Secrets, Lies and Saving Lives

[Eris London]

January 24th, 2108

A bit after last call... the old 'diamond district'

 

 

God she’d been gorgeous, and tasted even sweeter, a lick of alcohol still lingering in her blood from the wife of a potential client.  He was such a douche canoe, perks with the flights?  Fuck that.  Sent them home, met the wife later for drinks.  Lips quirked at what had happened next.

 

Fun night.

 

It was rare the vampire went out on her own to deal bigger business than flight prospects, but this was not something that Ahanu, or even Toby would be helpful for.  Mouse, well… she was already on the job in her own special way. Numbers and such.  The girl could get anything, including leads on phone numbers that were hard to get, able to also sound like a damsel in distress when she really wanted too…  warping the signal just enough to make it seem real.  Tonight, nothing was real, down to the soft peach curls that tickled the front of her collar bone.  It had been too much of a temptation not to take on her dinner’s persona.  She rarely did anyone else but Reid, but these were special circumstances where the lingering power prior to her infection had been an incredible boon instead of a curse.  Doing deals with the devil held their own bit of danger, and not knowing  exactly who she was or even what she looked like would always be to her advantage.

 

Unless he fried her ass, then she would just have to kill him. 

 

Shame. 

 

She really wanted to avoid that, especially with what she was trying to accomplish.  Phone snapped closed, the much curvier body than she was used to swaying just a bit underneath her black Italian suit at her lazy gate into the alleyway, Proenza peep toes baring the incredibly cute toes sans polish.  Cheeks were freshly flushed, several feeds absolutely necessary for the danger she was putting herself into.  There were needs greater than her comfort level though at stake- the explosions merely a week ago.  It was her territory, it was her problem, and she was incredibly pissed. It was time to stop chasing ambulances and time to start preventing dipshits from thinking they were in charge.  If that included killing motherfuckers that pulled this shit, so be it.  She’d ripped their heads off herself, in a discrete… not revealing the existence of vampires or the Nation way of course.

 

Motion was almost invisible, form launched to a first floor fire escape about twelve feet from the ground to sit quietly and wait for the call to be answered.  There was no ladder up to where she was sitting except for the lever within her reach that would lower it to street level and allow someone to climb up.  For later maybe.  Location had been chosen carefully.  Deserted, quiet, enough light to see with human eyes.  The older ornate brick buildings were day businesses, at night, closed.  The privacy was necessary for such a delicate ‘conversation’, granted it remained a conversation and not a knockdown, drag out fight.  It could not be over the phone, she would not knock on Arma's front door, or tolerate his lackies at his side. She had left hers at home, and that was unprecedented.  This was for his ears, and his ears only.  He would either be receptive, or not.

 

Compact opened as she checked the berry colored lipstick.  She personally didn’t wear it often, but on this mug… good god.  Smirk was light, closing it and tucking it back in her inner jacket pocket, it had been a fun night so far.  Legs crossed at the knee, calves sliding together.  She would ride this persona suit more often, it felt wonderful.  Hands set on either side of her hips to grip the edge of the escape, well aware she was sitting on a ton of metal.  It was for her advantage, not his.  A tip in his favor to remind her not to break his neck if he pissed her off.  With a call to Arma and a fake emergency complaint about an Order asshole assaulting an Arma operative, the names were few that would show up.  If it wasn’t the right one, she was a ghost.  If it was… let the games begin.  He was known for being a feisty one, then again so was she.

 

If she had to kidnap and hogtie the man to get him to listen, so be it.

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair checked the magazine on the shotgun and ran the pump just after bringing the Jeep to a stop. He didn't know what to expect from the call - Civilians didn't often involve themselves in the squabble between Arma and the Order, and aside from hoping they liked his people better, he didn't want them to. The Order tended to do some crazy things to people who opposed it. That was, of course, a big part of the goddamn problem with them. Part of what had made him damn leery about the Vatican creeps longbefore he actually up and quit. Part of what made him ashamed he'd believed their lies for as long as he had.

Well. Spilled milk and all.

Letting out a breath, he pushed the door open and slid out, shotgun disappearing into the fold of his long coat on its sling, his hands in his pockets as he shut the door and started out onto the street. He hadn't come and parked right up next to or in the alley, that would have been a stupid move. And while his face was known a bit thanks to TV, well, even after the Event this was still New York. There had to be sixty people who looked enough like him to be confused, and so long as he kept his head down and moved the right way, people didn't often look twice. Though he was thinking he needed a hat, one of these days. Just to help.

He paused by the edge of the entrance, drawing a slow breath before he turned and stepped into the alleyway. It was somewhat brazen, but like a police officer, there was no other way to be. You couldn't always slink around, or try and find some sort of backup. And Alistair wasn't the stealthiest sort. He was, however, pretty handy in a fight, particularly if there wasn't anyone else around to worry about. Today, thankfully, that seemed to be the case.

Then again, there wasn't much of anybody in the alley, too... except for the redhead on the fire escape. Alistair lifted a brow slightly, looking up to her, leaving his hands in his pockets while he considered that one.

Ah. A picture began to draw itself... [alistair]Don't suppose it's me you're waiting for up there?[/alistair] he drawled finally, letting out a slow breath. Well... desk work WAS boring.

[Eris London]

She didn’t like waiting.  This however, was a subject she had to confront head on.  Even if she wasn’t recently bestowed with the backing to make a dent in the stupidity that was deemed the resurgence of a “civilized” world, her actions would have been exactly the same.  Root the fuckers out, and kill them in horribly imaginable ways while friends helped.  Good times.

 

The front of her forehead throbbed like a damn hangover.  Vampires actually got headaches, felt pain… it was rather stupid given the total cosmic power except for the senseless sun thing.  And food, not having the cravings for a damn Twix every once and a while was a power she wished she’d had before she was infected.  Such was life.  This though… pounded with the buzz of alcohol that should have burned off by now.  Needed another feed perhaps, or rest.

 

She nonchalantly explored the contents of the woman’s pockets as she waited to see who off the rolodex would come to a colleague’s rescue.  Diane was the face owner’s name.  Diane, had great taste in accoutrements, a twenty four karat gold cigarette case in her inner coat pocket filled with impeccably hand rolled high end cigarettes, coupled with an antique sterling silver lighter complete with markings on the bottom.  Well then.  Several more tubes of lipstick with the same intricately designed tubes.  Shame she was with such a jackass, and had been a bit of one herself. Nice legs though, attention moving to the end of the alleyway when her spider senses tingled that she was no longer alone.  Dark painted lashes blinked slowly at the figure that appeared into her domain, waiting patiently with the slight swing to the heels that were delicately crossed on her perch.  Caution, expected… she could almost see the pieces moving together in his expression.

"Don't suppose it's me you're waiting for up there?" .

 

Nod was slight, smile curt as she tucked the things back into her pocket with the handkerchief that was oddly there.  Girls didn’t carry handkerchiefs.

 

[eris]Or Prince Charming, but you were more punctual,[/eris] the smooth voice was quiet, a hint of impatient sarcasm.  [eris]I needed to talk to you without your constant gaggle of runway minions.  This is for your ears only, though I’d prefer not to be in the middle of a fucking cold alley with you no doubt armed to the teeth and ready to fry my ass off this landing.[/eris]  Many things she was, a bullshitter was not one of them.  [eris]I seriously doubt you’d meet me at my place.  So here we are.  Not Order.   Not here to kill you.  Now that we have that out of the way.[/eris] she leaned over and hit the lever to drop the chain-weighted vertical ladder.  She didn’t need it to get down, but he didn’t need to know she wasn’t anything other than just a regular Joe either.  Black leather gloves were pulled from her coat pocket and slid on, fingertips ghosting over the front of her forehead.

 

What the fuck was this?  Still?  She hadn’t taken a drink in nearly an hour.  Most of the time she was seen as business-like and less than cordial, but whatever this shit was throbbing in her head was making her downright hostile. Eyes scanned the rooftops, either it was someone he’d brought with him or something was seriously wrong.

