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xp_logs6.30am // Moira, after speaking to Shaw himself by teleconference, goes to tell Alison the bad news: the delivery of new cyberware for Haroun is indeed being purposely blocked.
Needless to say, the news triggers a reaction.
I am city
I am the park
I am glow in the motherfucking dark
I am shocked and I seethe
I don't want to believe no more
Moira was still dressed in her business clothes when she went hunting for Alison. The teleconference call with Shaw had... okay, it had not been unexpected but she had always been an optimistic at heart. Condescending bastard, she thought bitterly, heading towards the more comfortable parts of MedLab. While Haroun was currently as stable as he probably was going to get, she knew Alison still would be as close as she could be.
The guess was indeed very accurate, Alison currently installed on a temporary table in the medlab, tucked away in a corner out of the way. Moira was spotted the instant she walked into the room, Alison lifting her head to look at her expectantly, expression shuttering slightly as the look on Moira's face told her everything she needed to know. "He blackwalled you too."
Nodding, the motion speaking a great deal about her anger, she took a chair near Alison. "Aye. Sounded amused by th' entire thin'." She winced. "Me business dealin's wit' him certainly didnae 'elp any but he would 'ave said nay even if it 'ad been th' bloody Pope."
"Really." Her hands slowly moved away from the keyboard and Alison looked down at the half-written out email she had been ready to send to yet another Shaw Industries representative, a cold look in her eyes. "Really..." Nodding to herself, Alison put her hands back on the keyboard, quickly finishing out her reply and sending it out, reaching up to snap the laptop closed. "Really."
Turning her head, Moira quirked an eyebrow at her. Alison had a look in her eye that seemed more familiar than it should. The look that said that someone had hurt someone she loved dearly and someone was going to pay the price. "I'm sorry," she offered, though she knew the anger wasn't towards her. Shaw had been the one to turn them down when a life was on the line. It was obvious from that kind of reaction what kind of person he really was.
"You did what you could. Don't be sorry." Still staring ahead, Alison's gaze slowly shifted through the medlab until it settled on the light above one of the decontamination rooms, still glowing red now and then in warning that the occupant was still considered infected. "Don't be sorry at all," she whispered, pushing her own chair back and rising to her feet. "Hawksmoor said we'd need new parts, no matter what, as soon as possible. He should get here soon, make sure he sees Forge when he arrives? I have... An errand to run," she said, choosing each word deliberatly. "Call me on my comm if there's a change in Haroun's condition."
No matter what. Moira nodded, not quite sure what Alison had in mind. But considering everything, maybe she was better off not knowing. "If anythin' changes, even somethin' slight, I'll let ye know as soon as we know." She smiled at the other woman. "An' Alison? Be safe."
Alison looked down at Moira, an odd gleam in her eyes. And then smiled. "Oh. I'm not the one you want to worry about. I'll be fine." And with a final nod, Alison headed out of the room. She had a few things to gather, before talking to Cain.
~*~
When you decide to do somethinga little crazy, you might as well stack the odds in your favor. Too bad Shaw didn't do that. Cain gets to step our of the decontamination chamber a bit sooner than planned thanks to his invulnerability. It's not fun. He is also handed a very big shiny present a few months before Christmas. It makes up for the not fun.
Where you're hiding, the shine off the wall.
Stop giving it up now cause you're gonna find yourself a mastermind in time.
Rockstar, what's mine is yours.
Rockstar, you're looking good.
You're looking to find a fight.
The intercomm system being switched on usually never gave any warning at all in the isolation room Cain was currently stashed in, the system being new and kept in tip top shape, of course. There was no warning this time either as Alison's voice suddenly echoed from the dark panel on the wall, a flash of motion near the window on the other side of the room accompanying the sound.
"Cain. I need your help. Shaw's messing with the delivery of the new part for Haroun's ware." She spoke without pausing once, the signs of obvious tiredness and lack of sleep showing through on her face, dark circles underneath her eyes - though the light held within showed no sign of fatigue whatsoever. " Claims there's stuff on backorder. Backorder. And Hawksmoor already told us they're at least two generations in advance on the model now and Shaw says they're still on the first, if they had anything to send even."
She paused then, then shrugged and gave Cain a lucid look. "So I figure I'll go get what we need myself."
Cain paused in his pushups, one-armed now, squinting at the window. "Sounds like fun. Unfortunately, docs say I gotta stay in here until I ain't gonna kill people who breathe around me. Unless you got something that's going to kill this creepy-crawly shit that the Russian spewed all over me, I ain't gonna be much help."
"Decontaminant gel's being pumped through to the station over there now and in the shower's plumbing system." The answer was almost mechanical, as though his objection were merely a detail. "Inside and out, and then we're set. I already have the fake IDs needed to get us past the front desk."
"Decon gel?" Cain sniffed, looking over to where the pale yellow liquid was beginning to drip from the shower head in the corner. "I'm in, but... Alison? I breathed that shit in. That means..." He glanced at the window to see Alison's face absolutely impassive and resolute. "Shit. I guess that's an order. All right, boss. Gimme a sec."
Twisting the handle, Cain stepped into the shower area, drawing the curtain for modesty before stripping down and letting the foul-smelling decontaminant wash over him. Despite his invulnerability, he winced at the acidic smell as the solvent began eating away at the poisonous spores lodged in his pores, his hair, everywhere.
Opening his mouth under the spray, Cain gargled the foul liquid, spitting it out against the wall with a curse. "Jesus, if it wasn't life and death... okay, here goes..." Closing his eyes, Cain let the decontaminant fill his mouth - and inhaled.
Immediate panic, feeling liquid enter his lungs. The same drowning feeling he'd had fighting Spector, on Youra. The burning pain, followed by involuntary spasms as he dropped to his knees, pulling the curtain down over him, retching up the decontaminant, stained black with the dead spores. Moaning, he reached for the stack of test strips, breathing on one.
