The Inheritors Of Hope


broome_icon.gif else_icon.gif eve4_icon.gif quinn5_icon.gif

Scene Title The Inheritors of Hope
Synopsis Quinn and Eve come to Else's rescue, and discover a gallery of truths.
Date November 8, 2011

The Commonwealth Arcology, Cell 0133

"Where… where did we go wrong? Was it in our… childhood?"

Alarm klaxons report a steady, deafening beat. Their shrill cry is a steady off and on of mechanical alert, a warning to anyone who can hear: it is not safe. What the alarms fail to realize, is that it never was safe. For anyone, anywhere.

"We… are all… just… dust and bone."

Curled up in the round, faux window of her containment cell within the A-Ring of the Commonwealth Arcology, Else Kjelstrom has her knees tucked to her chest, mouth resting against the backs of her knees, murmuring the lyrics of a song against the alarms. Her eyes are partway lidded, just half moons of pearl white, ringed with red.

"Did… better than we could…"

Outside of Else's cell, automatic gunfire pops in staccato rhythm that does nothing to match the cadence of her words. Screams, too, are muffled and joined by the sound of grinding metal and the thump of distant explosions. The overhead lights flicker, guttering as though they were candles, threatening to cast the red-lit room into total darkness.

"But we… aren't… them. We make our own choices."

Another explosion, this time closer, shakes the floor of Else's cell. It rattles a pencil off of her desk, sends it clattering to the floor to land amid the scattered sheets of note paper torn from her journal. Most pages are just black, colored over entirely with all the ink a single pen can muster. Others are merely symbols, repetitions of an S shape with irregular forked protrusions.

"We… aren't… them. We're the sum of our memories."

Gunfire ricochets off of Else's door, followed by a gurgling scream and a thump. There's muttering voices, another scream and a second blast of automatic gunfire. Then silence outside.

"The sum of their tragedies."

Else's muscles tense when something slams hard against her door. But her eyes do not clear. Then there's a clattering sound, a snap and a pop. Finally, there's an audible ding from the door as someone from far away undoes the security lock.

"We're the children… of tomorrow. We're the inheritors… of…"

The door swings open, revealing the interior of Else's studio apartment-like cell to Robyn Quinn and Eve Mas. Outside, gunfire echoes down the halls. The Institute is falling, but once they saw her name on the registry of detainees, they knew they had to rescue her.

"The inheritors of… hope."

Largely, Robyn Quinn had been content to follow Eve Mas' lead - she is, effectively, her squad leader for this, and though she is only acquaintances with the other musician she could tell quickly she has more experience in this than she does. She is here to save people, the shooting and the fighting are secondary to that. If she can avoid them, that’s her plan.

But then she'd seen the manifest of captives, and there was one impossible name on the list. Else Kjelstrom. But that was wrong, right? Her body had been found almost exactly a year ago, along with Andy's. That her friend, one of her idols could still be among the living and captive of the Institute was almost too good to be true.

But, if nothing else, the last few months have conditioned Quinn to expect and believe the impossible. Adel, Lene, the visions last year, and so many other things were testaments to that.

So when she sees that name, Quinn takes charge, in a sense. She lets Eve take point, help direct her in handling any situations that pop up - Colette, Raith and Ygraine's training has proven beyond useful - but the decisions are being made by her, for once.

When the door is thrown open and she actually lays eyes on Else, framed by the red light of the digital display behind her, Robyn Quinn's breath is stolen from her lungs as she gasps. "No fuckin' way," she breathes out, lowering her pistol as her eyes widen. The alarms fade from her for a moment, pulling the one earbud out of her ears and letting it hang on her shoulder. The music had been to help keep her focused despite instances that she should, that it would distract her.

She doesn't even notice when the track switches to "No More Summertimes To Come".

