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xp_logsThree moments spread out over the last eight months. Under the surface, not all is as it seems - as always. Meetings in secret and in public, where information is exchanged and concerns shared, in one way or another.
Central Park, afternoon.
He was going to get his revenge on Xavier one day. Pete was sitting there on the park bench, wearing the image induced the bald git had given him six weeks back, and feeling particularly stupid. He hadn't switched it on before today, and it hadn't been until he was walking past a shop window that he'd seen the cover image Xavier had provided him with, and it was only iron self-control that had stopped him from doing a double take when he saw the tanned blond surfer in cut-offs and a Hawaiian shirt. Still, it'd make him easy for Al to find, provided she could keep from dying laughing. He sipped his coffee and scanned the crowd out of habit, despite the fact that he had no idea what her disguise was going to look like.
The punk that trudged down the path and then finally slumped down on the park bench next to him was apparently less than thrilled with either being there in general - or the world at large. Peeling off one large combat boot to unceremoniously shake it upside down in an effort to dislodge something or other from within, the androgynous looking girl sighed heavily. "Today is sticking out like a sore thumb day, innit?" she drawled, slapping the hell of her hand firmly against the boot one last time, sending a pebble rattling on the path. Then, eyeing the old man glaring at them both fiercely while clinging to the leash at the end of which a small white poodle barked determinedly, the punk smiled endearingly and flipped him the bird.
"Well, who wants to blend in with the crowd all the time?" Pete responded, and leant back, relaxing just a little, although his eyes didn't stop scanning the crowd.
"So, now we've established that someone out there has a really bloody warped sense of humour, what's the news?"
Stretching out one arm idly, tattoos rippling defiantly in the process, Alison let her head fall back while gazing at the sky blankly, spiked hair waving ever so slightly with every movement. The metallic bits and bops winding around her wrists did a neat job of concealing a few doohickeys no punk would ever own. Including one that guaranteed them something of a private conversation, just in case someone decided the odd couple on the chair merited more than the odd blink of surprise. Which, this being New York, was actually harder to earn than one might think. "Remy's having kittens while trying to secure things he thinks need securing." She pondered what else to say, frowning a bit torn between a casual remark about Green Day, which the image inducer was doing wonders in concealing at the moment and the gut reflex to not say more about anything Remy might be doing. It was partly common sense and the fact that Pete might well be better off not knowing, and partly because of the howls of indignation Remy would indulge in if he ever found out that she might have told Pete anything at all.
His reaction proved the latter quite right as such thoughts went.
Pete sighed.
"He'll get it together, once he's done wanting to hang, draw and quarter me - he took it badly enough when I fucked off, so I assume he nearly fucking exploded when I took this job."
He tapped the courier bag he'd brought with him.
"In the meantime, I've got a few things that fell into my lap that he might find interesting. Mostly background on those FoH bastards, and a few things overseas. I won't be able to keep an eye out long term, but like I say, they fell into my lap, and he could probably use a hand."
"I'll pass it along," Alison nodded. Giving it to Charles to distribute back at the mansion would be the best way to go - less questions that way, since Charles still had some people who sometimes passed information directly to him, which is how they'd decided to deal with anything Pete might be able to pass along while undercover.
Asking him if he was okay, how he was doing was impossible. Already twice now, Alison had tried. So instead she did the next best thing.
"Amanda has a new sister now. Little girl Margali adopted to she could be brought back here. Her name's Meggan." She nudged the back closer to herself with one foot casually as she spoke.
Pete was briefly grateful for the image inducer, as it hid the whitening of his knuckles as they gripped the bench. When he spoke, his tone was maybe just a shade too light. "Yeah? How'd that happen?"
"Oh, the usual around here," Alison murmured, shaking her head a bit as she stretched out her legs, making a point to take up as much space as possible. "Rescue from the bad people, bring back to a safe place." It hit too close to many things for Alison to go into details, yet. "Important thing is she's settling in and seems to be doing all right, now that she's being given the proper care and attention."
