Participants:
| Scene Title | The Scoobies Reconvene |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Called together by Sable, many of the Ferry's scouts gather together at the Bay House to discuss their opinions on two properties. |
| Date | March 21, 2011 |
Many bent vectors converge on the Jamaica Bay house as the Ferrymen arrive in lone ones and cautious twos, convening in the building which is already being converted by the never-idle hands of the network. Unassuming in its faded brick-red squat, its blind-eyed windows peering dimly out at the dunes, lined with rollicks of fencing, ribbons wobbled strangely by the undulations of sand and wind.
It's down in the cellar, dark and ill lit but with a burrow-like security that should appeal to the resistance fighter in all of them. It certainly makes Sable feel like a proper guerilla, though her arrival - in the daylight-saved of well-before-curfew and not on her lonesome - hardly has the 'cover of darkness' feel that would really drive the point home. Still, the work is real enough.
A softly hissing gas lamp sets long shadows to shuddering at the slightest bump of the rickety card table, though the illumination of the mingle of printed sheets - maps, photos and various attending information about the sites in question, this one included - remains steady. The air is cold down here, and Sable thinks maybe, maybe maybe she saw her breath mist. She huffs several times with her lower lip protruding trying to catch a second glimpse. No luck. It doesn't make her shiver any less, however.
Kendall opted to look like a crazy old homeless guy rather than the invisibility thing this time mostly because he had been stepped on a few too many times. No one really notices homeless people, especially one who seems to be muttering to himself. Once inside, however, he drops the illusion by taking off a rather pungent jacket and setting it next to the door, and heads to where everyone else is.
Elaine looks tired. She'd headed off for the meeting a little earlier than she'd originally planned on leaving, only because there was a lot on her mind and she wanted some space to think in silence on the way over. Hands shoved into pockets, she makes her way to the house, slipping inside before making her way to a seat equally as quietly.
Delilah has been to enough of these meetings to know that someone is going to be uncomfortable in some way- she came along with Sable to get things in order, and has been up and down the stairs so that she could set out a stainless steel pitcher of coffee and a tiny tower of cups on an overturned box. She has a cup for herself, though the baby in her lap seems to want to see what the big deal is too. It's not cold enough that Walter would fuss, but she has him in a knit sweater anyhow. Dee helped Sable along as needed , and waves her fingers in greeting as people trail down, but she knows that this is one of those things where Sable needs to Prove Herself(tm) in that way only Sable knows how.
"No, Walter, you can't have any of it. Take your foxie, here-" With the baby on one part of her lap as she sits in an old oak chair, the redhead is now offering him a small stuffed fox to hold onto, putting his hands over its ears and letting it sit on his littler lap. "The last thing I need is you on caffeine, sweetie."
Jensen Raith has, like Sable, made his journey without the benefit of the cover of darkness. Unlike Kendall, however, he's also done it without looking like a homeless man. He also did it far less armed than he would've preferred, but this is the price paid for moving about in the day. A careful selection of route and the proper attire, and he looks like any other New Yorker who was just crazy enough to go out for a brisk winter walk with his daughter. And who just happened to disappear from sight whenever someone happened to look away from them.
When he does appear, it's without fanfare. All that might seem slightly out of place is that he decided to keep his coat on when he stepped down into the basement. Probably, he had some reservations about placing it next to the especially pungent one by the door. Can you blame him?
He's no show-stealer, either, keeping quiet and settling into a corner to brood until his voice needs to be heard.
Rue Lancaster isn't Jensen Raith's daughter, but with her bushy red hair tucked and pinned to hide beneath a black stocking cap and her equally casual attire, she certainly looks the part. Her red coat was left at home in favour of layers of thermal tee and an olive green cable knit sweater.
She also probably looks a lot like she might be Raith's kid when she comes to sit next to him, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms over her chest. "Thanks for the escort," she murmurs under her breath to him. Not that Rue needs to keep her gratitude a secret, but there's no point in broadcasting the fact that he's a big softie.
