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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Mar 26, 2017 17:40:05 GMT -8
Maeve's Family House
Small, secluded piece of farmland outside of McLean, Virginia, where Maeve's family moved to shortly after she and her sister's mutant powers surfaced.
Maeve's childhood bedroom
Master bedroom
Master bath
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Apr 8, 2017 17:32:52 GMT -8
Maeve soaked in the tub of the master bedroom as the soothing scent of lavender bath oils relaxed her. Though her body was relaxed, her mind would not rest. It had been a couple days since she'd made a new discovery about the Trask Industries building.
Maeve had gone into Stryker's office with papers for him to review and sign and as usual, there had been files and papers strewn across his desk. His organized chaos, as he referred to it, was to her benefit. She would glimpse pieces of information about Stryker's current interests, Trask Industries, and what the organization might be working on. Hardly much to go on with such short glimpses at only small pieces of puzzles but it was better than nothing.
A couple of days ago, however, she'd come across a big puzzle piece. As he distractedly reviewed what she'd brought him, her eyes wandered to a chunk of a blueprint peaking out from beneath some files. The footer was labeled as the Trask building. However, she did not recognize the area. She had familiarized herself with the building before she'd ever set foot in it and as Stryker's personal assistant, had accompanied him throughout most of it. This area, was completely unfamiliar.
Popping back to check it out after hours was pointless. By end of day, everything was cleared off his desk and locked back in the file safe behind the portrait. Eyes closed, Maeve brought up the memory of the blueprint again as she'd done many times the past several days. She remembered a large boxed area, a room of some sort, with a corridor on either side of it. The bottom footer with 'Holding Area', 'B5', and 'Trask Building' among smaller writing she couldn't read from the distance she'd stood. B5. Her mind concentrated on that. An area number? A floor? Basement. It had to stand for basement. Was it possible there were at least 5 secret basement levels to the building that she and most people did not know about? And what about 'Holding Area'? She'd assumed all mutants the company held prisoner were offsite but perhaps she was wrong.
After two days of this blueprint plaguing her thoughts, she couldn't ignore it any longer. It was causing her too much distraction which was starting to impede her concentration while she had her clone self at work. It could cause her to slip up, she convinced herself, as she got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel.
With determination, Maeve quickly dried off and put on her nightgown. She padded barefoot out of the master bedroom, still not able to get herself to think of it as anything but her parents' bedroom, and into her childhood bedroom. She laid down in her bed and closed her eyes. Maeve went into a meditative state, concentrating on the square room on the blueprint and carefully summoned the lowest, ghost-like astral projection of her clone-self to it.
***Maeve's clone in ghost form exits to Trask Industries***
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 13, 2018 17:16:38 GMT -8
***Maeve's sim being controlled from here disappears from New York - X-Mansion - Parlor Room***
The sights and sounds of the X-Mansion sitting room that dominated Maeve's senses via her sim faded away as she shut her simulated self down. Maeve's eyes opened. She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, the only sound her rushed breathing, completing her unfinished thought at the mansion by placing her hand over her still racing heart. Maeve sat up, resting her face in the palms of her hands as harsh realization continued to hit her.
'Shit. Dammit. Of all the foolish, idiotic...' she chastised. It was her own damned fault. She shouldn't have gone back there a second time. Or a third or fourth or fifth... Having someone to talk to after being alone so long had been like a drug. Foolishly thinking it a harmless diversion to converse with a person whose views went against her own and who was in a situation that gave her full control over when they would meet. She'd let it become a weekly ritual and somewhere along the way, despite their vastly different views and despite the things he'd done that were so against her moral compass, she'd fallen for him without realizing it.
Maeve rubbed her face and stared straight ahead, a look of resolution on her face. This would be a good thing, breaking him out of there. Remove the temptation. He'd go his way and she'd continue on her path on her own again. She wouldn't make this mistake again. In time, she'd forget about him. She ignored the doubt that accompanied that thought.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 14, 2018 18:18:09 GMT -8
Thursday, the day Charles and his crew meet Maeve and agree to help free Erik has come to an end.
Friday morning and afternoon pass and it is now around the time a normal work day ends.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 20, 2018 22:42:36 GMT -8
Moira shook another handful of candy into her open palm as she continued to stare out the windshield of her car. The Charbonneau residence lay peaceful and dormant in the northern Virginia countryside. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting to find here. Maybe her colleague was having better luck back in the city.