"Good." Pete hesitated just a second too long, then asked "Look, I know you and she don't see eye to eye, but how's Dom doing?"
A slow blink, and Alison turned to look at Pete directly for the first time since she'd sat down. "I have no clue. She came by at least once I think, since... Yeah. I could find out, if you like. Let you know next time we meet?"
There was a small whisper then, in the back of her mind, one she knew Pete likely heard as well. The Professor was done reinforcing the shield in Pete's mind, making sure it would hold safely for the weeks to come.
"Thanks." Pete expression turned more serious. "I think Shaw's--" he winced just slightly "--he's still trying to work out what my angle is. His people have been sniffing around, and most of them aren't bothering to be very subtle about it. Good thing about a reputation like mine: people don't expect me to be good at subtle. Deceptive, but not subtle. So I think he expects me to be on to about half of the people he's got on me. We're about where I thought we'd be by now. I've got things started, and I should start getting somewhere in the next couple of months. Right now, they're all trying to work out what to do with me. Emma thinks it's all terribly amusing."
"Emma would," Alison noted - it was what they had been counting on even, where Emma was concerned. And if anyone knew to still be wary of her, it was Pete. "There's not much else to be done right now," she murmured, lips quirking a bit. An young couple walking by grinned at her the tattoos the image inducer had overlayed on her arms, one of them tapping his own arm as the girl nodded approvingly while they walked kept moving away down the path. "The drop box we settled on last time we met is ready now. So's the secondary."
"Good." Pete nodded. "Let's make it a pub next time - I think I'm going to be needing a drink by then." He grinned, suddenly. "Oh, and while I'm thinking of it, something that came to me in my sleep the other night: get LeBeau running a regular poker night for the kids. The normal ones, like Maddrox and Pryde. It'll drive him up the wall, and it'll be good for the mad bastard."
"Well, that or we'll just let the kids start one and he'll chew his fingers off for not having through of one first?" It had been, she reflected, far too long since the adults had done anything of the sort, at that. Seeing him smile suddenly was good though - lifting a weight on her shoudlers, if only a little. "A pub it is." Tilting her head back, squinting into the sun though she had no need to do so, Alison smiled just a bit, as well. Normalcy, or a touch of it at least, amidst everything else. It felt good.
"Nah, make him organize it. Otherwise he'll probably feel like he shouldn't take part, because he'd take them all to the cleaners or something stupid. Make him think he's teaching them, rather than just having fun and you might con him into enjoying himself." Pete didn't stop smiling, although his tone turned slightly more serious. "Really, keep an eye on him for me. He needs the space to learn to be human, and if he's running round chasing me and all the other bastards, he won't get it."
"I'll see what I can do," she said, torn between chuckling and sheepishly pointing out that despite something of a detente in hostilities since Youra, she and Remy did not exactly get along in the best of ways. "Actually, I'll sic the green haired monster on him. She's already trying to talk him through the whole 'hey, you human, yeah' concept anyway..." Or maybe she could dare him into it like she'd conned Cain into taking up the kid's history class. There was a thought. A pigeon landed nearby, looking at them expectantly and Alison made a face at it.
"Yeah, that'll work." Pete nodded, smiling just slightly. "Just so long as someone's beating him over the head on a regular basis, really." He stood up. "I'd better get going, before one of Shaw's boys notices I've gone. I'll leave an address in the drop in a couple of weeks. Look after yourself."
~*~
The World Bar, Evening.
Pete was sat in a booth, toying with a mineral water. He'd set his cigarettes on the table - whatever he looked like, the odds were good that he was the only person in a bar likely to be smoking Sobraine Black Russians. Being White King had it's perks, after all.
He was almost so lost in thought that he didn't notice what could only be Alison slipping in the door.
