with a pen poking out of the curved wires. "Hey, Ashton," he says as he enters, not sure if the other man knew exactly what he'd been handing over that morning after he was "caught" with his personal research. No more's gotten done, but he's here now— and he moves to find a seat, perhaps suspecting it would be best he sit down for this.

Moments after Corbin has arrived, Benjamin Ryans steps into office, face in it's typically stoney nuetrality. He's dressed rather casually in his suit jacket, shirt and jeans. Dressed for comfort really. A curious glance goes to Corbin, before he turns to offer Ashton a small hint of a smile, while nodding to the office door. "Is she ready in there?" It's asked as she starts to ease the jacket off carefully, draping it over his own arm.

Nodding politely to Corbin first, then to Ryans upon the assistant director's entrance, Ashton directs them both into the other room. Apparently, she is. They can hear him close the hall door behind them.

In some sense, the second room of Sabra's office is a slightly more relaxed environment — the darkly stained table is a little too low to be called a conference table, and the burgundy-upholstered chairs are certainly comfortable to sit in. Sabra's taste in decor is visible all through the room — the walls have actually been painted, alternating amber and dark tan, as well as hung with a few prints and one genuine picture. The small kitchenette in the corner of the lounge, however, is purely Ashton's domain; it wasn't Sabra who set out three cups of tea, two of them at places that, presumably, have been designated for her company.

Leaning back comfortably into her chair, wrinkled fingers wrapped around her teacup, Sabra also nods to her guests in unconscious mimicry of Ashton's gesture. "Corbin. Benjamin, it's good to have you back. Is there anything I need to know about from your trip?" 'Unofficially', that would be, not in her official persona.

At the set out tea, Corbin moves to a more comfortable seat and takes a few sips of it, before looking across at the older woman, who'd caught him doing things he shouldn't have before. There's a pause at her question, a blink of surprise, as it was unexpected, and he glances towards Ryans. "There were a few things that happened there, yes…" From the way his eyes stay on Ryans, he's looking to him to field the answer to that question. "I left early, so I'm not sure how everything turned out…" He'd like to say it had nothing to do with his personal research, but he'd be lying, just a bit.

"Sabra." Benjamin Ryans offers politely in greeting, draping his jacket over the back of his chair. He doesn't sit just yet, when the inquiry is made, both hands rest on the back of the seat. "It went as well as expected. Only a small snag, but from what I can tell, we are still good." His words are honest as he explains what happened, moving to sink into the chair. "Sending Corbin ended up being in our favor, with his connections… Balfuer's daughter is safe for the moment."

For how long he doesn't know. "They might have seen me… but I am not completely certain." He leans back gingerly in his seat and works at the buttons on his sleeves, rolling them up, which exposes some of the bruising left from his tumble. "If they have, I would have expected we'd have our walking papers by now and Harper gleefully doing so."

"Perhaps," Sabra allows, nodding to Ryans. "On the other hand, they may want additional time to get their pieces into place." She smiles thinly at them both. "Your unpleasant thought for the evening, gentlemen. However, whatever the case may be, I at least am not about to look a gift horse in the mouth." The elderly woman glances past the two men as Ashton enters the room, carrying a set of folders and a slim hard drive case that should seem quite familiar to Corbin. "For your sins, Mr. Ayers," Sabra remarks, a grimly satisfied smile bestowed upon the archivist, "you are about to be dragged willy-nilly down the rabbit hole. If you have questions, ask them, but bear in mind that the less you know, the less you can be made to surrender."

Pausing to take a sip from her cup, Sabra nods to Ryans. "Has there been any response to your meeting request yet?" Meanwhile, Ashton sets the materials down on the table, then retreats to his usual hovering distance.

"I have a feeling I've been fumbling around in it a while now," Corbin says softly, switching from one older person to the next— even if Ryans no longer looks his age, and then stopping to look at the folders and the slim external harddrive, that had one purpose only— to store files that he knew good and well he wasn't supposed to be copying in the first place. "What meeting request?" he chooses to ask first, prying his eyes back to Ryans, with a curious tilt of his head. There's a lot that he's known some of, but now he's finding out he didn't know other things at all.

"None." The Assistant Director say with a small shake of his head. "Beauchamp's urgent request for a meeting was not what I had hoped, in fact, it brought us more problems. Which are not surprising really. " He then glances to Corbin, studies the younger man, the fact he is here at Sabra's request makes the senior agent more at home to answer the question. "I requested a meeting with Noah Bennet." The name shouldn't be unknown at least.

"Abigail says she knows him," How well, the older man can't really say. Leaning forward to pick up the tea cup before him, he continues. "With hope we can get his people online to help us keep people away from the Institute's hands."

Sabra smiles faintly at Ryans' declaration of not surprising really. "I will see if I can contact him through other channels. I suspect we need to move quickly if anything is to move at all." She shifts her attention to Corbin. "I have three tasks for you," she informs the archivist. "First, to compile such information as we have that may damage the Institute. Second, the same for things that may prove — useful, or even merely interesting — for such people as Bennet's associates."

