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  #101  
Unread 26th of March, 2006, 02:10
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Verve
HP: 5/5; Status: VERVE SMASH!

Astrid's face is impassive as Waters tries and fails to pick her statements apart, point by point -- until he grinningly points out that the People simply don't have a case. Her jaw strains slightly as she returns to her desk after the judge confirms the defense attourney's findings. She simply hasn't had time to go over every last detail in the few hours since all this had been dropped in her lap, and now the unthinkable has happened. There wasn't even truly a case to present.

Why the hell didn't Kirwin reschedule this if the Foundation hadn't even provided the paperwork yet? It just doesn't make sense. It's not like him. And where the fuck is Kristine?

Opening her own copy of the folder and nodding when she finds nothing inside, the attractive ADA turns back towards the bench, ignoring Waters and O'Malley. "A clerical oversight, your honor. You're probably aware of the last minute changes the People have had to make in personnel on this case... this is unfortunately the result." Her voice is steady as she realizes she's probably already lost this one before even going to trial. "The People request a postponement, your honor. I'll contact the Centinels Foundation immediately and get the proper paperwork in order."
  #102  
Unread 29th of March, 2006, 05:02
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Blackthorne
HP: unk; Status: Resolved

Proper order, indeed, Henry muses from his perch in the back of the courtroom. If there was anything that cemented his resolve on the Foundation problem, this was it.

With the chance to get an extremely dangerous criminal off the streets for good, the Centinel Foundation is either so incompetent or wrapped up in internal red tape that it can't submit its paperwork to the court on time, or, worse, is deliberately sitting on its hands so that the DA's office can't do its job.

If I have anything to say about it, that'll be the last time something like this happens, the businessman muses, smoothing his moustache with length of his thumb. It's time to give these people some sense of organization, and give myself a new catalyst.

With that, Blackthorrne stands and leaves the courtroom.
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  #103  
Unread 29th of March, 2006, 14:23
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Osprey
HP: 5/5; Status: shockeroonie

It's a tiny, tiny thing, the most miniscule inclination of the cranium that one can imagine, but for a moment--and only just--Rob's mind is on something other than the trial. Rigidly enforced intensity of thought catches up to him, though, and he quickly, subtly turns his gaze back down to the bench rail directly in front of him.

He listens quietly to Astrid's discourse of that night; the way she has it all organized and cataloged, it sounds almost like a mutual disagreement that got out of hand. Like two uncles showed up drunk at a birthday party and had it out in front of the kids. He's not sure what an "airtight" case is, but this has to be close: motive, method, opportunity, presence at the scene of the crime, and--above all--the man's reputation.

He listens quietly again as the case falls completely apart. They didn't need Waters and his slick manipulations, didn't need plausible deniability, didn't even need to call a single witness. A tiny shock runs through Rob's body as he realizes that they, in spite of all the work and ruin they have been through, have no case, and he jumps a little bit.

Flee.

It's a conscious thought, a practical three-alarm state of mind. Run, fly, get out! Needless drama, of course; surely they aren't in any danger. Still, whether owed to insight or paranoia, he can't get past the feeling that the Foundation may have screwed them. Astrid pulls a card out of her hat, deftly slipping into the courtroom legerdemain that is sometimes necessary.

Hello, who is this fellow getting up to leave?
  #104  
Unread 30th of March, 2006, 08:12
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Bolt
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"Son of a bitch." Ryan thought to himself as the pencil he had been fiddling with a few moments ago snaps in half as he tries to control his temper. He had seen enough of these trails to see where this was going, Walters would have a field day with this and even if the Centinal foundation did send over the information the damage was done, unless Astrid had some hidden body of evidence O'Malley was in essence a free man.

The main question was why. Why didn't the foundation send the needed information? The press was going to rip the foundation a new one over this supposed mistake, especially Trisha, she will be more then happy to try and rake them over the coals. So whatever deal they are getting must be big in order to swallow this PR distaster.
  #105  
Unread 4th of April, 2006, 08:06
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Quantum

Trying hard to keep his attention on the trial -- for some reason, he keeps wanting to glance surreptitiously at Astrid -- Paul has to use even more effort to not laugh out loud. He struggles to keep a straight face when he's described as 'armed'. What, am I just supposed to unplug something? I don't even really know HOW this stuff works, much less where it came from. "Yes, sir, here's my Utility Belt and Secret Decoder Ring. My Spandex is neatly folded in this bag. Pardon me while I remove my fake eye..."