 

She could move like a ballerina even in spike heels and a skirt suit, gliding down the ladder and hopping the last few rungs to the concrete and dust off her gloved hands.  Stretching her neck to the side, hands slid into her tailored trench pockets and she moved toward him, the provocativeness of the new body fun to play with.  Boobs.  She'd never had much of them either.  Though it was hard to see her amazing shoes now, so what was the point?  It was always interesting to drive someone else for a while, see things through another’s ambiance.  She’d always loathed her tiny stature, never allowing it to put her at a disadvantage… but tall women with more assets than she possessed definitely found themselves with less work to hold people’s attention.  Movement was clearing her head, the peachy curls tickling under her ears as she made a slow circle around the magus.  It was rare she was the same height as someone over six foot.  It was… nice for a change.  Smirk was a bit surly, stopping finally in front of him to raised her chin slightly, reaching to touch his and turn it to and fro, taking last advantage of her play time- and testing the waters to make sure a sniper wasn’t going to whack her for getting too close.

 

[eris]You have your charms Mr. Greene. Nice to finally meet you up close and personal,[/eris] kiss was innocent but lingering, a last little tease with her new face before she had to put it back in the box.  She liked this height, thumb brushing a bit of the berry color from his lower lip before she took a step back with a wink.  It tasted a bit like raspberry.  Nobody shot her, or jumped from the shadows to whack her.  Bully for her.

 

Expression became serious, time for business.

 

[eris]Last week with the Casablanca was, unfortunate.[/eris] face leaned toward the wind slightly, enjoying the scent of fresh snow.  [eris]That shit won’t happen again in my city.  Anyone involved has a target on their back.  I will kill them, so don’t mistake me and my people for the ones who blew up the building.  You can help, or you can get out of my way.  If you help, and I find I can trust you, there may be other things to follow that will help you substantially against the Order.[/eris]

 

A flush of nausea fluttered her lashes, the world spinning a moment, hand out of her pocket and pressed to the center of her chest.  A step back was taken to steady her head, the ground feeling like it was pitching on its own.  Brows snapped down, tongue rolling suddenly over her lower lip.  Reaching sharply into her inner pocket she pulled out one of the lipsticks and snapped the top off.  Damn bitch… the corner of her lip quirked up at the audacity and a chuckle in her throat, the top snapped back on.

 

[eris]Bad news sweetheart, let me know if I need to catch you.  So sorry by the way, what I get for chasing a pretty face and you for letting strange women kiss you in an alley.[/eris]

 

She was burning it off but it was still affecting her, a handkerchief pulled out as she wiped off the lipstick she’d admired all evening.  Him?  She wasn’t sure.  She was either going to settle in for him thinking she’d done it on purpose, and a fight… or he was going down and she would have to take him somewhere until he woke up and try to explain it was an accident and she wasn’t trying to kill him, and potentially a fight. 

 

God damn it.

 

The last person she wanted on her office couch was Alistair Greene.

 

Either way, it was her fault.  Cell was snapped open, watching him intently in case he decided to try and light her up.  She was taking responsibility for this, it was in her nature, and there was no way she was leaving him in the middle of nowhere with the way things were if he went down.

 

[eris]I need a car. Now.[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

[alistair]I try not to show up seven years after trouble happens, if that's what you mean.[/alistair] he quipped back to her Prince Charming comment. So there was no trouble here. The only traces of magic in the alley were coming from her, which meant the call had been a hoax designed to lure him out. Great. He shook his head a bit, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

[alistair]You know, contrary to popular belief, I tend to leave the gaggle back where they can do some good. If the Order wants to make a try, they can come and fucking try, I'm tired of the skulking around. And I suppose the usual joke is that your saying you're not order is just what the Order would say, but...[/alistair] He waved a hand dismissively, indicating that he really had no plan of taking that seriously. [alistair]I also do have this thing called a telephone, I believe there's one in your pocket, and I do take calls.[/alistair]

Shit, people treated him like he was some sort of President and went about with an entourage. He was at best a glorified police captain, he protected himself with guns and magic and occasionally a questionably sober speedster with shockingly colored hair. He didn't have a professional set of bodyguards or anything like that. Those were for people who, in general, COULDN'T melt their way out of a jail cell if they felt like it. He was not one of those people.

He watched the woman climb down with... well a bit more interest than he would be ready to admit. She had... qualifications of a certain sort, to use the turn of phrase that had been popular among his engineering colleagues when they were out of earshot of anyone who might cry sexism. The magus stood mostly impassive though as he watched her approach. It wasn't the first femme fatale that had come his way, after all... he was starting to feel like James Bond. Then again, his namesake Dresden ran into his share, too, so it just held the existing paradigm perhaps.

Usually they didn't up and kiss him. She was faster than he thought. [alistair]Hey now, hang the fuck on.[/alistair] he said, hands coming up to push her back - not harshly, but firmly all the same. A hand idly batted hers away when she reached to dab at his lips, while he moved to wipe some of the lipstick off. [alistair]Sorry, taken - and also usually a bit slower with these things. You haven't even told me your name yet.[/alistair] Christ, fucking lipstick... he was probably allergic to something in that berry-flavored crap, from the tingling sensation. Spectacular, that would be fun to explain.

She said something next, though, that caught his attention. He lifted a brow just a bit. So, first he'd been curious, then thought she might be a stalker, next... well she was talking rather like he had when he got back to the office. He tended not to let his murderous impulses get out to the public when he could help it. He was supposed to be a cop after all, not an executioner.

[alistair]If you find YOU can truse... meh...[/alistair] He frowned, words not coming out as he had intended. Shit, was... what the fuck...? Had she SERIOUSLY just... why the hell did SHE look confused?

[alistair]Speshal hell...[/alistair] he managed, his footing finally feeling uncertain. The impulse to light her up was there, but he didn't... yet. He had some defenses, anyway, even unconscious, but he really didn't plan to go the-

Well, fuck that plan.

Alistair passed out.

[Eris London]

"I also do have this thing called a telephone, I believe there's one in your pocket, and I do take calls."

Smile was genuine at the end of his small diatribe, but the lowered lashes spoke volumes.  He was a smartass, she knew that going in and honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way.  It was her reputation in the Sheut, some liked her in charge, some didn’t.  In the end they could all go fuck themselves.  She didn’t have time to play politics, she had time to make order.  She got the same sense from him, which was the reason she was here humoring him.

 

[eris]Where’s the fun in that.[/eris]  comment quiet, there was a reason she hadn’t called him.  Sometimes getting the point of secrecy across was better shown in action than asked for.  People tended to be blasé about their promises in passing, his word was yet to be tested, test driving this model a little bit more before she got down to business.

"Hey now, hang the fuck on."

 

She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t a little hurt, but… 

 

"Sorry, taken - and also usually a bit slower with these things. You haven't even told me your name yet."

 

[eris]Or buy you dinner, just testing the merchandise.  Think I might keep this suit in the closet, I like her.[/eris]

 

Then, the ‘oh shit’ moment settled in-that someone could have as devious of intentions as she did?  And actually pull one over on her?  Living this down, was going to be a bitch… no sooner had she closed the phone to her knights in shining armor, he went down.  Sharp sigh was let out, quirked lips not amused as hands found her hips.  She owed him for this.  She hated owing people, and this was sort of a… big deal.  She was alone.  Vampire or not, she was alone with an unconscious Alistair Greene.  At night.  In an Order infested city.  Did she mention unconscious led to waking up pissed?  So many not goods at this moment.

 

Fuck a drow.

 

Heels were pulled off, another…  hmm…  two hundred extra pounds on the designer heels would snap the damn things off and she kind of wanted to keep them.  For all the stupid chiding of herself that was going on in her brain, the seriousness of the situation was not lost on her.  No more playtime- the peachy curls giving way to dark tresses in an updo, and damn skippy she could see her feet now.  Suit was a bit big, not really the concern at the moment, she wanted this bitch off her as quick as she could.  It sucked up energy that she was probably going to need, and well… she hated the wench now.

 

Two fingers poked his shoulder, snapping back quickly to make sure he couldn’t fry her ass from dreamland.  Fingers touched him again, looking up at the car creeping down the alley, Toby of all people getting out.

 

[eris]You want to explain how you got here so fast when I said to stay home?[/eris]

 

Toby’s face was deadpan, he’d been a block away all along.  Mouse’s doing monitoring her calls?  A conversation for later.  Brows dark, she lifted the trench coat wonder and settled him in the back seat.  A shotgun. Lovely.  Probably loaded, probably ready to fire in her face.  She handed it off to Toby and got in the back next to him. If he woke up, at least he’d recognize her now.  Hopping out again, she grabbed her shoes and settled back in, a distinct frown on her features.