Is it such a sin to want to do better? To want to do good? There are, at least, worse ways for a Napoleon complex to assert itself. As the attending members arrive, Sable dispenses context and contact appropriate greetings. Kendall gets a steady look of acknowledgement and a single, short nod. Elaine gets smile and a slow dip of the head. Rue gets a tip of Sable's blue hood, pulled up over her head and causing dark hair to peek a few spikes out.
Raith just gets a considering look. At a casual glance, Raith can maybe look like just anyone. Face to face, it's hard for him not to look like Jensen Raith, even when you're not quite sure who he is.
"Y'all th' guy from th' Dirty Jobs Division?" is an educated guess. Sable would have remembered him from Delia's apartment if he'd been there from the start. Unlikely that he was masquerading as TV set. She cricks her neck, then addresses the whole group.
"Guess we know what's bein' done with this place, since we're here," she says, "but we got two other spots need consideration. Gotta serve up I guess a sorta recommendation t' th' council, and I figure we'd all better have a hand." She tips her head towards the steep ascent. "Delia'll be comin' I hope, seein' as she w's th' brains 'f th' operation. Still, we all got heads on our shoulders of some damn use, figure."
Oh good, Sable isn't trying to hit him over the head for the well-endowed halfling thing. Kendall claims a seat, looking around at the others, and sighs. "Well I'm ready for any reconnoiter missions." he seems even eager to do so.
Elaine's quieter than usual. Sable's nod and smile are returned in silence, a look is spared in Delilah's direction, and Walter gets the most genuine smile, given that he's an adorable baby and the redhead's got a soft spot for those. Still, she's quiet, arms folding over her chest mostly to keep them warm. Her arms, that is.
A few moments after Sable finishes speaking, Delilah pretends she didn't hear the high-pitched giggling from Walter kind of just insert itself in an otherwise serious moment. This stuffed animal is great, obviously. Even though he is just squeezing on its ears and peering in its beady brown eyes. Dee smiles back to Elaine when she catches hers, leaning back in her chair to glance over the table in the center of the room. "It's still the same two, right? The theater and the trainyard?"
Raith just offers a half-shrug when he's identified. Who he is is less important than what he's here for. "I can fill in details for one of those two," he says, "When we get around to discussing it, at any rate. Maybe we want to talk about one first, and then get on to the warehouse. Your call, chief." Although he is 'in charge' of something, it's not this meeting: For direction, Raith defers to Sable.
"I think the theatre's a loss," Rue states bluntly, rather than meander her way toward the subject. "That FRONTLINE bitch that split my fuckin' lip open was there, and that's enough for me to think we should steer clear. Especially after that stunt we pulled." Her lips pull into a sneer as she tugs the cap off her head and shakes out her bushy curls. "And that Stalin creep, whoever the fuck he was, doesn't leave me feeling very confident about the location's security."
"Yeah, darlin'," Sable says, nodding to Delilah, "both fine spaces but- well, I gotta get in th' know 'bout th' one I ain't been to," turning to Raith, "figure those'll be th' details y'll be fillin' in, eh?" Kendall - who is not the subject of any wrath, Sable's vengeance either forgotten or left for a prolonged cooling before service - gets a blink and a, "dunno what that word means."
Sable half smirks in appreciation as Rue delivers her opinion - so glad that nickname is catching on - evidently unedited, though when she's done speaking, the smile transitions into a wrinkled nose. "Fuckin' shame, but I think I'm tendin' t' agree. It was a gorgeous buildin', and we did good by bein' there, but I think th' good's come 'n' done, eh? At least f'r a while."
"Uh, to search out all sneaky like." Kendall translates for Sable's benefit. "Uh, often used for staking out enemy territory." he shrugs at her. "Do we have any more now to investigate?"
Elaine shifts uncomfortably in her seat, speaking up considering they're speaking on the theater. "He was scary, but he said he was a friend and he covered us getting out. I dunno who he is, but he speaks Russian." She scratches the side of her neck, seeming thoughtful. "Really, if there was some way we could make it safe it would be a great location, but I'm afraid that because it got raided once it could easily be raided again. The natives to the place seemed to be used to raids."