"I don't remeber this place being this loud!" can be heard just as the door slides open revealing Else's room to Eve and her fellow musician. Not that Eve remembers much at all of the place. Just bits and pieces.. deserted hallways, peaceful rooms.. Simon..? The fog on her memories of this place are like a wave with it's ebbs and flow. She can't seem to get the whole picture of her experience here. No amount of confering with Gillian or Elisabeth on her time here has helped. But any intel is better than no intel. When Quinn spots Else's name on the list it was a no brainer to the fellow seer to accompany the woman. Nobody ever really looks after the oracles she feels like. Hard to be contained she would say to anyone who asked. And while Quinnie might be slightly new to the whole shoot em up bang bang, Eve has none nothing but for years now. Allowing Quinn to take point while making sure the woman doesn't get shot in the head or something is a fine task for Eve to set herself too. For she has reasons beyond saving people.. and even Else for coming here..

The dark haired oracle blinks as the door opens smoke trailing from the.. is that a goddamn Desert Eagle in the woman's hand. She rubs the the barrel in her hair as it cools off oblivious to any heat that might burn her scalp.

Her attire is basically appropriate with her usual dress this time the fabric black with a split up two sides for movement, the black leggings she wears stop just short of her black combat boots. The dark trenchcoat flares behind the woman and would remind anyone who was around in those days of PARIAH. At her back a shotgun slung with the strap diagonal across her chest along with a two thigh holsters, one empty and the other holding a smaller handgun. Her eyebrows raise as she tilts her head. Dark smudges of paint can be seen drawn in a line under her eye. It's a cross between a goth comando rebel chick or something. "I mean the lightining is a really nice touch I don't remember that either but the HEE HAN HEE HAN has got to stop."

Walking slowly into the room she dips her knees in the direction of Else. "Sister, it's been almost forever." she grins widely at Quinn. Nearing Else she crouches taking note of the pages on the ground. It looks like Eve's room. "Always pages on the ground, we're a messy lot aren't we?"

The noise of two intruders rouses Else from her prophetic reverie. She breathes in deeply, the darkness of her eyes bleeding through the white. Again, she breathes, a hastened gasp of shock as she sees people who aren't Institute scientists in her room. One tentative leg at a time, Else slides out of the windows, her shadow is long and black against the floor, silhouetted in bright red.

"What," is the breathless exhalation of shock that Else can muster. "H-how — " it doesn't matter. She flicks a dark-eyed stare to Quinn, brows scrunching up in a don't I know you look, but her dark eyes land more squarely on Eve.

"D'you come all this fuckin' way t'rescue me? Is this — " Else motions to the ceiling. "Is this one of them raids? Am I on a raid?" There's a stockholm-syndrome level of excitement about that, along with a bubble of nervous laughter. Else is also crying, too, though she doesn't seem to realize it. Dark makeup is smudged below her eyes. She's — not well.

Quinn doesn't even notice or care about the lack of recognition. It's almost certainly true that Else means more to Quinn than she ever would to Else. That doesn't temper the wide smile that forms on her face as Else speaks up. It's her. "You could say that," the Irishwoman offers, stepping more fully into the room. For the first time, her eyes leave Else too look around the "apartment" more fully - who knows what could be waiting for them, after all. All she really sees if papers all over the floor. She keeps her pistol up, finally smart enough not to mimic TV and movies - thanks Raith.

"Came t' get a few people," she says, one hand releasing the grip of the pistol, light radiating from her hand before forming up into a shaped ball, floating seemingly harmlessly alongside Quinn, shedding more light into the room. "Wasn't-" she swallows, trying to not let some emotion creep into her face. "Wasn't expectin' to find you here, Else. Couldn't be happier t', though." As she starts to cross the room, she stops, bending down to pick up some of the fallen papers. Sheet music. Lyrics. Else has been writing.

That should bring a smile to Quinn's face, but it feels too contrary, too normal. She furrows her brow. "You've been busy, I see!" she offers as she looks back up at Else. That dark, smeared makeup, it makes her breath hitch again. Just what in the world has been going on here?

