We Call...


cat_icon.gif elisabeth_icon.gif

Scene Title We Call
Synopsis A media project is shown to Elisabeth, and current happenings are talked over.
Date March 18, 2009

Village Renaissance Building, Recording Studio

Studio A is spacious and bright, with dramatic views to the north and east along Lafayette and 4th streets. The abundance of natural light provides our clients with a relaxing environment in which to work. This tracking and mixing room features a 72 input SSL 9000J series console and a ProTools HD 3 Accell system.

Studio B is a perfect vocal tracking, overdub and production facility. This wing features a comfortable control room with a Yamaha DM 2000 console and Protools HD 3 Accell system as well as an intimate live room, ideal for both vocals and instrumentals. In keeping with the atmosphere throughout our facility, both our B control and live rooms have plenty of natural light with views of east Manhattan. A separate lounge adjacent to the studio rooms provides a place to relax while maintaining our clients' complete privacy from the rest of the studio.

Studio C is a production and writing room.

Wednesday morning sees Elisabeth back out on the streets as if nothing happened Monday. Well…. not as if nothing happened. She's still pissed to high heaven about Case being turned over to Homeland, not to mention still emotionally damaged by what's being called in the press "The 36." Though only 35 kids died, the furor is probably going to continue for some time. And now she has to go speak to Cat about the situation. She comes empty-handed this morning, not really in the mood for a lot of socialness. Wearing unrelieved black today, it's a look that's unusual for her — black sweater, black slacks, boots, even her jacket. She'd look Goth if she had the right makeup. She rings Cat's bell after security lets her into the building.

This time Cat is on the fifth floor, in the recording studio. She's alone, with her red Fender Stratocaster strap across a shoulder, the instrument plugged directly into one of the consoles. Tape is rolling outside the booth she's in, it's an easy enough thing to start and stop it then edit later. The sound emerging from her fingers as they work strings and frets is bluesy, its tone shaped in part by the small metal tube over two fingers of her left hand on the instrument's neck.

Being told Officer Harrison has entered the building causes her to set the guitar aside and head for the door to greet her. Or the elevator, more properly. A short time after ringing that bell, a bell of a different sort chimes behind her and the lift doors open. Out steps Cat, clad in jeans and a Yale t-shirt with hair pulled into a ponytail and looking somber.

"Elisabeth," she greets.

Liz turns and smiles a bit for Cat. "Morning," she tells the other woman quietly. "Got a minute to have a conversation? I wanted to give you an update."
"I do," Cat replies quietly. The officer's face is studied for a moment, she opens arms to invite approach for a hug as she stepts forward to bestow one upon her. "I've got something to show you, too."

The hug is accepted and returned tightly after only a momentary hesitation — she's not really used to that kind of support. Elisabeth's circle of girl-friends is kind of lacking. Cat and Abby are, in truth, the only real female *friends* that Elisabeth has, though the budding friendship with Kaydence has promise as well. When she steps back from the hug, some of the strain lines on her face have eased a bit. "Sure. Let's step inside?" She doesn't want to have the conversation in the hall.

The hug is brief, but with warmth in it. "This way," Cat replies, turning back to the still open elevator and entering it. "It's down on the fifth floor. I've got some coffee down there too, and a little food I brought along while working." Her features remain solemn, though calmly so. She doesn't seem under distress.
Elisabeth nods and follows Cat into the elevator. "Not hungry," she comments. In the past months since the bridge, the blonde's dropping about 15 pounds — she's not unhealthily slender, but it's a notable difference lately. You'd think that the rescue of Abby and Norton and the others would have made her happy — and she was thrilled! Abby keeps trying to feed her. But the mass suicide over the weekend pretty much wiped out what progress Abigail's cooking had made. "Coffee's good, though," she agrees. "What're you working on?"

"A media project," Cat replies in an even tone as the elevator doors close and the car goes into the one floor descent. It's a short trip, within a handful of seconds that 'ding' chimes again and they open onto the lobby of the recording studio, currently staffed by no one. That may or may not always be the case, Cat does have plans. "Coffee is always good," she adds as feet head toward the part of the operation she was working in. "Anyway, you first. Something's on your mind," she encourages.

When she steps into the recording studio, Elisabeth looks around… and something subtle shifts in her expression. A kind of yearning suddenly that she squelches. "Yeah," she replies, looking at Cat with her hands shoved back into her coat pockets. "You can close out looking into the Case investigation. I'll let Cardinal know to quit looking too, or you can. Either way. Homeland picked him up Monday night out from under our noses."