"Stalin?" Delilah sounds dubious of whatever actually went on with the theatre, all of a sudden. "Well, if you guys like roomy buildings, there's no shortage. Unless it was the stage thing after all, in which case I'm not shocked you liked it." That part is solely for Sable. Dee's hand rubs over Walter's belly as she holds him tilted against her, listening to Elaine.
"What did this Russian guy even do? And if not making it one of ours, it sounds like we can list it as a transient station or something, right? If someone is out there and needing a roof, we can make sure they know that its there, but not 'ours', obviously."
Echoing footsteps herald a new arrival to the the Jamaica Bay House, and into view walks Robyn Quinn, hands in jean pockets and a light blue unzipped hoodie resting on her shoulders and she approaches the group. She gives a little wave, an apologetic look on her face as she moves closer, eyes looking from face to face as she quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry I'm late," she remarks quietly, not wanting to interrupt the group too bad. "Got stuck doing late work at Studio K. I haven't missed too much, have I?" Well, that may be the case. Elaine knows how she felt about the meeting, and there's a chance she spent some time waffling on whether or not to come.
Raith takes note of the opinions and information going around. "If the theater gets raided commonly, that's the last place we want to be. But, that does still leave the trainyard." And on that note, in comes Quinn. What timing. Raith gives her a nod of acknowledgement and steps out of his corner a bit, so that he's a bit easier for everyone to see. "Property was owned by an old acquaintance of mine, Kazimir Volken. Some of you might know the name, others not, doesn't matter. What matters is that it's still empty and hasn't been swept up or reclaimed by anyone, which means he bought it under a false ID, which means the government doesn't know it used to be his. Long as we're careful, watch ourselves, we can probably keep it a secret." That's good news, at least.
"It's secure, defensible, has ways in and out of it that aren't obvious, and it's loaded buttress to basement with booby traps. You can trust me on all that, I know the guy who set it up." Which does leave the question, at least in the minds of those who don't know the name 'Kazimir Volken,' of exactly what it was being used for. "Give Special Activities a few days to sort through it, and it'll be as good as anything we could hope for." And with that, Raith slinks back into his corner. That's all folks, as the saying goes.
Delia is late. Way late. She also got lost. Driving, rather than using a bike has proven a little difficult in getting to areas she would normally use a bike to get to. On top of that a fake driver's license when she never had a real one means she's fake driving too. Nick's poor truck has been bunny hopped all over Brooklyn in search of the Bay House which she has only ever seen on a map and on the internet. At least she's learning, the gears might be ground to nothing before she gets the hang of it though.
When she finally slips into the room, she's redfaced and giving everyone a sheepish smile. Spying the four gathered around the card table, she opts for a space beside Rue just to give her fat coat some room to breathe. No skinny little peacoat for her. "Hey," she whispers, "Did I miss a lot?"
"I know what he says, Elaine, but…" Rue cuts off when Raith clearly intends to speak up, and suddenly has her gaze averted to her shoes when Quinn walks in. She can't quite hide her awe when she hears about the trainyard, and how well-suited it is to their purposes, brows lifting at their good fortune.
"Maybe," the ginger model begins quietly, "we could check back on the theatre periodically and see if there's any change in the situation. Maybe it'll become more viable in the future?" Without realising it, Rue looks to Raith, seeking some sort of affirmation that what she's suggested is a good idea. Sable may be de facto leader, but Raith is the one she considers to be the tactician.
When Delia comes to sit on her other side, Rue offers a quick shake of her head, and a smile. She leans over to whisper to the other curly top, "The theatre's out, but the trainyard is in. The place is apparently some sort'a surprise fortress. Good job finding it." Delia gets a gentle nudge from Rue's elbow and a smirk.
"Place is huge, plenny of squatters livin' there, what they were trying to round up," Sable says, the theater still a matter of central importance in her mind, and as long as others are clinging to it, she's inclined to as well. "Figure we c'n leave a recommendation, use it as a stop f'r just a night 'r two," nodding to Delilah, since it was her suggestion, "don' wanna risk movin' anyone there, not yet 't least, but that way we c'n keep an eye on it 's well." Trying to work towards compromise. Trying to get another excuse to poke around that structure - she saw so little of it!