The mousy brunette, wearing a frighteningly well cut and clearly expensive business suit, made her way towards the booth, a slim and neat looking attaché case under her arm. While not everyone bothered to meet an accountant at expensive clubs, apparently some people did -and it was hardly an unusual sight in this particular place, to say the least.
She was heading towards Pete's table, sure enough, the hostess slinking her way over without really paying the plain woman behind her any attention at all. With a slightly bored look, Alison patiently waited for the hostess to stop fawning over Pete and slink her way back to the front door, before taking a seat, resting the attaché case between them in an impersonal manner.
Pete frowned, just slightly, then shook his head, as if to dislodge an unpleasant thought, before focusing on Alison. "Glad to see you're back on your feet. Your colleague was a little highly strung last time, although I thank you for sending him with the advice. It was... very timely."
"I've no doubt it was," was the almost prim reply, the light flicker in her eyes at the mention of her apparent present well being having disappeared in a moment. "It certainly is reassuring to see that it was of such good use," she added. "Though most would say accounting is a staid sort of work, I believe we know otherwise. But everything is right as rain, just now." The waiter navigated by, taking Alison's order before swiftly heading off towards the bar. "I trust everything is in order to date, before we begin reviewing the documents?"
Pete blinked in surprise. "Christ, sorry about that. Too much time trying to speak to bent businessmen and shady lawyers lately." He lit up a cigarette, and smiled. "Let's give talking like actual humans a go, shall we? How're you?"
The cigarette was met with no reaction at all, though internally Alison cursed. A lot. He knew she hated the damn things. Tapping the attaché case once, as though fussily smoothing it out, Alison then let out a small sigh. And now, they had some semblance of privacy. This was, to say the least, somewhat nerve-wracking. "Not bad," she answered in a more normal tone of voice. "A bit run ragged but back to working full time, which is a good thing. Trying to fit in a vacation in all of this, but it doesn't seem to be likely to happen any time soon. And you?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as she asked the question.
"I'm doing well. Which is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I've got meself set up, and Shaw's paranoia is down a bit at long bloody last, so I'm ready to start setting the bastard up good and proper, and I've worked out how to do it." Pete grinned, and took a drag on his cigarette.
"Shaw, huh?" Alison raised an eyebrow slightly at that, though she'd known well enough that Selene wouldn't be Pete's only target. Selene being nice and quiet and not drawing your attention yet?" Somehow, the thought worried her. And not just a little bit. "Right. Tell me what you can, but not what you shouldn't?" she asked, sighing a bit at the phrasing while allowing herself a slight smile.
"Still working on Selene. Shaw has contacts and a business empire that we can take away. Selene's got a fucking cult. So right now, I figure if we take Shaw out at the knees, it'll bring the Black Court to a position where Emma can keep them in check better anyway. It ain't ideal, but it's better than nothing. I'm still looking for a way to stop the evil fucking witch, which right now means I'm just making sure I can find out what she's up to, but since her people tend to be brainwashed fuckwits, it's a pain in the arse getting reliable info."
He took a sip of his water.
"Shaw, on the other hand - well what I've got in mind should basically give me a smoking gun to use any time I choose, so I can sit on it until we're ready to kneecap them both. But this is the shit part: I can tell you almost fuck all. It's going to involve some fucking disgusting things, and you need to be able to look everyone else in the eye and say you had no idea. I'm not going to set you up, and I'm not going to lie to you. I'm just not going to tell you what I'm doing. But whatever it looks like in the next month or two, I haven't gone off the deep end, OK?"
Alison, having listened to his words carefully the entire time, watching him without looking away, nodded slowly. "We knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park..." she trailed off - there wasn't much more to say here really, other than to acknowledge Pete's words and remember what he'd said, when the time came. And to keep believing. "Meet in two weeks." They usually didn't set them up so far in advance anymore, but... it was something to know and keep to, somehow.
"Two weeks. Your turn to pick where." Pete looked faintly amused.
