ArchivedLogs:Il Dottore

Il Dottore
Dramatis Personae Edward Leone, Pierrot	2014-08-09 Dr. Leone receives a visitor. Part of TP-Laughter.
Location Edward's Apartment - Upper West Side - NYC
This apartment serves less as a home than as an office. On the Upper West Side, and directly across the hall from the reported apartment of Miss Neve "Leone", it boasts a balcony with French doors, an open-style living room and kitchen and a bedroom--though the bedroom stands empty. The kitchen is none too full either, boasting just a coffee maker and a healthy selection of liquers, those bottles tucked neatly away inside of the cabinets. Less Spartan is the living room, occupied as it is by a pair of couches, a desk with three computer monitors and a fax/printer combo set up next to the computing tower, and one Edward Leone. It has been a trying several weeks for Edward. Let go from his job, under investigation for connections to Prometheus and under fire in the media--not to mention his "daughter" has been refusing to take his phone calls. What's a man to do? In this case, the silver-haired gentleman is having a glass of scotch on the rocks and pacing as he reads a printed out transcript. Attired for business, his jacket hangs over the back of the desk chair and his tie has been loosened but he's lost nothing of his polish, in spite of these recent...challenges. Another challenger is approaching! A figure moves, rather quickly but silently, towards Edward Leone's door. Two polite knocks, loud enough to be heard but not to be a bother, as the figure waits patiently at the door. Who could this be? Surely there's nothing to be suspicious of, as that was /polite/ knocking! Edward's pacing stops and he shoots a narrow look at the door, but that glance is more annoyed by interruption than wary of what might lurk behind the door. He bends, he places whiskey and print out both on the coffee table and then he strides towards the entryway. As he goes, he straightens and tightens his tie. Always put together and tidy, he is. After a brief glimpse through the peephole, he undoes the chain, the deadbolt and pulls the door open with a gruff, "Yes?" Bad move. As soon as the door is open, the figure is charging forward, attempting to push Edward backwards and slam the door closed. But he's not just some polite stranger who barges into houses, oh no. The mask he wears could be familiar to some, kind of a macabre version of a clown mask, a white and black suit with body armor comprising his outfit, white and black gloves, and a few blades strapped to his side, a small knife in one hand. Yup, it's the anti-human serial killer, Pierrot. But instead of striking, he speaks. "Dr. Edward Leone, former Executive Director of Themis House, hater of evolution, and Prometheus psychiatrist. Nice place you have.". His tone seems almost jovial, but his body doesn't seem any less threatening. He just paces, staring at the doctor, but his blade is still drawn high. "I thought we..could talk.". It's fortunate Edward had the forethought to set his things down. They would have gone flying, the way he staggers backwards now. He is a big man, solid, but he's not a /fighter/. That much is clear from the way he just gapes at his guest at first. And then? Then comes the blustering, anger rather than fear. He's a man confident in his place in the world--and not yet disabused of the notion that he can't /truly/ fall. Drawing himself up, blue eyes snapping coldly, he says, "Get out of here before I call the police!" Edward's responses only make Pierrot laugh. "You do realize I am the one with the murder track record, the knife, and the mutant abilities that no one is aware of what actually are, no? I think you have no right to demands. I'm not here to kill you..unless you make things hard. So let us talk, you hear me out. Or, you attempt to reach for a phone or shout, and I end your life right here, right now. What do you say, Edward?". Even though the mask is smiling, it's hard to tell if the man behind it is smiling or not. "The main question I have, for you, before I get down to the nitty gritty details of why I'm actually here, is why? Why would a psychiatrist of such reknown work with Prometheus, halt evolution, and harm innocent lives? Or, is the only reason anyone knows your name /because/ Prometheus pulled strings for you? Do you honestly care about anyone but yourself? I doubt you even cared about 'Neve Leone', did you?". Pierrot's jovial tones seems to be turning darker, with still that hint of happiness inside it. He doesn't actually physically threaten Edward, but he still holds his knife, which shows that perhaps, he feels confident about his skills versus Edward's. Still scowling, at least outwardly uncowed, Edward flicks a glance towards his jacket. Could it be that's where his phone is? He makes no move for it though--perhaps the threats were enough. What he does next might be surprising. Might not. But the possibility is there! "Do you want a drink?" he asks Pierrot. He asks because he himself is going for his own glass, which is leaving a ring of milky white on the fine gleam of the coffeetable. The glass is swept up, the remainder of the alcohol inside downed in a gulp and then he's for the kitchen to fetch the bottle from the cabinet--and perhaps a second glass for his visitor. "Would it shock you to know that not everyone who knows about Prometheus approves of what it's become?" he asks as he goes about his errand. There is the clink of ice cubes, the gurgle of liquid being poured over it. "I'm one of those people. But it's too entrenched to just /stop/. It's backers too powerful." Pierrot just stares at Edward for a second. "I will pass, but I thank you for the kind offer.". A slow chuckle. "No, it would not shock me. Which is why I came here in the first place, an offer. How much information on Prometheus do you have? Data