 

[eris]Office[/eris]

 

*npc* Eris…

 

[eris]Shut up,[/eris] the quirked guilt on her features enough to halt the caution.

 

The ride was short, airstrip a miniature compound surrounded in razor wire, pulling into the hangar where she kept the Cessna.  Ahanu was already opening the door, Eris’ hand coming up to keep her silent.  She pulled him over her shoulder, the petite vampire walking stocking barefoot across the dark hangar to her office and laying him carefully on the leather couch.  Toby handed her the shotgun and she slid it under the couch.

 

[eris]Move the Cessna to hangar two, I don’t want you guys in here when he wakes up either,[/eris] hand came up again to stop the comments, their pause met with the snapped narrowed eyes they knew.  Door closed behind them to leave her alone in the office with sleepy and she stalked off to the bathroom.  New suit, old one in the trash, WITH the damn shoes…  she needed to get this bitch completely off her and work through a well-rehearsed apology. Returning with the same flourish in her own tailored business clothes, she sat at her desk across the couch in the darkness, fingers tapping on a notepad, snapping the desk light on and cursing her need to chase a pretty face.

 

Pissed… resisting the urge to chuck pencil at him to wake him up… seriously fighting the impulse to zip tie his hands together… paw through his pockets and shut his phone off to keep others from tracking him… bite him just because…

 

This was just lovely.

[Eris London]

Heated anger, at herself and the situation in general, had slowly given way the longer the man was out.  Real concern.  Less than innocent eyes watched without waver, he was breathing, his heart was beating… but the damn tank was still unconscious.  Neck stretched, feeling the impending dull of sunrise approaching, pulling her ledger toward her to at least get some work done when she was babysitting her huge mistake.  Light was wane, she liked darkness when she worked, the green glass lamp on her desk barely illuminating past the impeccable mahogany desk.  Creak of steel was faint beyond the office doors, hearing the massive hangar doors open to ferry the Cessna out of harm’s way.  It needed to be cleaned for a job anyway so it wasn’t the biggest of inconveniences.

 

Pencil snapped down impatiently after the mile ledger was meticulously updated, temple on her fingers as she watched him in dreamland.  Men woke up for three reasons… to pee, to eat, or to fuck.  Granted, she knew there was pretty much nothing else more pleasurable to a man than emptying brick hard bladder, the options were essentially only two.  Of course, most weren’t under the influence of god knows what, but how different could it be from a drunken stupor?

 

Eris rose and pushed in the leather chair, moving silently to the kitchenette that was her entire existence.  The office was lavish, utilitarian and simply furnished with only the best.  It was used for business, a bar, a kitchenette in case dinner was required, a casual seating area that Alistair currently inhabited.  She had a place of her own, rarely if ever leaving the office.  Work didn’t much allow it, and now with recent events it had become crisis central.  The War Room so to speak. 

 

Faint light crept from the stainless steel fridge as she pulled out something specific for herself, pouring it into a mug from the gauche tell-tale plastic bag, grabbing a bottle of rum to add a dollop… then a bit more and put into the microwave to warm.  Coffee on, she sipped her unique cocktail and set to work getting things together.  Tylenol, water.  Mug was placed quietly on the lava granite counter top in the darkness, the blossom of only the best coffee spilling its fragrance into the room, gurgle of the Keurig –the vintage ones that DIDN’T blow up- soft.  She poured it, black- anything else was sacrilege and retrieved the bottle of water, approaching the couch to place them on the coffee table in front of the couch with the Tylenol.  Backs of her fingers tentatively touched each cheek; at least he was still warm, resisting the urge to pull the woven linen throw blanket over him.  Her office was a bit chilly in the winter, she knew that- it was a hangar at its core after all.  Throat growled softly, she wasn’t the “taking care of people” type, frowning even at the coffee she had taken the time to prep.  Should she make him some food?  What the fuck else did they eat?  She never stayed for breakfast to find out what they…

 

His phone rang.

 

Eyes flicked back to him.  Small frame took a step backward, returning quietly to retrieve her mug and finish her drink, leaning on the counter and watching nonchalantly from the darkness.  Was she ready to explain herself? 

 

Hell.  No.

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair was fairly accustomed to... uncomfortable situations by this point in his career. But this was the first time he had been taken down by the Saffron trick from Firefly, and he was pretty pissed off about it, too, by the time he passed out. Which was why the first instinct when he woke up was to anger as well. Of all the dumb fucking things to have happen...

Well, he also wasn't dead, so that was something, he could work with that. Time was, when he'd been starting out, no one had bothered trying to capture him, he just had to worry about someone trying to kill him outright, which was a whole lot simpler. He was increasingly worried that all the politics and office time was making him soft, in which case... well he was going to have to work on that.

Still, this was the sort of thing (not specifically, but in general) that he was fairly well prepared for. When the maguc woke, he didn't make any sign. He'd practiced that for a long time... wake, but don't open your eyes. Don't move. Don't breathe in sharp, if you can help it (he could this time). Take a moment, take stock. There was no pressure anywhere, so he wasn't bound. There was no weight on his right side, so that made it very likely his shotgun was gone, but the familiar weight of his 1911 was still in his left shoulder.

Huh. Somewhat surprising, that. The place didn't smell familiar - the ARMA HQ had a certain scent to it, if you paid close enough attention, and unfamiliar places always had their own smells about them. What he did smell was blood... That was about enough to counteract the good signs from before. Alright then...

The first motion was just a twitch - fingers of his left hand snapped, the sound deadened and twisted in the air, snapping a distortion in the air around him as he sat up, right hand darting into his coat and drawing the 1911 .45 he kept there. It was about that point he realized how groggy he still was, but the potential for death tended to clarify matters, adrenaline fighting back against the haze of the drug.

She being the only one in the room, his eyes found her quickly enough. [alistair]And you'd be the vampire from the alley before...[/alistair] he muttered, keeping the muzzle of his pistol lowered for the moment. The barrier he had up was sufficient to hold back a vampire for a short time, anyway. That delay was all he really needed.

[Eris London]

Good lord it was taking him long enough, listening to his breath, his heartbeat.  The movement welcomed finally, the reach for his gun and abracadabra however not appreciated… maybe sort of.  Yaaaay… there was some kind of intelligent life, he wasn’t brain fucked.

 

"And you'd be the vampire from the alley before..."

 

Quick, wasn’t he?  Head tilted, watching his eyes a moment.  At least she thought he might be okay, he'd brought everything together and pulled enough instinct to protect himself.  Maybe they could be Care Bear pals after all.

 

[eris]Ya, sure, surprised you recognized me without the boobs.  Your shotgun is under the couch,[/eris] she took a long drink from her mug, reaching over to click on the dim light above the oven only to return to her casual lean on the counter.  Her eyes didn’t need the concern about lighting the room suddenly from darkness, his most likely would, so she took a bit more pity.  The room was still fairly dark even with the other small oasis from her green glass desk lamp.  She could flick on the overheads, but she wasn’t that cruel.  She nodded at the coffee table. 

 

[eris]Coffee.  Water.  Tylenol.  No aspirin around, tends to thin the blood.  Gun is not needed, I’m not going to kill you.  Or try.  You’ll walk out of here, someone will take you back to your car.  You’re at the airstrip on the east side.[/eris] she set down her mug and topped it off with rum, more closer to filling the entire mug.  It was probably going to take the bottle, or two… to get through this.

 

She brought the bottle with her as she left the counter and made herself at home in the plush leather chair across from him, bottle clinking on the coffee table softly.

 

[eris]Sorry about this by the way, we all stick our dicks in something we shouldn’t once in our lives,[/eris] admission was quiet, without the normal lick of impatient sarcasm.  She leaned back, legs crossing as she took another sip of rum.  [eris]Mine was… a busty red-head with great shoes,[/eris] a rare smile pursed her lips.  [eris]Sorry about that, truly.  I don’t make a habit of kidnapping people, but leaving you there was of no benefit to me, or you, so here you are.  Not sure how that shit works, so if you have to throw up… bathroom is over there.[/eris]

 

She waited a moment for everything to sink in, contemplating if she really wanted to do business or not.  Small talk.  Small talk first, away from the obvious predicament.