She smiled a bit at that, deciding on something nice and quiet for a change, pulling out a paper from the portfolio she had brought for him and noting it down. Because of course an accountant would bring paperwork to leave with the client.
As she wrote, the fact that she'd given him an opening to ask about Domino and that it had seemed to be blithely ignored was something she couldn't outright ignore.
"I have news on a mutual... acquaintance of ours that you'd requested the last time we met?"
Pete's look of amusement died, and he held up a hand. "No. Not now. I've got to many other things to keep on top of. Worrying about her's a luxury I don't have right now."
He stood up and turned to go. Then he looked back and the smile returned, with a rather more wintry quality than it'd had before.
"More than just about anyone else, I trust Dom to survive. Everything after that's a bonus, and if I'm wrong, you can tell me about it when the job's done, and I'll deal with it then. I'll see you in two weeks."
Then he was gone.
~*~
Eddie's Diner, late morning.
Sipping at her diet 7up, Alison leaned back in the comfortable seat, waiting for her 'date' to arrive while looking around the old fashioned diner. Anyone looking at her would only see a slim young man, likely a student from the nearby university, taking a break at the diner between classes such as many students did on a regular basis. The books piled up on a corner of the table only served to confirm that fact as well and the woeful looks Alison kept giving them had earned her more than a few giggles from 1) the waitress, 2) passing university students (most female, one male) and 3) passerbys in the street.
The door banged open, and after a cursory glance round the room, Pete strode over. His image inducer had supplied a bookish and nervous looking young brunette, but the thunderous scowl on her face caused several of the patrons to do a double take as they glanced up when the door banged open.
Pete dropped into the seat opposite Alison without pausing.
"I hope your fortnight has been better than mine, because mine's been fucking disgusting, and it's just got a lot worse this morning."
Looking up at the scowling brunette with a look of dismay, the blond university 'student' set about patting down the rather haphazard status of his hair, making a vague attempt at straightening out the books on the table. "Could be better, could be worse," was the neutral reply, Alison preferring not to dwell on what was going on at the mansion's medlab just then. Not that she actually managed to do this in any way, shape or form. "Illness in the family. That sort of thing." They were already clear on the security of their discussion, though, so she went on, wishing she could see Pete's actual features rather than the image inducer's image. "Actually, hasn't been good, mostly on a personal level. The other stuff has been going pretty steady. Nothing new much here but..." She raised an eyebrow and waited, since Pete clearly had news of his own to impart.
"Well, the short version is I'm finally getting somewhere with Shaw, but it doesn't fucking matter, because Selene's fucking with Amanda. I finally got some decent tabs on the lunatic bitch, and it turns out that she's after Amanda in a really big way and has been for a while. And the only reason I haven't already blown the whole job and stopped it is that I'm really, really hoping that you and Charlie already knew, and have it in hand." Pete rattled the intel out like machine gun fire, the fingers of one hand drumming on the table, while the other gesticulated, punctating his words with short, jerky movements.
Alison's features stilled at that, watching Pete's motions with a sudden, odd sort of stillness. "Doesn't match what she did earlier at all, that," she finally said. "Gimme a minute. Let me see what Charles might have on this..." With that her eyes glazed over ever so slightly, the small signs of her attention and thoughts turning inwards to the link Charles always established before any meeting with Pete.
Pete's fingers continued to drum, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to regain the sense of calm that'd gone flying out the window a few hours before. And then a few more breaths.
"So, what's the score? I'm not taking any fucking chances with Amanda, here..."
"Meet again in three days," Alison whispered lowly, still paying attention to something or someone else, or so it seemed. "We'll have more information then and take a final decision as to the course of action. Can you hold 'till then?" The question was asked flatly, her focus returning to him entirely. "There's a few people to contact but a lot just... fell into place."
Pete scowled.
"I don't like this a fucking bit, Al. Not one fucking bit. I won't play the odds with her safety. I'll sit on my hands for a few days, but you're going to have to come up with something fucking ironclad, because I can't play games with Amanda's well-being on the line. I..."