files? The like? What do you know that hasn't already been leaked? Because information like that..could save your life, Dr. Leone.". "Or it could kill you, but in the business you're in, everything could." Edward cants a humorless smile towards the other man as he slides the bottle of scotch back onto the counter. "You know, I was just reading about your work. It's business like yours that keeps organizations like Prometheus open. The fear you try to provoke. The threat of death." He lays this out like a man explaining a diagram in a text book, gesturing at Pierrot with his glass. Then he returns to the living room, on an angle to take a seat at the computer desk. Once settled, he loosens his tie and takes a dip of his drink. The sigh that follows is tired. "You haven't left me any appealing choices, young man. If I lie, and you realize it, I'll die. If I tell you the truth, you've as good as told me I'll die." Pierrot just chuckles once more. "I do my work because organizations like Prometheus are trying to destroy the natural order. Mutants exist not because we're freaks of nature, but we're the next stage of humanity. But, stupid people don't realize this. They kill us, makes laws against us, /experiment on us/.". "Oh, there is a way to survive. You tell me all information you have. And then, to avoid death? You leak this information publicly, your name attached. Make a great big press conference, even. You'll be announcing your involvement, but it'd be hard to touch you without revealing you've been touched, no? Hell, make it a sob story and you might get sympathizers. Not that I'd ever be one. To me, you're pure and simple scum, but I know when something has use." Edward's chuckle is low and actually sounds amused. Maybe the scotch is helping. "What information could I give that hasn't already been released anonymously? It's not as if they let us walk out of those labs with anything potentially damaging on our persons. But for the suppression serum, Themis was separate of Prometheus. The only data I have pertains to what is required by my annual reporting. You're welcome to read that, of course, but it's dry stuff. There's not a person at Prometheus, within or above it, who'll even return my calls right now." As if to prove it, he reaches back and slips his hand into his jacket pocket to retrieve the cellphone that is indeed hidden away there. As Edward reaches for the phone, Pierrot approaches. "Hand it over to me immediately, do not waste a single second drawing it out, or I will immediately kill you.". And then he laughs, a jovial tone returning, spare hand reaching out for the cellphone. "So you admit you have no use to me, that there is nothing you could bargain for your life?". The older man goes very still at Pierrot's approach. Edward doesn't count himself out /just/ yet but it's clear the mind behind those clear eyes is working doubletime. His raised hand, holding the phone loosely, shifts slowly over to deposit the phone on request. "I didn't say /that/, young man," he says gruffly, all bluff and hearty. "I just said I don't have the information you described. Nothing on hard copy. Nothing on file. There's still plenty up here though." His hand turns, the one not still holding the scotch, and taps at his snowy temple. Pierrot takes the phone..and promptly drops it to the ground, smashing it with a foot. "Now that that is out of the way, useless information that will get me nowhere, let's talk what you do know. Prometheus lab locations interest me..very much so. The heads of Prometheus..and finally, any other experiments you know of. Speak fast of what you know, and then tell the world. Or, die.". He says the last words with a /very/ jovial tone. Edward spreads his hands, holds them high. No threat here, see? Just an old man in a chair, badly wanting to finish his drink but not quite daring to. "The big one was suppression. At first they thought it was useful only in the labs until I realized it could help build a different model and quality of life for mutants /outside/ of them," he says quickly--and as he speaks, his gaze roams past Pierrot towards the door. Pierrot's jovial tone stops, as he turns to the door as Edward's gaze lies there. "You're stalling, doctor, with information already public. And, a better quality of life? By messing with their genes, playing god? You're only hurting people, the world, nature. You've helped no one, doctor. And it seems you're useless.". And then..Pierrot swivels rapidly. "I'm a doctor too, Leone. Evolution is coming. It's spreading. Homo Sapiens are going extinct. They're being followed by what I dub..Homo Novus." Suddenly, he lunges. Blade in hand, Pierrot rushes at Leone, aiming for his throat with the knife. "Have a good night, Edward." Caught in the act of drawing breath to retort, even in this very moment, Edward doesn't quite realize or believe his end has come. He looks a little /annoyed/ in fact as he opens his mouth to say something. That's when Pierrot's blade cuts through his beard, through the soft layer of fat beneath his chin, sinking deep into his throat and releasing a gout of deepest red. The psychiatrist is /shocked/. Shocked and stunned, his mouth still working but without the promise of voice now. The glass is dropped and his hands clap over the pulsing arterial spray. Pierrot seems much more cool and calculated than he did before, his tone dark and without any happy emotion. "You're a disgrace to the world, and it is time you got cleaned off it. Many, many people will be happy by this turn of events.". And then, he takes his blade back out, before attempting to stab it back in, with the intention of leaving it there. He reaches for his side, a mask that covers only the nose and forehead being removed. "Il Dottore, Leone.", he says as he sets the mask on the doctor, before heading to make his exit. "Have a nice day."