He almost laughs when O'Malley is described as a 'businessman'. Right, and Bob's yer uncle. Did he forget the lackeys there? Or is it standard procedure to bring along someone who likes teleporting pinballs into people? His effort at keeping a straight face suddenly gets a lot easier. I'd better not make jokes like that. Ick.

The folder dropping doesn't surprise him in the least. Huh. No file, no case. No wonder. They won't even tell me why they kept me in a fridge for three years. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they engineered all this, for some reason.

I need to talk to Bolt. And where is Wreck, anyway? I owe him a few beers.
  #106  
Unread 4th of April, 2006, 09:35
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As soon as he clears the courthouse doors, Blackthorne places a call on his satphone.

"Simon? Henry here," he says, fluidly descending the steps toward the company limo. "You won't believe what just happened here -- yes, I'm at the courthouse; they completely bolloxed the hearing. The DA's office had no evidence to present; never got it, they said -- no, I didn't wait around for the ruling. 50-50 on a continuance, I'd say."

The businessman steps into the limo and mouths "office" to his driver, then continues with his phone conversation. "I swear, you can't trust the government to get rid of a rival for you anymore -- yes, execute the deal. I want the keycodes in hand by the end of lunch..."
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  #107  
Unread 17th of April, 2006, 10:25
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Outside the Courthouse

At first, there's an almost pleasant numbness, a cloud of fluffy insensitivity that buffers Astrid's senses from the harsh reality of the situation. Her stiletto-steps seem muted, the cold wind a gentle breeze as she steps out of the courthouse like a diver onto the high board - and at the bottom, the reporters scent blood, and thrash maniacally. It's like she's been stood up on prom-night - well, theoretically. Nobody ever stood Astrid Brand up in her whole life.

"The court can grant you five working days of grace, ADA. If the Foundation can supply the necessary documentation by then, this arraignment will resume. Until then..." He turns to the currently unaccused crimelord, bitter resignation in his eyes. "Mr. O'Malley, you are released without charge or penalty. There is no bail; however, the court must instruct you not to leave New York city in the next 120 hours." Tranh purses his lips grimly. "After that time, one way or another, we'll know where you can go."

Licensed vigilantism. When it fails, it fails colossally. Who picks up the pieces?

Only half-consciously, Astrid pull out her cellphone and flicks it off silent mode, thumbing in Kristine's speed dial number. Her mind is clouded with incomplete thoughts, sprawled over the Centinel Foundation, her boss, her co-worker, the bloody-handed, scot-free criminal in the courtroom, his oily assistant, and the pack of surly metahumans slouching out behind her. Until she picks one to focus on, they all seem to float just out of reach and taunt her.

SUBJECT NOT IN TRANSMISSION RANGE, the message blinks from the screen.

Osprey is the first to exit after the ADA, the justice system leaving him with nothing but his impotent revenge fantasies. He scarcely hears the crowd of reporters calling her name, demanding interviews, demanding to be told what transpired, why the case is over to quickly. TV news cameras watch like monocled Cyclopses, taking in the the dazed, lost looking Centinels and the city's legal representative. There's no place for personal shame: the media is intent on dragging it out into the light of day.

The Mechanic follows, almost should to shoulder with Bolt and Quantum. "I don't know about you..." he says quietly as the electrical threads of his coat begin to hum warmly, "But I think a meeting with Ms. Stone is in order."

As he says this, Bolt remembers something. He fishes a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, and glances at it. United Manhattan Recreation Hall, 6pm is says in the SEASA's precise hand. The address of the building follows. That's where they're all supposed to meet for this 'one last job' the cold-blooded bastard has lined up for them; something he has yet to broach to his team mates.