Green. Clear.
Pressing down one hand on the panel, Alison nudged the air filtering system to a higher setting then turned around, back pressed on the window, giving Cain that much more privacy, and then picked up the bag with clothing she'd brought down for him, setting in the last cycling hatch before closing the door again. And then stood there, counting away the seconds and minutes in her head as she waited. He'd have to go through the cycling doors one by one obviously, no matter what, but that shouldn't be too long once he reached that stage.
Of course, anything was too long, as far as she was concerned, but there was nothing she could do about that. They'd just have to make up for it once they hit the road
Reaching a hand through the cycling door to grab the bag, Cain shook himself as dry as he could, pulling out... a tie? "What the hell? This ain't my uniform. What in the hell do we need to... you went through my underwear? Jesus..." The rustling of cloth accompanied Cain obediently putting on his nice suit. "God, the aftertaste of that shit. Can I grab a sandwich or something before we go?"
"There's no time." Tapping her fingers on the wall absently, Alison took a slow breath, willing herself to at least wait long enough for Cain to finish getting dressed before heading for the garage. She was already ready herself. "We're going to Shaw's head office, where we will perpetrate much evil. You're actually my decoy." She smiled for the first time, thinly. "Chaos, mayhem and destruction. Preferably a lot of each. Basically, you get to keep Shaw entertained. I just want his assistant's computer, preferably already logged in for the sake of efficiency."
"Chaos, mayhem, AND destruction?" Cain's face lit up like a six-year-old on Christmas morning. "And carte blanche to fuck with Sebastian Shaw? Just let me... dammit..." He stuck his head and shoulders out of the airlock, buckling his belt. "Do my tie then, will ya? This just a quick snatch and grab or do we need to bring the house down? I only ask because, y'know, it's in uptown Manhattan..."
Reaching over for the tie draped over his shoulder, Alison neatly slipped it around his neck and started to set it in place. "This is just me and you. Just saying. And as far as I'm concerned, you can bounce the bastard around a conference room like a ping pong ball all you want, so long as I have the time to get what I need printed out and leave a few surprises for him through the system. I have it on good authority that his assistant has access to, well… everything." She smiled as she said the last word, an unpleasant gleam in her eyes. "We'll have a second stop to do after that, to pick up what Hawksmoor and Forge need for Haroun, and that should wrap the whole thing nicely." She reached into her pocket and affixed a comm to the inside of his shirt's collar . "There you go. Ready?"
Cain flexed his fists, knuckles cracking like cannon shots. "I been ready since Shaw sent a bunch of goons to trash my house and shoot me in the fucking chest. Ain't saying no to a little payback. I'll keep him busy, you get what we need. Fill me in on the details when we're on the road."
~*~
The Plan is simple. Go in, break stuff, take what you want and then walk away. Agents Guy Incognito and Carlotta Divine are on the job, and who needs to complicate things with a Plan B anyway?
Well, it's one for the money,
Two for the show,
Three to get ready,
Now go, cat, go.
"Okay, I got the plan," Cain said, stepping out of the black Suburban that Alison had parked directly in front of the marble steps of the skyscraper. The black iron statue in front of the building depicted a Zeus like figure, thunderbolt in one hand, smith's hammer in the other. The raised letters spelling out SHAW INDUSTRIES - CORPORATE OFFICES practically screamed of ostentation.
"We go in, we're agents of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Bluff our way past the receptionist, find Shaw's office, make mayhem. And I am..." He looked down at the ID Remy had provided, and stopped dead in his tracks with a frown. "Guy Incognito, SEC Agent? This is the last time I let LeBeau pick the fake ID."
"That is indeed the plan. You have fun, I'll do all the work. And just call me Miss Divine," Alison dead panned, slipping on the sunglasses she'd brought along, primly tapping the tip of her nose lightly to double check on the prosthetic she'd set in place earlier. It was holding nicely and along with the wig and sunglasses, she was entirely unrecognizable - or remarkable, really. Cain stole the literally show. Tugging down the hem of her jacket lightly she then headed towards the main doors at a brisk walk, eyeing the secretary at the front desk through the large glass doors and windows.
Cain stepped directly in front of the receptionist, a young girl who couldn't have been older than nineteen. Thrusting his falsified identification forward in one massive hand, he peered over the rim of his sunglasses. "Special Agent Guy Incognito, S.E.C. This is my partner, Carlotta Divine. We have business with Mr. Shaw, buzz us through to his office."
The girl paused, and Cain slapped both palms against her desk. "Miss, this is official business, I'd advise you to just buzz us through, then take the rest of the afternoon off. Now, open that fucking elevator. Please."
With a shaking hand, the receptionist pressed a small button, and the chrome doors behind her slipped open. As Cain and Alison stepped in, he folded his sunglasses, looking at her. "And don't even start," he said quietly. "The more shocked and scared she was, the less she was looking at our faces. We were never here."
"Start with you? Don't be silly. That was perfect," Alison replied calmly, watching the numbers change on the elevator's display screen with every appearance of being patient. "She'll survive a little scare just fine." The elevator stopped suddenly at the sixteenth floor, drawing a small frown from Alison. "This isn't fine," she remarked, giving the panel a killing even as the doors slid open and someone started to back in, hauling a trolley covered in a myriad selection of coffees inside as well. And noticed the size of the other man present in the small space only as the doors closed. Gaping, the young man looked up until he was leaning on the wooden paneling of the elevator, barely noticing the woman scowling as she kept staring straight ahead at first.
"…Uh. Wow. Bad day? Cappucino?" The glare went from the elevator panel to the young man, causing him to gulp and set the cappucino cup he'd been holding up in offering down before reaching over to press a button on the panel, staring straight ahead at the door instead in nervous silence afterwards.
