Heretics: The Freelancer

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On her lunch break, Monet is approached by a reporter who seems oddly well-informed about Elpis.


Most of the first batch of meetings had been held at the project site itself, as a way of introducing potential donors and participants to where they'd actually be doing the skills training and what sort of specific needs the project had. The next meeting wasn't for another hour, so Nathan had told her to feel free to prowl the neighborhood if she wanted some air - or food, as there were street vendors, cafes, and even a couple of bakeries right along the stretch of road immediately outside the somewhat ramshackle early 20th-century building Elpis had bought to house the centre. The smell of grilled meat and fresh bread mingled rather appealingly.

Monet had taken the opportunity to escape for a few minutes. The lunchtime crowds, whilst generating a steady hum of noise, at least provided a welcome break from the concerns of the stake holders indoors, all of whom were worrying about several variations on the one theme. She settled on a small cafe for lunch, one just far enough away from the site to ensure that she would (hopefully) not spend the next hour dealing with drop-in work visits.

The street was crowded enough that she had been completely unaware of being followed. A tall, lean blonde woman, looking cool and composed even in the heat and the crowds, paid for her coffee at the cafe's counter and then turned to regard Monet for a long moment as she sipped at it. She wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved canvas jacket over a black t-shirt - practical clothing, that had helped her blend into the crowd.

She seemed to come to a decision as she watched Monet order lunch, and headed over as soon as the waiter departed. "I'm sorry," she said in a husky alto voice with a trace of an Australian accent. "I couldn't help but notice you leaving the Elpis building. Do you work at their new centre?"

Ah, crap. Monet plastered a smile onto her face and made a mental note to find someplace else for lunch tomorrow. "Not quite - I work for Nathan Morrow back in the New York office. We're out helping establish the centre, but neither of us will be working here full-time. Most teleconferences, I think, when we're done, with the odd trip out to troubleshoot."

"Ah, you mean you're from their head office." The blonde woman gave a very slightly triumphant smile, and then sat down across from Monet without waiting for an invitation. "Or maybe I should say their Westchester office - I gather the Tel Aviv office is the showpiece. One of these days I'll stop in for a tour. I'm impressed that your website says that you still give them, after the bombing." Before Monet could react to any of this, the woman extended a hand, the smile growing slightly. "I haven't introduced myself. Irene Merryweather. I suppose you'll be terribly surprised to discover that I'm a journalist."

Monet laughed briefly. "Monet St. Croix. Which news group do you work for?" She busied herself with her lunch for a moment, unwilling to let her entire break be taken up with work. "You really should go visit Tel Aviv. They're a little more security focused than they used to be, but it's still worth the visit, if you're interested in our work. How can I help you today, though?” Nate would have been proud of the way she was making nice with the reporter.

"I freelance," Merryweather said easily. "For quite a range of publications, actually. There aren't many of us who seek out the mutant angle and try to do justice to it - I'm not one for sensationalism, which does restrict me in terms of steady employers." She gave Monet an almost conspiratorial look, as if inviting her to share in her wry amusement at the mainstream media's foibles. "Today, I suppose, I'm wondering why a skills training centre, and why here?"

"Why not a skills training centre?" Monet smiled sweetly. "What we're doing is slightly experimental, really - not many people have done work like this with mutants, so in some ways, like with this, we're cribbing off of anyone who has success with other highly disadvantaged groups. Mutants tend to have less skills overall, for a whole stack of reasons, and, especially if they're visible mutants, they're not gonna get jobs unless they've been trained and skilled up. And as for here, well, we did consider Mongolia for a little but the weather is much nicer here. No, actually, we do a lot of work in North Africa, and it's a bloody good place for a test case."

"Attitudes towards mutancy certainly run the gamut here," Merryweather said thoughtfully, sipping at her coffee. "There wasn't any problem finding a site for the centre, was there?" Her blue eyes were piercing over the rim of her cup.

"There was a little. I think the property market might be a little volatile here, at the moment. Three potential sites fell through before we got this one. But no more difficult than might be expected, really."

"I may have heard something about that," Merryweather conceded, almost mischievously. But I wanted to see what you said about it, was the unspoken corollary. "So, Ms. St. Croix - how do you like working for the mutant NGO?"

Monet laughed. "Honestly? I thought I'd be bored stupid but working for Nate and in the office is never boring." She sobered and said, giving a carefully potted answer, "Both of my brothers had issues with their mutations, and they're Cartier St. Croix's bloody kids, with access to the best care in the world... I went to a school for mutants, Irene, and a lot of the kids there have shocking backgrounds. I guess I wanted to make a difference." Even with her serious face on, Monet doubted the reporter would fall for the spiel. It was just so earnest.

"Interesting to see that you've had some training in how to handle the press," Merryweather said with a quick, amused smile. "Not quite what your organization is known for, is it? The mutant cowboys of the humanitarian world, I heard you described once..."

"I'm Cartier's oldest daughter. If I couldn't talk to you without embarrassing myself then he'd have me home again for a few weeks of tutoring with his staff, just to make sure I don't do it again." Monet leaned back in her chair. "You also have to understand that a lot of the people who're involved in Elpis are ... Well, some of them come from pretty unconventional backgrounds. They're working with what they have and that's not always diplomacy."

"Unconventional. Quite the careful choice of words there, Ms. St. Croix - perhaps you'd like to elaborate?" There was an odd sort of amusement in Merryweather's eyes. There was nothing mocking about it; it was more like she was simply enjoying the conversation, or found something about it far too entertaining. "You have some very impressive names on your board of directors, of course. Yet a curious lack of publicly available biographical details on your staff."

"Some of the staff have a background in the military." That was safe, right? "The trouble with that background is that it leads to a specific skill set that jars slightly at some fundraising events, especially when some of the people we're liaising with expected happy fun graduates."

"The military. You don't say." Merryweather was still looking amused, but interested now, too. "Is your founder one of the ones with that background? Difficult to find background information on Mr. Morrow."

Oh crap. Nah, it had to be public knowledge that some of the Tel Aviv staff were ex-random military branches. "Look, it's really not my place to discuss Nate's background with you. I'm sure you'll get much information from him than you would from me. Perhaps you could speak to him at our 'hi, come and meet us and look, the mutants won't explode on you' day? We're holding it just for you."

Merryweather rose, shrugging, her smile turning inscrutable. "Appreciate the offer, Ms. St. Croix, but I have a busy day or two ahead of me. Some one-on-one interviews that are likely to be overly involved." She raised her coffee as if in salute. "Best of luck to you with the new centre. It's a worthwhile endeavor." That, at least, sounded nothing but sincere.

"Thanks, Irene. Shoot us an email sometime and I'll let you know how it's turning out?" Monet stood and gestured to the waiter. "I've got to get back to work now myself. Have a nice day!"