 

[eris]1911.  Nice, carried one when I worked for the DEA, not regulation but when you’re shooting people in the face that are trying to gut you with a machete you don’t have time for a piece of shit standard issue Glock to jam up.  Lost it in Guatemala.  I loved that gun.[/eris] designer heel moved up and down gently, as she took another drink.  [eris]You need food or something?  I feel like if I feed you, you won’t go home.  I’d like you to go home eventually, but I want to talk first.  Unless you’re going to shoot me, if you shoot me we can’t be friends.  Take your time.[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair quirked a brow at her comment. Without the boobs? She still had... oh hold the fuck on. he didn't say anything, didn't show much outwardly, but a number of things snapped neatly into place at that little unforced error of hers. He HAD been referencing the time he saw her near Rorye's place, when she'd first come and introduced herself as the one to talk to if they continued to have vampire issues. Apparently, however, this vampire was a Master (Mistress?) Of Disguise. He dismissed the idea that she threw illusions right away - there had been no veil over her when she came up and kissed him, he would have been able to feel it that close. So she was a physical shapeshifter. Good to know, and a pain in the ass. Most of the time, vampires had to make do with powers that weren't on the level of what they'd have as a human. So she probably wasn't going to go Clayface on him, but it was hard to say what she could actually do.

Plus, you know. Vampire. Always bad news. You could go through a career and take down a dozen and still get your throat torn out by lucky number thirteen. Or whatever the number was... not the sort of creatures to let your guard down around. And oh, yeah, he was doing great on that count tonight, wasn't he?

[alistair]I'll be fine, thanks.[/alistair] he said, shaking his head at the offer of water and painkillers. The hangover from the lipstick-bomb was not insignificant, but one of the funtime side effects of Alistair's magic had been a marked uptick in migraines. He'd learned to cope, to shut that pain out and push it aside, and so this wasn't anything new for him to deal with. Most mages had some sort of difficulty with their power, he wasn't even close to alone there, so it wasn't something he complained about. There were plenty worse off than he was. She went about sort of explaining herself, and another piece of the puzzle clicked.

[alistair]So you went playing with someone else's lipstick, and got the secret agent shit. Nice.[/alistair] he muttered, wiping at his own lips again, looking to see if any lingered. Apparently not. He wondered where it had come from, actually... to work that well, there was probably a bit of magic thrown in, though not enough to raise an alarm for even an experienced magus like he was. Well, there was always SOMEONE out there with a new skill. It was what made his job fun. And irritating.

[alistair]I suppose I appreciate not being left for the rats, but still... not exactly the cordial invitation you could have gone with. I have a phone, it rings, people sometimes ask to talk to me on it. And don't even get me started on this newfangled thing called 'mail', wow, let me tell you, it's a doozy.[/alistair] he deadpanned, tapping the barrel of his pistol lightly against his hip. The fog was clearing - but he was well enough trained to snark regardless of his level of intoxication, as he might have put it if he was trying to be even flipper than he already was. [alistair]I think I'll keep my cookies, anyway. And yeah, it's nice. Helps to have a metal frame over polymer, too, when you need to hit someone with it.[/alistair]

A very real bit of shop talk, there... DEA - that was interesting. But there was no accounting for what people had been before Resonance took the world and shook it until everything was upside down and out of order. Despite himself, he cracked a lopsided grin at her last bit of attempted hospitality. Oh, she might still be trying to kill him, but at least this wasn't dire and serious conversationally. He found badguys who took themselves seriously to be such a chore. [alistair]Nah, your parents probably wouldn't approve of you keeping the stray mutt from the alley anyway. And I'm going to hazard a guess that if I go popping off forty-five in here, someone's going to come wondering why, and not in the best of tempers. I also figured, if the whole Saffron act wasn't intentional, there was something else you wanted to talk about. So go ahead.[/alistair]

[Eris London]

She caught the quirked brow.  He could put two and two together to make five, yah… he was okay.

 

"I'll be fine, thanks."

 

Nod was slight, sipping more of her rum laced beverage… eh, at this point it was just all rum.  No reason to deny it at this juncture.

 

[eris]Not sure what was in it.  I have a few ideas from old DEA fun times.  Don’t think it will kill you though, some interesting side effects maybe, they should go away in a few days.[/eris]

"So you went playing with someone else's lipstick, and got the secret agent shit. Nice."

 

[eris]I play with a lot of people's things,[/eris] there was an honest humor in her words.  [eris]Apparently an impotent asshole’s wife had the same idea I did.[/eris]

"I suppose I appreciate not being left for the rats, but still... not exactly the cordial invitation you could have gone with. I have a phone, it rings, people sometimes ask to talk to me on it. And don't even get me started on this newfangled thing called 'mail', wow, let me tell you, it's a doozy."

 

It was the second time he’d mentioned that.  He was a smart one, but she was beginning to wonder if it had ever occurred to him that those types of things weren’t the most secure of ways to communicate, and what she had to say was that important.  Humor was beginning to fade slightly, her own headache starting to thrum again at the back of her skull, unsure why.   She gave one last smirk at his quip about her parents before features became entirely focused on him.  The vampire sometimes didn’t realize how still she could be, listening quietly.

 

"And I'm going to hazard a guess that if I go popping off forty-five in here, someone's going to come wondering why, and not in the best of tempers. I also figured, if the whole Saffron act wasn't intentional, there was something else you wanted to talk about. So go ahead."

 

[eris]You could empty the whole thing and the shotgun, nobody’s going to come in here.[/eris]  It was the truth.  Her people did exactly what she told them to.  [eris]I tell them to sit, they stay.[/eris] she took another drink from her mug, setting it down to refill it straight from the bottle.  [eris]Speaking of employees, I have this particular one… she’s a funny little thing, can see data streams.  Trace them back to their source and  read, really that’s the only analogy I can think of, what people are saying over cell phones,[/eris] brow quirked.  [eris]I also ferry mail, it’s not that secure either.  What I have to say needs to be for your ears only, it’s that important.  I’m not willing to risk my life on the security of your cell phone and your mail carrier.  I’m not naïve.[/eris]

 

She watched him for a long moment, lashes narrowing as she considered whether or not this was really the greatest of ideas.  It might not have been, but it was necessary.  A lot of things she didn’t want to do were now imperative.  He was a smartass, sure.  Flashy… not that great at hiding, a little bit of a loudmouth.  But, he hadn’t built a resistance to an organization that was a particular pain in her ass by being a moron.  The question was, could he be trusted?  She didn’t want the rest of his merry men, she just wanted him.  He would have to control his own people, that was his bitch to solve.

 

[eris]I have two things to offer you, but the conversation doesn’t leave this room whether you accept or refuse.  Both are to your benefit, only one is to mine.  The other is a pretty big pain in the ass for me so that’s my little offering that this isn’t a waste of your time,[/eris] lips pursed and she took another drink.  Too bad she didn’t have enough alcohol in this place to give her a buzz, she was going to need it.  [eris]In all seriousness, the first is the bigger bitch for me to deal with, so it gives you an idea how important the second is to both of us.  If I can trust you with the first, you get the bigger piece of pie in time… or, you can choose to leave.  I’ll pick up the phone and Ahanu will drive you back to your car with my sincerest apologies, she might even buy you tacos.[/eris]

 

Sensitive ears heard the hangar door close, her Cessna was outside.  Good.

 

[eris]But… you’ll never get my fabulous company again, redhead or otherwise.[/eris]

 

…and, if he had a bloodsucker problem, he was on his own.

[Alistair Greene]

[alistair]I expect I'll be fine. I'm no biochemist, but as I understand it, generally if a poison is going to kill you, you don't wake up once you've gone under.[/alistair] He actually did have some experience in that area. People tended to forget - and he tried not to bring up - that he had been at this for quite some time.

He gave a faint snort at her comment there, leaning against the bed he'd woken up on for a few seconds. The magus didn't go for the shotgun. It wasn't going to do any good, honestly. And moving to retrieve it was only going to put him in a compromised position if she decided to rethink her policy on not going to be bite-y.

He was flip. Not lacking in caution.

[alistair]Oh? That's fun.[/alistair] he said, affecting an unimpressed air when she spoke about the friend of hers who was apparently a walking intercept. [alistair]I'm not saying put your plans out there for the world to intercept and or scry. Just saying, there are easier ways to set up a meeting. Less awkward ways. Not that I don't appreciate a good cloak and dagger as much as the next guy.[/alistair]

Oh, he was king smartass, and he didn't care who thought so. In point of fact, it was largely intentional by this point. It was always better to be underestimated than overestimated, if one could pick and choose. He had a fearsome reputation, but it wasn't uncommon for people to falter when they met him in person. Alistair took a certain delight in throwing people off - but it wasn't necessarily bad tactics, either. The banter gave him time to feel his way around the room, his power gently probing the electrical circuitry, feeling for wards and other hidden surprises.