He took a breath.
"Three days."
Central Park, afternoon.
He was going to get his revenge on Xavier one day. Pete was sitting there on the park bench, wearing the image induced the bald git had given him six weeks back, and feeling particularly stupid. He hadn't switched it on before today, and it hadn't been until he was walking past a shop window that he'd seen the cover image Xavier had provided him with, and it was only iron self-control that had stopped him from doing a double take when he saw the tanned blond surfer in cut-offs and a Hawaiian shirt. Still, it'd make him easy for Al to find, provided she could keep from dying laughing. He sipped his coffee and scanned the crowd out of habit, despite the fact that he had no idea what her disguise was going to look like.
The punk that trudged down the path and then finally slumped down on the park bench next to him was apparently less than thrilled with either being there in general - or the world at large. Peeling off one large combat boot to unceremoniously shake it upside down in an effort to dislodge something or other from within, the androgynous looking girl sighed heavily. "Today is sticking out like a sore thumb day, innit?" she drawled, slapping the hell of her hand firmly against the boot one last time, sending a pebble rattling on the path. Then, eyeing the old man glaring at them both fiercely while clinging to the leash at the end of which a small white poodle barked determinedly, the punk smiled endearingly and flipped him the bird.
"Well, who wants to blend in with the crowd all the time?" Pete responded, and leant back, relaxing just a little, although his eyes didn't stop scanning the crowd.
"So, now we've established that someone out there has a really bloody warped sense of humour, what's the news?"
Stretching out one arm idly, tattoos rippling defiantly in the process, Alison let her head fall back while gazing at the sky blankly, spiked hair waving ever so slightly with every movement. The metallic bits and bops winding around her wrists did a neat job of concealing a few doohickeys no punk would ever own. Including one that guaranteed them something of a private conversation, just in case someone decided the odd couple on the chair merited more than the odd blink of surprise. Which, this being New York, was actually harder to earn than one might think. "Remy's having kittens while trying to secure things he thinks need securing." She pondered what else to say, frowning a bit torn between a casual remark about Green Day, which the image inducer was doing wonders in concealing at the moment and the gut reflex to not say more about anything Remy might be doing. It was partly common sense and the fact that Pete might well be better off not knowing, and partly because of the howls of indignation Remy would indulge in if he ever found out that she might have told Pete anything at all.
His reaction proved the latter quite right as such thoughts went.
Pete sighed.
"He'll get it together, once he's done wanting to hang, draw and quarter me - he took it badly enough when I fucked off, so I assume he nearly fucking exploded when I took this job."
He tapped the courier bag he'd brought with him.
"In the meantime, I've got a few things that fell into my lap that he might find interesting. Mostly background on those FoH bastards, and a few things overseas. I won't be able to keep an eye out long term, but like I say, they fell into my lap, and he could probably use a hand."
"I'll pass it along," Alison nodded. Giving it to Charles to distribute back at the mansion would be the best way to go - less questions that way, since Charles still had some people who sometimes passed information directly to him, which is how they'd decided to deal with anything Pete might be able to pass along while undercover.
Asking him if he was okay, how he was doing was impossible. Already twice now, Alison had tried. So instead she did the next best thing.
"Amanda has a new sister now. Little girl Margali adopted to she could be brought back here. Her name's Meggan." She nudged the back closer to herself with one foot casually as she spoke.
Pete was briefly grateful for the image inducer, as it hid the whitening of his knuckles as they gripped the bench. When he spoke, his tone was maybe just a shade too light. "Yeah? How'd that happen?"
"Oh, the usual around here," Alison murmured, shaking her head a bit as she stretched out her legs, making a point to take up as much space as possible. "Rescue from the bad people, bring back to a safe place." It hit too close to many things for Alison to go into details, yet. "Important thing is she's settling in and seems to be doing all right, now that she's being given the proper care and attention."
