Participants:
| Scene Title | Woosh |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The Ferry drafts a plan for its vaccine acquisition. |
| Date | April 18, 2010 |
Purified in a sense, all that once marked this building as a storage facility for Primatech Paper has been burned up or off, leaving a sooty but still structurally sound shell. The red brick walls of this derelict storage facility are spraypainted with numerous length of old and faded graffiti on the outside. Smashed windows and vacant parking lots show all the telltale signs of abandonment and disuse.
Despite it's decrepit nature, small groupings of furniture have been pulled in from the outside to the spacious and open floors of the facility, from ratty old couches to mismatched tables and chairs in some sort of makeshift living space that gives the impression of transient use, not permanent shelter. Being scavenged, it could be assumed to belong to any number of homeless gangs or groups who might use the space as shelter from the elements.
Table. Chairs. Lantern. Maps and paperwork spread across a flat surface with thick black pens for making marks where marks are required. No matter where the Ferry arranges meetings of this type to be held, the setup is the same. The remains of the Old Primatech Paper Facility, or the lioness' den depending on who you ask, provides a different kind of ambiance than the cozy safehouses that some of the operatives in attendance this afternoon are used to, however, and even with all the furniture in place, their surroundings make it feel like they're operating out of a warzone and not New York City's forgotten borough.
Eileen had been hoping for a larger turnout, but six people is better than none, and with the weather as ruthless as it's been, those trapped elsewhere cannot be blamed for their absence. "Based on information collected by Dean and Pierce," the Englishwoman is saying, "we've narrowed it down to two possibilities. The hospital itself is too much of a risk, but we've got a shipping schedule for the next few weeks that provides us with the routes the trucks are taking, what their license plate numbers are, and how much vaccine they're carrying.
"Our other option is to hit the Cathedral of St. John. Police and guardsmen presence is minimal thanks to the weather, and the mobile vaccination center is parked outside on the curb, but Pierce wasn't able to determine how much vaccine they keep on the truck compared to how much vaccine they're keeping inside the church itself. Thoughts?"
"Here's a thought," Jensen Raith begins. It's something of a sad state of affairs where he is concerned, really. How do the Ferrymen recognize him? As being Eileen's taller, broader, ruder shadow? Not tonight. His arm and shoulder being bound up in cast and brace is one thing, but that he's apparently confined to a wheelchair? Maybe that explains the dour, irritated expression he wears on his face. "How good are any of us at gambling, because that's exactly what we're looking at here. Hitting the mobile clinic is the least risky, but it's almost certainly going to have the lowest return. So, what's the balance between how much vaccine we want, versus how many people and resources we're willing to risk to get any vaccine at all? I guarantee you, we're only going to get one shot at this, and whether or not its successful, they'll beef up security at the other locations."
Hit a hospital, or hit a church. The upside was that at least it would be outside a the church. Abigail arrived, settled in, remained fairly quiet through this all. Cold was not an enjoyable thing right now on her ribs as it wasn't likely friends with everyone else who had bore the brunt of the weather to get here. She left her temporary lodgings to be here. Sweater, jeans, warm boots, all her gear from Russia shed and dropped elsewhere to be comfortable.
"Shouldn't hit the hospital. The ones at the hospital should be left alone. I don't approve or condone stealing the vaccines but…" What else are they going to do? "The folks going to the hospital to get it are likely ones who have family members already exposed or contracted the H5N10. People at the church, not so much so" Or well that's the reasoning in her mind. That and the hospital is her point of employment and doesn't want to have to deal with the repercussions from there.
"If we're going to go ahead and do this, is it possible to use non-lethal means of submission to incapacitate people? I know.. they're going to be armed to the teeth, but.. I mean, we have Melissa, and her ability, and I'm fairly sure we have other beneficial or convenient abilities to bring into play that won't kill the people guarding this"
The stranger among them sits, bundled in a snow parka and scarf, her hands in black and white striped gloves between her knees as if trying to keep them warm and her knees from shaking with the cold as well — it's colder here than in Boston. That's the only coherent thought in her head before Eileen asks for their opinions on the task at hand. Tasha lets the others speak first, since she's the new kid in town, but she nods a little in agreement with Raith, then turns to look at Abby and nods as well.