Whether Else remembers them both or just Eve or none of them heardly phases the woman, she's seen weirder and worst. "Someone has to look after us crazy oracles right?" Eve says with a sheepish smile and a hand reaches out to touch the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't do as right by you as I thought I did before." A confusing statement with a lot of heart behind it. "But that Feng man was just.. so unreasonable." The twin sticks poking out of her bun come close to poking Else in the chin as Eve launches herself into Else for an embrace. The embrace is quick as Eve pulls out a bag.. from her messenger bag. She carries extras? "Things have been all sorts of wooha crazy. The future isn't as clear.. everyone wants to fix the time before or the time coming. But you.. you can see!" Eve comes to that conclusion as Quinn's light assists with the look around the room. Tossing the bag to Quinn she nods to the pages, speaking to both the women, "If we're as alike as we think we are then you might want your pages for a later day." A twinkle in her gray eyes under that red light.

As Eve backs away to survey more of the room she scratches her head with her hand this time and not a gun that could blow through said skull. "I also came for something that's mine. Many somethings. Have you seen Simon?" the question is asked lightly as if they aren't on a clock here. Eve always moves at her own pace though it seems.

Else looks a little overwhelmed. Her hands tremble, throat works up and down in a dry swallow. "I… I don't…" she cuts herself off. I don't know how I got here seems like a weird question to ask her rescuers. There'll be plenty of time to discuss it later, once they're all safe.

"They've… had me writin'," Else admits, not even entirely sure who they are. "There was a little girl here too, she mimicked my powers. Made 'em stronger too." Her dark eyes flick from Quinn to Eve, uncertain of what comes next, after a fashion. "I tried t'write alone, but no words came. It was just…" she motions to the pages on the floor covered in black ink.

"But sometimes, I got somethin'. Julie helped me," Else offers in a whisper. "I din' even need…" Refrain goes unsaid. Eve understands. Quinn doesn't need to know if she didn't already. Finally, Else steps forward and into a pair of slip-on sneakers. Working one heel back and forth, she looks to Eve.

"I ain't seen Simon, but — if you mean yet paintings, I've seen 'em. They got a whole gallery down 'ere."

Julie is not a name Quinn recognises. It might have been on the list - there might have been a few Julies for all she knows. The list is kind of a blur if she’s going to be honest. But the fact that someone was getting Else to write is an immediate flag as red as the panel in the window Else had been sitting in.

Attention turned to the floor, to black ink. She blinks. “Eve…” she starts, remembering the dream Eve had mentioned to them. “You’ve seen a buncha black lately, yeah?” Hopefully not a connection, but she can’t help but swallow at that.

Quinn doesn’t need to know about Else’s drug habits, so she doesn’t push. She’s had her own occasional vices in the past, and while Refrain was never one of them she’s certianly not one to pry. Instead, she has other thoughts on her face as she takes the messenger bag offered to her and starts to put pages into it. “Else, are- are you- can you get outta here? With us? Seem a bit outta sorts, hope that girl didn’t get t’ ya or anythin’.” A look offered to Eve. “We can hit th’ gallery on the way out I figure. You take paintin’s, I’ll hold on t’ the music, yeah?”

The precog standing scrunches her nose up. Forcing Else to use her gift with no explanation to her as to what she was doing makes Eve a little upset. "Well maybe these will be of use then. All my pages have been black lately. Lots of space with nothing it in." She says of the straight black abyss she has seen. "You got tweaked, injected with this Julie she injects you, you produce your writings. It's a nutty circle, she can take the blindfold off." at the word inject she taps her head and then mimics a motion towards Else. Julie must be a powerful ass little lady.

"I'm happy you don't need it at all. I knew it." a slight grin from Eve but her face grows serious as she listens to Else's words about Simon and the paintings. An eye twitches as she tightens her grip on her firearm. Edging towards the door she nods at the two women, "Point me in the right direction? Or show me the way yea." The darker haired woman nods and Eve takes a peek out of the door into the hallway. "We should move. I have to find Gilly and Lene before we make our exit."

