Two In No Man's Land


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Scene Title Two In No Man's Land
Synopsis The Company sniffs Phoenix's tailfeathers, and isn't summarily lit on fire for its trouble. It's a tenuous game they're playing.
Date April 29, 2009

The Nite Owl

The Nite Owl is a survivor from ages past - one of those ancient diners with huge plate glass windows, checkerboard linoleum floor, and a neon owl over the entrance that blinks at those entering. Inside, there's an L-shaped main counter, complete with vintage soda fountain and worn steel stools. All of the cooking is done on the ranges ranked against the rear wall. The outer wall is lined with booths upholstered in cracked scarlet vinyl, tables trimmed with polished chrome. Despite its age, it's been lovingly maintained. The air is redolent with the scent of fresh coffee, vanilla, and frying food.

By the time Phoenix's teleporter drops off the recalcitrant Company agent at the diner, Teo is already there waiting for her. It would only be polite, of course: he's the one who requested she go a little out of her way, given her history with audiokinetic tails and whatever probatory period the higher-ups in the firm had her under.

Teodoro is a familiar figure seated in a booth alone, accompanied at the hip by a green messenger bag, on the table by a chili bowl scraped empty and a tall glass of water that's been emptied down to its ice, crowned by a striped plastic straw that has its end mashed flat by molars. His jaw is propped up on the heel of his hand, pallid eyes staring empty into the street through the window pane. Evidently, he did not expect Minea Dahl called him in hopes of sharing a pleasant meal.

Minea Dahl isn't there in the hopes of a pleasant meal. She's just here to ask some questions, likely get no answers and told to fuck off in some nice Italian way that probably really isn't that nice, but sounds nice. She's moving gingerly, not her usual no nonsense stalk. Gun in a shoulder rig today instead of at her waist. Not surprising since about two days ago Adam Monroe opted to increase the lead content of her body a bit. Across from him the brunette slides, a hand over a turned over coffee cop as the universal signal that no she doesn't want coffee. "Laudani."

"Buona sera. That's different," Teo observes, studying the woman with a pleasant, if not quite beatific smile that he no doubt means. He clarifies the next moment: "'Laudani.' What happened to Caravaggio?" He does sound nice. In that nice Italian way. Fortunately, for now, he really is that nice too. "Good to see you're on your feet." Saying so implies he'd known she'd been off them, but there's no real way to tell.

He straightens on his seat, raises an arm to flag down a waitress with a menu. If nothing else, the baby terrorist will get her a cup of coffee: courtesy available until, or maybe even a little ways into the emergence of their differences.

"You didn't like Caravaggio. I don't have much time, so i'll get right down to it" Right down to it once the waitress has come and gone and the the brunette asks for just water and waits till the woman leaves. "Where's Hiro Nakamura? It's urgent."

Water. No coffee? Shot down, Teo accepts this with as much aplomb as one would expect. He's left peering at her somewhat owlishly at the style and phrasing of her request. There's a shadow of hesitation that crosses his features, plain as a cloud drift across the sun, while he considers retracting the first simple truth: "I don't know." One shoulder comes up under his ear, a half a shrug. "But I can probably find out.

"What is the urgent it?" He raises his eyebrows once, briefly, but they flatten again around the wry expectation that that's classified above his clearance level.

Classified far above his level. "Something came up, that has his… signature, you could call it. I need to see if it's him who fucked with stuff or whether it's someone else. But while I have you. Anything strange in Brooklyn that you know of? Strangers, have the little" There's a gesture to the back of her neck that indicates the little mark that identifies those who are bagged by the company then turned loose again. "Somethings up in Brooklyn. your friends need to stay away. It's crawling with homeland agents right now."

"Signora," oh, here it comes. The nice Italian something which may or may not be fuck-off. Probably not yet: it's too soon, and while they've just begun and are exchanging friendly warnings, he owes her at least this much. "I know I'm not much to look at myself, but you already I know one of the world's most powerful cyberpaths, and one or two psychotic ninja gymnasts who are much more impressive. We don't generally have any interest in taking justice into our own hands.