"Good." Pete hesitated just a second too long, then asked "Look, I know you and she don't see eye to eye, but how's Dom doing?"
A slow blink, and Alison turned to look at Pete directly for the first time since she'd sat down. "I have no clue. She came by at least once I think, since... Yeah. I could find out, if you like. Let you know next time we meet?"
There was a small whisper then, in the back of her mind, one she knew Pete likely heard as well. The Professor was done reinforcing the shield in Pete's mind, making sure it would hold safely for the weeks to come.
"Thanks." Pete expression turned more serious. "I think Shaw's--" he winced just slightly "--he's still trying to work out what my angle is. His people have been sniffing around, and most of them aren't bothering to be very subtle about it. Good thing about a reputation like mine: people don't expect me to be good at subtle. Deceptive, but not subtle. So I think he expects me to be on to about half of the people he's got on me. We're about where I thought we'd be by now. I've got things started, and I should start getting somewhere in the next couple of months. Right now, they're all trying to work out what to do with me. Emma thinks it's all terribly amusing."
"Emma would," Alison noted - it was what they had been counting on even, where Emma was concerned. And if anyone knew to still be wary of her, it was Pete. "There's not much else to be done right now," she murmured, lips quirking a bit. An young couple walking by grinned at her the tattoos the image inducer had overlayed on her arms, one of them tapping his own arm as the girl nodded approvingly while they walked kept moving away down the path. "The drop box we settled on last time we met is ready now. So's the secondary."
"Good." Pete nodded. "Let's make it a pub next time - I think I'm going to be needing a drink by then." He grinned, suddenly. "Oh, and while I'm thinking of it, something that came to me in my sleep the other night: get LeBeau running a regular poker night for the kids. The normal ones, like Maddrox and Pryde. It'll drive him up the wall, and it'll be good for the mad bastard."
"Well, that or we'll just let the kids start one and he'll chew his fingers off for not having through of one first?" It had been, she reflected, far too long since the adults had done anything of the sort, at that. Seeing him smile suddenly was good though - lifting a weight on her shoudlers, if only a little. "A pub it is." Tilting her head back, squinting into the sun though she had no need to do so, Alison smiled just a bit, as well. Normalcy, or a touch of it at least, amidst everything else. It felt good.
"Nah, make him organize it. Otherwise he'll probably feel like he shouldn't take part, because he'd take them all to the cleaners or something stupid. Make him think he's teaching them, rather than just having fun and you might con him into enjoying himself." Pete didn't stop smiling, although his tone turned slightly more serious. "Really, keep an eye on him for me. He needs the space to learn to be human, and if he's running round chasing me and all the other bastards, he won't get it."
"I'll see what I can do," she said, torn between chuckling and sheepishly pointing out that despite something of a detente in hostilities since Youra, she and Remy did not exactly get along in the best of ways. "Actually, I'll sic the green haired monster on him. She's already trying to talk him through the whole 'hey, you human, yeah' concept anyway..." Or maybe she could dare him into it like she'd conned Cain into taking up the kid's history class. There was a thought. A pigeon landed nearby, looking at them expectantly and Alison made a face at it.
"Yeah, that'll work." Pete nodded, smiling just slightly. "Just so long as someone's beating him over the head on a regular basis, really." He stood up. "I'd better get going, before one of Shaw's boys notices I've gone. I'll leave an address in the drop in a couple of weeks. Look after yourself."
~*~
The World Bar, Evening.
Pete was sat in a booth, toying with a mineral water. He'd set his cigarettes on the table - whatever he looked like, the odds were good that he was the only person in a bar likely to be smoking Sobraine Black Russians. Being White King had it's perks, after all.
He was almost so lost in thought that he didn't notice what could only be Alison slipping in the door.
The mousy brunette, wearing a frighteningly well cut and clearly expensive business suit, made her way towards the booth, a slim and neat looking attaché case under her arm. While not everyone bothered to meet an accountant at expensive clubs, apparently some people did -and it was hardly an unusual sight in this particular place, to say the least.