Else furrows her brows, looking a little shaky. She reaches up, light-headed, and gently lays a hand on Quinn's shoulder to balance herself. An unusual aurora borealis of green and yellow light flicker-dances up her arm, reflects in her dark eyes. "I'm — not sure what tha' was," Else admits, then looks worried to Quinn and Eve. But there's no time, now, to dwell on it.

"I can show you where the paintings are, they're up on this level. Jus' down the hall." Then, realizing she's in but track pants and a t-shirt, Else steps behind Quinn. "I'll, ah — I'll show y' where t'go. Jus', please don' let me get shot, a'ight?" She grimaces, ignorantly. "I hear's not great." She doesn't know, or remember.

"Right, then," Quinn gives a shoulder for Else to brace herself on, eyes drawn to the green and yellow sparks of light. Quinn reaches up, trying to draw them to her hand. "You don't-" Quinn purses her lips. Maybe this was something that had to do with that Julie she mentioned. A side effect? It gives her a headache. Well, she already has one but this doesn't help. "We'll figure it out," Quinn reassures. "Maybe we'll get t' ask someone on the way out."

It's a bit of a sardonic quip, but a part of Quinn hopes that's actually how this goes down. A little bit of luck among the muck. With Else balanced, she pulls the earbud back up and settles it back into her ear, halfway through "We've Had Enough" by Alkaline Trio. "If you stop bein' able t' see, that's me makin' you invisible, yeah? Gota bit a' plaster t' patch anythin' up with but I'd really rather not have t'." A look up to Eve, and a nod. "What do you think, Eve?"

Oh Else you.. what have they done?" Eve's eyes widen at the strange light that emits. She nods her head. "It's always dark until it's light ha.." Knowing that Quinn has Else she ventures out into the hallway and down it towards the door Else was indicating. "Getting shot really sucks. But when there's someone with hot hands you can be all sealed up in no time." Hot hands = healers. The blaring of the alarm is really irking Eve's nerve and she waves her firearm up at one of the vents. "It's not like these things are really warning people! We're here!" she shouts and looks back at the other two musicians.

"As long as we're safe that's good." The trio making their way through the level, Eve takes the time to scan each corner and doorway for no surprises. Flashes of memory strike her and she squints her eyes as they come to the door that is supposed to lead to the gallery. Eve looks nervous. Losing her paintings has been like losing a piece of herself.

"I mean, I can't make that promise," Quinn offers, and it's meant to be a sort of joke to pierce the mood, but it's a little too true to stick that landing, and instead she just wrinkles her nose. "Alright Else, keep a hand on me if y' need to, or take mine." She switches her pistol to rest in her dominant hand, looking down to count the clips she has left. Probably not enough, but- it'll have to do. She'd had to argue to get to being the handgun, she had been told it wouldn't do much. But it's what she's the best shot with.

She swallows audibly. "Stay close, Else. Just- be a GPS, an' tell us when we need t' turn as best as y' can." She nods, following after Eve. She is, after all, the point woman for this insane trip. "T' the gallery, and then on t' getting the fuck out of 'ere."

Grinning at the display of Quinn's power Eve nods and continues to lead the way. "Else.. did you meet the one that has come from the other timeline? The Cardinal that is not our Cardinal?" She asks the question fleetingly. Trailing her pale fingers along the walls of the level. "I was let go. If I had known you were here. I would have stayed." She offers in apology to the other seer staring at where.. a wall of nothing.

For all that both Quinn and Eve have questions for Else, the musical precognitive is notably silent during their excursion through the halls of A-Ring, mostly because it's become a battlefield. From the third tier balcony where they found Else's apartment, they can see down into the indoor forest and garden where two dozen Institute security are fighting a running gun battle with members of the Ferrymen.

Over the railing, Quinn spots Jolene and Gillian, back to back in the middle of the garden with Liette. Bullets are ricocheting off of a forcefield sustained by Jolene, their white-hot traces zinging through the air. Liette is manipulating the air around the forcefield, creating howling hurricane-force winds, and Gillian is amplifying them both.