He was - by the standards of the night - uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds after she made her... well it wasn't an offer yet. More of an announcement that an offer was forthcoming. Like when the government sent out letters notifying people that they would at some future date be getting a refund check. That had been pretty fucking stupid.

[alistair]Well you did go to all this trouble. So you may as well give me the pitch.[/alistair] He held up two fingers, a mimicry of an OFL gesture it might seem, but there was significance. Whether she recognized the magical relevance or not wasn't necessarily material. [alistair]On my power, I will not divulge anything you say that isn't for general dissemination. Fair?[/alistair]

[Eris London]

"I expect I'll be fine. I'm no biochemist, but as I understand it, generally if a poison is going to kill you, you don't wake up once you've gone under."

 

[eris]I’ve seen some crazy shit.  You’ll probably be fine though,[/eris]  it was so unworried, it was almost terrifying.  She couldn’t be sure, his head might actually pop off at some point- at least she was fairly certain it wouldn’t.

 

"I'm not saying put your plans out there for the world to intercept and or scry. Just saying, there are easier ways to set up a meeting. Less awkward ways. Not that I don't appreciate a good cloak and dagger as much as the next guy."

[eris]Take away all my fun,[/eris] the timbre of her voice was dark, appreciating the richness of the alcohol that was continuing to be imbibed in rather large quantities as they spoke. Not enough in the world… he was being awful curious as she laid out her deal, and she got the impression not particularly about her words.  Curiosity killed the…  Was he looking for Mouse?  Her particular type of mojo was electric-y, of sorts.  Damn bitch if he hurt her she would eat him.  Okay, she promised herself she wouldn’t hurt him.  She needed him.  Big breath.  Good thoughts.  Click heels three times.  Something good… something good.  Girl Scout cookies.  Ughhh… why didn’t the world fucking have Girl Scout cookies anymore, especially the thin mints…  damn, put them in the freezer and… happy place.

 

Dark lashes closed quietly as he seemed to contemplate in silence, breathing in a long breath before releasing it inaudibly.  She wasn’t a bullshitter, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t either.  If he was going to try to blow a hole in her face he’d probably done it by now.  It was a comfortable silence, at least for her, the first in almost twenty four hours.  Even when Prince Charming was in sleepyland she was focused on his breathing.  It was exceptionally hard to find peace when you could hear a mouse fart three buildings over. 

 

Neck stretched left and right, the faint pops louder in her own head that in the air around her.

"Well you did go to all this trouble. So you may as well give me the pitch."

 

Eyes opened in time to see the Girl Scout salute.  She looked at it, then to him.  Lashes narrowed, resisting the urge again to launch across the coffee table and rip his fucking head off.  Or, kick him... at the very least.  Christ he hit third base pretty fast on the first date.  Was she wrong about him?  Had his entire success with his upstarts been some Dudley Do-Right accident??  Or, was he always this all in?  She was not supposed to divulge this much on the first date.  Fuck, Adrian was mostly likely going to kill her.  Not most likely, most definitely.

 

"On my power, I will not divulge anything you say that isn't for general dissemination. Fair?"

 

[eris]That’s already a given, I don’t exist.  My kind’s existence is not for general dissemination so you’ve already jumped into the rabbit hole.  First, as promised, my end of the deal.  I will take care of all your vampire issues.  You do not pass go, or collect two hundred dollars. I gave a pretty good spanking for mouthing off before.  Now, the sentence for fucktarding against you guys is unfathomable.[/eris]

 

Words hinted of something larger.

 

[eris]The second however, has my life as a price tag attached to it,[/eris] she poured the rest of the bottle into her mug.  Thin mints sounded good with the rum at the moment.  Hm.  [eris]The Order is an inconvenience to me.  They are making a PMS’s headache out of my East Coast,[/eris] dark orbs watched him with the precision of a predator.  [eris]I need to know how serious your Girl Scout salute is.  I know your reputation, had to see it for myself out of your element.  I need a reason to bet my life on you.  I want you as a team mate, or at the very least an ally.  You're the only one strong enough to play this game.[/eris]

 

Of course, until she got the nod she couldn’t tell him what team that was.

 

[eris]The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that dumb shit,[/eris] she took a long drink, swallowing slowly, words now very soft, very frank… and very cryptic.  [eris]Tired of fighting yet?  Losing people you couldn't save.  Has to be another way, no?  Friends in other places...[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair rolled his eyes at the look she gave him with his comment. Alright, so he was fucking with her with the salute, but he fucked with everybody. Particularly when they opened up the night by fucking with him. [alistair]The oath is important to a magus. Breaking one is nontrivial.[/alistair] Granted, what they hadn't known at first - and the Order's big mistake - was that the intent of an oath meant a lot. Pulling away from the Order would have been painful for a lot of his people, had the Order not shown themselves to be a betrayal of their own expectations from the start. Magic, in the long term, made for a poor binding agent when it came to most people. It was, by its very nature, an inconstant force.

Still. The oath was important.

[alistair]Sure you don't. And I have a bridge I'd like to sell half the fucking population.[/alistair] he muttered, crossing his arms and sitting on the couch he'd woken up on while she continued. He hadn't been shy where vampires were concerned, but the Order was still trying to paint his comments about them, about werewolves and vampires, as 'fearmongering'. It didn't do any good to try and press it on the public, but his own people knew what they were up against. Sometimes you had to pick your battles.

He waited, while she gave the rest of her speech. Neither was surprising, not really. She'd given the same speech - at least, the first part of it - once before after all. [alistair]You want to keep your shit in-house, and having Order types fighting vampires in the streets is bad for that. I get it. I can agree to let you try that, because frankly I understand the policy of letting someone ride herd on these things. I'm sure the cops don't like letting the Families operate, but at a certain point... devil you know, hm? But I hope you're right about the impression you've made on them. You understand that with the... not-existing thing, the calls we get are not going to say 'code six-forty-three, vampires' anymore. Knight division shows up and someone's playing dracula, there's going to be fireworks, no way around it.[/alistair] He was not sacrificing any lives to the altar of secrecy. [alistair]But if I have intel, I'll let you handle the cleanup.[/alistair]

His jaw tightened slightly as she referred to the Order as 'an inconvenience'. He was familiar with the use of understatement as a form of emphasis, but the organization he had first served and later sworn to destroy tended to be a sore spot with him. The rest drew a raised brow though. He wasn't exactly ingratiating himself with her from the looks of things, so it was strange to see the whole offer couched in what seemed like a compliment. Not one he was sure he understood, for that matter.

[alistair]The violation of an oath sworn on a magus' power carries consequences, ones I can ill afford at this particular point in my career. The hand gesture was just to fuck around. I can't prove that if you don't know it, and I have only so much reason at this point to believe what you say, so I suppose on that you're going to have to believe me.[/alistair]

His eyes were the ones that narrowed this time, if only slightly, Pale eyes resting on hers, and for an instant, there was a flash of a different person. Not the one who bluffed or cracked jokes in the middle of a bad situation - the one who was only too ready to burn the world down around him.

[alistair]I've heard differing opinions on the nature of my enemy's enemies... but go on, why don't you?[/alistair]

[Eris London]

The vampire wasn’t a “handle the clean-up” sort of girl… she was only half listening after that; eyes watching him like a cat does a mouse, trying not to launch over the coffee table and rip him apart.  It was the silence that hinted of calm before the storm.  She had to keep reminding herself he didn’t know.  Her people kept out of sight for a reason.  Had lost too many of her own, had seen horrendous things happen to those she had no choice but to leave behind… who the hell knows about the deaths she never saw.  She had seen the results of not keeping quiet first hand.  Handling the clean-up was not acceptable in her book; it didn’t keep them under the radar.

 

…and I have only so much reason at this point to believe what you say, so I suppose on that you're going to have to believe me."

 

[eris]You’re here, and not dead in an alley,[/eris]  pause was long, voice barely audible.  [eris]That’s a pretty big fucking reason to believe.[/eris]

 

She had taken to watching the rum ripple in her glass as she breathed.  Vampires did breath, slowly… the more he spoke his flippant speech, the more he wanted to rip out his tongue.  The Sheut for all intents and purposes said what she thought, always.  She could smell bullshit from a mile away and was even quicker to call it. 

