Participants:
| Scene Title | Soul And Faith |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | As one world descends into chaos, another seeks to protect its order. |
| Date | July 13, 2021 |
Busy city streets sweltering under one of the hottest summers on record give way to the crisp, air-conditioned offices of a federal building in downtown Washington D.C. A man in a dark suit as crisp as the air hustles across an embossed seal on the marble floor that depicts the seal of an eagle with wings spread over a pale triangle. The seal of the Office of External Investigations. In another world, nothing so public would ever be put on display, but here, the purpose and service of the OEI is handled openly, spoken of in disciplinary committees, budget hearings, and strategic conferences. Dozens of agents of the OEI exit through tall, stately doors at the end of their work-day, and one man in a dark suit blends in to the crowd departing for the night.
In this world, Edward Ray keep his own hours and operates openly, but still carries his secrets as close to the chest.
Outside the Office of External Investigations Headquarters
Washington D.C.
Bright Timeline
July 13th
6:37 pm
Sarisa Kershner is waiting in an unmarked black sedan on the curb outside of the office as Edward makes his way down the front stairs in a hasty jog, laptop bag tucked under his arm. Edward invites himself in to the passenger seat, quickly checking the back for but a moment.
"Expecting an uninvited guest?" Sarisa asks as she puts the car in drive and merges out of the parking lot into evening traffic. Edward doesn't acknowledge her playful observation.
"I found it."
"And?" Sarisa glances at him as she drives.
"It was buried in the mountain of documentation we'd recovered from Pinehearst. No official record, but anecdotal information in unrelated reports that allowed me to connect-the-dots enough." He leans over and—without asking—starts programming in an address to Sarisa's GPS system. "We've had it this entire time. Right here in DC." The address comes up as a cold storage facility used for housing biological evidence, operated by the FBI. "The body was checked in without identifiers, under the same codename that Pinehearst used when they archived it."
Sarisa watches the traffic, but can still see Edward's nervousness in her peripheral vision. "Did you make a formal request for investigation?"
"Of course not." Edward says with a fluttering laugh. "I did put in a call with an acquaintance though, to get us forged permissions. They'll be waiting for us at the storage facility."
"Who?"
Edward taps his nose. "I have to keep some of the mystique, don't I?"
Sarisa rolls her eyes and looks at the GPS, shifting lanes to head toward Logan Circle.
An Hour Later
Somewhere Off V Street Northeast
The sky has turned a fiery shade of orange by the time Sarisa pulls up to the unmarked storage facility on the east side of the city. There are no cars in the parking lot, and the entrance unlit and unremarkable as she and Edward approach. The two slip inside, greeted by a sterile office with a single employee seated behind a small desk, no waiting area space, and a single vending machine. A wall-mounted television plays the evening news on mute with subtitles. Edward approaches the counter, showing his OEI identification badge. "Ray, Kershner. We've a scheduled evidence review."
The front-desk clerk looks up, briefly checks his computer, then prints a pair of simple plastic badges for the pair and hands them over. "You're in 13A. If I'm not here when you head out, the door'll lock behind you and you won't be able to gain access until the morning. So, don't forget anything you can't do without." Edward flashes the clerk a brief smile, taking the badges and handing one off to Sarisa. "Oh, and there's some parkas on the other side of the door on the inside, 'case you're in there for too long."
"Thanks," Sarisa offers casually as she puts on her laminate badge and proceeds through the indicated door behind Edward. The hall beyond is inconspicuous, containing a row of white doors with alphanumeric stencils on them. 13A isn't far off the main entrance, and based on the spaces between the doors the evidence rooms aren't particularly large. Neither borrow the parkas the front desk security offered, neither hope to be here long enough to need them.
As Edward approaches 13A, he swipes his badge on the magnetic lock and it flashes green with a loud buzz. Pushing the door into the room, he makes way for Sarisa to follow him in before letting the door slowly swing shut. The space is—much as he anticipated—small. Wide enough to fit an examination table and enough space for one person to walk fully around it. The air is freezing cold, making their breath visible. Necessary, to preserve the corpse barely concealed in a black plastic bodybag.