As if in answer to her thoughts, the CB radio beneath the dash crackled into life. “Tag, you there?”
She picked up the speaker with a huff and held down the reply button. “Don’t call me that," she snapped, "and yes, I’m here.”
“Sorry, Officer McTaggart,” he attempted again, “Are you currently at your surveillance post?”
“Yes, I am, Officer Wittman.”
“Good. You’re not eating in the car, are you?”
“No,” she insisted, around a mouthful of Reese’s Pieces.
“Actually, same here. The beauty of stakeouts -- stale coffee, cheap takeout, and unlimited snacks.”
“I take it no sign of our subject?” Moira asked.
“Not yet,” Wittman answered. “But you know how traffic is on a Friday. Where are you?”
“Parked outside the family home. Thought I’d canvass the neighborhood, check the place for signs of life.”
“Anything helpful?”
“They were a perfectly lovely family, according to everyone here," she replied. "But after the parents died, the girls kept to themselves. And now that the sister, Ivette, went missing, it seems even more isolated.”
“Well, the loss of her sister must have hit Maeve real hard. She could probably use someone to talk to. Maybe I’ll ask her out to dinner. I know this great Vietnamese place in Arlington.”
“Ugh, the one that serves the fish whole? That’s disgusting.”
“She’s French. I’m sure she’s eaten more disgusting things than that.”
“That’s definitely the line you should lead with.”
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 21, 2018 16:51:35 GMT -8
***Maeve disconnects her sim from her apartment***
Maeve opened her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, mirroring what she'd done through her sim only moments ago. It was Friday, the start of the weekend which normally meant a few chores around the house but mostly the time to laze about and relax in preparation for the work week to begin all over again on Monday.
But that was never the case for Maeve. All her free time was normally spent on her search for Ivette. A quiet weekend of isolation and research on where her sister might have disappeared to. This weekend was going to be different. Chaotic. Research of a different kind with a group of relative strangers in a foreign place all leading up to breaking someone out of Trask Industries.
If she thought today, her first full day working as the assistant to the Leader of the Purifiers had been hell, she didn't even want to think about what Monday would be like. Tensions had been high. Distrust rampant. She couldn't even imagine what it would spiral into come Monday.
Maeve sat up and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself to just stop thinking about it and take things one day at a time. They needed to get started. The sooner she could get back to the mansion, the better. Lips set in a determined line, Maeve got to her feet to take care of a few things here before disappearing for most of the weekend.
Slipping on her shoes by the front door, she unlocked it and headed for her mailbox. It was a good distance away as far as mailboxes went, at the edge of the property by the road, but she preferred that to the mail carrier, or anyone for that matter, coming to her front door.
The hinges of the old mailbox squeaked in protest. Maeve retrieved the mail and started to flip through it, pausing when the sensation of being watched again creeped up on her. She turned, looking down the road one way, then the other, freezing when the setting sun glinted off metal. There was a car. The way the light hit the windshield, it was impossible to see if someone was inside. The farmhouses were few and far between and there was nothing much else out here. Not many cars traveled this road. Certainly none of them stopped anywhere near her home.
Maeve felt a stab of panic in her gut. Had they already dug deep enough to track down her family home? And sent someone to watch it? With thoughts of all the time spent, all the years going to waste, anger was starting to override her panic. She snapped her mailbox shut and started to take angry strides back to her home, on alert and ready to teleport the hell out with any sign of danger.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 22, 2018 0:09:22 GMT -8
Moira stifled a yawn as she waited for an update. Miss Charbonneau seemed to be a creature of habit, so she should be arriving home to her apartment around the same time as she did every day, give or take a few minutes of traffic congestion. Moira only hoped her partner in this off-the-books venture was as reliable.
"Subject sighted," the radio crackled with Wittman's voice. "She's going into the apartment now. Do you want me to do a knock and talk?"
"Watch and wait," Moira instructed. "I don't need your brand of knock and talk right now."
"That's not what you said in Vienna...."
She glared at the radio as if it had a face. "Maintain your position, and tell me if she leaves the apartment again."
"Copy that."
She swore she could see his smug grin over the radio. So now it would be a waiting game. Heaving a sigh, she fell back against the car seat and continued to stare out the windshield. Trees and more trees and grass and clouds. But then her eye caught a flash of movement among the trees. A person walking up the driveway from the farmhouse, a woman nearing the mailbox and checking inside. A woman who looked a lot like the one who had supposedly just arrived home from work to an apartment in the city.