Her eyes close, the expression shifts to one of regret and mild loss. It strikes her. Not so much as it had when Dani died by any means, but it does register. "Merde," the brunette breathes out. "The plan was he'd find him, and I'd be able to ask what went on and pass the word along, producing him only if a warrant for arrest was produced, like we talked about. Everybody wins. Innocent man goes free, you get the information to solve the cases…" But he's been darkholed. The words trail away, frustration settles in, and she turns to face elsewhere briefly and get a handle again. Fists draw up tightly, almost to white knuckles.

"If it's the last thing I do, a way to drag them all out kicking and screaming into the light of day will be found."

Elisabeth just… shakes her head. "Grimes has the evidence to exonerate him, if I understood right. But it won't matter unless someone higher up the chain listens." She sighs. "Between what Grimes already had and what happened Monday, I think someone should listen, but HomeSec is just….. untouchable," she says quietly. "'They who give up essential liberties….,'" she murmurs wearily. "Anyway… show me your project," she says.

"Far better to never arrest and charge someone when evidence to exonerate exists," Cat muses. "What did it turn out his ability is?" A few steps are taken to the console, some buttons are pressed, and the piece begins to play out on a large screen. Cat steps back to watch, her eyes tracking the officer's reactions.

It's all done with computers and graphics.

The screen is black. White lettering appears on it, and begins to scroll while the Sound Of Silence plays.

We call upon all people in the United States to stand up and be counted.

We call to let it be known in the streets. In the offices of mayors, councilmen, governors, and state legislators.

James Denson, 15 Brendan Fischer, 16 Tonya Gross, 14 Nicole Graham, 16 Shasta Granger, 14 Eric Granger, 14 Jimmy Brandi, 13

We call to let it be known in the White House, the United States Senate, the United States House of Representatives, and the Supreme Court of the United States.

We call for a deluge of letters, instant messages, and e-mail to descend upon all these places and persons which states in no uncertain terms the people of the United States do not accept that this could happen in our country.

Maureen Humbert, 12 Trish Keyes, 15 Ron Anima, 14 Jane Thurston, 16 Liliana Whitaker, 14 Melissa Alston, 15 Christopher Langdon, 13

We do not accept that this nation, shining hope of the entire world, lets itself be governed by fear.

We do not accept that agents of government, hired by us to work for us, make our citizens disappear without benefit of trial as the Constitution requires.

Vincent Haven, 15 Billy Stanton, 13 Leslie Canfield, 15 Annmarie Thornton, 14 Roland Ludivine, 13 Amber Dyson, 16 Trevor Jean, 12

We call for a candlelight vigil to be held outside the Department of Homeland Security's offices in New York City, at their headquarters in Washington, DC, and wherever any employee of that agency works.

We call upon all people of the United States to call into each and every office maintained by the Department of Homeland Security and seek registration with the names of those fallen in this tragedy.

Khalil Martouf, 12 Tranter Jayma, 16 Jenessa Wayne, 12 Halldor Rigby, 14 Frannie Pollie, 13 Keisha Sindri, 14 Richard Kaelea, 15

We call for each and every agent of government at each and every level to be reminded they work for us, we do not work for them, and they have utterly failed in their tasks.

We call for the immediate and total repeal of the Linderman Act. We demand it, before this nefarious act sows more fear among us and takes the lives of any more innocent youth.

Elizabeth Myers, 12 Gregory Hilliard, 15 Mark Dupont, 13 Frannie Collins, 16 Dawn Spring, 14 Monte Ayano, 14 Simon Edric, 13

We demand the immediate release of Leslie Tippen and Jason Dexter from whatever deep and dark hole the Department of Homeland Security has placed them in for no cause other than obeying the law and registering as Evolved persons.

We demand a complete and immediate investigation into their vanishing, and swift prosecution of anyone involved in their illegal abduction.

We demand the immediate resignation of the DHS Director for failing to ensure nothing like this could ever happen.

It is past time we the people make it plain that we do not consent to the formation of an American Gestapo and the budding fascism we see starting to take hold. Let not one single person working for the Department of Homeland Security, not one single elected official anywhere in this great nation get a single moment's sleep until our core values are once again observed!

The music gets her attention, though Liz is clearly still listening. "For what it's worth, we didn't even know Case was THERE — we went in to talk to a guy and walked in on the Triad honcho executing him or something," she says absently. "It was a big firefight and a huge mess." Her jaw clenches and she falls silent as she listens to the broadcast Cat is preparing. At the end of it, she merely nods. "Hope it does some good," she tells the woman.

