The Pardon Of Sins


colby_icon.gif coren2_icon.gif len_icon.gif

Scene Title The Pardon Of Sins
Synopsis Len comes to visit with Colby offering to pardon her of her sins. But what is it she has to give up to get that pardon?
Date August 6, 2009

NYPD Headquarters

It's been a couple of days since the death of Ariel Martinez. Len has been monitoring the situation from his office, getting reports. He wanted to know how an unevolved police officer was able to kill an out of control electrokenetic. Sure, these things happen, but if an electrokenetic wanted you dead, you'd be dead. It wasn't just the fact that Colby Martinez killed an electrokenetic, it was that she did it out of vengeance. When the report is slid across Len's desk, he glances through it. She's been charged. She's in jail.

Time to leave Fort Hero.

After he's acquired the proper paperwork, courtesy of Homeland Security, he hops into his jeep and heads into the city. It takes him some time to get to the NYPD Precinct where she's being held. He steps out of his jeep and walks into the building, and up to the sergeant's desk. "I need to speak to.." he pauses for a moment to glance at something on his paperwork. ".. Detective Shelby?"

"Take the stairs up to the second floor," the desk sergeant says, pointing towards the metal stairs at the side of the main corridor. "He'll be at the back two desks in the office on your second right." He picks up his phone and dials an internal extension, "Can I tell him who is coming to speak with him, Mister?"

Len pulls out his Homeland Security badge. The tall black cowboy is dressed up as such, with jeans, boots, button up plaid shirt and a cowboy hat to boot. "Len Denton. Homeland Security." With that, Len turns and heads up the stairs as directed and glances around. Surely, the desk sergeant gave the odd description to the detective.

Indeed the sergeant did, so it's no surprise to find a rather short man in a black suit with no tie heading towards the tall black cowboy. "Agent Denton, I presume," Coren says, offering his hand. "Doctor Coren Shelby, Detective Investigator. What can I do for the Department of Homeland Security today?" No, he doesn't sound particularly excited to be talking to DHS.

Nor will the detective be pleased to be handed a folder of transfer requests for his prisoner, one Colby Martinez, who'll be taken into Homeland custody. "Nice to meet you, Doctor Shelby. Don't mean to intrude upon your terrotory here, but it seems you got someone we need to speak to. Seems she might have some information as it related to national security and a particular case we are trying to construct. I'm going to need to talk with her for a few moments and if I feel she can assist us, then we'll be taking custody of her." Denton flashes his most charming disarming grin as he waits for Coren to glance through the paperwork if he feels the need.

"I'd say the feeling is mutual, but we both know that would a lie," Coren says, taking the folder and examining the documents. There are many things he'd like to say, such as how the constant use of the 'national security' excuse is wearing his patience down, that he thinks it's all bullshit, et cetera et cetera. Thankfully, he's smart enough to hold his tongue with regards to that. He snaps the folder shut and taps Officer Johnson on the shoulder as the uniformed officer passes. "Johnson, won't you make sure these get processed and show this feller from D.H.S., to the appropriate cell." There is only a curt nod of Coren's head towards Len Denton and the words, "A pleasure, Agent Denton," before he turns to head back to his desk to get some real work done. Or at least he would be if he didn't have a body to transport, a plane to catch, and funeral to go to.

Len Denton would gasp at the accusation that what he does isn't real work. Good thing that wasn't spoken aloud. He follows Johnson down to Martinez's cell. He's thankful that they have given her a cell of her own, knowing how cops are treated by the general population of criminals inside a jail. "Officer Martinez," he says as the cell is opened. "I'm Len Denton. I think we need to talk. Mind if I come in?" It may be a jail cell, but he's not going to barge in on someone else's domain without their permission.

Colby sits on the edge of her cot, staring down between the void of her orange-clad, parted knees. Her gaze goes beyond where her fingers are laced, dangling over her parted legs, and off into the snapshots of the last few days. She looks up sharply, the sound of the cell door a chime that calls her back to reality. One corner of her lips tilt up at the manner in which she is addressed, tickling a bit further until her right cheek show a dimple when the man indulges pleasantries and manners under the circumstances. "'Fraid I can't offer you a drink, but you're welcome to make yourself at home, Senior Denton." It's another moment that she remains seated, watching the man closely, before she rises and extends a hand.

Len's large hand envelopes hers as he gives it a hearty shake. "Seems you've got yourself into quite a bind. Before I get to the point, I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss. I'm sure you've heard it before, but I'm not insensitive to what you're going through. In fact, I am hoping I can help." Len has ensured they have privacy.

Colby's grip tightens softly at the mention of her loss, only to fall away to uselessly arrange the hem of her oversized, orange shirt. "I appreciate it." There is a touch of sincerity, but nothing that would hint at the true depths of Colby's emotions. She'd begun to grieve now, given aught else to do in her prison solitude with the knowledge that her wife's killer, a kid, was gone.

A little crease forms between her brows. Slowly she lifts her hands out by her hips - a sign of useless surrender and a gesture towards the holding cell around them. "Better meals?" she teases, but her words are not bitter - she's ready to face her punishment.

"How about a full release?" It's a question that is intended to strike her interest, and perhaps throw her off guard.

It does indeed throw her off guard - visibly so. She falters back a step and turns her head to look at Len from the corner of her eye - as if this is the key to determining reality from the mirage that this man might possibly be. Then she gives a slow nod as a few gears begin to click into alignment. She lofts a brow. "What're you looking for in return?"

"I work for Homeland Security. In fact, I work for a section of Homeland Security that deals directly with evolved persons. I have paperwork ready to process through the court system that will release you from this jail and all charges will be dropped. In return, you come work for me." Len spells it out directly. "You have the skills we need, and your government is ready to pardon your sin in return for your cooperation and loyalty."

"Sin." Colby works the word over her lips as if it left blisters on her tongue as equally as it did what was left of her heart. She turns away and looks at the cot, the walls, as if the prison cell would deliver an answer. Her thoughts wander back to Coren's question. Was she sorry? She'd been waiting to be, to feel the heavy weight of the murder crash down around her, suffocate the last will to live. It hadn't. Should she damn herself to prison for something for which she couldn't fully apologize?

She could save others instead, before someone else - some mother, some child, some husband, or wife - loses someone they love. Her resolve returns before she faces back about and offers Len a firm nod. "It'd be an honor to assist."

Len motions towards the open jail cell. "Come with me. We have a heap of things to discuss, you and I do," he says as he leads the way to freedom.

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