"It can't be," Moira gasped, grabbing her binoculars to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. No, it was definitely Maeve Charbonneau. The same Maeve that was currently in a McLean apartment. "Wittman, are you there?" she barked, grasping at the radio.
"Yeah, boss."
"You're absolutely sure Maeve went into her apartment? And she's still there?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because she's here!"
"What are you talking about? I just saw her go in."
"I'm telling you, she's right here!"
"That's not possible."
"Yeah, I know." Moira didn't wait for a reply, or for Maeve to repeat whatever sort of magic trick had taken her several miles in a matter of minutes. She threw the car into drive and raced down the road and into the driveway, turning just ahead of the woman in order to block her path before coming to a stop.
She let the dust settle a bit before rolling down her window and addressing the stranger with a warm smile and a displayed badge. "Miss Charbonneau? Sorry to bother you at home. I'm Officer Moira McTaggart with the CIA," she explained. "We need to talk about your new boss."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 22, 2018 22:20:37 GMT -8
Maeve's pulse kicked up when she heard the car's engine come to life followed by gravel being kicked up as it took off at a quick pace. She resisted the urge to run and most especially, to teleport. The first would make her seem guilty of something and the latter would instantly out what she was when there was still a possibility of getting out of whatever was going on.
There was also the possibility that she was overreacting and that the car would pass her drive and keep heading down the road. 'Damn,' she thought when she heard it turn down her drive. Maeve kept walking but looked behind her with a very unwelcoming glare, making sure whoever it was wasn't intending to run her down.
The car came around her and blocked her path. Maeve frowned, her glare now shooting daggers through the cloud of dust and car window that finally began to roll down.
"Miss Charbonneau? Sorry to bother you at home. I'm Officer Moira McTaggart with the CIA," "We need to talk about your new boss."
Maeve leaned down, studying the woman then looking the badge over. Her smile was friendly and she seemed non-threatening. She was government, which definitely brought complications with it, but on the plus side, not someone sent by her boss. The hard edges of her expression softened ever so slightly from death glare to major annoyance. She gave a curt nod toward the water where that side of the house couldn't be seen by the road. "Park around the side of the house. Wait at the back door."
Her clipped orders given, Maeve walked around the car and continued back to her house in long, angry strides, her mind working overtime to try to figure out what the hell was going on now. "Merde," she muttered under her breath. The CIA? What in the hell did they want with her new boss and why the hell was she being dragged into it?
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 23, 2018 21:49:52 GMT -8
"Park around the side of the house. Wait at the back door."
"Thanks," Moira replied, as a surly Miss Charbonneau continued on her way down the drive. "That went well," she muttered to herself as she shifted the car into gear again and proceeded to the suggested parking spot. Moira could tell already that her visit was unwelcome. The intensity displayed in press and surveillance photos of the woman were nothing compared to seeing her in person. But now not only did Moira need to know more about Maeve's role at Trask, she needed to know how in the world the woman could be in two places at once.
She cut the engine and retrieved her purse and a file folder from the passenger seat. Mentally mapping out the conversation as she waited for the door to be opened. Was she still loyal to Stryker, or had she been a part of replacing him? If so, was she a follower of Sommerhaulder and his anti-mutant movement? Was her being in two places at once a strong indication that Maeve herself was a mutant? All the questions racing through her head with very little time to make sense of them.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 24, 2018 20:21:50 GMT -8
Like her surprise visitor, Maeve was mentally going over all the possible scenarios and questioning that might come her way. Unlike her visitor, Maeve had nearly two years of prepping, and judging by the fact that this officer had expressed interest in her new boss, it was most likely she'd only been gathering intel on her for a couple days. Still though, in that very short time, the agent had gone beyond digging up her primary address to digging deeper and finding that she was a beneficiary to the family estate vested under a trust.
Why had she come here to look for her? Why not her apartment? Unless she'd come here to snoop around and hadn't expected anyone to be home. The possibilities were too endless with so little to go on. Maeve already had plenty to worry about with her shrewd, distrusting boss digging into the lives of the employees he'd just taken control of, hence Maeve's order for the agent to park where her car wouldn't be seen.
