Thursday, 1:30pm (according to Darien's watch)
Darien leaves a store with a to-go cup of cappuccino in his right hand. Lunchtime pedestrian traffic has lightened in the business district. As it turns out in an amazing 'coincidence', he's not far from the new Cerberus Corporation Headquarters.
He ambles down the street, occasionally sipping from his cup and munching on some item of food. He seems to not have noticed the two men in casual suits following almost a half block behind him.
He passes by the Cerberus offices without pausing, nor shows any sign that he was familiar with the place. He walks for another one to one and a half blocks, casually tosses the empty cappuccino cup and food wrapper into a trashcan, and suddenly ducks into a doorway as he Quicksilvers.
The two men following him immediately break up when they lose visual contact, with one crossing the street and the other continuing as he was. They also casually pull sunglasses out of their pockets once Darien's ducked out of sight, and put them on. As the one man passes by the doorway that Darien had dodged into, he turns his head to scan the entranceway and the shop within, but there are no thermal variations out of the ordinary.
He turns to the other man across the street. Their eyes meet, and he minutely shakes his head. No Darien.
The other man nods a confirmation, indicating that he can't "see" Darien either.
Meanwhile, the in the alley, the back door of the shop next to the one Darien entered swings shut. There's no one there.
He briefly un-Quicksilvers in the alley behind the Cerberus offices as he crouches to look thoughtfully at the alley exit-door's lock. He pulls out a lock-picking kit with a little smile (remembering the argument with The Official over his choice in field gear), pulls out two small picks and inserts them into the lock.
A little scraping noise is heard, then an audible 'click', and a green light goes off on the panel beside the door. The picks smoothly Quicksilver, followed by the rest of his body. The door swings open, and then shuts softly.
Thursday, 1:45pm
Darien enters the third floor of the Cerberus building from the stairwell. He walks past a series of closed doors until he sees, off to his left, a door slightly ajar. It opens to an intimate, comfortably decorated conference room emitting the sounds of a lively conversation. One voice is the head of Cerberus, Jared Stark, another is female, and the last sounds lamentably familiar.
Oh, great, he thinks. Arnaud...
He peeks through the door opening and catches a partial glimpse of Stark standing to the right of a young woman sitting stiffly on an overstuffed couch with her legs tucked up under her (and looking very uneasy). A Quicksilvered Arnaud de Fehrn stands a little off to the woman's left and is facing Stark.
Darien eases the door open a little. Their voices become more audible, and he can understand almost everything that's being said.
What the hell is he doing here?
Seen in profile, the woman looks fairly short (app. 5'). She's in her late twenties to early thirties, and is overweight without being obese. She's wearing thermal vision sunglasses (as is Stark), oversized medical scrubs, and has wavy collarbone-length auburn hair mostly tucked into a baseball cap (and a pony tail hanging out of the back opening). There's also a nasty bruise on her left cheekbone as well as a dressing on her right biceps - bandage for a gunshot wound. The sleeve is rolled up above the bandage so as not to rub at or bind it.
She has a melange of emotions rolling over her face: caution, fear, mistrust, confusion, pain (caused by a furious migraine and a variety of unseen bruises, as well as the gunshot wound), exhaustion, and a seething rage that just breathes from her entire body.
de Fehrn is becoming increasingly agitated, as evidenced by the lit cigarette jerking around in mid-air.
Stark looks to the young woman expectantly, and nods his head towards the other man with a raised eyebrow. She tilts her head to the side, her brows furrowing in momentary non-understanding. Then she obviously gets the inferred meaning and reaches out a hand towards the mercenary's Quicksilvered profile. She makes physical contact with his arm as she speaks softly and firmly to him. Darien can't make out what she's saying.
Unnoticed is a small, bright spark that flashes when they touch. She jumps a little at the brief shock, withdraws her hand with a frown, and jerks it a couple of times as if she were shaking off water.
de Fehrn stills at the touch on his arm, gazes down at the woman, and then flops down beside her on the couch. "Oh, all right!" he mutters angrily.
The cigarette glows brightly, then it's dashed out in a nearby ashtray. Smoke sighs from his invisible lips.
Drama queen, comes Darien's acidic thought on the mercenary's grandiose behavior.
"Now then, why don't we table this until we can get Mrs. Daniels settled in?" comments Stark, looking quietly satisfied with what had just occurred.