 

Gaze moved back to him, catching the flicker she knew was there when she mentioned the Order.  Why?  She had it too.  Those that were willing to decimate the enemy to save their own, could smell their own.  The darkness behind the deep mahogany eyes did not flinch.

 

"I've heard differing opinions on the nature of my enemy's enemies... but go on, why don't you?"

 

The tiny frame leaned forward in one motion and got up, taking her mug and the now empty bottle of rum with her away from the light of the sitting area and toward the small kitchenette again.  Bottle clinked down with barely a sound, the liquid finished in one tip back and rinsed out to be placed upside down in the sink.  Arms crossed, hip leaning on the sink counter.  It was so tempting to reach into her pocket and call the car.  He wasn’t going to listen.  The cynical only saw their own troubles.  He had a mission, and his wagons seemed still only circled around his bonfire.

 

Except the whole world was burning.

 

Phone slipped from her pocket, features lighting up as she lifted it to her ear.  Ahanu knew what the call was for, and the vampire answered with a simple ‘yes’ before it was slipped back into her pocket.  She returned to her chair and slid into it, legs crossed professionally at the knee, hands on them.

 

[eris]You are not the only one fighting.  Except, my stage spans the world, and I don’t have to worry who has my back.[/eris]

 

Adrian was going to fucking kill her.

 

[eris]When you’re tired of fighting the good fight alone, give me a call.  Until then, toss the vampire business my way.  Save yourself the trouble.  Also, thank you for not destroying my place, or my planes... I appreciate the little things,[/eris] smile was wry, but held a slight disappointment around her eyes.  Not what she had wanted to accomplish for such an interesting evening.  It was hard to see someone fight a fight that was terrible, it was even harder to have the tools to help scratch each other's backs and be gagged by the very organization that could help.

 

Damn it.

[Alistair Greene]

Oh, she wanted to get irritated with him about that. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. [alistair]If you need me alive for some reason, the fact that you didn't kill me is purely self serving and, therefore, not much of a reason to trust you.[/alistair] he pointed out. Cynical? Yeah. Also realistic.

It seemed, however, that she was looking for more open trust from him. He couldn't imagine why she thought she was going to get that, based entirely on mutual hate and having not killed him once. But then again, she probably wasn't aware of the genuine depths to which he had been betrayed before coming to this point. Time was, he probably would have been more open to the entire idea.

[alistair]Yeah you do.[/alistair] he said, his tone no louder than hers had been a few moments ago. [alistair]As soon as you stop worrying about it, that's when you really need to.[/alistair] He took a long breath after that, and pushed a hand back through his hair. [alistair]Fucking hell. Yes, in case you're wondering, my trust issues are exhausting even for me. Though I like to think, given what the Order did slash is doing, some of them are pretty well founded.[/alistair]

[alistair]I said I'd hear you out, and I will. I swore not to divulge what you say, and I won't. If that's not enough, then no, it would take a lot more than this for me to fuck with someone's plane. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to fix one of those things? They don't even make the parts anymore. It's like taking a knife to a Rembrandt.[/alistair]

If that was going to be that though, he leaned down, collecting his coat and his shotgun. It seemed a fairly certain conclusion that she had just picked up the phone to call someone and have him collected. He wasn't sure at that point if he was fine with that, but it was probably politest if he dealt with it for a while.

[Eris London]

[eris]Everything is self-serving Mr. Greene,[/eris] she said quietly as she regained her perch in her chair.  [eris]Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar.[/eris]

 

She liked him, a lot.  He was cautious, and a bit of an asshole- kept him grounded in reality, not some dumb shit martyr that would willingly die for the cause when they were best needed alive.  Sometimes people were needed solely on the basis they kept the cog moving.  He was a catalyst, and a powerful one at that, which is why she needed him.  It would keep the attention off what she was trying to accomplish, and who she was trying to accomplish it for, and help them both out in the long run.

"Yeah you do."

 

[eris]And so do you,[/eris] words were quick, quiet.  She didn’t worry so much about who had her back.  If she fell, someone would pick up the torch and keep moving forward.  Him?  Not sure.  HE had to stay alive.  [eris]Which is why I brought you here.[/eris]

"I said I'd hear you out, and I will. I swore not to divulge what you say, and I won't.”

 

[eris]I believe you,[/eris] she responded in the middle of his quiet little tirade, watching him collect his things.  Dark eyes blinked immediately at him at the mention of her plane.

 

“Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to fix one of those things? They don't even make the parts anymore. It's like taking a knife to a Rembrandt."

He liked planes… owned one perhaps?  The deduction was a really easy one to make, certainly not expecting to have something in common with the mage.  It seemed, odd.  Ahanu liked planes, but she hated fixing them.  Mouse liked fixing things, but hated the plane proper.  Toby? Well… Toby was Toby.  Toby liked anything she told him to.  Nobody liked planes like she did… it was akin to a man and his boat.

 

She had to finish this before she jumped into what she really wanted to talk about.

 

[eris]What happened two weeks ago…[/eris] lips pressed tightly for a moment, a rare flash of fang as she continued.  [eris]The East Coast has gone unchecked far too long.  I will find who did it.  I really would like you to be a part of that, but take the press for bringing them into line.  It benefits my organization by being a silent partner, and you have someone at your back that hates the Order and doesn’t flinch.[/eris]

 

Anything else and she would have to ask… hell, she’d already said too much and they’d skin her ass if they knew. 

 

[eris]Plus the bastards crashed my chopper.[/eris]

 

She got up quietly, moving to the door and opening it to the darkness of the large hangar.  She motioned Ahanu back to the car beyond the doors and snapped down the breaker that illuminated the enormous room.  Cessna was sitting just beyond the building, the other lone plane on the far side of the room amidst tables of parts that were in various stages of repair.  An empty corner where her chopper sat waiting for ferry.  Except, it was in utter charred pieces, laid out like a puzzle to see what was salvageable.  Fuck if she’d let someone take her single engine in exchange for use of a helicopter.  She needed to find a new one.  [eris]I have a single engine I can’t get running, and extra parts I don’t need on the Cessna.[/eris]

 

Hands slid calmly into her pant pockets.  It could have been mistaken for a favor… but it wasn’t.  She didn’t give favors, she collected debts.  This was neither, it was a strange offer of truce and the closest she ever got to talking shop.  Slow footsteps toward the thing were almost affectionate.

 

[eris]TBM 700.  Saved a lot of lives in the Event, paid the price.  Hasn't run since.  If you're looking for parts for something, let me know.  I collect anything I can find because I can get where nobody else can.  Least I can do for dragging you here.[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

[alistair]Ain't that the truth...[/alistair] Alistair muttered, shaking his head a little. Would he have believed that before Resonance, before the Order and all the rest? He wasn't sure. It certainly wasn't in question now. He'd seen way too much go wrong. Did it apply, too, to his efforts to save New York from the Order? Maybe. He was one of the idiots LIVING in NYC, after all. And there was, he would admit sometimes after a few drinks, a hefty dose of revenge in his feelings about the whole situation. They had lied to everyone, sure... but they'd also lied to HIM. Hurt HIS sister. It was hard to be motivated by big ideals, that was the truth. A lot easier to focus on what had happened to you personally, even if you still believed that made you do the right thing.

When she pointed out he had to watch his own back, he nodded slowly, a wan smile on his face. [alistair]Oh. I know.[/alistair] And if that wasn't just the saddest truth of all.

She did seem to react well at least to his comment about the plane... perhaps she also took them seriously? It would make some sense if she did. It seemed like she might have a certain affection for some things, anyway. Even if she did like to play cold. Then again, she was a vampire. Most of them did that.

He drew and let out a slow breath when she spoke about two weeks ago. He didn't have to ask her to clarify - the way she spoke could only mean the explosions downtown. Where bombs had been intentionally rigged to kill not just civilians but the police, firefighters, and ARMA agents sent to protect and help them. It was another of those mood-darkening triggers where he was concerned, but he put his hands in his pockets and did his best not to look like someone who was fighting with an inner rage problem.