Without saying a word, Cain reached over the young man, picking up a mug emblazoned with the Shaw Industries corporate seal. Drinking the entire mug down in silence, he replaced it as the doors opened on the twenty-seventh floor. Glancing down, he noticed the young man's name tag.
"Brian?" he asked in a gruff voice?
"Y...yes, sir?"
Cain placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Damn good coffee, Brian. This is your stop."
Brian smiled up at Cain at that, smiling in relief and shoulders slumping just a bit as he relaxed. "Yeah, I make a lot of coffee here everyday. Thanks, sir." With a small nod he pushed the trolley forward, carefully avoiding any eye contact with Alison in the process. As the door closed behind him, his voice drifted back to them. "Have a good day!"
"What was his family name?" Alison asked as the elevator resumed its motion, heading upwards swiftly.
"Finnegan," Cain replied. "It don't surprise me Shaw's the type to make his employees wear little name badges. Identify the parts to your machine and all that. Pretentious prick."
Floor thirty, the doors swept open. Cain and Alison stepped out, walking intently right for the lone desk that stood between them and the double oak doors with Sebastian Shaw's name in bronze next to them.
"Excuse me, I don't believe Mister Shaw has time for an SEC visit today," the secretary behind the desk stood up. A young man, easily six foot five, built like a linebacker. Alison recognized the telltale signs of trained executive protection, this man was most likely Sebastian's bodyguard as well.
Cain grinned and strode right up to the desk. "He'll see me. My name's Marko. He made an appointment six months ago."
The secretary's face paled as he made a motion to his desk, halted by Cain's hand on his wrist. Smiling, Cain glanced at his name tag.
"Leslie?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Pansy name. Your parents hate you or something? Ah well. Be a good girl and fetch Mr. Shaw for me. Or, better yet..."
~*~
Cain gets his present and has much fun. Alison lets the boys play to their hearts' content while getting a little work done. The Shaw Industries building and main entrance outside get something of a redesign.
When figures from the past stand tall
and mocking voices ring the hall
Imperialistic house of prayer
Conquistadores who took their share...
Sebastian Shaw looked up as his office doors exploded into splinters, and the unconscious form of his personal assistant rolled to his desk. His eyebrows raised as Cain Marko - WALKING into his office! - stepped through the ruined doors and spread his arms.
"Sebastian! Buddy! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by!"
Shaw closed the folder that he had been perusing, sighing deeply. "Mr. Marko," he began, "do you know how hard it is to find good assistants in this city? If this is some attempt at extorting money to compensate for your... financial difficulties," Shaw gave a shark-toothed grin, "You'll find yourself, how does your lower class say it, shit out of luck?"
Cain just shrugged, "Ain't a problem. Well, not yours, anyway. But see - sending guys to shoot up my house and try and put a bullet in me? That's a..." he stopped, pointing at a painting on the wall. "Picasso?"
"Renoir," Shaw answered with a roll of his eyes.
"I fucking hate Renoir," Cain said, adjusting the picture and continuing his walk around the office, hands behind his back. "Nice place though. Thirtieth story, great view. You enjoy it much?"
"I am a busy man, Mr. Marko," Sebastian said, standing up in exasperation. "I have neither the time for sightseeing nor your puerile attempts at intimidation. This office is, however, a perk of my station. Unlike yours, which I believe includes free beer nuts on Monday nights at the Hoot-and-Holler?"
Cain slapped his side, laughing out loud. "No, but I'll see if I can get that put in my contract. Where was I?"
"Veiled threats."
"Right. I'm no good at those," Cain admitted, looking down at the floor. Then, like a defensive lineman at the football's snap, he charged Shaw, catching him in a bearhug and tackling him right through the thirtieth-floor window.
~*~
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine
Humming to herself as the fracas of breaking security windows reached her ears, Alison typed away on the keyboard, pausing now and then to secure a newly printed sheet of paper from the nearby printer. The man's desk was a haven of organization and each sheet was neatly and lovingly tagged with a color tab for later attention before going into the sleek corporate folder she'd retrieved from the shelves behind the desk. Every time the phone rang Alison put the call on standby, beaming as the system neatly slotted call after call into a waiting line on a nearby console linked to the phone.
"I'm sorry, neither Mr. Shaw nor his assistance are available at the moment. Please hold!"
The printer whirred away happily as it printed out a special order form, complete with Sebastian Shaw's very own authorization codes on the right hand corner, an email notice pinging on the screen to let her know that a second digital copy had been sent right away to the manufacturing plant to prep the order for pick up in an hour. With a crash, the remains of the door feel from the hinges, splintering further as it hit the ground.
It was too bad, she thought, she didn't have the time to go further in depth other than the Jetstream information, which she was transferring to the hard drive stick she'd brought along with gleeful abandon. She had oodles and oodles of space on that disk stick and the assistant's computer was so smooth and fast. Flicking on the alarm system control program, Alison beamed as sirens started to whoop through the building, signaling a fire drill. Then peeked at the transfer progress of the Jetstream files she'd managed to find. The Jetstream generation Three documents, upgrades far and beyond any they'd ever been informed of.
And since there were still a few minutes to go, she had time to get creative.
Pulling up the personnel files, Alison decided that it was time some people got bonuses. Instant bonuses, at that, she decided, upon realizing she had direct access to the accounting system to boot.
"Brian Finnegan, m'boy, this is your lucky day."
~*~
You had time to waste and I'm not sorry,
Such a basket case, hide the cutlery.
I had time to kill, it's dead and buried.
You've got guts to spill but no one trustworthy.
