ArchivedLogs:Concerns and Trust

Concerns and Trust
Dramatis Personae Alice Lambton, Rasheed	2013-03-11 Debriefing, after the chaos. (Part of Prometheus TP.)
Location Alice's office
High atop a Manhattan skyscraper is a rooftop office. Three walls are made of floor-to-ceiling glass; the fourth is granite embedded with a single elevator door. The decor has a strong Japanese influence, all gleaming floors and low furniture. To the left, two steps lead up to a dais with a desk. To the right, a sideboard with a potted orchid and brandy decanters, with glasses. A sitting area claims the center of the office, made up of a set of soft green couches facing each other over a table decorated with an English silver tea service. A small indoor fountain burbles in the corner, and double-doors lead out onto a rooftop patio that has been turned into a sky garden. The view is exquisite. And so several days have passed since the Prometheus raid. Busy days. Days spent with the tedious minutiae of covering a very, very messy trail and receiving multiple phonecalls from very, very important people. Alice was forced to work through her weekend. This has not improved her mood. A small band-aid still decorates her cheek, courtesy of a ricochet. There's an edge of red around her eyes, an edge that is probably not helped with the snifter of brandy that sits on the low table before her. A pile of files are stacked to her left on the couch, a smaller pile to her right, with a single file opened across her thighs. She is turning pages, reading with creased brow and pursed lips, when the intercom buzzes. Her assistant, Giles. "Ms. Lambton, Doctor Toure is here to see you." Alice does not look up. "Send him in, please. No calls while we're in our meeting, Giles." "Yes ma'am." A floor below, the young man who staffs the reception desk sets the phone down and smiles at Rasheed as he pushes a button. The elevator doors slide open. "Ms. Lambton will see you now, sir." Rasheed looks crisp and polished -- or, at least, his suit is tailored neatly, his shoes buffed to a shine, his tie tied just so. This is all mitigated, unfortunately, by the habitual slump of his shoulders that, today, is aggravated by a rather worn look that pulls baggy shadows beneath his eyes. He straightens, somewhat, as he heads into the office, though, plucking absently at one cufflink. "Ms. Lambton." The exhaustion doesn't carry into his voice, at least; it's as bland-flat as ever. Alice has set aside the file in the interim and risen. Her own suit is pristine, her manner polished as she crosses the floor to the sideboard. She's reaching for the brandy decanter when a thought occurs to her and she hesitates, glancing over at her visitor. After a split-second study of the man, she gestures him towards the couches. Do please make yourself comfortable, that flick of fingers says. "Do you drink, Doctor Toure? I have tea as well if you'd prefer. We might be here some time." "I don't, no," Rasheed answers, dismissing the brandy with a brief shake of his head. He eyes the couches, then settles himself down into a corner of one. "I do take tea, though. And yes. I imagine we might." He looks positively thrilled about it, really, one corner of his mouth -- twitching. Very slightly. "It has been," he says, carefully, "quite a weekend." His hands rest on his knees, eyes watching Alice steadily. "There is nothing left upstate but an abandoned military supply depot." "You have a talent for understatement, Doctor." Alice is more free with the smiles. Her lips curl as she returns to the sitting area, bringing the decanter along for herself. But first she sits on the couch opposite of Rasheed and leans forward to busy herself with the tea service. "It would seem their agenda centered around test subjects rather than files or personnel. I've been reading reports of past attacks. They're quite...adaptable. Sugar?" "It generally has been their focus," Rasheed acknowledges, looking down to watch the tea preparation instead of Alice. "Though they have in the past gotten out with quite a bit of knowledge, when they had the technopath with them. He was, thankfully, transferred prior to the incident. Ah -- no, thank you." He frowns at the sugar like it has perhaps offended him. "Just black, please. "Out at Tellico they brought in a specimen with the ability to suppress the expression of the X-gene in others. Replicating such a thing would be invaluable to our security." The cup and saucer are set on the table before him before Alice returns to her seat. One knee ticks over the other as she leans back, her glass cradled in one hand and her cool eyes resting thoughtfully on the good doctor. "Osborn has been asking for test subjects. His focus seems to be on psionic blocking tech but I wonder if he might be able to adapt his research, if requested." Her hand tilts idly, making the brandy slip back and forth inside the crystal. "There has been some concern raised about these terrorists having the...freedom to continue their attacks, as well as the ability of security to prevent further thefts. We should