Vanessa & Bishop
Jun. 1st, 2011 10:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Vanessa and Bishop go out to talk to various friends and family members of the two-strike killer's victims trying to discover how their genetic status led to them all being linked together by the killer.
Bishop stepped out of his car and took a deep breath as he and his partner arrived at what used to be the driveway of Angela Moreno. They weren't there to deliver the death notification; that had been done quite some time ago and that would have been a relief, but the news they were there to give was worse. When a person was killed, those left behind always wanted to know why but were rarely given a reason. Having a reason was worse because rarely was there a good reason for killing a person. It opened a fresh wound, and this would be the worst of possible reasons. Hate.
Normally Vanessa remained about a half step or so behind Bishop when they were out working together, but she was just a little ahead of him now as she rang the doorbell for the apartment. They knew that Angela had been a lesbian and there were going to see her partner, Gina. What she didn't know was how man-friendly Gina was. Vanessa hated the militant, anti-men lesbians personally but she didn't want to risk it here so she stayed in front of her partner wearing her people-colored alt.
The person who answered the door was a woman not much shorter than Vanessa with a blonde pixie cut and sad eyes. Obviously not recognizing the people at the door, Gina remained a bit guarded as she said, "Yeah?"
Vanessa offered an X-Factor business card and smiled as kindly as possible at the woman. "Hi. I'm Vanessa and this is my partner, Bishop. We're from X-Factor Investigations. We're looking into a number of murders that have happened over the last eight months which may be connected and we'd like to talk to you about Angela."
Angela. The name had clearly hit home for the woman. Her eyes went the slightest bit wider, then narrowed as she scrutinized the card. "This says you're private eyes? Where's your badge?"
Bishop presented his badge over Vanessa's shoulder. "We just have news, we're not requesting anything so no reason to lie. I used to work for NYPD and sometimes they're insensitive to certain topics. The kinds of topics we specialize in and tend to be hired to deal with by private individuals." He offered somewhat cryptically as he gave her a moment to read the card.
The urge to elbow him for his level of cryptic was barely contained. Vanessa really had to work on Bishop about not being so damn stoic. It wasn't the most welcoming vibe to give off.
Gina was hesitant thanks to the rather vague nature of the man's reply. Lucas Bishop, according to his badge, was a real private investigator. She made a mental note of his badge number just so she could double check. "What sort of news?"
"The sort potentially sensitive enough to not want to deliver it on your doorstep. It's about why Angela may have been targeted. May we come in?" It was all too funny to Vanessa that she always had to play the polite cop when she was with Bishop. Then again, it seemed to work often enough.
A few moments passed while she considered it, then Gina stepped back and gestured the pair of investigators inside. She sat down on the couch only after the other two were already seated and tried to prepare herself for whatever was going to come next. "What's the news then?"
"I assume you knew your partner was a mutant." Bishop paused for a beat to see how the information landed, wanting to make sure his assumption was correct and it was. "We've found that it was the reason she was killed. I'm the only person to ever openly work at the department as a mutant; no one is more capable of looking into this." He offered, though knowing she likely stopped listening after he mentioned the killing.
"What do you mean that was why she was killed? She was...passing. Do you use that term?"
Vanessa figured Gina was a human if she was unsure about terminology. Maybe she just didn't have any other mutant friends, though. "Something like that. We think she was targeted because she was a mutant."
"How?"
"That is the question we don't think anyone is equipped to answer. We're going to see if we can." Bishop never guaranteed success, he wanted to inspire hope while still being realistic.
Gina shook her head. "Angela wasn't openly a mutant. Her friends knew but no one else. Was-" she stopped, clearly not wanting to vocalize the thought. "Was it someone she knew?"
* * *
"What do you mean he was a mutant?" Paul Wharton seemed to have trouble processing the information, as did his sister. "Dad wasn't a mutant." He looked to his sibling for help.
Lisa's hands turned upright in a gesture of surrender to whatever powers there may be. "I didn't know anything, Paul. He-he never told us?"
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Your father never mentioned he was a mutant to you?"
"Most don't." Bishop offered. "It's to protect their loved ones from social stigma, not because they're untrustworthy..." A moment's pause told him that explanation wasn't enough. "I don't talk about killing people in the line of duty because it forces people to judge me, for better or worse. Society requires it, and I don't want to force the people close to me to judge me."
"But we- we wouldn't've," Lisa floundered. "He's our dad." Her brother put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "You don't judge people like that if you love them."
"Some people do," Vanessa told her sadly. "Some people judge the people they love more harshly than they do others. Because they feel lied to by them."