The parking lot of Shaw Industries was a crater from the combined impact of Shaw and Cain. Car alarms six blocks away were going off, and the dust cloud blocked the view from the street. Which was for the best, since both men's suits were shredded - Cain's from the impact, and Sebastian's due to the fact that he'd more than quadrupled his muscle mass upon impact.
"You philistine! You... you put your filthy hands on me? ME?" Sebastian roared, fists firing like a boxer at Cain's face. "You are not in my league, Marko! I am Sebastian Shaw! I could own you and your pathetic little life and sell you for cab fare! You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
Cain held up a hand, catching Sebastian's fist in his palm. "You ain't exactly been paying attention either, Sebastian," he remarked, rising to his feet and beginning to squeeze. "Yeah, I know about you. You're a mutant who's so terrified that the world's going to learn what you are that you cover it up by designing killer robots to hunt down your own kind." Cranking down on Shaw's wrist, Cain drove the rich man to his knees in pain. "And it may not do any good to punch you, but you can still feel this, can't you?"
Shaw spat blood at Cain, eyes staring daggers from a face that seemed comically small on his overmuscled body. "MY power, Marko. The harder you hit me, the stronger I become. I can't be beaten, you stupid ogre. Not by the likes of you."
"How about the likes of the news crew that's bound to show up any time now?" Cain smiled, pulling Sebastian's face close to his own. "I ain't got a secret to hide. And I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. But I'm also willing to make a deal."
The look of fear that crossed Shaw's face was comically at odds with his fearsome physique. "No! They mustn't see me like this! Marko, you can't..." Slowly growing silent, Sebastian Shaw pulled himself to his feet, glaring at Cain. "Name your terms."
Cain released Shaw's arm, stepping back to get some space between them in the crater. "You crawl away from here, make up whatever excuse your PR goons can spin. Gas main explosion, whatever. I don't throw you out to the media wolves, and you give me everything you have on a name. Just some information, Sebastian, and I leave you in the clear and call it even. I'll even forget your goons almost shooting my cat."
Shaw wiped his face, nodding. "We have a deal. Give me the name, and I will hold to my end of this bargain." He extended a hand, scowling. "You have my word."
Clasping Shaw's hand, Cain dragged him forward, until they were nose to nose and growled two words.
"Cameron. Hodge."
~*~
It's amazing how attitudes change when the paperwork is put into order. Alison and Cain go pick up the parts needed for Haroun, the whole process going off without a hitch. Which is just plain normal when you consider the circumstances.
We walked the narrow path, beneath the smoking skies.
Sometimes you can barely tell the difference between darkness and light.
Do you have faith in what we believe?
The truest test is when we cannot, when we cannot see.
There were still bits of concrete and dust falling from Cain's hair each time they hit a bump on the road, but thankfully, the empty maintenance lockers had yielded an overall which had fit. And what with the fire drill going on and Alison having a print out of all the access codes in the building to help along, it wasn't as though procuring it in the first place had been a problem.
"And here we are," she hummed, tires squealing as she turned into the driveway of the unobtrusive factory, nestled securely in the middle of other similar structures owned by other companies which showed their names more clearly than this one. "Tech Inc. Really original," she murmured, unsnapping her seat belt and picking up the folder nestled between the seats carefully, beaming through the window at the man moving forward to great them with an eager smile. "Ah, the joy of being deemed the center of the world."
Stepping out of the Suburban, Alison reached out to accept the man's handshake, blonde hair freely moving in the brisk afternoon breeze.
"Miss Blaire! How do you do? We received the order forms, along with Mr. Shaw's explicit instructions that we were to facilitate and hasten the delivery of the parts to the utmost of our ability! Please, step this way. I trust you have the - ah yes, thank you. We've the receipts and appropriate delivery forms all ready for you."
Cain opened the back of the truck, sitting heavily on the reinforced tailgate. "Don't hardly seem fair," he joked into the communicator clipped to his collar as he watched the shipping workers zip about rapidly on forklifts. "All I had to do was throw the son of a bitch out the window, and we get this kind of cooperation? I bet if he'd been in a fortieth floor office, we could have held out for a summer home in the Bahamas. Never been to the Bahamas."
Alison smiled at the man as he walked away, already ordering a bevy of people about as they prepped various boxes and large metal crates. "Shaw? Oh no, he was busy with you. I told you I wanted his assistant's computer, remember? I sent in the orders and forms all by myself, everything nice and legal like," she added, with a smile for one of the workers. "I even got triples of some of the more sensitive parts." She paused, and then looked up at Cain with mock innocence. "What? They do say you're never better served than by yourself."
"Amen to that," Cain said, taking a drink of coffee, then spitting it out. "Still tastes like battery acid every time I swallow. I tell you, your boyfriend lives through all this, he gets to gargle with the industrial solvent next time."
"He'll be fine. He better be if he knows what's good for him." Feral was a good way to describe her tone of voice, though it shifted to something far more civil as she kept speaking. "When you can actually taste food again - and it might be a week - and when Haroun's stable, I'll treat you to supper. Place of your choice." She took a deep breath then held it, the adrenaline slowly starting to die down now that they had their goal in site, the crates not thirty feet away the one thing left to collect before heading home. "If anyone tries to stop us now, I'm going to do Very Bad Things." But the crates were loaded for them without a fuss, Cain not even having to do a thing.
Cain waited until the order forms were all returned to them, signed and sealed. "Then we're done here," he said matter-of-factly, escorting Alison to the passenger side of the vehicle. "I'll get us home, and we'll let the docs know what's coming." As they got in and buckled themselves in, Cain placed his hand on Alison's shoulder gently.
"We done good today, kiddo. YOU done good."
