Sportsmanlike Conduct


cat_icon.gif veronica2_icon.gif

Scene Title Sportsmanlike Conduct
Synopsis Veronica and Cat meet and play nice, despite their differences.
Date January 10, 2010

USS George Washington

On the tenth day, Cat set out from the space she shares with Elisabeth Harrison to obtain lunch around noon. Food was found in the mess hall, and she sat down to partake of it. As she eats, various sailors, enlisted Marines, and officers of both types pass by in the course of arriving, eating, and departing. A good number of them recognize her, most of them being appreciative of something or other.

"Are you going to play your axe for us again before the icepack, Catherine?" Her eyes lift to settle on a a brunette petty officer first class, and a slight smile forms. "Probably," she informs. "Awesome," the PO1 answers as she goes on her way. Cat gazes off into the distance then, seeming adrift in something.

After a run in the ship's work out room, managing three miles today but still too far from her usual five-a-day to be happy, Vee hit the showers and is now in search of food to replenish herself. Her hair still wet from the shower and her body a bit dwarfed by the too-big marine gear she wears, since most of her own clothing is too far gone to wear. She picks up a tray and slides it along, gathering a salad and a tuna sandwich, then grabbing her typical bottle of water. Turning toward the tables full of sailors she doesn't know, she is content to head to an empty table before her dark eyes catch sight of Cat staring into the distance.

Changing directions, she heads that way, tabbing the place across from the woman. "Okay if I sit, or…?" she says politely, smiling. Agent Sawyer gives people the option to shun her, if they find it preferable to Company company.

The reverie breaks, her eyes move to settle on the woman who just spoke, and a nod follows. "Certainly," Cat offers. Her own food is a cheeseburger and fries, with ketchup, mushrooms, and cola. Poise returns with her restored focus on the here and now, the woman clad in jeans and a vintage Heart concert t-shirt has a bearing which runs counter to her attire.

There is also an air of recognizing Veronica about her.

Veronica smiles and climbs over the bench of the picnic-style table to sit, wincing just slightly when her injured leg makes the journey over. She nods to the other woman's clothing. "Lucky you, still have some civvies left, hm? Mine were mostly shredded or so mildewy I figured they were biohazardous," the agent quips, reaching for salt and pepper and pulling off the bread of her sandwich to season the contents inside. "You Bravo or Charlie?" That of course answers her own affiliation by process of elimination.

"Cat," she replies with a hint of a grin forming. Charlie, in her mind, also ties to a woman who had the same ability, the girlfriend Hiro said Gabriel Gray murdered to steal it. "But I was on team Charlie also. Russia wasn't as dire as other places in this mission. But far more frozen." There had been thought of withholding her name, but she's certain the agent's seen her face and file before.

"Veronica Sawyer," she says, offering her hand. There's no point in hiding her identity at this point, and Cardinal likely has told any of his comrades she's an agent anyway. "Call me Veronica, Vee, Sawyer, whatever. Pleased to meet you." She puts her bread back on her sandwich but doesn't bite just yet; instead she uncaps her water bottle and takes a long drink. "Just ran a few miles. Appetite's not here yet, but I know I should eat." She scowls at the food.

The hand is taken. Cat shakes once and releases; her skin is warm, smooth and soft except for calluses near the fingertips. Her grip has some strength to it, though she doesn't seek to apply it in a fashion which might cause discomfort. "A runner," she muses, "I'm more partial to situps, push-ups, and martial arts exercise."

And she opts not to speak of knowing who the woman is just yet. "Veronica, or Vee," she states quietly, as if she were saying it to confirm hearing, "I'll remember that." The hand she shook and released with lifts her cola slightly as she remarks "Navy food and coffee isn't entirely bad."

The agent smiles at the response. "I do those too. Have a couple black belts. But I try to run a few miles a day. Clears my mind. Not quite up to par after Argentina. Just my second day back on a treadmill, though it feels … mostly… good." She speaks in fragments, less formally than Cat. "I think I saw you once at that club — The Rock Cellar?" she says, tilting her head. "Strange night. When Varlane went floating." She chuckles at the memory and shakes her head.

"You did," Cat replies with a grin. "It was the night Else Kjelstrom had her CD launch concert party. And I remember Officer Varlane going aloft. It was an unforgettable sight." So is everything else, but Veronica doesn't know that. Or does she? Cat isn't sure. The glass is imbibed from as Cat also wonders what if anything in the way of response mentioning Else's name will bring out.

"Yeah. I thought her music was just sort of creepy in a good way but … she must be a precog of sorts?" Veronica says with a shake of her head as she thinks back on the song's words and the meaning that's just now making sense to her.

"Beaches of 34th Street indeed. Let's hope we can avert whatever it was that inspired her. I didn't catch which part of the next operation you're on? Or do you get to sit out the next dance?"

"She is," Cat confirms. "I've had all of this on my mind for months now, started to a degree when I reas about the Vanguard stealing a Russian nuke last March, then really got my attention on hearing those words. Munin was the trigger, made me think of more than a song. You've seen all the Norse names Vanguard uses, Munin was one of them."

"I'm part of the team headed to take out the geodesic dome with backup power sources and security apparatus." Cat doesn't seem at all fazed by the task, nor by the stakes of the entire operation. Confidence is exuded, in a calm way.

Veronica nods. "I didn't remember that part… I haven't heard the song in a while, and out of … ears, out of mind, I guess. Wow." She finally picks up her sandwich and takes a bite, chewing and then swallowing. "Got it. I couldn't remember where everyone else was headed, too many names I'm not certain of." As she doesn't have the super memory. "Good luck. It's one of those puzzle piece operations, you know? Everything has to work or nothing does." She frowns at the consequences of that possibility.