Sarisa lingers by the door, slowly tugging one of her gloves off as Edward approaches the body. The tag attached to the corner of the body bag reads LAZARUS in hastily-scrawled ink. Edward snorts at the code name, then pulls down the zipper with no hesitation to reveal the mangled, partially-decomposed body of a middle-aged man. Much of his face and skull are missing, brain absent from the cranial cavity along with both eyes. Edward notes a dark discoloration inside one eye socket that looks distinctly like a burn down to the bone. No tattoos, a few small scars, barely identifiable.
"This level of decomp would've ruined prints." Sarisa indicates, looking at the condition of the hands. "He had to have sat out for… three or four days before being put in cold storage. And given the condition of his head, it's no wonder he wasn't identified. Are you sure it's him?"
Edward slowly shakes his head, unable to peel his gaze away from the single, blackened eye socket. "I brought you, didn't I?" And there's no humor in that. No mirth. He knows this won't be easy for her, and sympathizes. Sarisa lays her glove down on the side of the examination table, then reaches out to ghost her hand around the cadaver's mostly-intact jaw. "It's going to be fine," Edward says with a quiet, knowing certainty. It's as cold a comfort to Sarisa as this room. Never-the-less, she places her hand on the corpse's jaw and closes her eyes.
The only reaction Sarisa gives is a subtle furrow of her brows, a brief look of disgust, and then a growing expression of concern. As she pulls her hand away, opening her eyes, Sarisa swallows down bile in the back of her throat. "Samson," she says with a gesture to the damage done to the head, "as if it weren't obvious, but—"
"It's nice to have confirmation." Edward remarks, never looking away from that dark eye socket.
"It's him. Marcus Raith. He's—not a time-traveler. Not—not in the simplest sense of the word." Sarisa's words come with a dawning worry as she circles the table. "He… does something to magnetic fields. He was a mosaic, sort of. It's temporary. But his biology is set in some kind of…" her ungloved hand wavers in the air, "homeostasis. So long as he has access to his ability, his biology will rewind back to its last known best configuration."
"Like a regenerator?"
"Yes? No? It's—I'm not sure. It reminds me of Doctor Stevens, but internal rather than external." Sarisa turns to face Edward. "If Samson hadn't been killed the way he had…"
"With the virus," Edward pieces it together, eyes narrowing.
"He would've come back. But… Edward." Sarisa pulls on her glove and zips up the body. "He's a boogeyman. I saw glimpses—conspiracies—he's been maneuvering behind the scenes for decades. Your contacts were right. When the Company dealt a killing blow to Mazdak in the early 80s, he was there to sweep up the survivors and put them back together. He's been playing major government agencies for decades like a musical instrument. He was the most influential and powerful person in the world and…" Sarisa laughs at the absurdity of it, "he died because he tried to squeeze Arthur Petrelli, without knowing he was really Samson."
Edward slowly zips up the body, watching the bag as if he could still see that blackened eye socket through the plastic.
"The Home Office needs to know who they're in bed with." Sarisa says firmly, and Edward only looks up to her after a long, thoughtful moment.
"No." Edward stares through her, to the larger latticework of probability. "No, we can't let anyone know about this. Not even a hint. There's too much at risk, here, there—everywhere. Besides, if the HELE hits us we're all as good as dead. We need to… play this carefully. One crisis at a time, but we keep our eye on him. You need to figure out who else we can trust in our office, and I…"
"We can not sit on this forever." Sarisa gestures to the body. "For all we know the people who worked for him are still actively—"
Suddenly, Edward is right in her face. "Don't presume to lecture me about could-be's." The sudden intensity has Sarisa stepping back to the door, wide-eyed. "I… I'm sorry." He glances back at he body. "I need to go to Arizona. You need to find out who we can trust."
Sarisa stares at Edward for a long moment, instinctively defiant at being ordered around, but knowing he's right. "What is in Arizona?"
"Not what," Edward says as he reaches for the door. "Who?"