Adrenaline finally giving out and fatigue slamming through her full force, Alison slumped in her wearily. "It'd done. We got it all. Done," she added, looking at the back of the Suburban and the crates stacked there, not quite sure whether to believe it or not just yet. And then buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily. "Thank you, Cain. So much. And… home. Just... yeah, home." She breathed in and out slowly, allowing herself a moment to not think, not to try to plan what needed to be done next, what might happen if things went wrong.
"Home."
Needless to say, the news triggers a reaction.
I am city
I am the park
I am glow in the motherfucking dark
I am shocked and I seethe
I don't want to believe no more
Moira was still dressed in her business clothes when she went hunting for Alison. The teleconference call with Shaw had... okay, it had not been unexpected but she had always been an optimistic at heart. Condescending bastard, she thought bitterly, heading towards the more comfortable parts of MedLab. While Haroun was currently as stable as he probably was going to get, she knew Alison still would be as close as she could be.
The guess was indeed very accurate, Alison currently installed on a temporary table in the medlab, tucked away in a corner out of the way. Moira was spotted the instant she walked into the room, Alison lifting her head to look at her expectantly, expression shuttering slightly as the look on Moira's face told her everything she needed to know. "He blackwalled you too."
Nodding, the motion speaking a great deal about her anger, she took a chair near Alison. "Aye. Sounded amused by th' entire thin'." She winced. "Me business dealin's wit' him certainly didnae 'elp any but he would 'ave said nay even if it 'ad been th' bloody Pope."
"Really." Her hands slowly moved away from the keyboard and Alison looked down at the half-written out email she had been ready to send to yet another Shaw Industries representative, a cold look in her eyes. "Really..." Nodding to herself, Alison put her hands back on the keyboard, quickly finishing out her reply and sending it out, reaching up to snap the laptop closed. "Really."
Turning her head, Moira quirked an eyebrow at her. Alison had a look in her eye that seemed more familiar than it should. The look that said that someone had hurt someone she loved dearly and someone was going to pay the price. "I'm sorry," she offered, though she knew the anger wasn't towards her. Shaw had been the one to turn them down when a life was on the line. It was obvious from that kind of reaction what kind of person he really was.
"You did what you could. Don't be sorry." Still staring ahead, Alison's gaze slowly shifted through the medlab until it settled on the light above one of the decontamination rooms, still glowing red now and then in warning that the occupant was still considered infected. "Don't be sorry at all," she whispered, pushing her own chair back and rising to her feet. "Hawksmoor said we'd need new parts, no matter what, as soon as possible. He should get here soon, make sure he sees Forge when he arrives? I have... An errand to run," she said, choosing each word deliberatly. "Call me on my comm if there's a change in Haroun's condition."
No matter what. Moira nodded, not quite sure what Alison had in mind. But considering everything, maybe she was better off not knowing. "If anythin' changes, even somethin' slight, I'll let ye know as soon as we know." She smiled at the other woman. "An' Alison? Be safe."
Alison looked down at Moira, an odd gleam in her eyes. And then smiled. "Oh. I'm not the one you want to worry about. I'll be fine." And with a final nod, Alison headed out of the room. She had a few things to gather, before talking to Cain.
When you decide to do something
Where you're hiding, the shine off the wall.
Stop giving it up now cause you're gonna find yourself a mastermind in time.
Rockstar, what's mine is yours.
Rockstar, you're looking good.
You're looking to find a fight.
The intercomm system being switched on usually never gave any warning at all in the isolation room Cain was currently stashed in, the system being new and kept in tip top shape, of course. There was no warning this time either as Alison's voice suddenly echoed from the dark panel on the wall, a flash of motion near the window on the other side of the room accompanying the sound.
"Cain. I need your help. Shaw's messing with the delivery of the new part for Haroun's ware." She spoke without pausing once, the signs of obvious tiredness and lack of sleep showing through on her face, dark circles underneath her eyes - though the light held within showed no sign of fatigue whatsoever. " Claims there's stuff on backorder. Backorder. And Hawksmoor already told us they're at least two generations in advance on the model now and Shaw says they're still on the first, if they had anything to send even."
She paused then, then shrugged and gave Cain a lucid look. "So I figure I'll go get what we need myself."
Cain paused in his pushups, one-armed now, squinting at the window. "Sounds like fun. Unfortunately, docs say I gotta stay in here until I ain't gonna kill people who breathe around me. Unless you got something that's going to kill this creepy-crawly shit that the Russian spewed all over me, I ain't gonna be much help."
"Decontaminant gel's being pumped through to the station over there now and in the shower's plumbing system." The answer was almost mechanical, as though his objection were merely a detail. "Inside and out, and then we're set. I already have the fake IDs needed to get us past the front desk."
"Decon gel?" Cain sniffed, looking over to where the pale yellow liquid was beginning to drip from the shower head in the corner. "I'm in, but... Alison? I breathed that shit in. That means..." He glanced at the window to see Alison's face absolutely impassive and resolute. "Shit. I guess that's an order. All right, boss. Gimme a sec."
Twisting the handle, Cain stepped into the shower area, drawing the curtain for modesty before stripping down and letting the foul-smelling decontaminant wash over him. Despite his invulnerability, he winced at the acidic smell as the solvent began eating away at the poisonous spores lodged in his pores, his hair, everywhere.
Opening his mouth under the spray, Cain gargled the foul liquid, spitting it out against the wall with a curse. "Jesus, if it wasn't life and death... okay, here goes..." Closing his eyes, Cain let the decontaminant fill his mouth - and inhaled.
Immediate panic, feeling liquid enter his lungs. The same drowning feeling he'd had fighting Spector, on Youra. The burning pain, followed by involuntary spasms as he dropped to his knees, pulling the curtain down over him, retching up the decontaminant, stained black with the dead spores. Moaning, he reached for the stack of test strips, breathing on one.
Green. Clear.