"Is there a way we can hit both to make the most of our one shot? Have one team hit the vaccination van and the church while another stops one of the trucks en route to the hospital? Because he's right," she jabs a black-striped finger at Raith, not retaining the names if they'd been introduced, "they'll beef up security and also change the schedule to something more random once we hit one of the trucks. If we can hit two at the same time, we'd get more vaccines."
The information that Meredith is hearing isn't exactly the sort of situation she wants to hear. While her problems are less about the humanity of knocking over a church or a hospital, she's more worried about the security and the biggest return. "Splitting up the team is just as risky," Meredith tells Tasha. "We've still gotta carry all this stuff out of there once we hit it. It's better to stay together and make the most of the place we decide on. Trucks seem like it'll be better, they're mobile, fewer people involved. Take out the trucks, clean 'em out, then get the hell outta there. A church is gonna have more people stationed there. Plus, we'd have to worry about civilians, doctors, whatever. Supply trucks won't have none of that nonsense."
Though Meredith isn't as bundled up as Tasha, she still has a scarf and gloves on. The weather certainly doesn't agree with the firestarter. "It seems like we know the most about those supply trucks. The Church sounds like more've a crap shoot."
"How are they shipping?" Seated opposite Eileen, Hana leans back in her chair, casting a glance at the computer humming quietly in its corner. It doesn't usually live there, or so the lack of desk, stand, shelf, or even containment of wires would suggest — but then, this whole room doesn't routinely see use. "If it's a commercial carrier, they routinely GPS-tag the trucks and follow their progress remotely." Commercial would be the low-cost option, certainly; cheaper and easier than organizing dispersements through bureaucracy. "Are there trucks that drop off shipments at multiple locations? They'd carry more." Wireless looks between Eileen and Meredith, and nods. "St. John's has been working with us for a long time. If we have an alternative that doesn't risk burning that bridge, I would far rather take it."
"I have the shipment schedule for the hospital and the hospital only. It's possible that the trucks have other drop-off points after unloading, but they aren't on the itinerary Dean lifted for us. Whether or not they're commercial carriers or armored vehicles in disguise as commercial carriers is something we can potentially determine by running their license plates against the database." Eileen's green eyes shift across from Hana, to Tasha, the person at the table with which she is least familiar. There's a moment or two of protracted silent as she considers the younger woman's suggestion, then tips a look in Raith's general direction, gaze hooked on his wheelchair.
"I don't know if we have the resources to hit both," she says. "The last time we took out a truck in transit, it was to free one of our own, and we were only able to pull that off with outside help. It's doable. Maybe not wise, but doable. The roads are going to be a problem."
With one arm not really functional, Raith can't even wheel himself about to draw attention. For a change, all his has is the merit of his suggestions, something that doesn't sit well with a man used to being able to command attention at will. "The roads are the greatest asset we have," he says, "Depending." A beat-long pause to give everyone a chance to process that he has something more to say. "This is where we have to decide just how badly we want that vaccine. If the vaccine means more than anything else, aside from staying in the church's good graces, then absolutely we can hit more than one truck, if there is more than one truck to hit. A little help from Wireless, maybe a few other with suitable abilities, and it'd be painful easy to engineer traffic accidents. Force the trucks to stop so we can hit them, or force them to take a detour to a point that is more to our liking, and then hit them.
"If we want the vaccine badly enough that we don't mind causing traffic accidents."
The young blonde frowns lightly, listening to Raith and the others. "Do we have.. the capabilities somewhere, if we get a batch, to reproduce it? I mean, not necessarily in here, in New York, but do we have the ability in another city? If we do, then we need to just access one point" She refuses to call it 'hitting' a place. "And then get that supply or enough of it once it's in our hands, over to wherever it is that they can churn out enough for the Ferry needs." Abigail muses for the rest of the small portion of the ferry at the table. "Just a thought"
"Whichever option we choose, I can help get people in…" The voice comes not from anyone at the table, but the youthful tone of Colette Nichols' voice isn't a surprise to some people in this room, the ones who were able to spot the melting snow footprints she left that weren't tracked in by anyone else, the way the sound of her jacket brushing up against the wall was a subtle tell of her placement here.