Sitting in a chair on the other side of a coffee table across from de Fehrn and the young woman (Daniels), Stark picks up a small ring of keys and a thin folder. "These are the keys to your car and apartment... at least until you get settled in. Then you can find something more to your liking, if you wish."
"Right now, anything is better than where I was." She shivers slightly from a painfully vivid memory, then continues, realizing something about what Stark had just said.
"Did you... actually get the car I told you about? I didn't think you were, you know, serious..."
He cuts in. "Well, I was. During your stay with us, you will receive all of the standard benefits we give our employees, which include a car and fully furnished residence. Mrs. Daniels... may I call you Amanda?"
She nods demurely, murmuring, "Technically, I'm a miss. Now."
He frowns in puzzlement, and she explains. "Widows in my family commonly go by their maiden name. And mine's MacKenna."
He nods in acknowledgement. "All right. Amanda, we want to ease you back into public life as smoothly as possible, and that means we'll do whatever is necessary to make you feel comfortable."
Could he sound any more like a salesman? Darien thinks with contempt.
"I don't know what to say," she begins, stunned by the generosity.
"A thank you would be in good form," de Fehrn replies dryly.
She twists her head towards his Quicksilvered form and squints her eyes at him in mild amusement. "Of course," is her light reply. "But..." her expression clouds. "I hope you can understand why this is so overwhelming for me. To be treated, like this... after being in there for so many years..."
Stark raises a hand, interrupting her. "Please, don't bother. Now, why don't we let the Doctor here direct you to your new home so you can get settled in? I'm sure you're quite tired after the... 'excitement' of the past few days." He grins lopsidedly.
A tiny smile ghosts across her face, and disappears. "I... have two more questions." She hesitates, then continues after Stark nods for her to go on. "Is there some sort of... a pond, or a large pool near the apartment?"
He nods. "As a matter of fact, the previous tenant had a fountain installed in the backyard. There's a privacy fence with trees and shrubbery around it, so you shouldn't have anything to worry about."
She ducks her head a little. "Thank you."
"And what was your other question?" He queries amiably.
She stares directly into his eyes. "Why?"
He frowns. "Why what?"
"Why me? What do you want, with me?" Her battered face braces for the worst.
He quietly regards her for a moment, and Darien notices that she's becoming more and more unsettled.
"I won't lie to you; we do have a vested interest in the research you're involved in," he begins. "But I found your living conditions quite distressing. You should have more control over the procedures, and be rewarded well for your contributions to the research."
Her jaw slackens in disbelief while he's speaking. She's at a complete loss for words.
She wasn't expecting that.
"Now, then, Doctor, would you like to show Mrs. ... Miss," he corrects himself with a small bowing nod, "MacKenna to her car? I'm sure you two have much to discuss during your drive."
He stands, followed by de Fehrn and (more slowly) MacKenna. He hands the key ring and the folder to her, and she regards them with bemusement, as if she were expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment.
Darien quickly backs away from the door, and retreats behind an unlocked closet door partway down the hall. Meanwhile, he overhears de Fehrn and MacKenna saying their farewells to Stark before they leave the conference room. They start slowly down the hall in his direction. She's limping a bit, as if she was recently in a hell of a brawl, or something like that...
He quickly and silently pushes his door almost shut as the two pass by on their way to the elevator at the end of the hall.
After they've passed, he pulls his door open slightly to see if the way is clear. It seems to be, and he comes out of the room and returns to the alley he entered the building from. As the exit door swings shut, he un-Quicksilvers two-thirds of the way down the alley to the street.
It's 2:10pm. He peeks around the corner of the building. Seeing no obvious Chrysalis agents about, he steps out onto the sidewalk and strides quickly in the direction that de Fehrn and MacKenna went. He walks around the corner of the building, which is at an intersection.
Almost a block away, he sees MacKenna seated in the driver's side of an emerald green Volkswagen Bug and just closing the door. The passenger door swings shut a moment afterwards. The car turns on, and she haltingly pulls out as if this were the first time she's driven in a long while. Then, as she accidentally cuts off another car (it honks), she peels out into traffic and is almost immediately swallowed by the traffic.
"Great, she drives like Hobbes," Darien dryly comments as he darts across the street towards his own car. He gets in and follows her.