"But assuming you wouldn't be stupid enough to bring another one of your Company's civil rights transgressions to our door, seems chances are good we can and will help you.

"Tell me a little? Something might have come up. Sky's been quiet for us, but I've heard a few things on other fronts." Just not geographically specific, or Teo might even volunteer that much. Leaning forward onto his elbow, he studies the woman out of his ludicrous blue eyes, his brow furrowing around concern.

"Listen Laudani, I'm the last person to under-estimate the power of Phoenix and their ability to be like a proverbial cockroach. I helped in the whole end of the world thing too and didn't run off turning people in when I should have, or is everyone forgetting that?. I wasn't levying the Brooklyn warning as threats, it was me giving a warning that they already flushed one safe house, and they have agents crawling over that place like the presidents coming. But he not. I'm doing my job, your doing yours. Jobs. Sometimes our personal feelings conflict, but we still do it."

Minea's phone starts vibrating and the brunette un-clips the black berry to look at it then put it away. "We're got strange things popped up on the radar. Particularly in Brooklyn. Enough so that they're trying to account for everyone that they've 'transgressed'. But that's not why I need to talk to Hiro. I got a homeland agent who was verified in one spot, but I saw her in another. And she looked a little different, but i'd have laid my life down, that it was her. There was an illusionist in play, one your undergrounds probably, but this "illusion" wielded the same ability as the agent they were imitating. I've played tag with Hiro. I just need to know if he was fucking with an agent on the 24th, and if so, where. We're exploring a shapeshifter who might be like Sylar, an illusionst who disguised someone with the same ability, or.. That Hiro was playing with time and screwing with things"

The flicker of movement that shifts through Teo's fingers is not exactly dismissive, but it's putting the point aside. "I'm just trying to convince you to tell me what's going on," he reassures her kindly, before shutting his trap long enough to put his most serious, Listening Face on, and listening when she does exactly that. It is a great deal of news. There's a protracted moment's thought, his eyebrows contracting as he tries to pry fact out of interpretation.

"Okay, I'm really sorry to do this," he says, lifting up his hands, palms-out, genial surrender. "But what was the Agent's name and ability? I have a reasonably good understanding of how illusionsists, Sylar and Hiro work— not perfect, but…" His jaw slides sideways slightly, scissored crooked with thought. "I don't think it was either of them. Chronology and motives don't match up with the other sightings I've heard about."

"I can't give you the name. Your technopath is good enough, i'm sure she can figure it out. The ability is forcefield genertation. They're somewhat silvery when she creates them. Female, roughly mid twenties, straight brown hair. The 'illusion' that I saw" Her fingers go up in quotation marks. "Has curlier hair and the agent in question doesn't own anything that the illusion wore. I'd still like to talk to Nakamura to make sure. Can't be Sylar, he's in custody in the bottom of some dark pit somewhere"

Ahahaha. Yeah. Right. Teo manages to keep his poker face intact long enough to turn this recollection over in his head, his eyes thinning down to a faintly Neanderthalish squint, his forehead in a hewn overhang. The next, his eyes open wider again, like a flex of his face. He blinks once, twice. "Nakamura's lost his ability," he says, abruptly. "Theory is that Tyler Case swapped him out with your president who, believe it or not, has the ability to fly.

"Only Tyler Case is supposed to be in the bottom of some dark pit somewhere, and the one who's been showing…" Whaaa. The knit of Teo's brow tightens further, laddering his face with lines that don't belong on somebody his age.

Whoa. Woooh. Both blue eyes slide out of focus, giving him a general look of bovine stupidity. He is, for the moment, completely lost in thought, treading footless halls of memory or deduction that he probably hasn't said quite enough for Minea to follow. Unguided, his hand then slides across the table sideways, closes on the edge of the window. With about as much grace and tact as a particularly large drum, he turns his head and smacks it against the metal of the frame. Clunk.

The pane shudders. Other patrons look up, giving Minea a look as if she could do something about her compatriot. "Could be a time-traveler," Teo offers, blinking in the aftermath. "There's a lot of that clusterfuck going around lately."