The old soldiers are the ones that noticed it, Hana Gitelman and Raith Jensen have known she's been here all the while— not that she was invited, but maybe it's because she didn't screw up the infiltration that she didn't get ejected. Where the voice came from, the wall behind where Jensen stands, a young and dark-haired girl remarkably similar looking to Tasha begins to appear as the wall peels like curling paint, color strips away to reveal pale skin, dark hair and the snug fit of black denim jeans and a half jacket. Mouth hidden behind a powder blue scarf, Colette Nichols tilts her chin up to tuck it beneath so she can be heard better.
"You know I can get people in wherever we need to go, I mean— I got people into Pinehearst, I don't think sneakin' round a hospital or a couple trucks is going to be that hard, right?" One dark brow lifted, Colette moves to come to the table that the maps are laid out in, wet boots squeaking against the floor as she comes to stand at Raith's side. Green eyes alight to the mercenary, offering a slightly more nervous smile than her attempt at a cool demeanor would admit.
Looking over to Abby with one brow raised, Colette tilts her head to the side, bangs falling over one eye. "We used to, but— she hasn't been Ferry for a long, long time. So… that leaves us with medical personnel, and uh…" those green eyes divert to Hana, shoulders shrugging. "I'unno."
"I don't know all your powers, but I'd guess there's a way to do it where we wouldn't have to put other drivers' lives in danger by causing an accident," Tasha says, glancing at the girl her age who appears seemingly out of nowhere, one brow arching a little as she looks at someone who could be her sister, though a touch paler than she. Her eyes flit back to the others. "I wonder too if the transports leaving whatever facility the batches are leaving from — if there are other transports leaving at the same time. If we could watch a couple days, maybe there's a way to figure out that schedule, hit more than one truck. If we have to go the traffic route… maybe there's a way to manipulate the accident so it's not serious. I know the lives of many might outweigh the lives of a few, but —" she shrugs, looking away. She's young and altruistic, and doesn't think an innocent person should be killed, even to save hundreds of others. "You never know who might be in the car, if we leave it to chance, ya know?" Despite coming from Boston, Tasha's voice has a distinctive New York accent.
The blonde is surprised by Colette's entrance, it's true. While Meredith doesn't jump out of her skin, she does sit straighter and turn just slightly in her chair so that the woman can glance over at the girl. "Hell, all we'd need to do is create a route and make sure there'd be a huge pile of snow in their way. No crashes needed." Some people here seem to be a bit squeamish about crashing people into each other. "We'd be all hidden close by and then we jump 'em because we'd already be in place. Not like there's a lack of snow to use 'round here." And while the blonde certainly doesn't sound happy about being outside for any extended period of time, it's sort of a plan.
"For that matter, we could route all the trucks to one area and get 'em one at a time. They'd never know they were missing till they didn't show up much later. The weather'd give us some time before the search parties anyway, 'cause who gets anywhere on time these days?"
Hana nods to Eileen. "You have the plate numbers here?" she asks the younger woman — a leading question if there ever was one. She glances to Raith as he chimes in, and nods. "Yes. There are a number of ways we can disrupt or redirect the truck." She doesn't bat an eyelash as Colette speaks up, but simply inclines her head ever so slightly. "Or perhaps hide an obstacle in the road," the Israeli adds on the heels of Colette's words. "In these conditions, the truck won't be moving fast, so we can be reasonably confident the shipment will remain intact." For that matter, the obstacle doesn't need to be hidden — but details can be worked out later.
Dark eyes flick to Abby. "I don't believe we do," she replies. "Replicating a vaccine " Wireless' eyelids twitch as her voice pauses, not quite coming down into a full blink. " I would estimate it is beyond our current reach." Her gaze shifts to Tasha. "Shipments have the benefit of being on the road at all hours. And casual drivers avoid going out, now." Snow and ice and — yeah, who wants to drive? Better to call in sick. Meredith said the rest of what Hana would have, so the technopath merely nods in agreement and looks back to Eileen.