The trio upstairs only catches a glimpse of this before Else guides them to an internal hallway out of sight of the park battle. Everyone has their roles to play here, and the sound of screaming children and the echoing voice of Eric Doyle two floors below reminds them of that. Else, however, sees this as nothing but pandemonium.

Eventually, the three women find themselves outside of a red-painted door at the end of a white hallway. Security lights flash in the ceiling, and the red door is subtly ajar, letting a little bit of carnation-colored light spill into the hall.

"Tha's it," Else whispers, clinging to Quinn's shoulder. "Tha's the gallery. An'…" Else's dark eyes flick to Eve. She wants to ask something, but the distant pop of gunfire reminds her that now is not the time. "…M'gonna jus' be back 'ere," Else cautiously notes, a few firefly green sparks flitting from her fingertips as she mentions that.

Seeing Gillian and Jolene is almost enough to give Quinn pause, but quickly she shakes herself free from that feeling - as much as she may not care to admit it, she has more important things to worry about right now. Paints, Eve, Else, getting out. There's a list, and very few things are checked off at this point.

As they come up on the door, she eyes it for a moment, before her eyes slide back to Else and the strange lights flitting off her skin. Again, she tries to grasp at them with her power, but it just makes her head hurt more. Looking at the door, she takes a deep breath, and something Eve said again bubbles up, mixing with a song in her head.

"I see a red door and I want it painted black," she murmurs, before offering a glance over towards Eve. There's no guns trained on them at the moment, but that won't last long, and as the music on her iPod shuffles to "Drumming Song" by Florence + The Machine, she motions to the door. After you.

As the trio of women make their way through their level they come across a clearing where they can all see down. "GILLY! LENE YOU KICK THEIR ASSES!!" Eve screams over the railing but to no avail. That battle is thick there. The dark haired seeress looks anxious biting her lip as she watches her best friend and company do battle with the Institute. Biting a nail she presses on with the others. While Eve knows that there are more important things to do seeing them down there puts her more on edge.

Else's lights get a weary look and she stares in the woman's eyes. "Stay close to the wall like a flower, okay?" looking towards the door Eve shivers and looks to Quinn. She's been dreaming about doors so much she can't hardly believe this one will open. "Make sure my sister is safe.." is uttered as the oracle pushes the door open Desert Eagle pointed out in front of her. She believes Quinn will follow her but also wants to make sure Else is properly watched and kept out of sight.


Else offers a side-long look to Eve, brows pinched together and lips downturned into a frown. She looks at Quinn with a has she always been like this expression on her face. She recalls a more sedate Eve, but then — "Quinn, ah," Else begins as they push the door open. "D'you know how many days it's been since I was down here?" The question sends a chill down Quinn's spine. "Y'know, with the riots an' all? Andy an' I were driving up north and…"

Else trails off as the three come through the door into a sprawling octagonal room. The walls here are painted a stark white, as it the floor and ceiling. Though right now everything has a blood red hue from the security lighting. There's paintings hanging on all of the walls, depicting so many scenes and situations it's almost hard to take in at once.

One catches Quinn's eye, and is a landscape-oriented painting of a raven with its wings outspread and the silhouette of a castle rising off of its back, and inverted coming down from the bottom of the raven as well. Except the inverted castle silhouette looks like streaks of blood.

Quinn only notices that first, because someone is standing in front of it.

Heart skipping a beat Quinn sees a tall and dour-faced old man with dark eyes and gray hair turn towards her. His black suit soaks up all of the room's ambient red light, and he looks like a burned matchstick cast against the pale red glow of the walls and floor. Eve recognizes him.

Doctor Simon Broome.

"Eve," Broome states in a level, weary voice. His posture is hunched, shoulders slouched forward, and lips downturned into a frown. "You look well."

