Participants:
| Scene Title | Tit for Tat |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Elisabeth and Cardinal meet up to exchange questions and ask favors. |
| Date | March 15, 2009 |
A stone's throw away from the little makeshift harbor on the foreshore of the Arthur Kill river is this little even more makeshift bar. Little more than a shack, the interior barely fits more than its own stock of alcohol and kitchenware, and the seating spaces are outdoors under a rickety wooden cover decorated with fishing paraphernalia and nets. The chairs and tables are broken down cheap things that look like they've been scavenged from all over the place, mismatched but comfortable with some cushions or blankets thrown over them. The ground is sandy and dirty, as if the beach extends right under your feet, and despite being outdoors, the place is cluttered. Simple alcohol is provided - whiskeys, rums, and beers - without a chance of food, and you'll mostly find yourself in the company of thieves, considering the kinds of boats that dock here.
The night's just fallen, the dying sun spilling its reddish light over the floating layer of debris and scum that men call Fresh Kills Harbor - the scent of salt and of rotting vegetation drifting over the bar. Cardinal's sprawled out in a chair in the outdoors area, legs stretched beneath the table with an ankle over the other, one arm resting in his lap - and out of sight - and his other hand curled about the brown glass of a beer bottle in his hand. He looks out over the waters, taking a swig of beer now and then as he awaits his appointment.
Staten Island is the only place Elisabeth knows to get in touch with Cardinal, so she sends word through the complicated grapevine that she needs to see him and agrees to meet him wherever he wants. God knows, it's not either fun *or* easy being out here, and she's wearing sturyd, nondescript clothes for this run. Sneakers, jeans, a heavy black jacket that's seen better days. Her blonde hair is mostly covered by a black scarf, too. Her hands are shoved in her pockets right up until she reaches a point about 20 feet back, and then she clears her throat and says quietly, throwing her voice to him, "Don't shoot, 'kay?" Her hands are out by then, but hell… she doesn't know this man, and he sure as hell doesn't trust her. "Thanks for meeting me," she says as she approaches him and stops a few feet to the side of him.
"If you're going to keep acting like you don't belong here, someone is going t'shoot you," Cardinal observes with a dry twist of humor, his head canting a bit to look back over to her, a single brow arching and one hand raising to twitch gloved fingers forward in welcome, "Sit yourself down, Harrison. I'd offer a beer, but it'd probably kill a high-class girl like you. Also, god knows what it's brewed from." He eyes the bottle in his hand suspiciously.
Liz chuckles mildly. "I don't belong here. Scares the shit out of me," she admits candidly. "This place is like the OK Corral every damn night, so far as I can tell." When he declines to offer a beer, she smirks and swipes the bottle from his hand, taking a swallow of it. Doesn't even make a face when she hands it back, though it's definitely not the best beer around. "You know what they say about assumptions," she tells him easily as she hands it back and pulls up a seat.
The bottle's stolen from Cardinal's hand, and he arches a brow over the top of those shades that're always shielding his eyes — a low chuckle tumbling itself past his lips as he leans forward, resting one arm on the table's surface, his other hand reaching out to accept the brown bottle. "So what can I do you for, Harrison?"
"I asked a mutual acquaintance of mine and Abigail's to head over here to look for her. I haven't heard from her since that request was made, and her apartment's totally clean. I had thought she might be going undercover in the fight ring — they'd have liked her in there — but Abby said you'd run into her. Tall blond goes by the name of Jessica." Elisabeth rests her arms on the table. "I'm hoping that you can tell me that you've seen her recently. Because Abby said she'd never even spotted her there."
"I'd gotten in touch with her, yeah," Cardinal admits, his lips pursing in a slight frown at the further news; fingertips drumming to the table a bit, "Hadn't heard from her since. I figured she'd dropped off th'grid for some reason or another - could've gotten killed, or picked up. Could've gone undercover at the Pancratium, too. She's pretty intense."
Elisabeth shakes her head slightly. "Intense is a polite euphemism for it," she acknowledges. "If she's been picked up, it's not by regular law enforcement." Liz bites her lip a bit, looking worried. "If I asked real nice, do you suppose you could stick your ear to the ground out here and see if anything pops? If she's undercover in there, she may not even know Abby's been picked up and that she can bow out. If she's not…. well, hell…" She shakes her head. "I'm thinking the safe assumption in that case is that she's either dead or Homeland's picked her up." Given Jessica's history, the latter is the more likely to Liz's mind. But she won't mention that part as yet.