* * *
"Nah, who cares if he lied to people?" Adam shrugged, remarkably laid back for a guy who had been the prime suspect in his friend's murder for some time. "I mean, he would've been kicked off the weightlifting team if people knew. Muties on the team's just...what if we got disqualified or something? They can like lift buses and shit, right?"
"I can." Bishop replied shortly after the use of the slur, aware people found him intimidating. "You've never knowingly met a mutant, have you?"
Adam thought the dude was kidding. Until he realized that the big ass black guy was so totally not kidding. "Uh...no. You can seriously lift a bus? See? That's totally fucking cheating on the team. You get why he'd be bounced."
Vanessa didn't think this was going to end well at all, but she just leaned against the wall, hand near her gun, and watched her partner. She was fairly certain she could pull Bishop off him if she had to, but the likelihood of the big man losing his cool to that degree was practically zero.
"I know why he'd get bounced, people like to make a 'normal' so they have things to hate. You're too inept to pull off a clean kill, clearly. We're looking for someone hateful, like you, but more capable." Bishop put the edge on his insult but subtly jabbing at Adam's self worth, seeing it was tied in to competition. When people got aggravated they often let things slip, and communities did form around a shared enemy. He might unknowingly have some information they could use.
Adam stood, looking half ready for a fight and half ready to tell them to get out. "You know what, man? Fuck you. I don't hate anyone just because I'm not gonna lose what's supposed to be a fair competition because some dude can lift a bus. There ain't a goddamn weight class for that so you can all make your own fucking competition, okay? And get outta my room. I'm done with you."
* * *
Mohit Choudhury's parents hadn't said much. Estranged from their son, this was the first they had heard of his murder. Anjali Choudhury had been crying since they had first informed her and her husband of their son's death. Vanessa had been wondering if they should just politely leave when she finally spoke. "It's our fault, Vinod."
"No, Anjali," he returned in a comforting voice. "It is not our fault. It is the fault of the man who decided Mohit did not deserve to live. That man, he is an animal."
Anjali shook her head, wiping tears away as she looked at the two investigators. "We told him to leave. We told him he could not be a mutant. Not in our house. Not in our family. We told him he could not stay and so he went to that city. I always thought that was where he went to." She shuddered and dissolved into sobbing again.
"You must understand, we were raised very traditional. Mohit was raised to be a good boy. And then he tells us he is this thing. We don't know how to handle this and so we tell him to get out. We had not spoken to him in years." At that Anjali's sobbing grew louder. "We thought, perhaps, we had the time to figure things out. You see? With time maybe one of us would change. Become...more enlightened. We asked Vishnu for help in this matter many times. But we..."
"We thought there was time to get Mohit back," his wife interrupted.
Vanessa nodded and brought a tissue to the woman. "Unfortunately no one's figured out how to stop being a mutant yet, though many have wished for it," she told them kindly. "And it can be hard to accept. Something different throws everyone. Most people don't react well."
* * *
Francesca Hoey was having none of it. "React well? This is slander!" She all but slammed down the glass in her hand. "How dare you accuse my Margaret of being a...a mutant." She said it as if it were the single most vile thing one could be.
"So, literally anyone you know that found out could have been bigoted enough to murder her over it, right?" Bishop's tone was bland and he scribbled in his notebook as he asked. Rich people like these preferred officers who wrote things down more, he had noticed, as if everything they said was so important and complex it warranted constant, intense attention.
The woman gasped, hand clasping the cloth over her chest and everything. "How dare you accuse- No. No, no one would hurt my Margaret. And never in the manner in which she was slain. My daughter was well-liked and well-respected. And she was not what you are accusing her of being, Mister Bishop."
Vanessa was not going to step in on this one. The woman reminded her a little too much of her own mother, though the motivations here was social standing rather than religion. She peered at her partner's notes and then glanced back at the woman, resolutely saying nothing.
"I suppose she couldn't have been a mutant, then. We're not well-liked or well-respected." Bishop flipped his notebook closed. "If you think of anything, call NYPD. They're legally required to respond." He turned and nodded to Vanessa, signaling he was finished.
Smirking just wasn't the way to go here. Particularly with the oh-so-respected Mrs. Hoey looking like a fish with her mouth flapping uselessly like that. Vanessa only nodded to the woman and said, "Good day, ma'am." As a final rib for her partner, though, Vanessa dropped her peach-colored mimic as she spoke. The woman looked only more impotently outraged at the sight of the blue woman who was now turning her back on the older woman to follow her partner.
As the well-to-do woman finally started to yell something about not spreading lies about her deceased child, Vanessa turned to Bishop and simply said, "I'm thinking Scotch?"