“A year, ‘bouts,” is Quinn’s quiet answer as they step into the room, looking around at the gallery. “Are these all you, Eve? I-” Her gaze falls on the ravens that catch her attention, a favourite bird of hers. So much so that they jad lent themselves to her DJ name - Ravenfall. But as her eyes move down it to take it in, she stops. A gasp is caught in her throat, coming out as a whimper as she settles her eyes on the man ahead of her.

She doesn’t recognise him, but she doesn’t need to know that they’re in trouble. Her hand tightens on her pistol. To her credit, it only rattles a little as she raises it, managing to largely steady her hand.

“Stay behind me, Else,” she says, swallowing audibly. “And if the world vanishes around you, just- run. Find the wall and run.”

"As well as someone with missing links can be," she sighs out as Simon Broome turns towards the women. "I.. I can't remember which are mine. I have to look at them closely." she says to Quinn with a frown. Still holding her gun level with the man she surveys the room taking in the paintings. "I wanted them back, they belong to me." Eve rubs a finger from her free hand on her temple. She does remember the feeling of trust she had for the man, he helped to bring her to almost sanity. Calrity. But meds only make Eve feel sick after a while.. she was bound to lose it again. Her gray eyes widen as she looks at him. "This was not how you should have done it. Your string pulling is causing.. darkness."

Shaking her head she stares Broome in the eyes. "Simon.. why would you pluck the wings from the butterfly?"

"Rude," is the only thing Simon Broome says, and then Quinn finds herself sinking into the floor. She thinks to pull the trigger, to shoot Simon, but nothing happens. No muscles, it's as though she doesn't have arms. It's only then that Quinn realizes she isn't sinking, her vision is tunneling with a sense of vertigo. Quinn sees the world now as though she were in the far back seats in a large movie theater, her view of the world is distant and feels detatched; second-hand. She has gone from a person to a prisoner in her own mind. Her body remains rigid and unmoving, gun still pointed at Simon.

Else doesn't realize the change, just sees Quinn standing stationary. She's breathing, seems perfectly alive, just steely in her composition. But she also sees Broome not heeding the gun pointed at him at all.

With Quinn contained, Simon turns his attention to Eve with the languid speed of an old tortoise. "You're wrong," sounds regretful when Broome says it. "We were the careful ones, Eve. We've worked so carefully to avoid this moment, the end… of all things." Simon gestures to a painting to his right, depicting nothing but darkness. "But we did not expect interlopers. You must know them by now, invaders from the future? They have been stepping on every butterfly in their past, wantonly destroying everything we've worked towards for decades."

What little anger Simon has left fades, his eyes close, and he releases Quinn from his psychic prison with a warning look to her, implying that he could just as easily do that again.

"All Richard and I ever wanted, was to save you all." Simon's dark brows furrow together, and he looks to another painting, one from the Brill collection of a restored Midtown full of trees and live. "We believed it was attainable. You… were a part of that future, Eve. That's why we wanted to keep you here."

When Simon's dark eyes sweep back to Eve, they settle for a moment on Else and a frown crosses his weary face. Then, hearing a distant explosion, Simon closes his eyes and exhales a sigh. "We will not be Noah. This will not be your Ark."

When Quinn is- restored, from her brief moment of being trapped within, she lets out a gasp. Her gun lowers, and she pants heavy for a moment. Still, she tries to keep Else behind her as she watches Eve and the man speak.

She doesn’t dare interrupt, yet. Not after that display. Instead she watches, simply doing her best to make sure Else stays safe. Her heart is pounding, and she’s fighting back a wave of nausea because of it.

"Ok, we can back and forth on this but taking my memories and my work is rude." Eve will go toe to toe with Simon. But when Quinn gasps Eve's head snaps her way and she raises her eyebrows before looking at Broome. "Qunnie just stay close to Else." The seer walks up to another painting on the wall staring up at it. "Maybe the problem is that we all keep trying to change shit in the first place. Maybe…" Eve looks down her gun hand faltering a bit. "Maybe we deserve what we get. They are no better than you but they are children."