Still, that's almost seven hours away.
  #108  
Unread 19th of April, 2006, 11:17
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Osprey

Rob turns his head, looking over his shoulder at the other Rob without actually looking at him. "What would be the point?" he snaps. "No, you're right. But face it: the Foundation shafted us on this one, and good. This is a colossal screw-up; honestly, I think it's a little too colossal to be just a screw-up. Now I want to know why, and I want to know who, but more than that I want to see this work. I have to know if the system's gonna work, because if it isn't...if I--we don't get him put away, people are gonna die. Maybe even then. I don't have any money, I don't command fundamental cosmic forces, I don't bust the laws of physics all to hell--I just bend them a little. I have to know if this 'edifice of civilization' is going to protect me, because otherwise...because otherwise this whole thing is going to go down a road that I'm...that I'm just not ready to go down." It doesn't take a PHD or a background in psychology to read the signs on his face, or the way his shoulders bunch up as he talks. Something has a hold on him, deep inside, that he can't shake.

He's scared. Badly.

Rob turns away from his comrades, catching up to Astrid with one hand on her shoulder. "What do you need from me?"
  #109  
Unread 19th of April, 2006, 13:41
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Verve
HP: 5/5; Status: Wondering how many reporters she can kick in the nads before security tries to restrain her, then how far she can throw the security guard

Astrid Brant frowns as she snaps her phone closed. It's possible that Kristine is in a building somewhere that blocks coverage, but it's unlikely -- the new cellular networks typically reach every nook and cranny of the city, even deep inside the steel and glass monstrosities that make up New York City's famous skyline.

She lifts her chin and is about to address the boiling surge of reporters when one of the Centinels touches her on the shoulder. Raising her hand to the reporters to give herself a moment, she turns back to Osprey and speaks into his ear. Her voice is low and close.

"Find out what the fuck happened. Find out who dropped the ball and if it was on purpose. Find out if O'Malley got to someone in your organization, or if there's just general fucking incompetance over there on a mass scale." She leans away and adjusts her glasses, readying herself for the wolves at the bottom of the steps. "Find Wreck. And stay away from the Hammer, all of you. Don't complicate this any further. I'll be in touch."

With that, the assistant district attourney turns to face the music.
  #110  
Unread 21st of April, 2006, 11:29
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Osprey
HP: 5/5; Status: self-determination


"Right. If you run into trouble, you call me. Or Bolt. Or Quantum, yeah. Just don't put yourself in a bad situation, okay? You got the right people on your side." His own whispers are low and rough, almost a growl.

As he rejoins the rest, it occurs to him that his question should have been 'What do you need from us?' They may not be a proper team, know each others abilities and tendencies inside and out, but they do share a common purpose...especially now. "Mr. Thomas, let's go have your meeting with Miss Stone."
  #111  
Unread 26th of April, 2006, 01:06
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Blackthorne
HP: unk; Status: Waiting

Henry Blackthorne keeps one eye on the television in the back of his company limo and the other on the mountains lining the steel canyon his "carriage" is winding its way through.

He is a captain in this world of steel and glass architecture, and cutthroat competition. Blackthorne Industries had carved out its place on the hill through the sheer will and genius of its sole owner and proprietor, but, like many other successful companies, reached a plateau it just can't move past.

So, like any good bodybuilder, Henry has to change the routine a little to jumpstart the muscle growth again.

Soon, Henry, soon.

The image of Astrid Brandt approaching the waiting cameras on the TV screen pulls the industrialist from his musings and he brings up the volume. She's a pretty one, pretty enough for Henry to consider ending his longtime relationship of convenience to pursue her. He could benefit from being seen with a woman who was more down to earth than he was, and it wouldn't hurt to have an ADA on his side, either...
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Last edited by Left-Handed Bandit; 26th of April, 2006 at 05:54.
  #112  
Unread 26th of April, 2006, 07:21
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The Centinels, guest starring Verve

From the primordial soup of the media, questions bubble and rise to the surface, before crawling onto to land glistening with slime.

And lunge right past her.
  • "Quantum!"
  • "Mr. Thomas! Do you have any comments on the search papers filed on your corporation by the Bureau of Technological Security? Is this..."
  • "Osprey, Osprey! Was the Foundation's case accepted? How do you feel about O'Malley facing trial or..."
  • "Is this public appearance a sign that you have been cleared of the espionage charges levelled against you, Bolt?"
  • "Quantum, is it true there was another teleporter working for the underworld? How many of your kind are there?"
  • "...sources spotted you at the site of the massacre of alleged O'Malley syndicate members last night. Any comments, Osprey?"
  • "Mechanic, did you handle the case? Does your genius extend to legal matters as well as technology? Sir, are you a nova?"
  • "...file a flight plan with Homeland Security's air control arm to translocate within the city, given the state of terrorism alert?"
  • "...romance in the air with you and a certain CrossMedia reporter, Bolt? Bolt? Bolt!?"