Thursday, 4:00pm
In Virginia, Hobbes and Monroe arrive at the Shop a half an hour late. They pull up to the front of the main building, where two men are standing by the front door. One is oddly like Eberts in looks and demeanor, and both are obviously lifetime government servants.
As Hobbes starts to open his door, the Eberts-look-alike takes the handle and pulls it open deferentially. He waves his free hand at Hobbes, who steps out of the car. He regards the man with amusement, while the other waits for Monroe and then raises his hand to shake hers.
"Agent Monroe?" he asks, shaking her hand before he turns towards Hobbes. "And Agent Hobbes?"
Hobbes dips his head slightly in acknowledgement, and the other man continues.
"I'm Agent Barnes. This," he waves his left hand at the Eberts look-alike. "is Agent Noble, my assistant. I'm the Director of this facility, at least until our superiors in Washington appoint a new one."
Monroe walks around the front of the car with Barnes. The four agents merge and walk through the front doors of the building.
They walk through a lobby bustling with agents in suits and plainclothes, carrying boxes, cleaning supplies and various pieces of equipment. The place looks eerily new.
"So, what exactly went on here?" she asks as she watches an older woman pushing a laundry cart full of smashed electronic equipment and appliances. The woman notices her regard, and nods tersely to her as she passes by.
"And what happened to the old Director?" Hobbes quickly adds before Barnes can answer.
Monroe shoots him an irritated glare, but Agent Noble answers smoothly, "Actually, there's an answer to both of your questions..."
"Yes, but let's wait to discuss this in my office. This way, please," Agent Barnes finishes as he leads them down a short side corridor to a door with a piece of paper taped on it with the words "Barnes, Director Pro-Tem" written in permanent marker.
As they all walk in, Monroe and Hobbes see that the "office" is more like a storage room, with some boxes and stacks of papers shoved roughly aside to make room for a chair, a small desk and a set of two chairs in front of it.
Agent Barnes walks behind the desk and sits down.
Agent Noble waits for the other two to sit down in the chairs before he closes the office door and takes up his spot beside the desk. He rifles through a small stack of files on top of some boxes, and comes up with two folders - one very thick and full to the point of rupturing, and the other very thin. He hands them to Barnes, who quickly puts them down and flips open the thin one.
"I apologize for the clutter, but we're still cleaning up after the incident a few days ago."
Hobbes casually leans back in his chair, crosses his ankle over his knee, and asks, "So, what... exactly did happen with this... 'incident'?"
Barnes pauses, and Noble answers carefully, "I would like to remind you that everything you see here, including this facility, does not exist. Whatever you may find during your investigation may only be divulged to Agent Barnes, or myself."
Hobbes looks slightly bemused. "Meaning that whatever we don't learn, we tell no one else of?"
Noble nods.
"Not even The Boss?"
He shakes his head. "Not even The Official may know."
Monroe asks, "So why would you ask our Agency to investigate this?"
Hobbes adds, "Yes. Why us?" with a practiced look of modest curiosity.
"There aren't many others better at maintaining a low profile," Barnes replies.
"Don't you usually have people in house to take care of your... sticky situations?" Hobbes asks a little suspiciously.
"We did," Barnes starts.
Noble continues. "But most of them were either killed or wounded recently."
"From the break-in," Monroe clarifies.
"From the break-out," confirms Noble.
"Hence, our dilemma," Barnes finishes as he shoots a cryptic glare at his assistant.
Noble turns his head slightly away, chastised for giving out more information than his boss wanted to at the moment.
Hobbes jumps on the verbal slip-up. "What do you mean by 'break-out'? I thought this was an infiltration from the outside, not the other way around."
Monroe cocks her head to the side and shoots him a baleful look.
He ignores her, keeping his eyes locked on Barnes and waiting for an answer.
Barnes looks down at the contents of the thin file laid out in front of him, closes and hands it to Monroe. Hobbes tries to intercept it, but she jerks the file away from his outstretched hand and opens it. She begins to scan the contents while he cranes his head to take a peek. Barnes begins speaking, satisfied with his redirection of Hobbes' attention.
"Most of the project information is classified, so I had Agent Noble assemble that file," he indicates the file Monroe is holding, "for you."