"I keep Bourbon. A bottle of Makers in my desk." Bishop offered with a smile.
Bishop stepped out of his car and took a deep breath as he and his partner arrived at what used to be the driveway of Angela Moreno. They weren't there to deliver the death notification; that had been done quite some time ago and that would have been a relief, but the news they were there to give was worse. When a person was killed, those left behind always wanted to know why but were rarely given a reason. Having a reason was worse because rarely was there a good reason for killing a person. It opened a fresh wound, and this would be the worst of possible reasons. Hate.
Normally Vanessa remained about a half step or so behind Bishop when they were out working together, but she was just a little ahead of him now as she rang the doorbell for the apartment. They knew that Angela had been a lesbian and there were going to see her partner, Gina. What she didn't know was how man-friendly Gina was. Vanessa hated the militant, anti-men lesbians personally but she didn't want to risk it here so she stayed in front of her partner wearing her people-colored alt.
The person who answered the door was a woman not much shorter than Vanessa with a blonde pixie cut and sad eyes. Obviously not recognizing the people at the door, Gina remained a bit guarded as she said, "Yeah?"
Vanessa offered an X-Factor business card and smiled as kindly as possible at the woman. "Hi. I'm Vanessa and this is my partner, Bishop. We're from X-Factor Investigations. We're looking into a number of murders that have happened over the last eight months which may be connected and we'd like to talk to you about Angela."
Angela. The name had clearly hit home for the woman. Her eyes went the slightest bit wider, then narrowed as she scrutinized the card. "This says you're private eyes? Where's your badge?"
Bishop presented his badge over Vanessa's shoulder. "We just have news, we're not requesting anything so no reason to lie. I used to work for NYPD and sometimes they're insensitive to certain topics. The kinds of topics we specialize in and tend to be hired to deal with by private individuals." He offered somewhat cryptically as he gave her a moment to read the card.
The urge to elbow him for his level of cryptic was barely contained. Vanessa really had to work on Bishop about not being so damn stoic. It wasn't the most welcoming vibe to give off.
Gina was hesitant thanks to the rather vague nature of the man's reply. Lucas Bishop, according to his badge, was a real private investigator. She made a mental note of his badge number just so she could double check. "What sort of news?"
"The sort potentially sensitive enough to not want to deliver it on your doorstep. It's about why Angela may have been targeted. May we come in?" It was all too funny to Vanessa that she always had to play the polite cop when she was with Bishop. Then again, it seemed to work often enough.
A few moments passed while she considered it, then Gina stepped back and gestured the pair of investigators inside. She sat down on the couch only after the other two were already seated and tried to prepare herself for whatever was going to come next. "What's the news then?"
"I assume you knew your partner was a mutant." Bishop paused for a beat to see how the information landed, wanting to make sure his assumption was correct and it was. "We've found that it was the reason she was killed. I'm the only person to ever openly work at the department as a mutant; no one is more capable of looking into this." He offered, though knowing she likely stopped listening after he mentioned the killing.
"What do you mean that was why she was killed? She was...passing. Do you use that term?"
Vanessa figured Gina was a human if she was unsure about terminology. Maybe she just didn't have any other mutant friends, though. "Something like that. We think she was targeted because she was a mutant."
"How?"
"That is the question we don't think anyone is equipped to answer. We're going to see if we can." Bishop never guaranteed success, he wanted to inspire hope while still being realistic.
Gina shook her head. "Angela wasn't openly a mutant. Her friends knew but no one else. Was-" she stopped, clearly not wanting to vocalize the thought. "Was it someone she knew?"
* * *
"What do you mean he was a mutant?" Paul Wharton seemed to have trouble processing the information, as did his sister. "Dad wasn't a mutant." He looked to his sibling for help.
Lisa's hands turned upright in a gesture of surrender to whatever powers there may be. "I didn't know anything, Paul. He-he never told us?"
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Your father never mentioned he was a mutant to you?"
"Most don't." Bishop offered. "It's to protect their loved ones from social stigma, not because they're untrustworthy..." A moment's pause told him that explanation wasn't enough. "I don't talk about killing people in the line of duty because it forces people to judge me, for better or worse. Society requires it, and I don't want to force the people close to me to judge me."
"But we- we wouldn't've," Lisa floundered. "He's our dad." Her brother put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "You don't judge people like that if you love them."
"Some people do," Vanessa told her sadly. "Some people judge the people they love more harshly than they do others. Because they feel lied to by them."