The poise Astrid had gathered to deal with the media evaporates somewhat, replaced by a pointed sense of annoyance (and a little deja vu to the conferences surrounding her earlier profession). They clearly haven't clicked that the DA hasn't, and isn't going to show, and obviously don't even recognise her.

Last edited by Dirigible; 26th of April, 2006 at 07:23.
  #113  
Unread 26th of April, 2006, 16:27
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Verve
HP: 5/5; Status: Verve needs a drink... badly

It takes a moment for Brant to process that none of the reporters know who she is or how she's connected with the case, but considering how poorly things went... well, not having to talk to the press about it is a good thing. A slight smile creases her lips. Walking down the steps, she pushes through the reporters and turns back to the Centinels. "Nothing about the case, boys, okay?"

Pulling her coat closed as she turns and walks down the street, the ADA calls her office to see if Kristine has checked in there, or if maybe they've heard from John or the police about the "package" dropped off at her apartment last night. If nothing else, she's going to get the name and number of the right person to ream over at the Foundation.
  #114  
Unread 27th of April, 2006, 00:16
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Blackthorne
HP: unk; Status: Sigh...

He should've expected it, really. The press completely ignored the person who would know best about the goings on in the hearing and went straight for the flash of the novas. Style over substance reigns in this "gotta have it first" era of modern journalism.

Well, not that Henry hasn't used it to his advantage on more than one occasion.

Flipping open his satphone again, Henry waits patiently for his most trusted associate to pick up on the other side.

"It's me again," he announces, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the approaching Blackthorne Building. "Listen, see if you can dig up everything you can on Ms. Astrid Brandt. She was the ADA in the courtroom today. What's the word on the deal?....Mmmm-hmm. Good...Keep on top of it, then...I'll be in the office in a few minutes. Bye."

Henry hangs up and speed dials another number. "Marie, have my usual lunch order sent up to my office..."
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  #115  
Unread 27th of April, 2006, 05:14
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Bolt
HP 5/5 status: Man, that's a whole lot of reporters

The reporters questions roll over Ryan like a tidal wave, he can hardly make out one question when another takes its place, he barely resists the urge to give them all the finger and tell them what exactly they can do with their questions. The only reason he didn't was because Trish was in there somewhere and he didn't want to offend her.

Ignoring the questions, he half turns to face his team mates. "Look, questioning Ms. Stone is probably a good idea but lets face it, she is probably as much in the dark about this as we are. If we want answers we need to talk to Mr. Lizard, fortunately we have a meeting with him later tonight. We can talk about it later, when we have more privacy but for right now lets get to the Centinal Building."

Ryan will walk down the steps and start pushing his way through the mob of reporters. "No comment, no comment." is his only response
  #116  
Unread 5th of May, 2006, 06:40
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Osprey
HP: 1/5; Status: travelin'


"We do?" Rob asks, moments before Bolt vanishes in his trademark fashion, accompanied by a disco ball of reporters trying desperately to catch it on film. While their backs are turned, he nods to Quantum and the Mechanic, adds "Guess I'll see you there, then," and leaves in his own distinct fashion.

It begins as a long and graceful leap to a nearby rooftop, where he crouches for a moment. He doesn't normally give himself the liberty to really cut loose and fly, but the frustration of the day's turn of events catches up to him and suddenly he's sprinting to the roof's edge and flinging himself across the sky as hard as he can go. The wind noise drowns out everything else, leaving him oddly alone with his thoughts as he blasts recklessly through the air; below him, rooftops and streets blur at the edge of his vision. Rob's not sure how fast he goes, only that there isn't a car on the streets he can't catch and that one time, he escaped a police helicopter, although he really only had to get far enough ahead of it to doubleback.