She finishes her quick scan of the file, shuts it, and casually hands it to Hobbes as she looks at Barnes. "There's not much in there for us to go on."
Noble nods as Barnes casually hands the thick file back to him. He replies as he takes it in hand, "Because of security concerns, right now only the Director and I know the complete details on this project."
"And it's best that we divulge as little as possible... for the moment," Barnes finishes.
"Ah, need-to-know," Hobbes winks at Monroe, who rolls her eyes at the inside reference.
"Exactly," Barnes replies non-chalantly. "So for now, what we can tell you is that all of the computer files, as well as a member of the research staff, were stolen by an unknown person or group. You watched the security footage I forwarded to your office?"
The agents both nod. "Yes, and we believe we might know huh..." she begins, but Hobbes cuts her off.
"Actually, we already have a few leads that we're investigating right now, but we won't have anything narrowed down for another couple of days or so."
While he's speaking, he shoots her a quelling look from the corner of his eye. She's looking at him with questioning annoyance.
Barnes and Noble exchange practiced neutral looks.
Noble pulls a small notepad and a pen from his inside coat pocket as he remembers something he wanted to ask. "Wasn't there supposed to be another Agent with you?" he asks, opening the notepad. He flips a few pages over, and reads from some notes he had made earlier. "An Agent... Fox?" he finishes.
"Fawkes... F. a. w. k. e. s," Hobbes corrects the other man's pronunciation. "He couldn't make it."
"Unfortunately," Monroe expands, "Agent Fawkes developed an inner ear infection, so..." she trails off with a shrug.
Barnes and Noble both nod.
"Perfectly understandable," Barnes states affably. "I remember taking a flight to Boston one year, and didn't realize I had an ear infection until we were near 2500 feet."
Hobbes does this little disgusted shaky-thing as he imagines what it must have felt like. "eeeheuw."
Barnes glances at him in bemusement. "Exactly," he replies with a small smile. "We had to do an emergency landing at BWI. I was lucky I didn't rupture both eardrums."
Hobbes repeats the disgusto-shake as Barnes stands, followed by Monroe.
Noble comes around from behind the desk and opens the office door for them.
She pauses momentarily to see if Hobbes is going to get up, then edges around his legs (with a grimace) and walks to the door. Barnes waves deferentially, and Hobbes shuts the folder, stands, and follows Monroe.
The Director follows them to the door, saying, "If you have any questions, or you come up with anything new, call this number," he hands Monroe a blank business card with a phone number and the word "Barnes" printed above it.
"It's a direct line, so you can call at any time."
She asks, "Before we go, would we be able to take a look at the crime scene?"
He nods and waves a hand to Noble, who steps away from Barnes' side to walk a few paces down the hallway. "Certainly. There's the lab as well as the heliport out back. Agent Noble will show you around. Good luck... and, thank you."
She shakes his hand. "We'll call in with a preliminary report tomorrow at five, Director." She begins following Noble down the corridor towards the front lobby.
Hobbes quickly shakes Barnes' hand, asking surreptitiously, "So, you get paid overtime for that kind of..."
"Hobbes!" Monroe snaps from the hallway, cutting him off.
He winces a little, drops his hand from the Director's (who has a small amused smile on his face), and trails Monroe, muttering, "What? It's a fair question to ask..."/p>
It's 4:20pm. Noble leads the agents out of the back of the building directly onto a helicopter-landing pad. Most of the area is cordoned off with yellow ticker tape, and there are numerous indicators showing where human bodies had fallen on the black macadam. Crimson stains on the ground in and around the chalked outlines have yet to be washed away.
He removes a section of tape so that Hobbes and Monroe may enter. "Please watch your step," he advises. "We've left everything here and in the lab untouched since the 'incident'. ...Except for the removal of the bodies," he adds with an uneasy look. "All access has been denied, except for the Director and myself."
Monroe asks without looking at him, "And neither you or the Director have touched anything?"
He shakes his head. "No."
Hobbes walks the inside perimeter, running calculations in his mind. "So the kidnappers hijacked the chopper?"
Noble looks embarrassed. "Yes. We were all completely taken by surprise."
Monroe notices a small pile of what looks like debris near the center of the heliport. She carefully goes to it, stepping around the outlines of human bodies. She crouches down and closely inspects the contents of the pile.
"Were you here that night?" Hobbes continues his inquiries from his vantage point.