[alistair]I imagine we both have our suspicions about who did it. The problem is, fucking fanatics don't talk much, and they covered their tracks well. Which you know, I am sure.[/alistair] He shook his head when she mentioned the chopper. [alistair]Fuckers.[/alistair] he said, agreeing. [alistair]So this needs to happen, but you need someone plausible grabbing the headlines, lest someone start asking questions about who the fuck did it. Makes sense. Only so many who would plausibly be doing work like that, and unlike the police... Well, I can be morally flexible.[/alistair] He outlined her reasoning aloud, just to see if she disagreed, then rubbed at the back of his neck while he considered it.

At that point though, she moved outside, presumably to show the planes, and he walked after her, leaning against the doorframe while he looked out over the tiny squadron - now one down. [alistair]That is a damn shame.[/alistair] he said, nodding toward the helicopter. It was a pain in the ass to keep anything flying these days. [alistair]I've got an Eclipse 500 back at my hangar. Starboard engine took a serious beating at some point in the Event, I couldn't honestly tell you from what. No one claimed it at the airport, so... Well you know how property laws got after shit collapsed. I bought a hangar to use for training, and lo, it came with a plane. No one even looked. I've been rebuilding the engine, but I've had to machine a lot of the parts myself, and... Well I haven't had that much free time the last few years.[/alistair]

He shook his head a bit, letting out a sigh. [alistair]Appreciate the thought - GE parts probably won't go in my Pratt and Whitneys, though. I'll get it flying eventually.[/alistair] He walked after her, hands still in his pockets since the shotgun remained slung over his shoulder, and he looked to her, considering for a few seconds.

[alistair]Alright. How about we start with exchanging some intel. See where this hunt goes? I want to just lay it on Vanguard, but that would be a bit too easy, and even though those guys are about the biggest fuckheads outside Vatican City, I'm having a hard time attributing something so damned stupid to them. Which doesn't mean I'm bemoaning the fact that a lot of people are blaming them, mind you. I'm not helping their PR one bit until and unless I find someone else actually did it.[/alistair]

[Eris London]

“So this needs to happen, but you need someone plausible grabbing the headlines, lest someone start asking questions about who the fuck did it. Makes sense. Only so many who would plausibly be doing work like that, and unlike the police... Well, I can be morally flexible."

 

Eyebrow cocked at him over her shoulder, he was lingering in the doorway.  Good instincts.  She’d stopped when he did, a few yards into the hangar.  Again, the stillness she could command was unnerving, unintended… lost as soon as her eyes flicked back to her silent plane.  A soft chuckle was amused in her chest.  Hands slid to her pockets, the statuesque pose as she contemplated the fate of her downed copter making her appear taller than she was.

 

[eris]Morally flexible,[/eris] corner of her lip had curled up, not in amusement but as a genuine observation, she didn’t confirm anything else he’d said yet.  Silent partner meant exactly that.  She’d stated what she wanted, his interpretation of that was spot on.  [eris]You’d make a great vampire.[/eris]

 

Dark expression flicked back to him, [eris]We’re not all evil.  We just have a low tolerance for assholes and don’t give a shit about normal conventions.  We also have incredibly effective methods in getting rid of people that fuck us over, as do you.  Unfortunately amongst ourselves there can be a wide variation about the morality of who we consider unworthy...  narcissism.  I blame movies.[/eris]

 

Sarcasm was light.  Had she made a joke?  She could make those on occasion.

 

[eris]The Order makes those same decisions.  Same with the Vanguard.  Our interests are more… self-serving,[/eris] she smiled at him, the expression somehow not seeming like a smile and more of a spider considering how to treat another.  She could NOT divulge the existence of the nation, not without dying anyway.  Him thinking there was an organized group of vampires?  She could swing that.  He already knew they existed, why the hell not.  [eris]I don’t have time to tell others what they’re doing is wrong.  I only have time to protect the people I’m sworn to protect.  Not out to eliminate anyone or tell people how to think.  Yes, your interpretation of what I need is correct.  We need to stay under the radar, you don’t.  I will scratch your back.  You scratch mine by keeping us out of sight while I eviscerate people setting us up as victims of another genocide..[/eris]

 

She was quiet for a long time, the sting of crashing the chopper stiffening her upper lip.

 

"That is a damn shame."

 

Eyes fell again on the charred remains.

 

[eris]Yah,[/eris] she said quietly.  The fierce anger had disappeared the moment the entire thing was back in her hangar, it smoldered now in a deadly place that would be unleashed when necessary.  She felt no need to divulge she’d actually been on the scene either.  [eris]Not smart going into that building,[/eris] eyes slid to the side.  Okay, that she couldn’t help.

 

"I've got an Eclipse 500 back at my hangar. Starboard engine took a serious beating at some point in the Event, I couldn't honestly tell you from what. No one claimed it at the airport, so... Well you know how property laws got after shit collapsed. I bought a hangar to use for training, and lo, it came with a plane. No one even looked. I've been rebuilding the engine, but I've had to machine a lot of the parts myself, and... Well I haven't had that much free time the last few years."

[eris]Possession now is one hundred percent of the law.[/eris]

 

"Appreciate the thought - GE parts probably won't go in my Pratt and Whitneys, though. I'll get it flying eventually."

 

Sigh was long, silent.

 

[eris]Trip to L.A. soon. LAX is a candy store if you’re gutsy enough to wander.  Have no idea what you’re looking at until you pick it up, it’s all so mangled.  Anything deemed unusable was pushed off to the side like plowing snow to clear runways.  It’s a goldmine, and a shithole.  Should come along.  Might even let you fly a bit.  Ass gets tired sitting in that seat sometimes.  Be nice to sit in the cushy seats of my own damn plane for once.[/eris]

 

She felt his warmth shift as he moved, somehow not managing to look tiny or intimidated when she looked up at him.  She wasn't.  Her stature may have been miniscule, but she had a Chihuaua's heart and a Rottie's bite.

 

"Alright. How about we start with exchanging some intel. See where this hunt goes? I want to just lay it on Vanguard, but that would be a bit too easy, and even though those guys are about the biggest fuckheads outside Vatican City, I'm having a hard time attributing something so damned stupid to them. Which doesn't mean I'm bemoaning the fact that a lot of people are blaming them, mind you. I'm not helping their PR one bit until and unless I find someone else actually did it."

 

[eris]It was genius move,[/eris] she disagreed quietly.  [eris]The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,[/eris] she had always rolled her eyes at DEA tactics.  Balls to the wall and bold.  Winning a war was more savvy than that.  If the jocked up assholes had figured out how to use their brains instead of their cocky asses they would have actually made a dent.  [eris]Using hatred of altered to point one finger, targeting of the public good to point another.  They knew exactly who was coming, including your people.  Every faction fights amongst themselves to figure it out.  Someone has to offer an olive branch and look like a hero.[/eris]

 

Eyes shifted back to the chopper.

 

[eris]Think outside the box.  Not in power.  Not in the forefront.  Not in the faction squabbles,[/eris] tongue slid over her teeth beneath her top lip.  [eris]Fuck the factions.  Who wants to rise from nothing and be the king of New York?  I find who that is, I'm eating him.[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

Her comment about his making a good bloodsucker made him raise an eyebrow, after which he shook his head a little bit, tightening his grip on the railing. What was it with vampire women telling him that? [alistair]Not really. Never been a fan of blood, to be honest. Needles freak me the hell out.[/alistair] That was probably an odd thing to say for someone who had been an on again off again soldier for more than eight years, and who carried a sword and probably had a body count that numbered in the high hundreds (monsters, for the most part). But it was his nature to deflect that way, always had been and probably always would be.

'Morally flexible' would never have been a descriptor for him, back when he'd started out. In fact he'd been just about the exact opposite, which was how the whole 'White Knight' appellate had landed on his shoulders when he'd just been an Inspector magus in the Order. But the world had a way of scraping the sheen off of people like him, and while he liked to think he'd never descended totally into the levels of the people he had despised... Well he wasn't the man he'd started out as. The world had required more of him, required... Something different, if not necessarily better. He'd labored for years under the delusion that he wouldn't have to make the hard calls, that he could be like Batman and somehow remain pure; that had always been stupid of him. Batman had done it by being the world's smartest idiot: the Joker should have had his throat cut long ago, and Alistair hadn't taken long to come to the same conclusion.

Resonance had broken some people. Some had been turned, some not - but all the same, even if he wanted to believe people weren't beyond saving, the cost of trying to preserve the life of a man or woman bent on murder... He wasn't willing to accept the guilt of the murders they would commit later. At a certain point, it came right down to math. You might not be able to calculate the dollar value of a human (or inhuman) life, but certainly one life was not of equivalent value to two.