He arrives at Centinels HQ a little winded, but probably only a minute or so behind Bolt. Rob finds a perch high up and catches his breath before dropping lightly to his feet a hundred feet below. Such open enjoyment of his power seems almost like an abuse, to do it with no other purpose than convenience. He shrugs it off and figures the gods will forgive him this one time, then turns to go inside and meet the runner.
  #117  
Unread 20th of May, 2006, 14:30
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Quantum

Paul sighs as Bolt and Osprey take off. "Guess they wanted to do things their own way." He turns to the Mechanic and Astrid. "Well, do you want me to take you to the base, or do you two want to go under your own power?"
  #118  
Unread 20th of May, 2006, 15:15
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Verve
HP: 5/5; Status: Heading to her office

Caught off guard by Quantum's question as Brant is already on her phone, she lowers it shakes her head. "To the Foundation? No thanks. I've got some things to take care of at the office first. Not only do we need to find out why your people never actually followed through with filing the case, but I need to find out why the DA didn't note that we were lacking that little detail. I'll catch up with you guys later, probably this afternoon."
  #119  
Unread 21st of May, 2006, 08:57
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Quantum

"Fair enough." Paul shrugs it off, though his disappointment isn't hard to spot. "You know how to get in touch with us. Well, me at least; the others seem to like making themselves hard to reach. Take care."

Looking to the Mechanic, he offers a hand, invoking his warp-field. Whether or not he has a passenger, he begins levitating, rising above the media sharks and traffic. Likely, they've been wanting SOMETHING to show on TV. So let's give 'em something.

Playing up the role of media-slave to the hilt, he rises high enough to be clear of everything, but still low enough to allow for some good shots. He then expands his field to its maximum size and gives it a slight mental push, causing it -- and him -- to rotate slowly. After one full turn, he shifts, and vanishes with an audible rush of displaced air.

As he materializes near the Centinel Building, he can't help but smirk. Eat your hearts out.
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Last edited by Dirigible; 21st of May, 2006 at 09:01.
  #120  
Unread 21st of May, 2006, 09:49
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The Centinels

Privacy? At the Centinel Building? The people who have been tapping your phones and keeping illicit medical records on you?

Each of the Centinels gets a chance to revel in the irony of this at his own pace.


Rob "The Mechanic" Thompson's car pulls up behind the assembled journalists as soon as he steps up to the curve, thanks to its pattern-predictive SynChonicity Software. He slides into the back seat, the automatic chauffeur responding to his command: "Centinel Building, please." He reclines, slowly and uncomfortably, the image of O'Malley's smirk seeming fixed in his eidetic memory. With a scowl, he reaches for the crystal decanter of brandy set in mini-drinks cabinet in the centre of the seat. He stopped his hand before picking it up - the miscarriage of justice that just occurred was one thing, but he had other troubles facing him... and Rising Sun Applied Technologies. For a moment, he wonders if he should have mentioned it to the others... No. They have their own troubles, and then some.


For Paul "Quantum" Forrester, the egregious violation of space, time and causality is easier than the equivalent journey by foot or air - even with the effort put into showing off. He simply selects the coordinates he wishes to exist at and flexes his metahuman muscle, pushing his atoms from a state of here to there in an inconceivably complex, yet childishly easy and instinctual motion. Nothingness erupts in a dazzling splendour of purple lightning and fire, the spacetime continuum folding like origami as he // utter darkness lies in the sliver between quantum states breathing and hating you cannot escape the everpresent it waits and thinks thinks about you // teleports across the city in an easy bound.

Quantum almost doubles over as his feet touch down on the roof of an art gallery ten blocks away from the Centinel Building. What was THAT? His skin crawls, as if he's just passed through a membrane of icy-cold slime - that clung and grasped at him possessively. Shakily, he extends himself through the city again, completing his jaunt to the Centinel Building. Whatever the awful, encroaching sensation was, it does not recur.


Ryan "Bolt" Sanders passes quickly through the crowd, not seeing Trisha despite his surreptitious glances to either side. Once he's free of the competing calls for attention, the hands tugging on his coat, the digital recorders thrust into his face and the sea of jabbering faces, he takes a moment to centre himself - and finds he can't. Bolt looks down at his hands, seeing them oscillate at a speed undetectable to the baseline eye. Inside the courtroom, hatred had given him focus to avoid it... but now, in the bitter chill of the outside air, the addiction forced upon him rears its serpentine head, a hungry ache through his bones and veins that food cannot hope to fill. But what can he do about it?

What he always does.

Run.

For a few blessed fractions of a second, he is free of fear, of need, of all feeling beyond the road under his shoes and the wind on his face. All too soon, however, he reaches the entrance to the Centinel Building. What he sees their... is unexpected.