Noble drops his eyes and somberly regards his shoes. "Yes. I was the previous Director's assistant as well. We were working late reviewing case particulars."
"How'd it all go down?" Hobbes notes the other man's reactions from the corner of his eye.
"One of the projects was being transferred to a better equipped facility," Noble begins.
"Which one was that again?" Hobbes interrupts, hoping that the assistant slips enough to reveal more information. Sorry, Bobby. No such thing.
"The one that we're asking for your help on," Noble replies in a bland tone before continuing. "The helicopter was almost loaded when numerous explosions simultaneously went off throughout the facility. The Director and I ran out to see what was going on, and that's when the gunfire began." He stops suddenly, with a haunted look in his unfocused eyes.
Monroe raises her head to sympathetically regard him before calling to Hobbes in a low voice. "Hobbes, come here and take a look at this."
He tilts his head to one side. "What's up?" He carefully strolls over to where she's crouched and glances over her shoulder at the pile of debris.
"Are those what I think they are?" he murmurs to her.
She nods. She's lightly dusted off something with a metallic glint to it, but her and Hobbes' bodies obscure most of the view.
By now, Noble's noticed their change in demeanor. "What's the matter?" He takes a few hesitant steps towards them.
Hobbes turns completely around to face the other man, and scans the rest of the area with a practiced eye. "There wasn't anything left here that might be considered a security risk? Anything you wouldn't want those without the right clearance to see."
Noble begins to look puzzled. "No. Why?"
"You're sure?"
Noble still looks puzzled, but there's a strange, hard gleam now in his eyes. "Again, no. The Director and I did check, but other than removing the bodies of those killed during the incident, nothing was disturbed. The intruders took all of the files and relevant data. Why? What did you find?"
As the men are conversing, Monroe tugs a pair of gloves and an evidence bag from her shoulder satchel. She hands the evidence bag to Hobbes, who turns and holds it open for her as she carefully inserts the metallic item(s). She then seals the bag and carefully places it back in her satchel.
"It looks like the kidnappers might've dropped a few things. It's okay if we run some tests on them, right?" Hobbes rises, turns and cuts Noble off before he can reach Monroe and see what she's holding. He turns and guides the assistant back to the yellow tape.
"I'll have to check with the Director..." Noble looks uneasy.
"Now, you both did mention we could take anything from the crime scenes that would help our investigation. And this could be the break we need to ID these people," Hobbes interjects smoothly as Monroe stands and follows them to the perimeter. She's tied the satchel tightly shut, and slings it back over her shoulder.
Hobbes looks over his shoulder at her and asks, "Ready to check out the lab?"
She nods and takes Nobles' arm in her hands with a warm smile. "I know it's been hard on you, but could you tell us some more about what happened that night?"
Hobbes follows them back into the building as Noble continues his recollection of events.
He leads them down the remains of a long corridor sloping down gradually into the earth. The farther down they go, the worse the damage gets. There's temporary lighting strung up on the walls, which casts an odd glow on the fire-damaged corridor. Hobbes begins to look nervous.
"Man, this is really starting to creep me out," he comments to Monroe, who's walking in front of him.
She turns her head back briefly to look at him. "You can always wait for me in the car," she replies in an innocent tone.
He looks insulted. "No thank you. It's not like I'm scared, like some little kid..."
She snorts softly.
"Hey!" he snaps. "It's just these lights don't help me thinking I'm walking into a morgue, or one of those horror flicks; you know... with the guy... and the chainsaw... all hacking up kids too dumb to run away..."
"Here we are," Noble interrupts smoothly.
They come to a stop at a doorway that looks like an insane rhino charged through it from the inside.
Monroe steps into the doorway and looks inside the room.
"Be careful what you touch," Noble cautions. "We're still having problems with structural instability in this part of the complex."
Meanwhile, Hobbes is closely inspecting the blasted doorway. He runs a cautious finger down the buckled frame, brings it to his nose, and lightly sniffs a few times. "Plastique. Nice..." he mutters.
Noble glances at him, a little surprised. "That's right. We found traces of it at every entranceway they used in entering and exiting the facility. How did you know?"
Hobbes puffs up a little, glad to boast about one of his, many... talents. "I know everything about explosives. I can usually tell what was used just by the smell."