Quinn receives a smile and a lifted hand in greeting, but no vocal reply since others are speaking. The factory is an easy sell, from the sound of it. "We jus' gotta be savvy 'bout how we get folks t' th' trainyards, since that's-" she glances to the arriving Delia, seeking corroboration, "th' sorta- more patrolled area, ain't it?"
As for the Russian: "Ain't fond 'f no one jumps a lady. 'Til we know who he is, I ain't callin' him nothin' close t' 'friend'."
Kendall looks over at Quinn. "We just finished deciding the fate of the world. Nothing big." he deadpans. Then something Raith says draws his attention. "Booby traps? Like Goonies?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "Do you know what all of them are so no one with us accidentally sets them off?" he fiddles with something small and round in his pocket, squinting at it, then looks up again. "Well, about the theater… I might be able to come up with something for that. Is it a problem with the bad guys being there?"
"Um, he kind of snuck up on me from behind with a gun and covered my mouth. Mostly so I wouldn't freak out, I guess, because he did say he was a friend and didn't do anything to hurt me. When we were leaving he gave us cover. And… I actually think he named his gun Stalin," Elaine says, shifting again in her seat. She looks up as Quinn slips in, her lips pressed in a firm line before she looks back towards the others. "He's scary, but I didn't get the feeling he wanted to actually hurt me. Really, now that I think about it, Dee, he mentioned 'that Trafford woman'. I guess he knows you, maybe?" She quiets down, though, as the topic shifts away from her mission. She slips her fingers back into her warm pockets, falling into silence again.
Delilah was not around for the skirmishes and likewise with the Vanguard, but at the very least she knows the full story. She doesn't quite shudder when Raith describes who it belonged to, and her curiosity here begs more than fear might. Walter looks up from his hands when Raith lurks out of the corner; he is never around many grown men, honestly, and maybe they are a little bit of a curiosity still.
Delilah listens again to Elaine with a slightly pinched look after smiling greetings to Delia and Quinn. It kind of spirals into a look of plain distaste by the end of the explanation. "He tried to kill me last year. It was before I lost my ability though." Distaste morphs to slight anger. At Sasha, not Elaine, or anyone else. Hffff. It bleeds out as air through her lips.
"So Activities will handle the warehouse… do we have any more plans for finding new places to look at?"
It seems Quinn really has arrived just in time. She reminds quiet through Raith's detailing of the warehouse they had checked out, grimacing noticeably at the mention of Kazimir Volken. She's only heard of the man and the Vanguard second and third hand, but everything she's heard paints a picture she's glad she was never around to see, really. But since she's the late one to the meeting, she mostly just making her way over towards Elaine and remaining quiet, at least until Sable speaks up.
"Booby traps like the kind that the kind that'll turn you int' a fine red mist. Like in Tropic Thunder, if you ever saw that," Quinn replies a bit flatly, an eyebrow raised at Kendall. "We didn't really get down to see if there's more, for obvious reasons." Rolling her shoulders a bit, a quick glance is made over Rue, before looking back towards Sable. "I dunno if it's more patrolled, though. We had no real issue getting to or from or anythin'."
"Patrols won't be any worse than they are in Midtown." It may be a salient point that Raith makes: Grand Central Terminal lies in an area patrolled regular by soldiers and attack robots. It doesn't get any worse than that, and they've managed to keep that house operating. "It'll take Special Activities a few days to sweep the whole warehouse, but once that's done we can start making it livable right away, move on to looking for more places we can pick up. If we have any in the pipes already, I haven't been briefed, so that's not a question I can answer right now."
Nodding to Sable, Delia pulls out her iPad and begins searching the patrol maps that she made before the first meeting. "Yeah, they were orange, meaning it's patrolled more often. We'd have to be more careful but it is the biggest place. This one here is the safest, but the smallest… so it's best for the kids, I think." She chews on her bottom lip nervously before piping up again, "I think he's right though, given that Gee See Tee is right in the middle of a pack of robots and we've managed to keep it for this long… We can probably keep the trainyard too. We do need somewhere to put people and I don't know if Pollepel is the safest place given what's already happened."