Pressing down one hand on the panel, Alison nudged the air filtering system to a higher setting then turned around, back pressed on the window, giving Cain that much more privacy, and then picked up the bag with clothing she'd brought down for him, setting in the last cycling hatch before closing the door again. And then stood there, counting away the seconds and minutes in her head as she waited. He'd have to go through the cycling doors one by one obviously, no matter what, but that shouldn't be too long once he reached that stage.
Of course, anything was too long, as far as she was concerned, but there was nothing she could do about that. They'd just have to make up for it once they hit the road
Reaching a hand through the cycling door to grab the bag, Cain shook himself as dry as he could, pulling out... a tie? "What the hell? This ain't my uniform. What in the hell do we need to... you went through my underwear? Jesus..." The rustling of cloth accompanied Cain obediently putting on his nice suit. "God, the aftertaste of that shit. Can I grab a sandwich or something before we go?"
"There's no time." Tapping her fingers on the wall absently, Alison took a slow breath, willing herself to at least wait long enough for Cain to finish getting dressed before heading for the garage. She was already ready herself. "We're going to Shaw's head office, where we will perpetrate much evil. You're actually my decoy." She smiled for the first time, thinly. "Chaos, mayhem and destruction. Preferably a lot of each. Basically, you get to keep Shaw entertained. I just want his assistant's computer, preferably already logged in for the sake of efficiency."
"Chaos, mayhem, AND destruction?" Cain's face lit up like a six-year-old on Christmas morning. "And carte blanche to fuck with Sebastian Shaw? Just let me... dammit..." He stuck his head and shoulders out of the airlock, buckling his belt. "Do my tie then, will ya? This just a quick snatch and grab or do we need to bring the house down? I only ask because, y'know, it's in uptown Manhattan..."
Reaching over for the tie draped over his shoulder, Alison neatly slipped it around his neck and started to set it in place. "This is just me and you. Just saying. And as far as I'm concerned, you can bounce the bastard around a conference room like a ping pong ball all you want, so long as I have the time to get what I need printed out and leave a few surprises for him through the system. I have it on good authority that his assistant has access to, well… everything." She smiled as she said the last word, an unpleasant gleam in her eyes. "We'll have a second stop to do after that, to pick up what Hawksmoor and Forge need for Haroun, and that should wrap the whole thing nicely." She reached into her pocket and affixed a comm to the inside of his shirt's collar . "There you go. Ready?"
Cain flexed his fists, knuckles cracking like cannon shots. "I been ready since Shaw sent a bunch of goons to trash my house and shoot me in the fucking chest. Ain't saying no to a little payback. I'll keep him busy, you get what we need. Fill me in on the details when we're on the road."
The Plan is simple. Go in, break stuff, take what you want and then walk away. Agents Guy Incognito and Carlotta Divine are on the job, and who needs to complicate things with a Plan B anyway?
Well, it's one for the money,
Two for the show,
Three to get ready,
Now go, cat, go.
"Okay, I got the plan," Cain said, stepping out of the black Suburban that Alison had parked directly in front of the marble steps of the skyscraper. The black iron statue in front of the building depicted a Zeus like figure, thunderbolt in one hand, smith's hammer in the other. The raised letters spelling out SHAW INDUSTRIES - CORPORATE OFFICES practically screamed of ostentation.
"We go in, we're agents of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Bluff our way past the receptionist, find Shaw's office, make mayhem. And I am..." He looked down at the ID Remy had provided, and stopped dead in his tracks with a frown. "Guy Incognito, SEC Agent? This is the last time I let LeBeau pick the fake ID."
"That is indeed the plan. You have fun, I'll do all the work. And just call me Miss Divine," Alison dead panned, slipping on the sunglasses she'd brought along, primly tapping the tip of her nose lightly to double check on the prosthetic she'd set in place earlier. It was holding nicely and along with the wig and sunglasses, she was entirely unrecognizable - or remarkable, really. Cain stole the literally show. Tugging down the hem of her jacket lightly she then headed towards the main doors at a brisk walk, eyeing the secretary at the front desk through the large glass doors and windows.
Cain stepped directly in front of the receptionist, a young girl who couldn't have been older than nineteen. Thrusting his falsified identification forward in one massive hand, he peered over the rim of his sunglasses. "Special Agent Guy Incognito, S.E.C. This is my partner, Carlotta Divine. We have business with Mr. Shaw, buzz us through to his office."
The girl paused, and Cain slapped both palms against her desk. "Miss, this is official business, I'd advise you to just buzz us through, then take the rest of the afternoon off. Now, open that fucking elevator. Please."
With a shaking hand, the receptionist pressed a small button, and the chrome doors behind her slipped open. As Cain and Alison stepped in, he folded his sunglasses, looking at her. "And don't even start," he said quietly. "The more shocked and scared she was, the less she was looking at our faces. We were never here."
"Start with you? Don't be silly. That was perfect," Alison replied calmly, watching the numbers change on the elevator's display screen with every appearance of being patient. "She'll survive a little scare just fine." The elevator stopped suddenly at the sixteenth floor, drawing a small frown from Alison. "This isn't fine," she remarked, giving the panel a killing even as the doors slid open and someone started to back in, hauling a trolley covered in a myriad selection of coffees inside as well. And noticed the size of the other man present in the small space only as the doors closed. Gaping, the young man looked up until he was leaning on the wooden paneling of the elevator, barely noticing the woman scowling as she kept staring straight ahead at first.
"…Uh. Wow. Bad day? Cappucino?" The glare went from the elevator panel to the young man, causing him to gulp and set the cappucino cup he'd been holding up in offering down before reaching over to press a button on the panel, staring straight ahead at the door instead in nervous silence afterwards.