She was heading towards Pete's table, sure enough, the hostess slinking her way over without really paying the plain woman behind her any attention at all. With a slightly bored look, Alison patiently waited for the hostess to stop fawning over Pete and slink her way back to the front door, before taking a seat, resting the attaché case between them in an impersonal manner.
Pete frowned, just slightly, then shook his head, as if to dislodge an unpleasant thought, before focusing on Alison. "Glad to see you're back on your feet. Your colleague was a little highly strung last time, although I thank you for sending him with the advice. It was... very timely."
"I've no doubt it was," was the almost prim reply, the light flicker in her eyes at the mention of her apparent present well being having disappeared in a moment. "It certainly is reassuring to see that it was of such good use," she added. "Though most would say accounting is a staid sort of work, I believe we know otherwise. But everything is right as rain, just now." The waiter navigated by, taking Alison's order before swiftly heading off towards the bar. "I trust everything is in order to date, before we begin reviewing the documents?"
Pete blinked in surprise. "Christ, sorry about that. Too much time trying to speak to bent businessmen and shady lawyers lately." He lit up a cigarette, and smiled. "Let's give talking like actual humans a go, shall we? How're you?"
The cigarette was met with no reaction at all, though internally Alison cursed. A lot. He knew she hated the damn things. Tapping the attaché case once, as though fussily smoothing it out, Alison then let out a small sigh. And now, they had some semblance of privacy. This was, to say the least, somewhat nerve-wracking. "Not bad," she answered in a more normal tone of voice. "A bit run ragged but back to working full time, which is a good thing. Trying to fit in a vacation in all of this, but it doesn't seem to be likely to happen any time soon. And you?" She quirked an eyebrow at him as she asked the question.
"I'm doing well. Which is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I've got meself set up, and Shaw's paranoia is down a bit at long bloody last, so I'm ready to start setting the bastard up good and proper, and I've worked out how to do it." Pete grinned, and took a drag on his cigarette.
"Shaw, huh?" Alison raised an eyebrow slightly at that, though she'd known well enough that Selene wouldn't be Pete's only target. Selene being nice and quiet and not drawing your attention yet?" Somehow, the thought worried her. And not just a little bit. "Right. Tell me what you can, but not what you shouldn't?" she asked, sighing a bit at the phrasing while allowing herself a slight smile.
"Still working on Selene. Shaw has contacts and a business empire that we can take away. Selene's got a fucking cult. So right now, I figure if we take Shaw out at the knees, it'll bring the Black Court to a position where Emma can keep them in check better anyway. It ain't ideal, but it's better than nothing. I'm still looking for a way to stop the evil fucking witch, which right now means I'm just making sure I can find out what she's up to, but since her people tend to be brainwashed fuckwits, it's a pain in the arse getting reliable info."
He took a sip of his water.
"Shaw, on the other hand - well what I've got in mind should basically give me a smoking gun to use any time I choose, so I can sit on it until we're ready to kneecap them both. But this is the shit part: I can tell you almost fuck all. It's going to involve some fucking disgusting things, and you need to be able to look everyone else in the eye and say you had no idea. I'm not going to set you up, and I'm not going to lie to you. I'm just not going to tell you what I'm doing. But whatever it looks like in the next month or two, I haven't gone off the deep end, OK?"
Alison, having listened to his words carefully the entire time, watching him without looking away, nodded slowly. "We knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park..." she trailed off - there wasn't much more to say here really, other than to acknowledge Pete's words and remember what he'd said, when the time came. And to keep believing. "Meet in two weeks." They usually didn't set them up so far in advance anymore, but... it was something to know and keep to, somehow.
"Two weeks. Your turn to pick where." Pete looked faintly amused.
She smiled a bit at that, deciding on something nice and quiet for a change, pulling out a paper from the portfolio she had brought for him and noting it down. Because of course an accountant would bring paperwork to leave with the client.