speak about what can be done now." "My people have been working on a drug," Rasheed admits. He leans forward to draw the saucer onto his lap, holding it carefully while the steam rises. "It has a ways to go, as yet. But with time --" His lips press together, his eyes fixing on the tea. "Which we don't currently have, when it comes to security. I am revising our screening protocols for all employees, as well as the strictures in place for sourcing supplies. Security will always be a critical need, but I feel the best security is in going undetected." "We are at a disadvantage, having to play catch-up with the science while people's abilities develop left and right," Alice says with a sigh that projects sympathy. "But in some ways, it was a valuable experience. As a witness. I don't underestimate the value of going undetected, Doctor, but it's clear they have ways of finding these labs and penetrating them. My /specific/ concern relates to evacuation protocol. From what I observed, the process itself is inefficient and allowed their teams the time they needed to get in and get out with a number of our more valuable subjects. What we need is a single button process that, when triggered, eliminates every subject simultaneously and remotely, minimizing the risk to our personnel as well as their chances of escaping into the populace. You've had some success with these chips of yours...is there any chance that subjects might also be implanted with a similar device that detonates when activated?" This quiets Rasheed. For a long while, actually. His frown has eased out into a pensive expression, focused downward at his tea. Eventually he shifts, if only to bring the tea upwards and take a long slow sip. And then another. "The chips I make," he says, eventually, careful, "ah -- yes. It is possible. It would take a modification to their -- yes." He's speaking slowly, like he's still thinking this over, wheels turning as he talks. "It would certainly be more efficient. By far." Alice is content to sip her brandy while Rasheed considers the possibilities. Her smile makes a slow return. "Which brings me to my second concern. These attacks must stop. Our footage shows they left the site in a single van. With the proper device, it would not be difficult to take out a van and its occupants, at range." "Certainly, with the proper device," Rasheed allows. "Our security budget has not been --" His lips press together. "Some defense systems are out of reach, currently. We have, ah." He pauses, for another sip of tea. "Tracked the chipped specimens they took. We have a team tasked with retrieval, where possible, but unfortunately at the moment they are -- highly visible. It is the problem, once they are out." His spindly fingers drum against the side of his cup in a quiet patter. "Though their abilities vary so greatly. In addition to stronger armaments I am tasking my tech team with working on mutant suppression technology; perhaps they will come farther than the chemists with their drugs." "That would be a boon," Alice says, inclining her head to him in acknowledgement. "Your security budget has been limited, I know. But that too has worked in your favor. Those who hold the pursestrings cannot point fingers when the budget they do allow proves insufficient. I may be able to help in that regard...the work you and others have done is far too valuable to be interrupted." She tilts her glass, holding it against the same cheek that marred by a cut. "Unfortunately, visibility is the counter-argument to greater expenditures as well." There is a brief pause that becomes a lengthier pause before she asks, "What do you make of Mister Osborn?" Rasheed's head tips, slightly. It might be grateful or it might simply be quietly accepting, his expression still thoughtful as his fingers continue to drum. "In these ventures it is nice to be beholden to as few as possible," he acknowledges, "especially when the people assigning the budgets are so far removed from the groundwork being done. Having an advocate who has seen the work is certainly appreciated." More drumming. His lips purse. "Osborn provides useful technology. I would not want to get tied up too /intimately/ at Oscorp, though." "I'm grateful that you're willing to see me as such." Alice lifts her glass to him, that small smile tugging at her lips again. "Too many of your counterparts tend to view my presence as one-sided. It goes so much more smoothly when one can keep an open mind," she murmurs before taking another sip. The brandy is rolled on her tongue as she looks off towards the bank of glass overlooking the city. Her reply comes with another delay. "I assume that is your professional opinion, Doctor. What is /your/ opinion of the man?" "I'm a scientist," Rasheed answers, the faintest twitch of smile pulling for the first time at his lips, too. "I like to try and keep my eyes open to the possibilities." His gaze drifts off, too, towards the windows. "My opinion." He echoes this like the question surprises him. He closes his mouth, looking at the view. "I think the man could be