She closes her eyes and sets her messenger bag on the floor. "My sketches. And my paintings. I can roll some of them up. They are my life's work. Even the ones I've done here with no memory. I lost this." she taps her head vigorously to emphasize the point. "For those I'm sorry but I need them back." She sniffs as a tear runs down from her place. As the explosion is heard in the distance she nods at Simon. "Oh it was a fool's errand from the start, my friend."

Dejectedly, Simon agrees with Eve. "Perhaps it was." There's a look from him, of a broken man. He looks to another painting in the room, one of three unfamiliar women. One of them is sitting at a desk, and the others are flanking the desk's sides. The white-haired woman at the desk has spectacles, and holds a snowglobe in her hand with a miniature of the city of Manhattan in it, surrounded by a concrete barricade. The woman on her right, possibly in her fifties, has dyed blonde hair and has a traditional black witches hat and is holding a broom. The third woman, somewhere in age between the others has wavy hair that is blonde gone gray. She has a cigarette in one hand and is dressed in layers of jackets and scarves.

"This was the last painting you did before you left," Simon notes with a sense of fondness. "I should have seen what it implied, but my perspective was skewed." Looking back to Eve, Simon frowns slowly. Quinn, however, notices something unusual in the painting — something familiar. She's seen Walter Trafford on a few occasions — the senior Walter, that is. Other than the unusual sword he carries, he has a strange necklace roughly shaped like a fish hook. In this, each woman wears the same necklace.

"Let the past die," Simon explains in a rough voice. "Let these paintings die with it, Eve. The future does not belong to you, or I, anymore. It belongs to the fickle hands of fate. Nothing is set in stone anymore." If it ever was, goes unsaid. But Simon's tired eyes avert to the floor.

"Paint something new," Simon urges her. "For the inheritors of our hope to remember us by."

The inheritors of our hope. Quinn had heard that through Else’s door before she and Eve finally got it open. She takes a deep breath. Had he been listening there? Or was this another one of those cosmic coincidences that seems to favour their lives lately.

She can’t think about that right now. It’s clear there’s not much she can do even if she wanted to. "Let the past die," she repeats, eyeing him warily. Her eyes stay on the painting that Eve apparently painted, questioningly. "Sir," formal only because she has no idea who he is and she's pretty sure he could kill her any second if she wanted. "Is that what all these paintings are? Whatever it is you had hoped to build here?"

She wrinkles her nose as a gunshot rings out nearby. "So why all the shooting still? Why… any of this?" It's not that she doesn't understand - she's grasping some basic concepts at least - but she isn't content. "Why not actually talk to people about this, instead of- doing things the way you did?"

She groans, raising a hand up - slowly. "Can we at least do something about the sirens and the lights, then. They're killing me."

The dark haired woman takes in the painting of the three women as Simon speaks and she nods, in awe. "The Three Mothers.." she whispers fingers trailing up to touch the painting. She looks to Simon with raised eyebrows. "This.." she stops herself and reaches up to lower it down gently to the floor. Flipping it on it's side she flicks a knife from her boot out and carefully makes an incision on the back, when is done she pulls the corner back and slowly slides the painting out. Finally, rolling it as fast as she can the woman looks towards Quinn and then to Simon. "I think the question is: Why can't we figure out the answer?" scratching her head she places the rolled up painting in her bag the ending protruding out just a bit.

"I've been painting these for half of my life. I will paint for them," who they are remains to be seen, "These messages must still be sent whether we know what to do with them or not." walking up to the doctor slowly and then placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You tried your best, it is a good thing to want a better life. Our methods are just never sound." she grins widely at the man and leans up to peck his cheek and then dips her head. Tears well up in the precog's eyes and she gives the old man another pat on the arm.

Looking to Quinn, "I keep saying this place was way more peaceful when I was here I promise."