Rob "Osprey" Holt streaks through the air like a bullet, as swift a his namesake but ignoring the rotten warrens of buildings below, the natural abode of his prey. This moment, he has other business. Snowflakes strike his cheeks, under the leather of his cowl, like frozen bullets. Eventually, he brings his flightpath down and around towards the silvery glass front of the building where the others wait.


Blackthorne

Henry Blackthorne brushes a snowflake from his shoulder, surveying his work. Despite himself, a smile was etched around his aristocratic lips.

Quantum arrives first, an effigy of violet fire heralded by thunder. A circle of clear sidewalk appears, the snow boiling away into invisible vapour under him. The blazing plasma-sphere fades, leaving the nova's solid frame hanging, unsuspended. Eclipsed by Quantum's lightshow, no-one notices Bolt appear on the scene. The runner gazes up at the building in disbelief, before a coughing fit wracks his shoulders, and he cups his hands in front of his mouth. Osprey drops onto a nearby roof, before gliding athletically down to street-level.

On either side of the building's front door, a small crane sits, the arms reaching up towards the title affixed to the wall. The burnished brass letters are being taken down from both ends, leaving only:
"___TINEL BUILD___"

The man, darkly dressed and haired turn to look as the Centinels arrive.
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  #121  
Unread 22nd of May, 2006, 09:39
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Quantum

I swear, if it's not one thing, it's three.

Paul tried to keep any sort of nasty tone -- especially sarcasm and anger -- out of his voice. The result is a touch of wry irony. "Let me guess. This is the part where we get handed little pink pieces of paper and a cardboard box." He puts out an arm to help support Bolt, letting a touch of worry cross his features. Is he okay?

Looking at the dark-suited man -- and half expecting him to pull out a little device that emits flashes of red light -- Paul addresses him. "You look to be in a rather good mood. Mind telling me who you are, and why they're changing the sign? I don't remember anyone buying a billion hamburgers." God, where did THAT come from? They don't even bother numbering their signs anymore. Paul shakes his head; for all he knows, no one remembers the reference anyway. "I'm Paul Forrester, though you've probably guessed who I play on TV." He offers a hand. Might as well give the guy a chance to be diplomatic.
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  #122  
Unread 22nd of May, 2006, 14:38
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..."Let me guess. This is the part where we get handed little pink pieces of paper and a cardboard box."...

Henry's roguish smile broadens at the impotent attempt at a cynical quip.

"Oh, no, Quantum; you gents are the 'A' team," the entrepreneur replies in a deliberate, but playful, tone. "You don't fire the ballplayers; you fire the manager."

He listens with amusement to Paul's response and shows no sign of offering an answer to the heroe's questions. A small part of him considers continuing the banter, but he knows it would do nothing but further frustrate the man.

Henry is about to speak when Quantum offers the first olive branch.

..."I'm Paul Forrester, though you've probably guessed who I play on TV." He offers a hand...

His roguish smile warming into a more genuine one, Henry takes the proffered hand and answers, "Henry Elias Blackthorne, owner of Blackthorne Industries..."

As he lets his hand fall, he adds, "...and your new boss."
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Last edited by Left-Handed Bandit; 25th of May, 2006 at 03:00.
  #123  
Unread 23rd of May, 2006, 18:31
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NONSTOP / ECHELON Intercept, OASIS transcription active.
Additional transcription to [blacktext] For the desk of [blacktext] only.
January 17th, 2010.


Phone number [blacktext] Serial number [blacktext]
Registered to Brand, Astrid

Call Log #1 11:19 am
Code entered to bypass voicemail
Male voice, identified as Yitzhak Esteban: Good morning, this is DA Kirwan's office. With apologies, he's not avail
AB: Zack? It's Astrid Brand.
YE: Ah. Oh. Astrid. Our man in the High Court said
AB: No, it didn't go well. Look, Zack
YE: It's - it' s Yitzhak, actually.
AB: Have you heard from John? Is he OK?
YE: pause No, not - not since last night. I got the call, it must have been past midnight - maybe one. He told me that someone had been pause making threatening calls to him and Jeanette. Telling them the route his children took to school, his eldest's dorm room number at NYU. His mechanic told him someone had been skulking around the workshop. They found a box attached to the brake line. It was just an empty box - but it could have been
AB: God, yeah. But where did he go?
YE: I don't know if I should say over the phone.
AB: It's me. I need to know he's OK.
YE: Look, I - all I know is that he's at his vacation home, up at Lake Hooft. When he called this morning, that was the last I'd heard, just after I got into work, he said he was fine. He's just scared for his family, Ms. Brand - I guess I would be too, now that O'Malley isn't
AB: Yeah. I know. Thanks, Zack.
Disconnected

>Track?
>>No. As much as a I feel for Kirwan, we have better ways of dealing with O'Malley.