Without saying a word, Cain reached over the young man, picking up a mug emblazoned with the Shaw Industries corporate seal. Drinking the entire mug down in silence, he replaced it as the doors opened on the twenty-seventh floor. Glancing down, he noticed the young man's name tag.
"Brian?" he asked in a gruff voice?
"Y...yes, sir?"
Cain placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Damn good coffee, Brian. This is your stop."
Brian smiled up at Cain at that, smiling in relief and shoulders slumping just a bit as he relaxed. "Yeah, I make a lot of coffee here everyday. Thanks, sir." With a small nod he pushed the trolley forward, carefully avoiding any eye contact with Alison in the process. As the door closed behind him, his voice drifted back to them. "Have a good day!"
"What was his family name?" Alison asked as the elevator resumed its motion, heading upwards swiftly.
"Finnegan," Cain replied. "It don't surprise me Shaw's the type to make his employees wear little name badges. Identify the parts to your machine and all that. Pretentious prick."
Floor thirty, the doors swept open. Cain and Alison stepped out, walking intently right for the lone desk that stood between them and the double oak doors with Sebastian Shaw's name in bronze next to them.
"Excuse me, I don't believe Mister Shaw has time for an SEC visit today," the secretary behind the desk stood up. A young man, easily six foot five, built like a linebacker. Alison recognized the telltale signs of trained executive protection, this man was most likely Sebastian's bodyguard as well.
Cain grinned and strode right up to the desk. "He'll see me. My name's Marko. He made an appointment six months ago."
The secretary's face paled as he made a motion to his desk, halted by Cain's hand on his wrist. Smiling, Cain glanced at his name tag.
"Leslie?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Pansy name. Your parents hate you or something? Ah well. Be a good girl and fetch Mr. Shaw for me. Or, better yet..."
Cain gets his present and has much fun. Alison lets the boys play to their hearts' content while getting a little work done. The Shaw Industries building and main entrance outside get something of a redesign.
When figures from the past stand tall
and mocking voices ring the hall
Imperialistic house of prayer
Conquistadores who took their share...
Sebastian Shaw looked up as his office doors exploded into splinters, and the unconscious form of his personal assistant rolled to his desk. His eyebrows raised as Cain Marko - WALKING into his office! - stepped through the ruined doors and spread his arms.
"Sebastian! Buddy! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by!"
Shaw closed the folder that he had been perusing, sighing deeply. "Mr. Marko," he began, "do you know how hard it is to find good assistants in this city? If this is some attempt at extorting money to compensate for your... financial difficulties," Shaw gave a shark-toothed grin, "You'll find yourself, how does your lower class say it, shit out of luck?"
Cain just shrugged, "Ain't a problem. Well, not yours, anyway. But see - sending guys to shoot up my house and try and put a bullet in me? That's a..." he stopped, pointing at a painting on the wall. "Picasso?"
"Renoir," Shaw answered with a roll of his eyes.
"I fucking hate Renoir," Cain said, adjusting the picture and continuing his walk around the office, hands behind his back. "Nice place though. Thirtieth story, great view. You enjoy it much?"
"I am a busy man, Mr. Marko," Sebastian said, standing up in exasperation. "I have neither the time for sightseeing nor your puerile attempts at intimidation. This office is, however, a perk of my station. Unlike yours, which I believe includes free beer nuts on Monday nights at the Hoot-and-Holler?"
Cain slapped his side, laughing out loud. "No, but I'll see if I can get that put in my contract. Where was I?"
"Veiled threats."
"Right. I'm no good at those," Cain admitted, looking down at the floor. Then, like a defensive lineman at the football's snap, he charged Shaw, catching him in a bearhug and tackling him right through the thirtieth-floor window.
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine
Humming to herself as the fracas of breaking security windows reached her ears, Alison typed away on the keyboard, pausing now and then to secure a newly printed sheet of paper from the nearby printer. The man's desk was a haven of organization and each sheet was neatly and lovingly tagged with a color tab for later attention before going into the sleek corporate folder she'd retrieved from the shelves behind the desk. Every time the phone rang Alison put the call on standby, beaming as the system neatly slotted call after call into a waiting line on a nearby console linked to the phone.
"I'm sorry, neither Mr. Shaw nor his assistance are available at the moment. Please hold!"
The printer whirred away happily as it printed out a special order form, complete with Sebastian Shaw's very own authorization codes on the right hand corner, an email notice pinging on the screen to let her know that a second digital copy had been sent right away to the manufacturing plant to prep the order for pick up in an hour. With a crash, the remains of the door feel from the hinges, splintering further as it hit the ground.
It was too bad, she thought, she didn't have the time to go further in depth other than the Jetstream information, which she was transferring to the hard drive stick she'd brought along with gleeful abandon. She had oodles and oodles of space on that disk stick and the assistant's computer was so smooth and fast. Flicking on the alarm system control program, Alison beamed as sirens started to whoop through the building, signaling a fire drill. Then peeked at the transfer progress of the Jetstream files she'd managed to find. The Jetstream generation Three documents, upgrades far and beyond any they'd ever been informed of.
And since there were still a few minutes to go, she had time to get creative.
Pulling up the personnel files, Alison decided that it was time some people got bonuses. Instant bonuses, at that, she decided, upon realizing she had direct access to the accounting system to boot.
"Brian Finnegan, m'boy, this is your lucky day."
You had time to waste and I'm not sorry,
Such a basket case, hide the cutlery.
I had time to kill, it's dead and buried.
You've got guts to spill but no one trustworthy.
The parking lot of Shaw Industries was a crater from the combined impact of Shaw and Cain. Car alarms six blocks away were going off, and the dust cloud blocked the view from the street. Which was for the best, since both men's suits were shredded - Cain's from the impact, and Sebastian's due to the fact that he'd more than quadrupled his muscle mass upon impact.