There's a slow nod as she listens, silence settling in with the song which plays along with the piece. "And the mystery goes on, as to what really happened." Cat's head shakes, then she looks at the screen where the piece has looped back to the beginning, ready to play again. Her voice is hushed, respectful when it returns.

"The song is a classic, one I picked because it fit the theme, about people not daring to disturb the sound of silence which like a cancer grows. I'm wondering if maybe it should have something similar, but more timely."

"I want to say he has some kind of healing ability… but I was pretty out of it. Took a bullet on the way in," Elisabeth comments mildly as she turns around to face Cat. "I can't….. can't help with the choice of music for that. It's… beautiful, Cat, and I hope it will do some good." It's taking all of her control not to just cry over those kids again, so she doesn't look at the screen anymore.

She turns it off, nodding slowly. "I hope also." There's no more need for it to be onscreen anymore. "You were involved with the tragedy, on the job?" Cat inquires gently. The arms reopen, in them the unspoken invitation to step into them and take comfort.

There's a clench of her jaw, and Elisabeth shakes her head negatively, stepping back a little away from the hug this time. "I caught the case. Marks and I …. had to see it. Had to track down the one survivor. Just… " She shakes her head. "I need a little space from that one for a while."

There's a nod, and a change of topic. The image is no longer on the monitor, Cat's arms drop to her sides, and they never need to speak of it again. "I went flying in a Mig-21 Monday afternoon, after I saw Abby going through the process of viewing an apartment and going into the rental agent's office. It looked like things were going well, I had to leave, but the next morning I saw she'd taken apartment 311. She doesn't know I have anything to do with this building, hopefully she won't. It's not a thing publicly connected to me."

"This lets us look out for her some without being exposed."

Elisabeth looks… startled. The MiG thing makes her smile. But then she gets a guilty look. "Oh lord…. she's going to put it together as soon as she lays eyes on you. I think… I told her. Something like that you had room over the club." She winces. "Oh maaaan…."

There's a chuckle. "It is what it is," Cat proclaims calmly. "I'll just take care not to be seen by her here, unless she's picked up someplace else and brought in blindfolded under the guidelines she herself suggested. No plan is ever perfect or permanent." And that too is seemingly put out of mind, in favor of the MiG flight. "It was the same pilot who was with us out on Staten Island. Has quite the operation. We flew, and I got myself familiar with FLIR gear. We'll go for another, longer, flight very soon."

"That's pretty damn cool, Cat," Elisabeth laughs. "How was it?"

"Exciting," she enthuses. "I'm planning to learn piloting soon. Already started reading up on aircraft," Cat adds. "But first there's a recon mission to pull off. I'll be using the gear and taking footage, hopefully to get a good feel for defenses and a head count, as well as learn what parts of the place hold men and women."

Then she speculates. "Maybe I'll buy a jet and a helicopter, be my own pilot."

There's a slow nod. "I'll be interested to see what you think of it." Liz smiles faintly. "I have a feeling that'd be a good line of learning for you. Heck… mostly just takes money."

"I'll test your boldness someday and take you for a ride," Cat assures with a grin. She moves over to a nearby coffeepot and pours two cups.

"Fffft," replies Elisabeth. "Lady, I just walked into a fucking Triad/HomeSec turf war with nothing more than kevlar and Ivanov between me and a guy who… breaks bones inside people just by looking at them. I run about with an M4 rescuing our resident damsel in distress wearing black body armor and get my ARM turned to stone for the trouble. And I face off with HomeSec agents who'd jail me as soon as look at me any day of the week every time I walk into my office and brazen out any behavior that might remotely look odd to them. My boldness better not be in question here," she comments mildly.

She laughs a bit. "I've been there and done some of that," Cat answers. "And I've been teleported a gang of times on top of it, and still… It was touch and go for a bit when the pilot went full throttle with the aircraft. Lunch was in danger of being rejected a time or two."

"But I kept it together."

Elisabeth laughs, and it throws her strained expression into relief finally. She needed that. "Sounds like a blast," she comments. "I gotta get back to the precinct, but I'll catch up with you in a couple days. Or maybe when Abby moves in. I was planning on helping her; she told me she'd found a place."
"Take care, Elisabeth," Cat offers, as she walks along with the officer toward the elevators. And once the blonde has departed, her attention returns to another task. The instant messenger program is started, Cat begins to type.

To: Wireless

From: Cat

Subject: Media activity

There's a video file, titled We Call, on this computer. I'd like you to distribute it for us, untraceably, if you would.



And she clicks send.

March 18th: For Gods Sakes Stop Saying That Word
March 18th: Nothing Better to Do
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