As she wrote, the fact that she'd given him an opening to ask about Domino and that it had seemed to be blithely ignored was something she couldn't outright ignore.
"I have news on a mutual... acquaintance of ours that you'd requested the last time we met?"
Pete's look of amusement died, and he held up a hand. "No. Not now. I've got to many other things to keep on top of. Worrying about her's a luxury I don't have right now."
He stood up and turned to go. Then he looked back and the smile returned, with a rather more wintry quality than it'd had before.
"More than just about anyone else, I trust Dom to survive. Everything after that's a bonus, and if I'm wrong, you can tell me about it when the job's done, and I'll deal with it then. I'll see you in two weeks."
Then he was gone.
~*~
Eddie's Diner, late morning.
Sipping at her diet 7up, Alison leaned back in the comfortable seat, waiting for her 'date' to arrive while looking around the old fashioned diner. Anyone looking at her would only see a slim young man, likely a student from the nearby university, taking a break at the diner between classes such as many students did on a regular basis. The books piled up on a corner of the table only served to confirm that fact as well and the woeful looks Alison kept giving them had earned her more than a few giggles from 1) the waitress, 2) passing university students (most female, one male) and 3) passerbys in the street.
The door banged open, and after a cursory glance round the room, Pete strode over. His image inducer had supplied a bookish and nervous looking young brunette, but the thunderous scowl on her face caused several of the patrons to do a double take as they glanced up when the door banged open.
Pete dropped into the seat opposite Alison without pausing.
"I hope your fortnight has been better than mine, because mine's been fucking disgusting, and it's just got a lot worse this morning."
Looking up at the scowling brunette with a look of dismay, the blond university 'student' set about patting down the rather haphazard status of his hair, making a vague attempt at straightening out the books on the table. "Could be better, could be worse," was the neutral reply, Alison preferring not to dwell on what was going on at the mansion's medlab just then. Not that she actually managed to do this in any way, shape or form. "Illness in the family. That sort of thing." They were already clear on the security of their discussion, though, so she went on, wishing she could see Pete's actual features rather than the image inducer's image. "Actually, hasn't been good, mostly on a personal level. The other stuff has been going pretty steady. Nothing new much here but..." She raised an eyebrow and waited, since Pete clearly had news of his own to impart.
"Well, the short version is I'm finally getting somewhere with Shaw, but it doesn't fucking matter, because Selene's fucking with Amanda. I finally got some decent tabs on the lunatic bitch, and it turns out that she's after Amanda in a really big way and has been for a while. And the only reason I haven't already blown the whole job and stopped it is that I'm really, really hoping that you and Charlie already knew, and have it in hand." Pete rattled the intel out like machine gun fire, the fingers of one hand drumming on the table, while the other gesticulated, punctating his words with short, jerky movements.
Alison's features stilled at that, watching Pete's motions with a sudden, odd sort of stillness. "Doesn't match what she did earlier at all, that," she finally said. "Gimme a minute. Let me see what Charles might have on this..." With that her eyes glazed over ever so slightly, the small signs of her attention and thoughts turning inwards to the link Charles always established before any meeting with Pete.
Pete's fingers continued to drum, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to regain the sense of calm that'd gone flying out the window a few hours before. And then a few more breaths.
"So, what's the score? I'm not taking any fucking chances with Amanda, here..."
"Meet again in three days," Alison whispered lowly, still paying attention to something or someone else, or so it seemed. "We'll have more information then and take a final decision as to the course of action. Can you hold 'till then?" The question was asked flatly, her focus returning to him entirely. "There's a few people to contact but a lot just... fell into place."
Pete scowled.
"I don't like this a fucking bit, Al. Not one fucking bit. I won't play the odds with her safety. I'll sit on my hands for a few days, but you're going to have to come up with something fucking ironclad, because I can't play games with Amanda's well-being on the line. I..."
He took a breath.
"Three days."
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