"We won't fail," Cat quietly asserts. "The bomb will be disarmed, civilization will go on." Hands take up the burger and lift it, she seems about to bite in. Is she really made of ice and unconcerned, or is this a simple act aimed at boosting spirits? Or denial of misgivings. ""Team Shield Three has an equally important task. It is suspected that Wagner may have made a quiet takeover of the compound, there were two Evolved registered with the People's Republic of China. Lindsay Cho; a pyrokinetic, and Mei Shen; classified as an empath. No further information about these individuals came from the Chinese government."

"Wagner is likely keeping them alive and captive in the secondary food locker of a second floor mess hall. This room is accessed only by a freezer door, and any prisoners Vidar has kept to enhance himself are most likely detained at that location once he has made a connection with them.%r"Shield Three consists of people trusted with being able to handle the assignment to the best of their capabilities; Veronica Sawyer, Magnes Varlane, Francois Allegre, and Elisabeth Harrison. Disabling or removing these individuals will be paramount to diminishing Vidar's capabilities, should a direct confrontation be necessary."

Veronica's brows knit together as the woman almost robotically repeats what was said at the briefing in almost identical words. Her lips twitch into a half smirk and she nods. "I know… I was at the briefing," she says, unsure if the woman was there or not, and if she was, perhaps does not think that the agent was.

Another bite is taken and chewed, then she tilts her head at Cat. "I know Harrison's work, and Varlane's. What's Allegre like? Can he handle the task?" Of course she's met the man, and she knows his background, but she doesn't know him.

No reply comes while Cat's mouth is busy with the bite of cheeseburger she just took. Chewing happens slowly and throughly, her mouth closed and without noise, a grace which perhaps hints at being raised in upper society or to just have impeccable table manners. "You said you couldn't remember where everyone was headed," Cat replies easily once able to politely do so. "I do."

"Francois Allegre is very capable," she assures, "he fought in the French Army in 1940 and afterward was with the French Resistance. Then he spent a good deal of time studying and opposing the Vanguard."

Amused, Veronica shakes her head. "Well, I remember who's on my team, yes, and where I was going," she says with a smile. "But thanks for the total recall." She nods at the information of Francois. "All right. I just… want to be sure he can do the job he's been chosen to do, you know? I worry a little about Varlane. We'll try to preserve life, of course, but if we have to kill them, I'm not sure he'd be able to pull the trigger. I know Harrison can. Allegre — well. 1940 was a long time ago, and he's been more about preserving life than ending it in more recent history, from what I understand."

"Hard and sad choices have to be made in a case like this," Cat agrees. "Last January, on the Narrows bridge, it was the same. The virus had been given to a number of people kept in a truck on that bridge. Lightning was thus called down to incinerate the truck." And the people in it. "Otherwise there was risk of the contagion being spread from them. At the other locations, we were able to neutralize it without release by thermite grenades."

The agent nods, finishing her sandwich and beginning her salad. "It happens. I'm worried about Varlane in such a situation. He's a good kid and great when it comes to beating the shit out of robots, but not sure when it comes to people who just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it was a matter of revenge, he'd do it, but…" she shrugs. "I guess that's why there's a team, I suppose. I can make the hard choice if I have to."

"One would hope," Cat states somberly, "despite Varlane's immaturity he never has to make such choices. One would hope no one does, for that matter, but fortune won't smile on us like that. There are too many nutjobs who think they can remake the world in one giant stroke. Who can't understand the world isn't broken. Or are just plain out to seize power and shred the Constitution."

"No one should have to, especially not 21 year old kids." Never mind she was Company before she was quite 22. But she had grown up quick when her father was killed. "Good luck in your mission. This has been a strange few weeks, people working together who would normally be at each other's throats. Wonder what it will be like when we return back to New York." She uses the sanguine "when" rather than "if," so perhaps Brian's faith rubbed off during the phone call last night.

"I'm quite certain," Cat states quietly, "there are a number of things we'd disagree on, and quite possibly always will. But all of that is entirely moot if that weapon detonates and the world floods." Her confidence that won't happen remains, as to punctuate the last spoken sentence she picks up the burger and bites carefully into it again. Eating her food just as easily as if she were discussing an upcoming stage performance or a classroom lecture at her alma mater, Yale.

Well, that's putting it mildly but Veronica smiles. "What martial art do you practice?" she says, in a sudden change of topic. "We could spar sometime, if you promise not to try to kill me and adhere to the code of sportsmanlike conduct." The last is said facetiously, the formal tone perhaps a slight tease toward Cat's demeanor.

"Krav Maga," Cat replies with a nod. "Sparring is always good." Her hand moves, she lifts and drinks from the cola. Inwardly she's smiling, having succeeded in holding this conversation and not giving away how much she knows of the agent.

"Ahh. You'd like my partner. Except even if you win, you don't," Veronica says, as Curt Lu's style of fighting is more like Krav Maga than anything she's studied. "I'm Hapkido and Taekwondo, myself." Silly Caucasian woman, playing with swords. Not that she spends most of her time with swords these days. Finishing her salad, she stands. "It was nice to meet you in person, Cat," she says with a smile.

"Likewise, V," Cat replies. "I'm also a decent archer. High school required everyone to take part in some sport, that was mine." Food is finished off, the plate left empty before her as she seems to relax marginally and from time to time enjoy the cola.

"Ah," Veronica says with a nod. "I was track and volleyball with a side of tennis," she says with a wink. "I didn't do martial arts til I got to college." She lifts her hand in farewell, and leaves Cat to resume her reverie, the agent's own mind now filled with the sounds of Else Kjelstrom and her precognitive lyrics.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License