A quick glance is flit toward Rue and then Raith before she shrugs one shoulder and lowers her head. "Th-that's just what I think," she stammers before pushing the iPad over to Rue and Raith to look at. Delilah's question has the young nurse glancing toward the even younger mother and earns another one shouldered shrug. "I— I haven't looked yet. I can— but I don't think we can afford more than one at the moment, can we? I can keep looking though, 'm not going back to Pollepel but I'm not sure how much I'll be able to move back and forth from my new place… so I'll have to get a hold of people my way instead of the old fashioned way."
There's an automatic and unintentional wince at the mention of Midtown and patrols. Rue hasn't had the best luck avoiding problems in that area, regardless of time of day or level of care. She only takes a cursory look at the map before passing the iPad off to Raith for study.
"Your way," Rue asks Delia, brows furrowed. "What's your way?"
"If there ain't anythin' new on th' table, I think we worked out what we came here to," Sable says, arms crossing over in a self-hug, "I wouldn't mind gettin' th' hell on home. I been diggin' all the amenities, not aimin' f'r safehouse livin' sooner than's fuckin' necessary."
And maybe they won't have to trek out here again, from the sound of it. Sable thinks she knows what Delia's way is. She arches a brow and asks, "Y' mean…" and then folds her hands into a pillow upon which she rests her head. Miming slumber.
Kendall looks from one person in the room to another, clearly out of the loop. He shrugs to himself, and settles down to listen. Likely it'll be explained anyway without him needing to repeat the obvious question already voiced by Rue.
Tried to kill her? Oh. Elaine shrinks in her seat a little, peering towards the floor. She shoves her hands further into her pockets, glancing back towards Sable as she announces that basically everything is covered. Her eyes flicker to Delia as dreams are alluded to, the redheaded linguist shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Nope, she's not sure how to feel about dreams for the moment.
Delilah has the good fortune to assume that Delia just means that she has some way of doing things, not being terribly privy to what it is that makes her different. She knew the basic idea, and that was enough. "Really, Sable? Fooled me, I thought there was more to it." She laughs brightly enough to put a few motes of lighthearted air into the room. Walter laughs too, though he is not sure why. Something is funny, right? Hm! "I think we're all good and caught up, yes."
"That's it, then?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "I guess I missed all the fun, then," she says a bit dryly, crossing her legs as her eyes drift over to Elaine, and then over to Delia. There's a bit of a grimace on her face, and she shrugs. "Whatever works for meeting again sounds good t' me or whatever. Maybe I won't be late next time. I haven't heard anythin' about any other places/ I talked t' someone in council teh other day, even, an' nothin' came up about it."
"All good and caught up for now," is Raith's contribution as he looks over the iPad map. "Give it three days, and everything might be different again. We're living in exciting times." And that's enough iPad: It's passed back from whence it came. "We'll keep everyone informed about the rail yard, when it's safe to see it, what the local patrol routes look like, all that. We could be moving a lot of people that in a few days, we might only have a trickle. Be ready for either."
"Dreaming Rue, not very useful most of the time… but I can get one thing right." Delia murmurs to the other redhead at the table. Then she turns to the rest of the room and presses her lips together in a tight line before speaking up to confirm Sable's guess to the rest. "What Sable said," or mimed, "I can get a hold of people in their sleep."
Noting Elaine's discomfort, not knowing if the young woman was one of her own victims or not, she lowers her head and hunches over her spot at the table. "Or.. I can just get a hold of you, Sable. Give you the message and you can pass it along."
Rue nods her head to Delia's explanation. "You can hit me up in the dream world anytime. It'll be a party." She smirks briefly and shifts in her seat, ready to get to her feet to head out. But she looks to Raith, waiting for the word, as they say.
"Sure, sure, drop by any time, hon. I'll get th' word out." Sable answers Delia, already rolling her shoulders, limbering up, getting ready to go. Her impatience shivers around her like a static charge, and she shoots Delilah a crooked smile. "I guess mebbe there's a little somethin' else. Hot showers are hard t' beat, though, darlin'. Y' can't deny that."