Setting her cup down on the table, Sabra offers Corbin a small smile. "Finally, since you have shown such interest in preserving our archives, it becomes your task to ensure the files are relocated, in secrecy, or destroyed, or left behind as befits their content." She nods towards Ashton. "Many determinations have already been made, but more hands may mean we finish the work in time."

"Really? Bennet?" Corbin repeats the name, even sitting up a bit with that schoolboy look in his eyes that makes him look younger than he actually is. But one thing he saw often working in the archives was Mr. Noah Bennet. He may have seen more had he worked in Odessa, Texas, but he read enough reports to find the man very interesting.

There's also that look in his eyes, very brief. As if he's asking without asking 'Can I come?'

He has other assignments though, which make his head bob, surprised. "I— so what I was doing actually wasn't— well, it's good to know that I wasn't alone in my worries… Where do you want me to relocate them to?"

A small hint of a smile tugs at Ryans' lips at that expression from Corbin. "You are not alone in your worries." The senior agent offers in soft reassurance. "In fact, I would say most of us that have been around the Company for so long are concerned… well…" A glance that goes to Sabra. "Those of us that have not gone rogue."

Ryans sets his tea cup down gently, letting Sabra ask what she needs of Corbin, keeping quiet while she talks.

Sabra smiles faintly at the other two, taking her cup back up as they converse. "Far from alone," she affirms for her own part, "but you understand why you were not told of this." It's not a question, and in the event he doesn't understand, there's no sympathy pending. She nods towards Ryans. "Just as you understand why I will not detail the records project now. We'll speak of it later, Corbin."

Another small, polite sip of tea, and Sabra turns her attention to Ryans. "There's another thing I want you to ask for from Noah." She glances towards the door, and by extension the halls beyond. "Non-Evolved employees. Especially the smallest cogs in our organizational machine." Blue eyes return to Ryans. "The ones the Institute won't even know they've missed without an indexed catalogue. Most of us would pose significant liability to his people, but they should be safe to ship out."

"Yeah, I understand," Corbin says with a nod, looking down and away for a moment. "Same reason I didn't go to anyone about my side project." The more people know, the easier it is to abuse— sadly control of information was his primary job for a long time. And then the world found out about the Evolved and his job got a lot more complicated. "I'll find out what I can and get to work on everything." Off the books work, but— he'd already been doing some.

"Of course, I'm just relieved that something is being done," Ryans says with a small incline of his head in agreement. "And I trust that it will get done." His head shifts slightly towards Corbin Ayers, obviously including him in that statement. "I'll see what I can find out about your request as well."

Fingers lace together, elbows propped on the arms of the chair he is in. "Abigail brought me word that there is a chance Darren Stevens was possibly taken by the Institute, I've sent a message to the Chicago branch to find out what the situation is." There is a heavy sigh, his head shaking. "Resurrection is a hell of an asset to them, I'm sure." He motions to the Director. "I'll keep you informed, Sabra, of what I hear.

"Also… unsurprisingly, Harper may be recruiting on the inside." The Assistant-Director shifts to sit a bit straighter. "A postcog allegedly found this out." The older man sounds grim. "And I find it hard to doubt the information, because Agents Lupinetti and Dawson were mentioned as… 'being on board.'" He looks from one to the other. "Who knows who else he has gotten, too. So tread carefully."

"Indeed," Sabra agrees. "And there is no telling what rooms may have been bugged — Harper alone can see to that, never mind subverted agents." More unpleasant thoughts for the evening: assume they all are. One last sip of tea, and the woman sets her cup on the table. "Is there anything else we need to address tonight?" she asks, looking from one to the other.

"Son of a— " Corbin half curses at the mention of the resurrection power possibly falling into the Institute hands. Not just that, but the man who he'd said would be in good hands… isn't now. "I want to know what happened to Stevens," he adds to Ryans, before looking back and the older woman in charge and shaking his head. "Not right now— I hope at least this room is safe." If it's not, then any plotting to try and stop this mess may as well end now…

Eyes cast down to the desk in front of him, before he shakes his head slowly, looking up at Sabra again slowly. "None, director. I'll let you know what I find out. Both of you." Ryans turns his attention to Corbin. "If need be, we'll take another road trip to Chicago." A smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth, already he's begun to unroll his sleeves and button them, hiding the bruising.

"I may need back up. On the Noah meeting, as well…" He glances at Sabra. "… as well as contacting the party that gave us the newest information, but only after I hear back from Chicago." Ryans goes to stand, his movements stiff. The climb up those apartment stairs earlier on brought out some of the aches. "By your leave, Sabra?" He asks politely, with an incline of his head.

"There are a few we're reasonably confident of. This is one." Her own expression impassive, save for a slight smile, Sabra turns to Ryans and inclines her head — rather regally — in reply. "Granted, of course. Good evening, gentlemen, and my thanks for your time."

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