A faint snort of breath answers that, Cardinal's head shaking ever so slightly. "I'll keep an eye out for her," he offers, "But after your friend's li'l assignment for me, I'm going t'be pretty busy myself. I've got a lot on my plate since you all seem t'think that I'm some kind've altruistic humanist or something." A frown purses to his lips as he brings the bottle up to his mouth, taking a swig thereof and then gesturing with it towards her, "If I hear anything, though, I'll let y'know."
There's a faint grin and Elisabeth asks mildly, "What kind of little assignment are you on? And why're you taking it on if you don't feel like it?" She tilts her head, blue eyes pinning him with a quizzical expression in the deepening twilight. "No one said you had to do anything. And I seriously doubt they're offering to pay you."
"Tyler Case," Cardinal replies with a slight lift of his chin up to the policewoman, neglecting to respond to the questioning note in her voice and in those blue eyes; his own unseen behind near-opaque black plastic, lips pursed in a serious line, "You have anything on him? Cat didn't have very much… useful information for me."
Elisabeth tenses slightly. She didn't realize Cat was going to take an active hand in this, although she probably should have foreseen it. SHIT. Her mouth tightens and she looks out over the water for a minute. "I have some leads I'm following up, yes." She looks at him. "But I highly recommend that you don't get involved. Homeland Security is all over this case, Car… Richard? What should I call you anyway? If we're going to start meeting like this, I'd like to know what you prefer. Anyway…. is she trying to get him on the underground railroad or what?"
At that, Cardinal's lips twitch up a bit at one corner. "Cardinal," he replies, one hand raising to rub his knuckles thoughtfully against the stubble shadowing his chin, "So you Phoenix types don't all talk to each other, mm? Figures. I'm not worried about HomeSec… nobody'll ever even know I'm looking. So. What can you tell me?"
Running a hand through her hair, Elisabeth pushes out of the seat and then paces near the table a bit with her hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans. "I can tell you that the case against the kid looks to *me* like self-defense or a power gone wild. But I don't know what his power is." She looks over her shoulder at him. "He's been in close proximity to two people dying, but we can't determine if he's pulling their own latent or active Evolved powers to the fore, if he's actually using a power, or what the situation is. If you do find him, approach him carefully."
"Oh, trust me, I plan on it…" Cardinal's lips purse tightly for a moment, "I'd rather not see what'd happen if something went — wrong — with my own power." A breath's drawn in, exhaled, his head shaking a little, "Anyway. No leads on where th'guy might be hiding out right now?"
"Nothing solid, no," Elisabeth replies. She turns to look at him, crossing her arms. "You never answered the question. How come you're going to bother taking an assignment for Cat for no compensation, Carindal?" She sounds … genuinely interested.
"I don't recall sayin' that I wasn't getting any compensation, Harrison," Cardinal replies sharply, a single brow arching above his shades as he gives her a look, leaning back in his chair with a soft creak as the poorly-made piece of furniture creaks upon its legs, "I'm freelance. Well, I s'pose technically I work for Fedor these days… anyway." He waves the bottle in his hand vaguely, "So. Don't get to thinking I'm one've you idealistic fuckers, or anything."
There's a soft laugh. "I never assume anyone's one of the idealistic fuckers, Cardinal." He reminds Elisabeth of Conrad in some ways; he always said he wasn't an idealist too. But he still died for it. She scans the dark water. "I'm not even sure I'm one of the idealistic fuckers most days. But you know what?" She looks back at him. "Damned if we didn't go and save the fuckin' world. So… eh… I figure there's something to it all. And I'm reasonably sure there's not a single bit of compensation we offered for going in the other night, so don't gimme shit about it. You might not be an idealist, but I think you'd like to see us win." She laughs quietly. "Though what the fuck 'winning' actually means or what we think we're winning, I have *no* clue."
A cynical chuckle tumbles from Cardinal's lips, his hand folding to brace his chin as he murmurs, "Suppose it depends on what your goals are, Harrison. An' while I wouldn't mind seeing Petrelli go down, let's be fuckin' honest here - next day you'd be arresting me for unrelated shit anyway, if I let you." The suggestion being, of course, that she couldn't if he didn't let her. He tilts his head slightly, asking then suddenly, "So. Who were the Vanguard?"
"Buncha fuckwads," Elisabeth shoots back immediately. "Terrorist organization working for a psycho named Volken, who basically wanted to release a virus that would have killed 90 percent of the population over the next ten years by turning EVERYONE into Evos… only to then have the transformation turn 'em into melted puddle of goo. Why?"