"You philistine! You... you put your filthy hands on me? ME?" Sebastian roared, fists firing like a boxer at Cain's face. "You are not in my league, Marko! I am Sebastian Shaw! I could own you and your pathetic little life and sell you for cab fare! You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
Cain held up a hand, catching Sebastian's fist in his palm. "You ain't exactly been paying attention either, Sebastian," he remarked, rising to his feet and beginning to squeeze. "Yeah, I know about you. You're a mutant who's so terrified that the world's going to learn what you are that you cover it up by designing killer robots to hunt down your own kind." Cranking down on Shaw's wrist, Cain drove the rich man to his knees in pain. "And it may not do any good to punch you, but you can still feel this, can't you?"
Shaw spat blood at Cain, eyes staring daggers from a face that seemed comically small on his overmuscled body. "MY power, Marko. The harder you hit me, the stronger I become. I can't be beaten, you stupid ogre. Not by the likes of you."
"How about the likes of the news crew that's bound to show up any time now?" Cain smiled, pulling Sebastian's face close to his own. "I ain't got a secret to hide. And I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. But I'm also willing to make a deal."
The look of fear that crossed Shaw's face was comically at odds with his fearsome physique. "No! They mustn't see me like this! Marko, you can't..." Slowly growing silent, Sebastian Shaw pulled himself to his feet, glaring at Cain. "Name your terms."
Cain released Shaw's arm, stepping back to get some space between them in the crater. "You crawl away from here, make up whatever excuse your PR goons can spin. Gas main explosion, whatever. I don't throw you out to the media wolves, and you give me everything you have on a name. Just some information, Sebastian, and I leave you in the clear and call it even. I'll even forget your goons almost shooting my cat."
Shaw wiped his face, nodding. "We have a deal. Give me the name, and I will hold to my end of this bargain." He extended a hand, scowling. "You have my word."
Clasping Shaw's hand, Cain dragged him forward, until they were nose to nose and growled two words.
"Cameron. Hodge."
It's amazing how attitudes change when the paperwork is put into order. Alison and Cain go pick up the parts needed for Haroun, the whole process going off without a hitch. Which is just plain normal when you consider the circumstances.
We walked the narrow path, beneath the smoking skies.
Sometimes you can barely tell the difference between darkness and light.
Do you have faith in what we believe?
The truest test is when we cannot, when we cannot see.
There were still bits of concrete and dust falling from Cain's hair each time they hit a bump on the road, but thankfully, the empty maintenance lockers had yielded an overall which had fit. And what with the fire drill going on and Alison having a print out of all the access codes in the building to help along, it wasn't as though procuring it in the first place had been a problem.
"And here we are," she hummed, tires squealing as she turned into the driveway of the unobtrusive factory, nestled securely in the middle of other similar structures owned by other companies which showed their names more clearly than this one. "Tech Inc. Really original," she murmured, unsnapping her seat belt and picking up the folder nestled between the seats carefully, beaming through the window at the man moving forward to great them with an eager smile. "Ah, the joy of being deemed the center of the world."
Stepping out of the Suburban, Alison reached out to accept the man's handshake, blonde hair freely moving in the brisk afternoon breeze.
"Miss Blaire! How do you do? We received the order forms, along with Mr. Shaw's explicit instructions that we were to facilitate and hasten the delivery of the parts to the utmost of our ability! Please, step this way. I trust you have the - ah yes, thank you. We've the receipts and appropriate delivery forms all ready for you."
Cain opened the back of the truck, sitting heavily on the reinforced tailgate. "Don't hardly seem fair," he joked into the communicator clipped to his collar as he watched the shipping workers zip about rapidly on forklifts. "All I had to do was throw the son of a bitch out the window, and we get this kind of cooperation? I bet if he'd been in a fortieth floor office, we could have held out for a summer home in the Bahamas. Never been to the Bahamas."
Alison smiled at the man as he walked away, already ordering a bevy of people about as they prepped various boxes and large metal crates. "Shaw? Oh no, he was busy with you. I told you I wanted his assistant's computer, remember? I sent in the orders and forms all by myself, everything nice and legal like," she added, with a smile for one of the workers. "I even got triples of some of the more sensitive parts." She paused, and then looked up at Cain with mock innocence. "What? They do say you're never better served than by yourself."
"Amen to that," Cain said, taking a drink of coffee, then spitting it out. "Still tastes like battery acid every time I swallow. I tell you, your boyfriend lives through all this, he gets to gargle with the industrial solvent next time."
"He'll be fine. He better be if he knows what's good for him." Feral was a good way to describe her tone of voice, though it shifted to something far more civil as she kept speaking. "When you can actually taste food again - and it might be a week - and when Haroun's stable, I'll treat you to supper. Place of your choice." She took a deep breath then held it, the adrenaline slowly starting to die down now that they had their goal in site, the crates not thirty feet away the one thing left to collect before heading home. "If anyone tries to stop us now, I'm going to do Very Bad Things." But the crates were loaded for them without a fuss, Cain not even having to do a thing.
Cain waited until the order forms were all returned to them, signed and sealed. "Then we're done here," he said matter-of-factly, escorting Alison to the passenger side of the vehicle. "I'll get us home, and we'll let the docs know what's coming." As they got in and buckled themselves in, Cain placed his hand on Alison's shoulder gently.
"We done good today, kiddo. YOU done good."
Adrenaline finally giving out and fatigue slamming through her full force, Alison slumped in her wearily. "It'd done. We got it all. Done," she added, looking at the back of the Suburban and the crates stacked there, not quite sure whether to believe it or not just yet. And then buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily. "Thank you, Cain. So much. And… home. Just... yeah, home." She breathed in and out slowly, allowing herself a moment to not think, not to try to plan what needed to be done next, what might happen if things went wrong.
"Home."
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