Sable looks to Raith. "Y'all'll see the council first, I figure, eh? Pass on whatall we resolved. They need anythin' else…" she glances back at Dee for a moment, then to Raith, "well, gonna be busy f'r a stint, but when that's squared away, I'm free 'til I ain't no more."
She turns to Quinn, nodding to the Irishwoman. "Trust me, hon, not much t' miss. Shame y' didn't see the theater, though. Gorgeous. Mebbe sometime, y'all feel like ramblin' with me, we'll give it a wanderin'?"
"Dream world?" Kendall repeats, blinking. "You mean, like Tel'Aran'Rhiod?" he is such a nerd. Associating life with a fantasy book series. "Well, uh, if anyone needs me, you know where to find me?" he suggests hopefully. He really does want to prove himself.
Elaine doesn't know what the deal is with dreams, but she gives a nod to Delia anyways. She looks back towards Quinn, hands still stuffed in pockets. She's cold, even if they aren't outside. Icy fingers. Her gaze flickers between Sable and Quinn for a long moment, then glances towards the door in silence.
"I'm in Sable's boat, we'll be busy for a little bit soon, but after that it's all a matter of asking me.." Delilah adjusts her seat and picks Walter up to her chest, tentatively putting a palm on the seat of his pants, and then picking up the dropped stuffed animal from her lap. Nope, no mess. She looks kind of relieved about it. "I can try to look up some abandoned buildings in my spare time though, if that might help?" To take some of the pressure from Delia, perhaps.
"Talk t' us in dreams?" Quinn replies, her curiosity piqued as she looks at Delia dead on for a moment. "That must be rather handy. I have t' say, I've had my fill of dreams lately, but that sounds like a good way t' meet if we have t'." In fact, Quinn's thinking she may have to corner Delia to talk about it. An eye is quirked at Sable, even as the Irishwoman reaches up and places a hand on Elaine's shoulder, attempting to comfort her. "I think I'll pass, Sable. Dunno what you guys decided on that place, but from what I heard I have no real desire t' go by there any time soon."
On the issue of dream speaking, Raith says nothing. He gives Sable a nod, to indicate that he has heard what she has said, and acknowledges it. But dreams are not his area of expertise.
Tell Androids what? "Uhm.. no, I don't think I can dreamwalk robots…" The confused oeniromancer gives Rue a little look of help before giving Kendall a very small grimace that should be a smile. It probably would have been if she knew what the teen was talking about in the first place. Sliding her chair out, she stands and grabs her iPad to tuck into her pocket along with her hands. "I have a few things to do in the next couple of days but after that Rue can get me on facetime or I can.. you know.. I'd rather the you know route for safety's sake."
Finished for now, she turns to Rue and clenches the keys in her pocket. "Hey Rue… you wouldn't happen to know anyone that can drive a stick shift, do you? I sort of borrowed a truck… and I'm scared I broke it."
When Sable's offer is shot down by Quinnie, Rue frowns. But Delia's swift to capture her attention again, and she nods. "I can drive a stick. …You didn't burn out the clutch, did you?" Her face screws up in a that would be bad expression. "I can take a look at it." She peers over to Raith, "I bet you know how to fix a truck." Because Rue is under the impression that Raith knows how to do everything. Or at least has a good idea of how to halfass something well enough until someone who knows what to do can be called in. "You wanna join me?"
"Aw, hell, fine. Be a stick in th' mud. Jus' know it's gonna hold y'all back as an artist," Sable chides, with a tut tut, "can't fuckin' imagine what about a grand old abandoned theater wouldn't draw y'." She toddles forward and turns off the lamp, the hiss fading along with the light, dipping them into subterranean twilight, the passage leading up now a sole beacon, a portal of light.
Up towards that light they'll go, then back along the trajectories that brought them here, or along new trajectories, spider legs spanning from this point across the city. One of the few safe spots in a grid of danger, though maybe not so few any longer.