"I heard they framed Deckard," Cardinal admits, his brow furrowing unpleasantly at the explaination as he leans forward a little, "So, I was jus' curious who they were… Jesus Christ. Why th'fuck would anyone want to pull something that fuckin' bullshit crazy?"
"Psychotic. Freak," Elisabeth reiterates. "And also the fact that HIS people were all going to be immune, so if or when things settled, guess who'd be the new power in the world?" She walks back over and drops into the chair next to him. "The things they did… there's a whole list. I'm sure Cat will give you every citation you want, if you ask her." She sighs heavily. "I'm still new enough to all this that I don't even have all the details. I get the information I need to get my part of the job done and the rest? I ask when it becomes relevant." She smiles a little.
The shades are drawn free of the thief's face, set down upon the table; hand turning up, fingers unfurling to splay against his eyes, rubbing at them a bit. "Christ," he murmurs under his breath, "How th'fuck did I get involved with you crazy fucked up people an' your even crazier enemies, anyway? Motherfucker."
That makes Elisabeth laugh. "Don't ask me, man. I can name a lot of reasons why people fall in with this crowd. Me? I probably do fall into the idealist crowd a little — I joined for similar reasons as I became a cop. To keep as many people safe as I can, and to kick the asses of people who do shit like blow up schools. I was caught in the Irving explosions while I was on hiatus from being a cop — unregistered and scared to death with it. Damn near died when Vanguard hit the school. So that's where my start happened. I just wanted justice for my kids. But it's sort of snowballed." She pauses and looks at him. "You? Not sure how you got sucked in… not sure what reasons you might stay for."
Cardinal's fingers slide down after a moment of pinching the bridge of his nose, those light-strained and reddened eyes regarding her over his hand, a wry half-smile partially hidden by his hand. "I'm just going to blame Deckard," he replies wryly after a moment, "And I can think of worse people t'owe me favors than a bunch've crazy terrorists with more power'n they really know what to do with." A brow lifts, "Don't think I'm not keepin' track of favors owed, either. Tit for tat, Harrison."
Elisabeth raises a brow and smirks. "You haven't tatted my tits, mister. Thus far, the only favor I've asked is that you keep your ear to the ground for Jessica. And in return I've told you what I know about Tyler Case. If or when my tits come into this, I better be gettin' far more for 'em than that. They're worth it." She shoves her chair back and moves to stand with a cheeky grin.
A grin crooks to the criminal's lips at that, his chin tilting back and head a bit to one side to let hazel eyes rake over her appraisingly. "You did," he admits, casual and shameless, "Fill out that uniform pretty well, Harrison. If you ever want to discuss that instead've all of this political bullshit— " A lean back once more, brows raising, "— well, you know where t'find me."
The blonde's grin has a wicked glint. "Well, now, if you're serious about that discussion…. maybe you shoulda brought it up to start with."
"Oh, please," drawls the man, gesturing with the long-empty bottle about the Pelican, "I'm not quite so trashy t'hit on a woman in a place like this." A grin's crook'd over, "So… maybe next time, eh? Oh, one more thing, before you give me a nice view on the way out. A favor, if you can manage it and you're willing. Muldoon. Think you could get me a copy've his file? At least th'basics. I'm sure he's got one." A number's scribbled down upon a scrap of paper from his pocket, slid over to her.
Elisabeth looks around and shrugs slightly. "Your loss," she says easily. A favor, hrm?" There's that Cheshire Cat smile. This one might cost him. Or…. perhaps not. She takes the paper. "Thanks. I didn't have anything on him, but now I do." Her blue eyes are ice cold, along with the tone she responded in, a far cry from the flirtatious woman of a moment ago. She's getting better at cop-face … or maybe terrorist-face. "I'll see what I can dig up for you." And for herself.
"Thanks," Cardinal nods, ever so slightly, before stretching back in the chair, arms folding behind his head and eyes closing as he murmurs, "So. If you're ever up for dinner, give me a call, eh? I'm sure I can make time around all the other shit I've got on my plate at the moment. Have a good night, Harrison."
Those blue eyes drift over him and she smiles faintly once more. "I just might do that. But if you show up, Elisabeth or Liz will do." She turns and heads back out, shoving her hands in her pockets to deliberately flaunt her tush at him as she leaves, a soft chuckle wafting behind her to his ears.'
 March 15th: No, You |
 March 15th: Talking About Moab |