Participants:
Scene Title | The Washington Monument Stole My TV |
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Synopsis | Monica meets with the one man she knows won't blink at the news that her apartment was sucked into a vortex. Some members of Endgame show up for a meet and greet, and they gain one to their number. |
Date | July 19, 2010 |
Manhattan
Ringring!
Cardinal click, "Hello?"
Monica's voice comes over the speaker after a momentary sigh, "I swear, one of these days I will call just to have a normal chat. But, you know. Are you free?"
Cardinal pauses, then exhales a rueful chuckle, "Monica. Sure, what's up?"
"Washington D.C. ate my apartment building. And I think that's on record as the weirdest thing I have ever had to say."
Cardinal is silent for a long moment, "…I've had to say weirder. But. Uh. What?"
Monica sighs a little again and there's a pause before she goes on, "I was at home, it was the middle of the night. Normal. Well, normalish. and then there's this earthquake and the building starts getting torn apart. I mean, split right through my apartment. And then outside there's this light and a sort of vision of D.C. and then, poof, half the building is gone. Just gone. And since you're the minister of all things weird…"
Cardinal clears his throat, "Okay, maybe we should meet somewhere to talk about this, because I don't… think I got what you mean."
"Are you kidding? I was there and I don't get it. But yeah, let's meet up somewhere… Where would be good?"
Cardinal mm, "Two-eleven Pearl street, down in Manhattan. I'll meet you there, in, uh, an hour?"
"Alright, I'll be there. Thanks, Rich."
It's a somewhat run-down brick building nestled between others of its ken, five floors with the first floor mostly a soap-washed window and a door that's open into an empty lobby with dust and fresh primer on all the walls. There's a table littered with tools in the middle of the lobby, and Cardinal's perched sitting on it as he waits for her, finishing off the remnants of a hoagie. There's a bottle of beer next to him.
It's just about an hour on the dot when Monica slips in the front door. She's in an all too familiar black outfit, which is possibly all that survived the incident, since it was what she had on at the time. Since then it's been a whirlwind of trying to get ID and cards and phones replaced and some essential things, of course. Hassle! But, she comes over to the table and sighs as her hands go to her hips. "Is this the new headquarters?"
"Welcome to Redbird Security Solutions…" The end of the sub's used in a gesture around the room as crisp bits of bread crumb down to the floor about him. He looks down. Oops. A shrug, and Richard pops it into his mouth to chew and swallow. "…or it will be, once we have everything set up. So what happened to your apartment?"
"Redbird?" Monica asks with a crooked smile. But, as she scoots up to take a seat on that table, too, her hands spread in response to his question. "I don't know! Vortex, maybe? All I know is… there was shaking bad enough to split the building apart, and this bright light outside. When I looked, it was the Washington Monument. Pool, capitol building, the works. Laid right over Harlem. And then, some people were screaming, so I went out of my apartment to try to help… and then the light got so bright I couldn't see, and when it left, the corner of the building, including my place, had been seared off and was nowhere to be found."
"I think I saw something about that in the papers…" Cardinal scratches at the nape of his neck, frowning as that sinks in before suggesting, "Why don't you bring Rebecca back over there and see what she can find? She's a postcognitive, she should be able to see what happened, and maybe from different angles than what you got to see it at. Maybe something happened in one of the other rooms…"
They're in the lobby of the new building, and he's perched on a table in the middle of it beside Monica.
"I thought about that… but I worry about who might be watching the place after something like that. I wouldn't want to walk her into something bad. I mean, heck. I haven't even been back over there." Monica picks up a screwdriver from the scattered tools on the table, twirling it between her fingers as she talks.
The lock in the door turns and in steps Peyton, juggling a rather large box in one hand as she handles the door. Once she hears the voices and turns to see Monica and Cardinal, she smiles, moving to set the box down.
"Oh, hey. I had some deliveries coming a little later that I needed to be here to sign for, but if I'm interrupting something I can go elsewhere," she offers, reaching up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. She's dressed for the heat in a casual red tank dress and flip flops, since the office is still in the setting up stage.
"Oh, no, no…" Cardinal raises one gloved hand to the door with a twist of his wrist to beckon her inside, gesturing vaguely between the two women with an easy smile, "…Monica, this is Peyton Whitney, she's my secretary and chief financial officer, so to speak. Peyton, this is Monica, she's Niki's— uh, cousin-in-law, I guess?— she was a firebird when they were still pretty active."