The President is evolved. What. The. Fuck. There's an idle thought as to whether the company knows or not. Probably. They seem to know everything. But tyler case, supposed be in bottom of a pit but the one who's been sho…

"There's Two Tyler Cases?" Minea's brown eyes latch onto Teo's once his head stops connecting with the pane of glass. "Laudani. The only Time Manipulator is Hiro. That I know of. Is there another one running around and how did Hiro loose his ability?" That explains the man's sister answering the phone.

It's kind of weird, the number and character of secrets in Teodoro's mental vault. His smile looks a little wan for a moment, out from under the shadow of the hand he ends up rubbing against his forehead. "I don't know," he answers, frankly. "Or I'm not sure, and I don't want to say anything because then something might get fucked up with you assuming one way when you should be doing another. I respect you enough not to want to deliberately mislead you."

It's so frank, it probably would have come off like a lie from anybody else. Teodoro, on the other hand, is fishing money out of his wallet, discarding wrinkly green bills on the table. "I'll see about getting you Hiro's number after one of ours have debriefed him. Anything else I can help you with?"

They're both like that, this moment. More alike maybe than others realize. She's not trying to mislead him, but unlike him, she's got a company that's had no qualms wiping minds and locking people away in levels of a facility that Minea's not even supposed to know about. Minea's not supposed to know a lot of stuff. Teo's just given her more. "I don't expect he'll want to talk to me. He keeps calling me Saseko. Whore" Though, mind you, for good reason. "He knows what I am, and that's fine. I know what I do. I fucked up. I wouldn't do it again" Minea shakes her head before peeling away from the seat and a little took quickly from the grimace.

"Tell your folks to watch out. Adam Monroe is on the streets." Her phone bleats again and she looks at the number again with a flare of her nostrils. "He's on the agency's most wanted. Immortal or something like that. Regenerates at an ungodly pace, faster than the restorationist you know can heal. I don't think the other agent is going to make it. Tell your underground to be careful out there. That's all I can afford to give in warning. Stay in, don't send people to them, or move them. Hunker down till whatever's happening out there, is done with"

"Adam Monroe," Teodoro nods, crooks her a thoughtful frown as he unfolds his long frame from around the table, his shoes scuffing a sideways course out into the linoleum walkway. He pushes blunt fingernails through the bristly hair at the top of his head, as if the sensation that walks the fingernail seam between pain and simple tactility helps him to think a little better. Which kind of explains the smack of his head on the window, and kind of doesn't.

Some part of him feels obliged to illuminate her, that the Company can find allies in some of this strange number of time-travelers. The vast majority of his intellect believes that that tidbit of information is best left out until Phoenix comes down on one side or another of this coming war. It always comes down to that.

The greatest courtesy Teo can be entirely sure that he will do the woman, when the time comes, is a warning for herself and her alone. "Grazie. It was nice talking to you, as well as useful. I think I still have your number." He draws his frame into a disciplined line, tilts a smile down at her that fades slightly at the sight of her arm in its rig. "Godspeed."

"I'll need it if they ever find out what I know, what I've told. If I don't show up some day… Stick a stone up beside Wozniak's Cause I'll likely be dead or a vegetable" Minea replies before the turns the phone off. "You helped Laudani. I need to go see your Teleporter, so she can get me back to my roof. I need to go to the hospital"

The smile starts at Teo's eyes, but makes its way down. He eases his way out across the floor, bare hands in pockets, his strides the lumbering, deceptively sedentary trot of an oversized dog, and the swing of shoulders in it: a hooligan's saunter. "Maybe not. Their modus operandi being what it is, they might appreciate your discretion and give you a fat fucking promotion— after enough time.

"Hard to tell with them." Treacherous as walking on fire. Teo's opinions on the subject don't require much elaboration. Don't flinch; keep moving.

Maybe it'll be a long time before they have to shoot each other. Teodoro opens the door for the injured agent, more out of politeness than any idiotic idea that she's incapable of managing on her own. He gestures which way she should go to meet Anne, inclines his head, and lopes off in the other.

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