* * *
"Nah, who cares if he lied to people?" Adam shrugged, remarkably laid back for a guy who had been the prime suspect in his friend's murder for some time. "I mean, he would've been kicked off the weightlifting team if people knew. Muties on the team's just...what if we got disqualified or something? They can like lift buses and shit, right?"
"I can." Bishop replied shortly after the use of the slur, aware people found him intimidating. "You've never knowingly met a mutant, have you?"
Adam thought the dude was kidding. Until he realized that the big ass black guy was so totally not kidding. "Uh...no. You can seriously lift a bus? See? That's totally fucking cheating on the team. You get why he'd be bounced."
Vanessa didn't think this was going to end well at all, but she just leaned against the wall, hand near her gun, and watched her partner. She was fairly certain she could pull Bishop off him if she had to, but the likelihood of the big man losing his cool to that degree was practically zero.
"I know why he'd get bounced, people like to make a 'normal' so they have things to hate. You're too inept to pull off a clean kill, clearly. We're looking for someone hateful, like you, but more capable." Bishop put the edge on his insult but subtly jabbing at Adam's self worth, seeing it was tied in to competition. When people got aggravated they often let things slip, and communities did form around a shared enemy. He might unknowingly have some information they could use.
Adam stood, looking half ready for a fight and half ready to tell them to get out. "You know what, man? Fuck you. I don't hate anyone just because I'm not gonna lose what's supposed to be a fair competition because some dude can lift a bus. There ain't a goddamn weight class for that so you can all make your own fucking competition, okay? And get outta my room. I'm done with you."
* * *
Mohit Choudhury's parents hadn't said much. Estranged from their son, this was the first they had heard of his murder. Anjali Choudhury had been crying since they had first informed her and her husband of their son's death. Vanessa had been wondering if they should just politely leave when she finally spoke. "It's our fault, Vinod."
"No, Anjali," he returned in a comforting voice. "It is not our fault. It is the fault of the man who decided Mohit did not deserve to live. That man, he is an animal."
Anjali shook her head, wiping tears away as she looked at the two investigators. "We told him to leave. We told him he could not be a mutant. Not in our house. Not in our family. We told him he could not stay and so he went to that city. I always thought that was where he went to." She shuddered and dissolved into sobbing again.
"You must understand, we were raised very traditional. Mohit was raised to be a good boy. And then he tells us he is this thing. We don't know how to handle this and so we tell him to get out. We had not spoken to him in years." At that Anjali's sobbing grew louder. "We thought, perhaps, we had the time to figure things out. You see? With time maybe one of us would change. Become...more enlightened. We asked Vishnu for help in this matter many times. But we..."
"We thought there was time to get Mohit back," his wife interrupted.
Vanessa nodded and brought a tissue to the woman. "Unfortunately no one's figured out how to stop being a mutant yet, though many have wished for it," she told them kindly. "And it can be hard to accept. Something different throws everyone. Most people don't react well."
* * *
Francesca Hoey was having none of it. "React well? This is slander!" She all but slammed down the glass in her hand. "How dare you accuse my Margaret of being a...a mutant." She said it as if it were the single most vile thing one could be.
"So, literally anyone you know that found out could have been bigoted enough to murder her over it, right?" Bishop's tone was bland and he scribbled in his notebook as he asked. Rich people like these preferred officers who wrote things down more, he had noticed, as if everything they said was so important and complex it warranted constant, intense attention.
The woman gasped, hand clasping the cloth over her chest and everything. "How dare you accuse- No. No, no one would hurt my Margaret. And never in the manner in which she was slain. My daughter was well-liked and well-respected. And she was not what you are accusing her of being, Mister Bishop."
Vanessa was not going to step in on this one. The woman reminded her a little too much of her own mother, though the motivations here was social standing rather than religion. She peered at her partner's notes and then glanced back at the woman, resolutely saying nothing.
"I suppose she couldn't have been a mutant, then. We're not well-liked or well-respected." Bishop flipped his notebook closed. "If you think of anything, call NYPD. They're legally required to respond." He turned and nodded to Vanessa, signaling he was finished.
Smirking just wasn't the way to go here. Particularly with the oh-so-respected Mrs. Hoey looking like a fish with her mouth flapping uselessly like that. Vanessa only nodded to the woman and said, "Good day, ma'am." As a final rib for her partner, though, Vanessa dropped her peach-colored mimic as she spoke. The woman looked only more impotently outraged at the sight of the blue woman who was now turning her back on the older woman to follow her partner.
As the well-to-do woman finally started to yell something about not spreading lies about her deceased child, Vanessa turned to Bishop and simply said, "I'm thinking Scotch?"
"I keep Bourbon. A bottle of Makers in my desk." Bishop offered with a smile.