Monica slides off the table to offer Peyton a hand. "Nice to meet you," she says in an accent that gives away her southern roots. "Cousin-in-law is pretty accurate," she says with a nod to Cardinal, "I've been out of town for a while, just getting back into the swing of things up here."
"Nice to meet you, too, Monica," Peyton says with a bright smile, wiping her hand on her dress first to remove any sweat or subway grime to take the hand proffered to her. "Niki's great. She's actually who introduced me to Card here." She glances at Cardinal, wondering if this is Endgame or business business. The mention of firebirds suggests the former, but she'll be sure to let Card direct the conversation.
"I've been meaning to introduce her to the rest of you, what few we have that aren't out on assignment," admits Cardinal with a slight shake of his head, "But it's been hard getting everyone into one place. I'm actually glad you stopped by, so at least she can meet you…" He rubs at his face with one hand, "God knows I could use more people to deal with all the shit I've got to deal with right now. Mm. I doubt there'd be any danger by this point, Monica, you should be able to bring Rebecca by."
"Yeah. I haven't… seen her in a while, which is too bad," Monica says of her cousin. "I imagine I'll catch her, though, working with the group." She looks over at Card, her head tilting a bit. "Alright. I'll ask her and see if she's willing. If she sees D.C. eating the building, too, though… I don't know what we'll make of it."
"Oh, that building with the hole in it? You think that's something we need to worry about?" Peyton says, glancing over at Cardinal. "I mean, obviously, if it happens to more buildings… that'd be bad," she adds a bit lamely, leaning against the wall. "Bizarre." She doesn't look like she's slept well — images of ice monsters in her dreams, along with the vision she'd seen on June 10 that she keeps pushing away during the day.
Cardinal jerks his thumb in Monica's direction. "She lived there," he points out, pausing a moment before giving her a curious look, "Where're you living now, anyway, Monica?"
"I'm staying with a girlfriend of mine. Cat Chesterfield? We were in Phoenix together and she offered me a spot until… I can get back in the building. Or whatever ends up happening." Monica lets out a sigh there and folds her arms as she leans back against the table again.
Peyton's brows disappear under her dark bangs and she covers her mouth. "Oh, shit, hey, I'm sorry. That had to be horrible. Did you know the people who…" she trails off. "We know Cat, yeah," she adds. "I stayed with her back during the storm, and actually when I first manifested. She's very generous." She nods to the table. "We should have real furniture soon," she adds. "Some today, some tomorrow." She's been shopping, after consulting with Card and Liz on what sort of decor they wanted.
"I know Catherine." Cardinal's hand lifts a bit to rub against his forehead, "We've work together on and off, but the woman tends to give me a migraine… everything's black and white with her, and I live in a state of grey. Makes conversations difficult sometimes." His hand drops, then, and he tilts his head to the stairs, "Well, we're gonna be converting the upstairs floors into some apartment space, so…"
"It was… one of the more memorable days, yes. I didn't know them personally, passed my neighbors in the hall sometimes. Getting mail." Monica looks over to Card, nodding, "She's got a unique take on things, with her mind being what it is." But that last note gets her eyebrows to lift some. "Oh yeah?" And a glance upward. "Nice places?"
"Everything gives you a migraine, boss," Peyton says with a grin. "Technology, sunshine, puppies. Hey, you never answered if I could bring Von in with me, did you?" If he did, she forgot the answer. To Monica she nods. "It's a good building, the apartments are in good shape — pretty much a bare canvas." She glances to Cardinal. "You want me to furnish a couple with the basics for sleepover parties?" I.E. Anyone they might need to shelter.
"We still have to get them all… furnished and shit," Cardinal admits, a nod over to Peyton a wordless 'yes' to her request regarding furnishing the apartments temporarily., "And hey." He points at her, hand dropping from the side of his face and one finger extending at her, "I have no problem with puppies. And you can have one if you want."
"Hey, if you guys need help moving things in… I'm around," Monica offers with a simple shrug. "Especially if this is where I'm… ending up," which seems to be a bit of a question sent Cardinal's way.
"Awesome. He's too little still to be left all day, you know?" Peyton says, fondly of the little red deaf dog. "I'll start on those once the office stuff is set up — though if Monica and um other people need one right away, I can work on getting stuff for them right now." She smiles at Monica. "Unless you want yours unfurnished so you can have your own stuff, I don't know."
A brow tic's up at the questioning look in Cardinal's direction, and he cocks his head a bit to one side, a grin curving to his lips. "If this's where you want to end up," he replies, simply, "I don't make other peoples' decisions for them."