Paper rustles as Eileen sifts through the paperwork in front of her in search of the document Hana requested, which is easy enough to find. The table appears disorganized, but there's actually very little on it, and she's spent so much time reviewing Helena's report that she's able to locate it with a brisk flick of her wrist and slide it across the wooden surface for the technopath's perusal.
"Two trucks," she says, "one team. The methods used to bring them to a full stop without damaging their cargo will have to be determined once we know who's going and what abilities they have to contribute. Oliver and Beauchamp bring up excellent points about minimizing casualties, both civilian and not. We can't afford more bodies on the news after what happened at the Armory.
"Raith has helicopter that we can use to extract the vaccine and airlift it to a secure location once it's in our possession, but if we're going to do this instead of targeting the hospital or the church, it needs to happen outside the city limits. An interstate would be best. Maybe the eighty-seven. Either way, we have to do both simultaneously. Whether or not they arrive at their destination on time, I imagine the drivers are required to periodically check-in, and as soon as the government realizes one of the shipments is missing— that's it. The schedules will change and they'll take additional precautionary measures to prevent us from hitting them twice like this. We have one shot."
"Hey, the chopper's a great idea and all that, but there is one very, very minor problem with trying to use it. As far as I know, I'm the only pilot we have," Raith adds to the plethora of information provided by Eileen. From the looks of things, he's not really in any condition to be at this meeting, let alone flying the Kamov. "And frankly, we don't have time to train one up from nothing to the point where they can fly in bad weather. I know one other person who could do it, and asking him to help us commit a series of felonies against his Uncle Sam is about the dumbest idea possible.
"Now, if we have a pilot, and they can fly in inclement weather-" Raith wraps his knuckles on the table to emphasize his approval- "That's super. If we don't, we need another idea."
So, scratch the replication. Not going to happen. What they got, was what they got. So they had better get enough of it because like Raith said, things would end up tighter secured afterward. "I don't know anyone who can fly a helicopter" A shake of her head. Well, not anyone who would willingly do it. "If you got Cat the manual, she'd likely be able to" Abby points out to the group. "so, the Helicopter is still a viable idea"
"I um," Furrowing her brows and ducking her head down, Colette wrings ungloved hands together and leans her hip against the table. With how lightly she's dressed the girl may have been inside a while. "I know like— I don't know a whole lot about how all've this stuff works, and… and I know Eileen wanted to wait on the truck plans, but why're we lookin' at like— dropping stuff on the trucks or in front've it when we can just like…" Colette snaps her fingers, "Woosh." Woosh, the girl says, as if it explains everything. "If we're lookin' at just stoppin one or two trucks, maybe we could get Magnes and Gillian to help?" Lifting her brows and looking around around the faces at the table, lingering on Tasha and Meredith, the latter of which she only recognizes from blurry and emotional memories of being rescued from Bella's clutches.
"If Gillian juices up me'n Magnes, I could hide a while bunch've people and Magnes could just— lift the truck up off the ground so it can't drive anywhere. We use those infra-red goggles Scott gave me for scouting Sheridan's lab, and I make the whole thing invisible. Everyone in the truck'd be blind as a bat and we'd all be able to see. Wham bam, done."
Then, looking over to Eileen Colette adds, obtusely, "And if we can get in touch with Wireless," because obviously she isn't in the room right now, "couldn't she just disengage the car's engine remotely? She's got like, magic technology powers. One funny look and kapoof, one dead car. Then we just roll up in and get stuff. That way nobody has to get hurt either, if we do it right. There's not a lot've people out on the street in this weather, and like— if we know the routes ahead of time, we can totally catch 'em on an empty street or somethin' and make sure nobody anywhere sees it."