"Don't be too impressed," comments Monroe from inside the room. She's carefully picking her way through the debris. "More times than not he's wrong, even if he won't admit it."
He reddens at the jibe. "Hey... I may not be an expert on everything, Monroe..."
"You got that right," she comments in a low voice, while,
"... But I've never missed an ID on explosives or incendiaries," he finishes, uninterrupted. "And how would you know if I was ever wrong?" he continues. "You haven't known me long enough... " He cautiously enters the room. It's clear that the fire in this section of the building had originated inside.
Other than the indications of where walls had been/are, anything in the room that might have been something was no longer recognizable as such. Monroe is crouching next to the remains of a wall on the right side of the room, and looking at something poking out from the debris. Hobbes carefully picks his way through the rubble, looking all around for signs of imminent collapse. He stops just behind and to her left, and she glances up at him briefly before returning her gaze to the object(s) of her attention.
He gazes over her shoulder and down at the pile. He tenses, and turns slightly to look at Noble over his shoulder. "This's the lab the experiment was in, right?"
Noble frowns in puzzlement, unsure where this line of questioning was leading. "Yeeess."
"Were they using live test subjects?" Monroe asks without looking up.
Noble nods a bit hesitantly. "Yes, they were."
She stands, and she and Hobbes exchange pointed looks. She walks away from the wall, to reveal the twisted remains of a metal hospital gurney/cot with shreds of fabric hanging from where restraints are typically attached.
Hobbes tugs on the bed a little, but the crumpled metal doesn't even budge. "Wow, that was some helluva blast," he mutters absently under his breath. He turns to once again run a practiced eye over the remains of the room.
There's the faint groaning of the building's weight shifting above them.
Monroe carefully picks her way back to the doorway, where Noble still stands with an inquisitive look on his face. She nods to him, and turns to watch Hobbes' regard of the room.
"Bobby, you ready?" she asks. "We need to check in at the motel."
He drops his arms, finished with triangulating possible trajectories in his mind. He wrenches his mental focus to the here-and-now, and turns to look at her. He hesitates for a moment as he gives the room one last cursory look. "Yeah, I got what I need." He turns and carefully walks towards the door.
Another slight, ominous groan comes from the remaining supports to the broken ceiling above.
He steps up his pace, and the three return to the front of the building.
Agent Noble stands at the entranceway as Monroe and Hobbes say their goodbyes and get into their rental car. He raises his hand in an absentminded wave and turns to go back into the building as the two agents drive away.
There's silence for a few moments in the car, then Hobbes speaks up. "Am I right in thinking something hinky's going on here?"
Monroe furrows her brows. "'Hinky'? What kind of word is... 'hinky'?"
He looks slightly abashed. "What? You never heard that word before?"
She shakes her head in amusement. "No. Where on earth did you pick that up?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but she cuts him off. "You know what? Never mind, I don't think I want to know."
Still amazed that she never heard the word 'hinky' before, he mutters, "I can't believe you never heard the word hinky before."
"Hobbes, focus," she orders with a small smile.
He gives his head a slight shake, and then cranes it to glance at her satchel carefully resting on the back seat.
"So, what do you make of that?" she asks, nodding her head towards the bag.
"I dunno, but whatever it means, I got a bad feeling about this," he replies somberly.
"You always have a bad feeling about something."
"Yeah, and I'm always right, too."
She shakes her head once. "Not all the time."
"Oh, really? And doesn't something always seem to go wrong during a mission?"
"Yes, it's usually because of something you or Fawkes screws up," she teases.
He snorts derisively before thoughtfully gazing out of the passenger window. "You notice how Barnes wouldn't answer me when I asked him to explain about it being a 'break out' and not a 'break in'?"
She nods as she checks her rear-view mirror.
"And what's the deal with that big folder they had?" he continues.
"It probably had all the stuff in it they didn't want us to know," she replies, changing lanes.
"Like they were daring us to try and read it." He then murmurs scathingly, "Jerks."
"I think we scared Agent Noble a little back there on the heliport," she comments, wisely ignoring his spirited outburst.
"Yeah, too bad I can't interrogate him." He pops his knuckles gleefully. "I'd crack him like an egg."
Monroe glances disdainfully at him from the corner of her eye. "I wonder if Fawkes has managed to dig up anything," she comments pensively.