"No need to rush. Cat's taking good care of me for now. But uh… My stuff was sucked into a vortex or something, so…" Monica says with a sheepish smile as she scratches the back of her head a bit. But she looks over at Cardinal, that smile easing into a more confident one. "You've gotta admit, I'd be a pretty good security guard."
"Does she keep trying to make you drink stout? I have no idea how she doesn't have a giant beer belly by now," Peyton says with a smirk. She bites her tongue on the quip to Cardinal's words — he doesn't make decisions for people; he makes their futures for them. But she's not sure how in-the-know Monica is, so she just smirks a little. "More shopping!" she says happily. Security Firm secretary or interior decorator? The job description is a bit blurry.
"You'd be one hell of a security guard," Cardinal points out, pushing off the table's edge and to his feet, turning a grin over towards Monica, "Ever considered doing some bodyguarding work too? I'm sure we might have some clients that could use the occasional ass-kicking escort in case of assassination attempt… and it'd be a legal living and everything. It's not like your ability is very blatant."
"We'll have to learn her secret and market it to the beer drinking population," Monica says with a chuckle of her own. Her gaze flicks back over to Cardinal, and she doesn't even have to think about her answer there. "Would I get to wear sunglasses?" Her smile spreads there before she nods to his last words. "I got lucky there."
The front door of the building opens and the blond soldier lets herself in. With a key, no less. Elisabeth is coming straight from the base, clearly. Black-on-black uniform, combat boots, with her hair pinned back into a soft twist away from her face, she's somewhat surprised to note the extra person as she steps into the room. "Oh! I'm sorry." Monica's not entirely unfamiliar to her or anything.
Peyton giggles, deciding she likes Monica. "We're all about subtlety," she says with a grin, moving to pick up the box and carry it past the lobby to the area that will be the reception desk and setting it on the ground there. "Is it nosy for me to ask? I mean, clients likely would, when we send them … no offense, someone who doesn't look threatening."
When the door opens, Peyton peers past Card and Monica. "Hey, Liz."
"Yes," Cardinal states, pointing a finger at Monica, "But not mine. I have manly sunglasses, and you are a girl."
He grins, then, and looks up - a hand raising as he calls out easily, "Liz! Hey. How was work. You know Monica, right?"
"My ability? Adoptive muscle memory. If I can see it, I can do it." Monica seems to be underplaying it some, but there's this look in her eye, just a bit of a twinkle, that gives away that she thinks it's awesome. Her hands go to her hips as she turns back to Cardinal, though. "Okay, fine, I'll get girly ones. Maybe diamond encrusted." She's kidding! Promise. When Liz comes in, she turns and flashes a friendly smile, "Liz Harrison, right?"
"If anyone's getting diamond-encrusted anything, someone better be including me on that," Elisabeth says wryly. "Hey, Monica." She nods an easy greeting. "I think we might have met once or twice. Niki's talked about you some, too," she says with a smile. "Nice to see you again." She waves toward Peyton and winks at Cardinal. "How's tricks, love? Work was…. abso-fuckin'-lutely fabulous. I got to shoot a Humanis First fucker in the leg." There's an undercurrent to that answer, though the expression and the grin are both amused and laid back.
"Lucky," Peyton says with another grin. That is a way cooler power than hers. Mostly because Monica doesn't have to see people getting mutilated, tortured, or turned into creatures. "Hey, I have diamond encrusted sunglasses. Well, you know. Cubic zirconia. Even I'm not that ostentatious." Just sparkly interlocking C's on her favorite pair! "Awesome. Shoulda shot him in the balls," she nods to Liz. "Keep the bastard from reproducing."
"Good." Cardinal states the word rather… flatly there, his head shaking slowly before he forces a smirk again, fingers raking back through his hair, "Anyway, I've been trying to get you all together with Monica for a bit. She seems interested in helping us murder a future."
"Nice to see you, too. Good to know this guy," Monica says, pointing her thumb at Cardinal, "has some good people working with him." When he explains, she nods, her expression a little more on the serious side. "If you guys are changing November eighth… I want to help."