Rolling her tongue over the inside of her cheek, Colette's brows furrow as she tries to come up with something helpful for the helicopter and unfortunately comes up short. Instead, she shifts her footing and moves around behind Raith's wheelchair, leaning forward and resting her arms on the handles at the back, peering over his shoulder and down to the table, then up to Tasha with a squint before settling her eyes on Eileen. "What about Gabriel?" Because that's the most honestly ridiculous (or perhaps ridiculously honest) idea she could offer.
The other 18-year-old watches Colette with some amusement. She doesn't know who most of those people are, so the name dropping — aside from Wireless — means little to her, but it's entertaining to listen to, at any rate. Tasha sits back on her hands.
"I donno who they are, but if that doesn't work and we can't have a helicopter, maybe we can rent two U-hauls. I can make fake insurance and IDs so the names aren't connected to anyone of us — then we can swap the shipment from the transport trucks to the U-Hauls, abandon the trucks somewhere to buy some time, and get the hell outta Dodge with the shipments," Tasha suggests as an alternative. "If we create some sort of obstacle or distraction or both, then have whoever you got who can take the drivers by the most surprise —" Tasha's dark eyes flick to Colette, unsure just how the other teen appeared, "can knock out 'em out — taser or tranq darts or whatever powers might work. Leave 'em with the trucks somewhere so they're out of the way." Probably not the most original plan, but she's new at this.
"That might work," Hana says to Abby, "if we had good weather to fly in. If we did, I could probably learn it. But — " She nods anyway, affirming Abby's last statement. "If we need to use the helicopter, we will have a pilot." And that is that, as far as she is concerned.
Leaning forward slightly, the Israeli picks up the page of licenseplate numbers from the table. Looking away, she tilts her head, seemingly no longer quite paying attention to the conversation — but Colette's ramble quickly puts paid to that impression. "Woosh," the woman echoes, drily derisive, without looking up. Her scorn stops at that word, though — the subsequent sentences are a more neutral critique, however cutting. "The plan hinges on three people and their capability to do all those things under stress and for an unknown period of time. What happens if they have dogs in the back of the truck? If the guards' answer is to fire blindly at the outside? If they hit you, Magnes, Gillian? If that trinity of powers fails for any reason, what's your go-to-hell plan?"
Woosh — and kapoof. "Wireless," the technopath sometimes of that name continues in an equally dispassionate, matter-of-fact tone, "is also limited to things which are wireless. Unless it's a remote-start engine, then short of the truck being tampered with ahead of time, that's out." But as for what she can do… querying DMV and private servers are eminently possible. "Patriot Courier Services," she observes, out of conversational left field. "Unmarked vans. Origins and destinations are logged, along with primary and secondary routes." Hana straightens, looking at the white-painted wall which now serves as an impromptu projector screen, the gadget as out-of-place in this room as the computer… that it isn't connected to. A street map fades into view, red and yellow spider-lines crawling across it to mark routes of travel, accompanied by black timestamps. "Times are estimated, of course," Wireless points out, probably unnecessarily.
There is very little left for Eileen to say by the time Hana has finished. Her attention is on the projector screen, eyes tracing the network of red and yellow veins and comparing them against the map. "It's a good idea to go in with an idea of what we might do, but there are too many variables to make any final decisions right now. U-Hauls could work. Split the shipment between ground transport and air if the weather is amenable to flying in case we run into problems on the road on the way back. It's best if it isn't all it one place."
As for Gabriel, the corners of Eileen's mouth turn down into a faint frown. "I can ask Gray if he's willing to assist," she concedes, giving Tasha a mildly apologetic look at the same time that would appear more sympathetic to her situation if her face's features weren't so hard and austere to begin with. "One dose in exchange for his services sounds fair."
"Not a lot else we can offer him," Raith says, "If he agrees at all. We have a little time to work out a plan, and I don't want to be using one unless we've accounted for and dealt with as many variables as we can." A suddenly, steady 'bee-beep' from Raith's watch prompts him to check it, before he raises it (on his left, mostly uninjured hand) up towards Colette. "Could you turn that off for me, hon?" he asks, "Magic watch says it's time for a Vicodin."