Call Log #2 11:24 am
Female voice, identified as Geraldine Moore: Hello?
AB: Gerry, this is Astrid. Have you - has anyone heard from Kristine in the last hour?
GM: No. Isn't she with you?
AB: No, I haven't seen her since
GM: Um, she sent an e-mail request for the O'Malley indictment files... but that was almost an hour ago. Hey, how did that go?
AB: Bad. I didn't get them; what does that tell you?
GM: Oh, wow, Astrid, that's a really crappy
AB: Goodbye, Gerry.
GM: No need to bite my
Disconnected

>Panopticon tells me that Kristine is "Kristine Edmonds." I want her file - if I'm right, it'll be under Delphi. Copy this transcript and the file to Simon.

Call Log #3 (Incoming) 11:40 am
AB: Hello?.
Male voice, identified as Robert Pawcalski: Um, hello, Ms. Brand this is Robbie Pawcalski, from the Lower Manhattan FIO [Forensic Investigations Office]. We just wanted to tell you - the patella that you found - that, uh, was sent to you. It turns out it's not human
AB: Not - then what
RP: A BEngiPig. It's a GE animal, to, ah, to provide replacement parts for transplant. In this case, knee joints, cartilage and bone marrow - all physiologically and genetically human. To the untrained eye, ah, not that I'm saying you're untrained
AB: That was a pig's kneecap? God
RP: Yes ma'am. There's a medical research facility in New Jersey - that's the nearest place they could be found. We've passed this along to the PD, and they're following up on it
AB: A pig's kneecap. Pig's don't even have - son of a - pause Thank you, Mr. Pawcalski. That's a huge weight off my mind. You people do great work.
RP: Oh. Ah. Thank you, ma'am. I
AB: Bye.
Disconnected
Monitoring continues on outgoing line
RP: Was wondering if. pause/muffled noise Great. Great work, Robbie. Man, that would have been the perfect time to ask her out.
Disconnected

>What the hell is this? I have better things to do that read about some low-ranking CSI's unrequited crush on a lawyer and subsequent pig mutilations. Whoever is responsible for gisting and prioritising this will report to Central for debriefing and mnemonic scrubbing tomorrow morning.
  #124  
Unread 26th of May, 2006, 04:13
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As the coughing fit subsides, Ryan wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight in a desperate attempt to keep ache under control. He straightens and nods slightly to Paul that he is and will be ok.

"...and your new boss."
"Since when?" He asks quietly but loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Why weren't we informed about this?"
  #125  
Unread 26th of May, 2006, 05:43
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... "Since when?" He asks quietly but loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Why weren't we informed about this?"...

"Since approximately 11:13 a.m., when I purchased the Foundation in its entirety," Henry says matter-of-factly. "And consider yourself informed, Bolt.

"Something very wrong happened today in the courthouse, and it prompted me into action," he continues, choosing to ignore Ryan's discomfort for the moment. "The Centinel Foundation fell victim to its own sense of importance, becoming just another inefficient bureaucracy -- or worse."

Pausing, Henry looks each of the four heroes in the eye. "You gentlemen deserve much better than a lazy and corrupt organization that does little to truly support you," Henry offers, a slight smile growing on his lips. "I intend to reorganize the foundation into the company model Blackthorne Industries has been using so successfully for nearly a decade. We're going to make you the heroes of New York, and we're going to rid the city of men like 'The Hammer.'"

And other enemies and rivals as I deem necessary, he thinks to himself, his smile broadening.

"Why don't you gents get Bolt here some help and meet me in the executive conference room in a half-hour. I'd like a briefing on what you gents have been doing on the O'Malley thing."
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Extending an olive branch doesn't count when you're trying to poke the other fella in the eye.
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