Too Tired To Be That Naive


cat_icon.gif veronica3_icon.gif

Scene Title Too Tired To Be That Naive
Synopsis Cat and Veronica trade information, discuss assessments.
Date July 21, 2010

The Verb, Penthouse

Arriving by any of four elevators, visitors will find they open into three foot corridors facing wide double doors made from sturdy southern pine which swing outward and have the strongest locks available. The stairs lead to single doors, also outward opening, at the end of three foot corridors. Entry requires both a key and a keycard; other security measures are a video camera and voice communication terminal at all doors. The 4th Street side has floor to ceiling windows interrupted only by the access points. Cream colored curtains are normally kept closed.

This level has enough space for sixteen apartments. There is an office space with reception area, conference room, and executive office; a room for archery practice and other forms of physical exercise; a very well appointed kitchen and dining area; a music zone with an array of instruments, electronics, and amplifiers; an entertainment area with an HD set covering an entire stretch of wall from floor to ceiling; a locked room where security footage for the building is recorded and can be monitored; a laundry room; a staircase for roof access; central air and heating; the main bedroom and a few smaller guest rooms; plush deep wine carpet everywhere except the kitchen, laundry room and bathrooms; and track lighting everywhere overhead. The light levels can be lowered or raised in the entire place, or selectively by segments. The overall decor suggests the occupant is a woman.

The sun is vanishing in the west, multicolored light above the horizon steadily fading away into blackness, as Cat stands before one of the wall of windows overlooking Greenwich Village below. She's got her red Fender Strat over one shoulder, lead and amplifier left behind in the music zone. There was playing before and will perhaps be playing again, but right now there's business to be conducted.

She's got one of the entry doors open, waiting for the telltale sound of an arriving elevator and the arrival of she whom it's expected to contain. A woman asked to come here after work, if judged safe given that the Institute might be keeping tabs on her. One never knows; despite being legally unencumbered it might raise eyebrows or worse if the Agent is repeatedly spotted visiting Doctor Chesterfield.

Veronica steps out of the elevator a few moments later, tilting her head and moving toward the open door. "Hello, Cat," she calls, the other woman not quite in her line of sight, though she knows she is likely in Cat's through one of the monitors. She's weary sounding, work and her chosen duties outside of work wearing her down a bit.

"Before you ask, I don't want any stout," she says, pleasantly, "but I'll take a cup of coffee."

The monitors are behind a closed door elsewhere in the penthouse, but it's a fair bet Cat was observing them to see when Agent Sawyer arrived in the lobby or was alerted to her arrival by the desk staff. Maybe both. The door being open is testament to this. Her replying voice comes from inside that entryway, moments ahead of the woman stepping into view. She emits a brief laugh. "You've been here before, you know I've got far more than dark Irish brew. Coffee it is." Coffee is doable, feet start moving toward the kitchen across the interior. It's a walk of some thirty seconds. Or more. "You sound exhausted, Veronica. Maybe that's an understatement."

Along the way, she touches on a recent event. "That affair at Hamilton Heights certainly does sound strange."

"Thanks," Veronica murmurs, no reply on whether she's actually tired or not. Her husky voice makes her sound sleepy on the best of occasions, though it's rougher around the edges tonight. Her brow tics up at the mention of Hamilton Heights.

"It's a strange event, yeah. I haven't heard of anything like that happening before, but then it's possible it has an somehow been covered up." Government cover-ups are always the norm, it seems, these days. "We're looking into it. Of course, I can't help but wonder if it's our buddies at the Institute somehow — someone who maybe had the power in smaller amounts, getting augmented, or various abilities being paired. It's on my to-look-into list, but unfortunately, it's a little hard to do that while trying to win points, right?"

Nodding, Cat replies "I thought augmentation was involved myself, when I heard more of the story from a witness. That Washington, DC was seen for an instant, overlaid on the area involved. Maybe multiple abilities: augmentation, portal-making, and something which could vibrate to damage the building. Did any evidence turn up in the capital?"

Once in the kitchen she sets the coffeemaker to its task.

"Yes, though not the missing people. Or at least not the alive ones," Veronica says with a sigh, leaning on the counter as Cat makes coffee. "Matter transferral or something, maybe, I don't know. Right now, there's no actual evidence that it was augmented. It's possible it's just a single very powerful ability, though DC in the backdrop doesn't really make that sound too likely." Something makes her frown for a moment, though she doesn't elaborate on it. "Course, I don't think the Institute is actually set up in DC, though maybe they have a mad scientists' lab there too. The local one, wherever it is, maybe is just a satellite campus."

"From the account I was given, and my own experiences of what's possible, three or more abilities may have been in play," Cat relates. "I was told there was shaking and the building splitting open, like with terrakinesis, but I'd think that would've caused damage to the ground around the structure. Possibly even also turned up on USGS radar, seismic measurements. I don't know if either are or aren't true. It could also be explained by a vibratory power other than terrakineses. Audiokinesis, for example."

Turning to watch the coffeemaker while still speaking, Cat states "I'm told there was also a strange light. Didn't ask if it was a flash, or sustained, along with the overlay of DC on Harlem. Augmentation comes to mind, too, we've both seen what augmentation on overdrive can do. Like that giant hole in the ice, or the Institute causing those flash forward visions last month." A cabinet is opened, from it a coffee cup is extracted.