"Plan hinges too, that they don't have that gas" Abigail points out. "If they have canisters of it with them, or… that sort of thing then we are out of luck in the ability department. I wouldn't put it past them at this point" The involvement of Gabriel brings about a twitch of Abby's nose. It was fair enough and a dose of the vaccine in exchange for help was something that Abby nods her head to. "I'm fine with that as payment for his services. If we manage to get any, it's going to have to be figured out who gets it, if we don't have enough to spread around"
"Uhhh…" Colette furrows her brows, "I— guess at that point if they start shooting— run?" There's a furrow of Colette's brows, lips downturned into a frown. When Eileen concedes the point about Gabriel though, there's a fond smile spread across Colette's lips. "Of course he gets a dose that'd be so mean otherwise, we can't have him getting sick and losing his powers, can you imagine how depressed he'd be?" Dark brows lift up and Colette all pouts out the comment, still leaning behind Raith, looking at his cast a bit worriedly before nodding to his request.
"Just count me in as volunteering in whichever way I need to go, I can pull the invisibility thing for a tight area around myself if we don't have Gillian, so that works better with less people, unless nobody minds huddling together all friendly-like." Coming to crouch at the side of his chair, Colette's fiddling with something out of sight with one hand, while the other turns off his watch. She's smiling quite a lot though after turning it off, and the pop from out of sight accompanies the clatter of a marker cap onto the floor.
"I like the idea of havin' our own trucks. Do you think the hospital ones can be tracked or somethin'? Cause if they can't we could just steal the whole truck and drive 'em somewhere and then haul all the stuff out. I bet there's all kindsa' unused space on the waterfront 'cause of the storm." Tongue sticking out, Colette is saying all this as she lifts up a sharpie marker and just starts drawing on Raith's cast idly with her head quirked to the side.
"Real American Hero" is written on the cast, followed by streaky lines and stars, and G.I. Jensen beneath that. She's so very pleased with herself.
"Yeah, I'll help out however you guys say, if I'm still in town anyway, and with this blizzard coming, I'm not sure I'll be heading home too quick," Tasha says, bouncing a little to keep warm. Dark eyes watch Colette write on Raith's cast, and then she smirks at the man in question, before looking back at Colette. "I'd bet they have GPS or LoJack — which Wireless could fry, right? Or scramble or something?" She doesn't know Wireless is in the room, either. "But it could be fried or scrambled or whatever voodoo until we dump them — either after stashing the stuff on the U-Hauls or using the trucks themselves. Just let me know if anyone needs some fake docs and I can see what I can do, though I don't have all my shit with me. Get me to a Staples and I can get 'er done."
"I'm in," Meredith adds quickly. It all may be a crapshoot, but she promised her help before this and now that they have a somewhat solid plan, she's not going to be backing out now. "Whatever we plan, the same thing that's working for us - the weather - will be working against us, that's for sure. We can't just rely on a few people and hope everything goes our way. Tranq 'em, use our powers, whatever, we just have to make sure we can take out the few guards and drivers that're there. I'm all for tranq guns. They're easy, not very messy, and don't have to worry about them shorting out on us." Like powers can do lately. "I like the undercover angle, though. Sounds like fun."
"Gitelman and I will pick two shipment over the next few days." Eileen's eyes brighten a fraction at Meredith's swift enthusiasm, and she inclines her chin in the faintest of nods. "Those of you who want to participate in the extraction itself are more than welcome," she says, and it's an open invitation for Tasha as well. If they put Cat in the pilot's seat, Raith will have to be in the co-pilot's regardless of his condition. "I'll ask Childs about Varlane as well."
Abigail's reminder about the airborne neurotoxin introduces a whole other set of complications that she had the foresight consider but has been avoiding until now. The Institute's raid on the Armory ended in slaughter; if the government brings out the gas in the middle of an ambush, she's not sure whether or not the Ferry will have any choice but to defend itself with lethal force.
It's also another reason to keep Gabriel away.
"I'll send word as soon as we've finalized the plan. The contributions you've made today are going to save a lot of lives. Thank you." And to Tasha, whose accent she recognizes but has not remarked on until now: "Welcome home."