Studying Monica quietly, Elisabeth nods slightly. Her blue eyes flicker to Cardinal as well. "Ivanov's all-in as well," she says quietly. "Kershner tagged him for FRONTLINE." Which actually makes Elisabeth quite happy — she and Felix work pretty well together. "I've filled him in on a lot, but he'll need the details later. It was too much to take in on top of the fact that his SAC at the Feeb building was beyond gleeful — he had Fel's office packed up before he even knew about the offer." She grimaces. "I don't know if Kershner will assume he's on retainer with us, so to speak, but we should treat him like deep cover when it comes to anyone but me and you chatting with him, I think."
Changing November 8th. Peyton's eyes drop at the mention of the date. She thinks some of that can change, but not her particular fate. If it's not on the 8th, it will be some other day. She's sure of that. "Glad to have you," she tells Monica, then raises a brow. "Felix?" she asks, smiling with some fondness for the man that she feels a strange bond to — having seen through his eyes, knowing what he went through, what they both managed to survive. "He's good people."
"November 8th, September 8th, August 25th…" Cardinal rubs a thumb against the ridge of his brow, curled hand resting to his forehead as he allows in tired tones, "It's going to be a busy year, let me tell you." He looks up and over, then, pausing, "Felix? Excellent…" He grins, "Bring him by and we'll talk about shit. Good to see him back in the game."
"Better busy than bored," Monica says with a touch of a crooked smile. Only a touch, because the subject of November eighth has her mood somber again. There's a moment's silence from her before she glances over at Liz at her words, then back to Cardinal who she asks quietly, "Does this mean I have to register?"
"Oh, I don't know," Liz retorts drily. "Boredom definitely gets a bad rap. I could use a little." Taking a deep breath, she nods to Cardinal. "He'll come by the house probably in the next couple of days. They'll ship him out for suit training shortly. Kershner's…." She shakes her head. "Never mind, we'll talk about it later." There's a handwave, her expression carefully devoid of strain. The blonde moves to pull out a DVD case from a pouch on her belt and hands it to Peyton. "This has the basic budget and the names of people I'd already contacted about the business." She glances at Richard and says quietly, "My father's agreed to contract to us for legal representation; anything business related that he's not familiar enough with, he'll consult on. He's solid on business and contract law, though."
"The Chinese have a curse — may your life be interesting," Peyton says. "I could deal with some boredom myself, too, to be honest," she says with a chuckle. "I mean, as soon as we recover from one thing, there's another, you know?" She takes the DVD case and gives a nod to Liz, moving to set it on the box of supplies and files she has nearby.
"Great," Cardinal flashes a smile over to Elisabeth, his chin dipping in a nod, "That's great to hear, we can use the help working out the paperwork and bureaucracy and contracts and all…" A pause, then he looks over to Monica, "Why? There's absolutely nothing your ability can do that a well-trained person couldn't, after all." He grins, "Don't see any need to carry a card for it."
"I guess I'm just the type that gets… twitchy when I've got nothing to do." Which may just be a side effect of her ability, she's not too sure on that point. But Monica lifts a shoulder at Card's reply, "I don't know if it puts the Frontliners in a weird position."
Elisabeth quirks an eyebrow at that. "What? That you're not registered? Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. No one in this group, including the Frontliners, is going to bring it up." Her tone suggests that if someone — like, say, Ivanov — has a problem with it initially, they won't by the time she's done with them. She is far less laid back these days than she used to be. Reaching up absently to release her blonde hair from its pins and tucking them into her pocket as the mass drops to tumble in disarray around her shoulders, Elisabeth props her butt right on the edge of Peyton's desk and runs her hands through her hair, something in her expression easing as if she perhaps has a headache. "So… anything else you want done? I think I'm home tonight," she comments to the group at large. "If you want to work in here, I'll go get some pizzas or something for while we clean."
"Furniture's supposed to get delivered today and tomorrow, and then I'm going to look to furnish some of the rooms upstairs," Peyton informs Liz. "Otherwise, just … organizing, cleaning, all that fun stuff." Despite the fact she has never really cleaned in her life, she hasn't complained much about all the labor. "It's getting there."
"I shot the sons of bitches who set up the suicide bombing in the park a couple weeks ago, so if cold-blooded fucking murder doesn't bother them, I doubt lack of registration would," Cardinal replies with a brief snort of breath, "I have an… arrangement with Kershner. She stays the fuck out of my way." A step over to Elisabeth's side, his hand skimming up her arm to squeeze at her shoulder before he looks to the others, "Cleaning sounds like a plan to me. Monica, Peyton, I've got some leads to follow up on too, if you two want to maybe grab Rebecca and start checking those out…"
No sooner is Monica in than he starts putting her to work. Figures.