Simon regards Eve in a gentle, grandfatherly way. One of his weathered hands comes up to rest on hers. He frowns, wearily, and gives her hand an apologetic squeeze before moving it away. "If Richard succeeds, none of this will have ever happened. I imagine, in the next nine minutes, we'll find out the answer to that… or, perhaps we'll never have existed."

Which, brings him to Quinn again. "Butterflies, Ms. Quinn." Simon's answer to her comes with the unsettlingly intimate delivery of her name. "What's happening now is…" he waves a hand in the air. "Out of my control. The body fighting off an infection, the natural taking its course. I am the director of the Institute, but I am not its brain. Unfortunately, the brain and the body are no longer in agreement on how to continue. All that is left, is death."

Simon looks to Quinn and Eve, then to Else behind them, and back again. "Richard wanted to kill you all," Simon explains in a hushed voice. "Already, you threaten him in Alaska. Back him into a corner. He… had a failsafe. He wanted to burn this world to ashes, to buy time. A self-inflicted nuclear strike on the continental United States. I had the opportunity to authorize the attack." Simon looks to the painting of the revitalized Midtown. "I chose compassion," is how he describes his choice of action.

"But this," Simon motions to the paintings. "These were the future, but these events have all come to pass already. They were a part of our roadmap, the twists in the river along the way. But, unfortunately, we didn't know what we didn't know." His dark eyes move back to Quinn again.

"You should leave, Miss Quinn. Do what you've come to do — what they have come to do. But remember," his dark eyes narrow. "What happens next is up to you."

Quinn purses her lips. He’s right, she should leave. But it’s not that simple for her. “Compassion?” she questions indignantly. “I-” She grits her teeth. “I mean don’t mean we wrong I’m all well an’ good t’ not be dust or whatever, but compassion?” She stares down Simon Broome for a long, silent moment. “All I see around me is anything but.” She motions back to Else. “You’ve taken her, countless other friends of mine. People I love, put things into motion that hurt us all. An’ that’s what you call choosing compassion?”

She takes an unsteady breath, on of her hands shaking. She looks past him, to the picture Eve fawns over. “Maybe you didn’t have the pieces you thought you did.” She motions to the picture. “Seen that weird fishhook necklace before, y’ know. 'Round the neck of a young man who came back t' make sure shit like this doesn't happen."

She eyes Broome warily, before looking back at Else. "Come on, Eve. Let's go."

The Italian woman looks sad at Grandfather Broome as he delivers the news to them. "If the head won't mind the body, they just crashing into walls." Eve nods towards Quinn supporting Simon's statement. "He should have known better. He knows us, he knows we wouldn't have let anything happen without.. without this. At the mention of a nuclear option she shakes her head and let's Quinn do the talking. As readies to leave she looks back at Simon with a deep nod. "Goodbye Simon Broome, don't spend your last moments in a mausoleum."

As the two begin to exit the room she shakes her head at Quinn. "I have to get to Gillian. And Lene." She looks at Broome before looking to Else. "You get Else out of here safely. We'll chase the pieces to the puzzle together." Eve grins and hugs Else tight. "Don't glow too hard sister." she whispers and gives Quinn a nod. "If anyone asks.. say er.. I'm looking for my paintings." Well because she was.

Simon says nothing, not for too long a period of time. Else watches Eve move to go, reaches out and takes her shoulder in one hand gently. She too, is silent. After a moment she releases Eve's shoulder, and looks to Quinn with worry. Simon, only after Eve has left, looks up to Quinn with his brows furrowed and the weight of something nearly palpable on his shoulders.

"I knew," Simon says in a small voice, to just Quinn and Else. There's something confessional about his statement, though it isn't clear what he's confessing to. "If… you would leave me to my paintings," Simon finally adds as an addendum. "I'm going to have the dignity my father did not, and face my fate head on." At that, Broome turns to another painting, one depicting the very room that Quinn and Else are still standing in, except it is blossoming with white-hot fire and a disintegrating man's silhouette.

"Enjoy what time you all have left," will mean more to Quinn later than it does now.

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