"If the Institute were involved, it would make things clearer. An abduction, or an attempt to abduct, frightening an occupant, and if the occupant were an augmenter…" She leaves Veronica to finish that line of thinking on her own.

"Are you looking for Monica Dawson, V?"

"I don't think it was terrakinesis or audiokinesis. The actual damage is too precise for something like that, in my experience," Veronica says with a shake of her head. "Like I said, my first thought is the Institute and augmentation. However, we have this case. We were told to stay away from investigating the June 10th visions. So that suggests that maybe it's not the Institute," Veronica explains, reaching for the cup.

Her eyebrows do rise in curiosity. "We're looking for anyone who lives there who we haven't had a chance to talk to, and her name is on the list, yes. Why?"

Brewing completes, Cat takes the pot and holds it to pour. Additive materials are nearby, easy reach for the agent. "It might be possible to speak with Miss Dawson," she replies, "for you, and you alone. Or perhaps a written statement might be provided."

"I take it she's still affiliated with your groups, then," Veronica says, stirring in cream and sugar, and leaning back against the counter to sip the hot liquid, then meeting Cat's eyes.

"I'd like to talk to her if possible. A written statement without having actually met with her, well… there are things that I might need to ask her about that she's not likely going to write up on her own on an account of what happened," the agent explains. "There are names affiliated with this case not necessarily connected to the building, though it's doubtful she has answers on those issues. Still, if it's not accounted for in the report, it'd look fishy to the higher-ups." i.e. Harper, though she doesn't say the name.

Brown eyes regard those which look into them, their owner calmly businesslike. Unflinching. "I'm a bit surprised no one approached me to ask if I'd seen or spoken with her," Cat remarks, "given the link and her residence at Hamilton Heights. I'll let her know you want to meet, but there are no guarantees." A second cup is taken out and filled for herself, then doctored slightly.

"I've done some research. Those compasses do exist, it seems the Institute already has at least one. My own prototype doesn't work, yet, but I'll get there. Meanwhile, I came across someone who can see the EM spectrum…"

"I don't think she's really seen as a suspect, so while she is on the list, she wasn't my first priority, Cat. Also, I don't want to have to call on favors with you more than necessary," Veronica explains. "Other strange aspects of this case were taking precedence."

After taking a sip of the coffee, she then sets it to the side on the counter. "How do you know the Institute has one already? You know I'm not a fan of making more of those things, but I'm not going to tell you not to. It makes sense, I guess, to make one to learn to defeat it, but if it falls into the wrong hands, that's a nightmare waiting to happen. But I guess you could fall into the wrong hands, and they'd know just as much, so, well, do what you will." She doesn't mention knowing that the Institute has a very small, very portable, very wearable version of the compass that she's seen up close. "So did this source give you any epiphanies?"

"Richard told me he knows someone who spotted one of them in the possession of an Institute agent, and that their research facility is in Antarctica," Cat provides, "when I filled him in on the person who sees the spectrum. That source claims SLC people do emit EM radiation which gets stronger as numbers increase."

"Interesting. And the DoEA's trying to round them all up into little clusters of neighborhoods. All the easier to round up with that compass, then," Veronica says with a shake of her head. "Well. If you can arrange a meeting with Dawson, that would be appreciated. It might help with my plans." She never says them aloud, though obviously it's not a matter of being worried of technopaths or spies — just a little bit of psychological distancing from the onerous task, most likely.

"Compasses are so much easier than blood tests," Cat agrees gravely. "The DoEA plan to register everyone, whether SLC or not, worries me. I wonder if that's the cause of the potential November riots, in fact. Or a cause, one among several." But she leaves the speculation aside, turning focus to Veronica's plans for the moment. "Keep your head down, V."

Picking up her coffee and drinking down the rest, Veronica nods. "Possible. Hopefully we can change that path," she says. "I hope it showed them they need to change that path, too, but that's really wishful thinking, and I'm just too tired to be that naive." She sets down the empty cup, the agent nods. "You can give Monica my information, or arrange the meeting, whatever works best. Tell her she's not a suspect at all. There is someone innocent — not a resident, not a witness — that I am trying to help that I've learned about in connection to that case, so I'd like to talk to her myself for that reason."

She gives a nod to the cup. "Thanks for the coffee. I should get, I have some other things to do tonight before I can sleep."

She's visibly curious, when Veronica speaks of trying to help an innocent tied to the Hamilton Heights event, but Cat resists asking for details. Somehow. Perhaps hoping the agent will just come out with it."Will do," she confirms.

The agent smiles at the curiosity evident on the Cat's face. "Right now, it's nothing related to the Institute," unless Darryl Lincoln is seeing the Institute steal people, "or your organizations, but if I need your help or if it affects the matters we're all working on together, I'll let you know. Right now, it's just someone who might have fallen through the cracks that I'm looking to help in some way. Which, if I'm going to do, I need to get. G'night, Cat. Thanks for the information on Dawson." With that, she heads toward the front of the apartment, to see herself out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License