dangerous." Alice tilts her head down and at an angle, the smile she gives him slanted. "Then we're in agreement." She leans forward to place her glass on the table. "It's good to have a consensus. And a plan for moving forward. Is there anything you need from me, Doctor Toure?" One thin, dark brow is arched at him. "More tea?" "I think I have caffeinated sufficiently," Rasheed says, quite seriously though his haggard expression might say otherwise. He drains the last of his tea and rests the cup gently back in the saucer. "There is, though, another -- issue that might be of interest. There is a doctor in the city. By the name of Iolaus Saavedro. He is starting a clinic, in the near future, provided the city approves his permits which, admittedly, is a large caveat in this particular undertaking. A specialty clinic, catering to mutants. He, ah," Rasheed's lips thin, slightly. "Came to me a few times for advice, in the course of planning. And has now offered me a position on his staff." "Oh?" Alice settles back against the cushions of the couch, her arm draped along the back of it and her eyebrows raised in concert. "Of course. Would you like for me to ensure the permits are waved through?" she inquires, as if it were a triviality. "That could be quite the resource. Although so far I am aware, Doctor Toure," and here her smile teases back into existence, "we have yet to find a time-manipulator that could create the hours in the day necessary for you to take another position." "Would that we did," Rasheed says, sounding genuinely wistful about this. "It would be a choice between his clinic and my own private practice, I expect. I am hardly worried about the pay cut. It would be a risky venture, I imagine the /security/ at an establishment like his will be quite tight. The man has bodyguards already. As well he should, pro-mutant activism is hardly looked on well. He's asked for my recommendations, as well. I think this doctor would be a useful man for me to keep on good terms with. I would hesitate to sow /too/ many people, but perhaps one or two doctors with the proper backgrounds might be suggested to him. But, yes. If this clinic came to fruition, as a trusted establishment among their kind, it could be quite an excellent resource. Whatever you could do to make it happen -- well. Quietly." Alice briefly touches her fingertips to pursed lips, expression gone thoughtful as she looks off into the middle distance. Wheels are turning, calculations being made. In the end, she comes to a favorable decision. "It can be done. Perhaps some of the staff recently displaced by the, ah...difficulties upstate. One doctor, several techs? In order to maintain a low profile. Is he a believer in the work he intends to do, or do you think he might be a potential recruit?" "I had hoped for the latter," Rasheed admits, with a shake of his head, "he's a scientist at heart. But he's quite /passionate/ about his work. An idealist. No matter. He really believes. He'll be able to win a lot of trust. The clinic will be useful one way or other. Even past access to the clients they will see, having so many doctors and researchers focusing intently on mutant medicine -- there's always a benefit to applying more minds to a problem. I'm sure cases will turn up that further our research, as well." "Of course," Alice murmurs, remaining thoughtful for a moment later before dismissing the idealist doctor with a shake of her head. "Of course. Trust is most important. And with an open focus on research...mm, yes. I'll make some phone calls and see what might be done about the permits. Quietly, of course." "Of course," it's Rasheed's turn to murmur. He leans forward, carefully setting his cup-laden saucer back down on the table. "Thank you. It should be a --" For a moment he stops, pressing fingers absently to one temple in an unconsciously tired expression. "Busy year. We did transfer all our records over to Sanford during the evacuation. Until new specimens are obtained, research will still continue -- perhaps not apace, but continue. Their security will have to be bolstered, meanwhile." Alice rises smoothly to her feet and steps around the table, hand extended in a clear invitation to see the man to the door. Doors. The elevator, there. "If I may make a suggestion, Doctor? Go home. Prescribe yourself a sleep aid. Tell your assistant to forward your calls to me, tomorrow. I'll see to it that no further disasters arise in the next twenty-four hours, while you gain some desperately needed rest, mm? Consider it your tax dollars working for you, for a change." Rasheed rises, too; the suggestion of sleep seems to surprise him. His eyebrows lift like -- wow! How novel! and a faint smile touches his lips. "Sleep. You know. That does sound pretty good, right about now." He smooths kind of habitually at his jacket, nodding politely to Alice as he heads for the door. "I'll be in touch soon, Ms. Lambton." After sleep. "Rest well, Mr. Toure." Alice's smile follows him through the doors, then she turns to return to the couch. To the files still awaiting her attention.