When she spoke back up again, he broke himself out of his thoughts and looked back over to her, considering. [alistair]Are you talking about vampires, or your merry group of... Well whatever they are?[/alistair] he asked, waving a hand to indicate the general area where they stood. The bit of humor did draw a wan smile though. He could appreciate a bit of dry funny.

When she accepted his reworded definition of the arrangement, he let out a breath. [alistair]You have to know what I've done.[/alistair] he said. It was a statement of fact that she already did - the fact that, back when he'd worked for the Order, he'd been one of the prime participants in driving vampires from NYC the first time was public knowledge. It had been a very visible campaign by necessity, and his lightning was - when in a pitched battle - among the least subtle of the powers granted to magi. And yet the panic when the vampires had first become public knowledge, the rapid expansion of the infection a few years after Resonance had meant the Order and multiple groups had gotten behind the culling. At least some of the 'covens' had welcomed the battle, foolishly as it turned out. [alistair]But I suppose you've also guessed that I'm not a xenophobe. The Order did a lot of nasty shit behind our backs, but that one... well that mission was earned. Not that I slept terribly well afterward. [/alistair]
He shook his head a little bit, managing a faint smile. [alistair]I'll have to check LAX out then, one of these days.[/alistair] Her disagreement about the bombing extinguished his smile, though it wasn't so much anger that took over, more a re-evaluation.

[alistair]Not what I meant. From a military standpoint, for a nation at war, sure. The fact is though that in the grand scheme, they didn't kill many combatants. Most of the casualties were civilians, metahuman or not. But Vanguard isn't out to destroy New York - they want it for themselves. If they go around showing their blatant disregard for the safety of civilians, even people who do hate altereds aren't going to look kindly on them when they eventually move to take over. It's just as true now as it ever was that you can only hold a place by force, without the consent of the populace, for so long. In fact, considering how many altered there are now, it's even more true. You don't need to smuggle RPGs underground to find someone who can blow up a tank.[/alistair]

[alistair]So that's why I don't think it was Vanguard. The Order's in the same boat. They have better strategists in charge than that. So I think you're right, that someone else is to blame.[/alistair]

[Eris London]

"Not really. Never been a fan of blood, to be honest. Needles freak me the hell out."

 

Amusement was internal.  Having a need to eat or gouge your eyes out with your own fingernails  if you didn’t stemmed even the most queasy of hemophobics.  He’d get over it. Quick.

 

[eris]Touching people freaks me out.  I still do it. Or I die.[/eris]

 

The observation was an afterthought, so far under her breath it didn’t seem to warrant any more of her attention, moving on to her crew and the issue at hand.

"Are you talking about vampires, or your merry group of... Well whatever they are?"

 

[eris]Nobody you’ve met are vampires.  There is only one here within my compound.  Ahanu, is an air mage.  The most gifted pilot I’ve ever met, even before.  Mouse, a mage.  Toby, drove you here while you were… incapacitated.  He’s mine.  Adopted.[/eris]  she was being frank,and didn’t feel a twinge of guilt about it.  [eris]Any of your people ever put a hand on him, I will rip all your spines out through your nostrils.[/eris]

 

If he was waiting for a lick of amusement or sarcasm, it wasn’t there.  She would.  Without question.

 

..and he continued, and seemed like everyone to have a dark past.  Those that survived either followed, or they led.  There was no inbetween.  To lead, meant to do the unthinkable to save the lives of others, from others that had their own agendas.

 

"But I suppose you've also guessed that I'm not a xenophobe. The Order did a lot of nasty shit behind our backs, but that one... well that mission was earned. Not that I slept terribly well afterward. "
 

She nodded, hands quietly in her pockets as her eyes stayed on the helicopter.

 

"I'll have to check LAX out then, one of these days."

 

She nodded again, attention back on him and buried deep in her thoughts, head cocking slightly to the side as he spoke.

 

…Most of the casualties were civilians, metahuman or not.

 

The words set her thoughts spinning, paying keen attention to his words, yet not.  You blow up a building of altered, who will show up? His little…”band of merry men” as he had so particularly described hers.  After the EMT’s, after the media.  What would they see?  They would see ARMA fighting to save lives, and failing. Sure, they saved many, but did they stop another explosion?  More deaths?

 

Maybe it really was the Order, setting ARMA up to show the world they were as powerless as the rest of them.  For what purpose?  Did the average guy on the street give a shit about their war?

 

"So that's why I don't think it was Vanguard. The Order's in the same boat. They have better strategists in charge than that. So I think you're right, that someone else is to blame."

 

[eris]This isn’t over,[/eris]  the revelation was quiet.  [eris]I don’t think they’ve made their point.  A Casino, powerful organization there.  A place for Altered, with you in tow.  Who’s left?  Order.  Vanguard…are we all being made examples of?[/eris]

 

The “we” was unintentional, hinting of much greater things than just a bunch of vampires.  A black eye to each until they were all biting at each other’s tails to whose fault it was.  Frown flickered across her features that most never saw.  It was angry, wicked, and on a mission.  Phone flipped out, the dark eyes finding the blue ones as she spoke.  Like fucking hell she was going to wait until someone targeted her and her own.

 

[eris]I’m telling him everything.  If the meathead wants to kill me, he knows where I am. I’m picking him up.  There’s someone he needs to meet.[/eris]  another number was dialed, a particular vampire on the other side of the country.  [eris]I’m misbehaving, let your calls go to voicemail. If you show up here, I’ll kick your ass.[/eris]

 

Phone snapped shut. 

 

[eris]We’re having dinner tomorrow, here.  Granted if they don’t decide to kill me first, you’re going to meet someone.  He’s a dick. You’ll like him,[/eris]  she started to walk toward the hangar door.  She needed to get him on his way to think about her offer, and well… he probably had people worried about him.  [eris]He needs to know who you are, and you need to work your charms.  We need him.  If this shit isn’t ever with, we need his proverbial guns.[/eris]

 

Smile was soft, the tiny frame relaxing a moment at the site of Ahanu waiting patiently by the car.

 

[eris]Go home, before I start to like you,[/eris]  scowl was sharp, the lick of a smirk under the shadows barely there as she made her way back to her office.  [eris]Toby will pick you up tomorrow night where you parked your car at nine pm.  Don't stand me up.[/eris]

[Alistair Greene]

Touching people? He lifted a brow. [alistair]Wow then you REALLY got the wrong curse.[/alistair] he said, shaking his head a little bit. Then again, he supposed he could relate somewhat to the contact aversion, at least with strangers. His power hadn't been without its own irony: on the one hand, he controlled electricity, which had been fun. On the other, that made it pretty much impossible for him to work on sensitive electronics the way he'd been trained to. Way too easy for his power to just burn out whatever he was working with.

He nodded a bit, considering as she listed the people she worked with. His little circle was a bit less secretive, so if she was doing her homework she probably already knew who he tended to pal around with. Though he smiled faintly at her threat toward the end. [alistair]Logistically complicated, that, but I'll grant that I believe you'll give it the old college try. At least make some notes for the furthering of science.[/alistair] That was putting it mildly, considering how much of the skull would be in the way. He didn't comment otherwise - oh sure, there were the obvious counterthreats and warnings, but they were more or less understood, he had to believe. He'd let her have the theatrical floor for a time, anyway.

[alistair]No. I'm sure they - whoever they are - have plenty more planned. Single set of terrorist attacks really doesn't change anything beyond scaring people. They have to keep up some kind of pressure if they want to get anything done beyond murder.[/alistair]

Her phone ringing wasn't much of an event - at least, until she started talking into it. Now some of that was interesting... of course he had to play the pronoun game to try and infer exactly who it was she was talking about, but at least some of it clicked into place. The second call was just as brief, and frankly just as interesting. He made no comment on either of them.

[alistair]Dinner? Should I bring something to pass? A bottle?[/alistair] he quipped, before he even actually thought to stop himself. As to the rest of it, well... He nodded, considering. [alistair]Alright. I think I can swing that.[/alistair] He flashed her a grin at her oddly fond dismissal, back in a lighter mood, considering everything that was going on. Kind of surprising, but hey. It was hard to stay serious.

[alistair]Don't worry. I do so hate to disppoint.[/alistair] He gave a cursory wave, turning on a heel and starting away. He had some plans of his own to make now... contingencies. It paid to be paranoid in this line of work, he was sure she would agree.