As soon as Maeve stepped into the privacy of her home, she teleported herself upstairs then sent her sim to open the back door. "Officer McTaggart," she said, her tone stern and businesslike as she stepped aside to let the woman pass. She was making it clear and obvious that she didn't care for unannounced intrusions but was holding in the sense of urgency over having someplace she really needed to be. Maeve took a quick scan of the road and area visible from her back door before closing it.
"It's true that obtaining a meeting with the Head of Trask is difficult," Maeve began as she took a seat at the head of the kitchen table and gestured to the seat beside her, "but this is a bit excessive," Maeve said dryly. "The government is Trask Industry's biggest source of income. A simple call into the office would have gotten you a meeting."
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 25, 2018 23:39:32 GMT -8
"Officer McTaggart,"
"Thank you," Moira beamed, moving past Maeve and into the house. "I promise I won't take up too much of your time. This is a beautiful home." She looked around in sincere awe that there could be such a scenic retreat so close to the madness of DC. It was certainly nicer than the small square in Alexandria that she called home. But once she noticed Maeve take a seat at the table, she decided it was best to follow her hostess' lead.
"It's true that obtaining a meeting with the Head of Trask is difficult, but this is a bit excessive. The government is Trask Industry's biggest source of income. A simple call into the office would have gotten you a meeting."
"Well, I appreciate that, but the truth is that I needed a meeting with you," Moira admitted. Honest and direct, attempting to mirror the manners of the ice queen across from her. "Obviously, the Agency is very grateful for its long and productive relationship with Trask. But we don't like surprises. For all his faults, William Stryker was a known quantity, but this Roderick Sommerhaulder...we have concerns.
"How are you feeling about the change in management?" she inquired, careful to listen to Maeve's response in words as well as body language. There was no indication that Maeve was one of the Purifier devotees, but anything was possible. Or she could be just as suspicious of her new boss as Moira was.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 27, 2018 19:11:11 GMT -8
"Well, I appreciate that, but the truth is that I needed a meeting with you,"
The lifting of Maeve's eyebrows was the only change in her demeanor. She wasn't worried, had no reason to be in her mind. She'd already figured this visit was mostly due to her new boss, just as Officer McTaggart had claimed upon arrival. Maeve herself had done nothing to peak the interest of anyone. A look into her life was uneventful. Work then home. Model neighbor, quiet and private. Bills paid. Taxes timely filed.
"Obviously, the Agency is very grateful for its long and productive relationship with Trask. But we don't like surprises. For all his faults, William Stryker was a known quantity, but this Roderick Sommerhaulder...we have concerns.
"How are you feeling about the change in management?"
A slight frown touched her lips. Damn this new boss. His two days in charge were causing her more complications and headaches than she'd gone through in the years before him, combined.
Maeve easily passed the reason for the frown off onto the question. She sat forward, lacing her fingers on the table. "I don't think I need to tell you how difficult it is for a woman in the workplace, Officer McTaggart. If a woman is lucky enough to obtaining a decent, good paying position, she holds onto it by putting feelings aside." Her usual 'working for the paycheck' story delivered, Maeve offered her impartial insight in hopes it would move things along. "Mr. Sommerhaulder is running a very tight ship, attacking the faults and slip-ups of his predecessor head-on. As far as I can tell, the Agency can rest easy. Assuming your concerns are of the quality and efficiency of Trask Industries fulfilling contracts."
Wanting to avoid stumbling into any more trouble than she needed to, Maeve left it open there. Whatever McTaggart was fishing for, she'd have to bait the hook with something more specific to the game she was trying to catch.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 28, 2018 0:55:58 GMT -8
"I don't think I need to tell you how difficult it is for a woman in the workplace, Officer McTaggart. If a woman is lucky enough to obtain a decent, good paying position, she holds onto it by putting feelings aside."
Moira caught herself smiling and nodding at Maeve's assertion. True enough, she'd had to set her own feelings aside in order to maintain equal standing and to be taken seriously. In her initial assessment, it was looking less likely that Miss Charbonneau had contributed to Sommerhaulder's hostile takeover of her employer. However, she seemed equally indifferent to the loss of Stryker. Perhaps it was just a job. But if she were to count on Maeve's help in gathering intel, she needed to find a weakness in this woman's armor, to somehow appeal to those pesky feelings.
"Mr. Sommerhaulder is running a very tight ship, attacking the faults and slip-ups of his predecessor head-on. As far as I can tell, the Agency can rest easy. Assuming your concerns are of the quality and efficiency of Trask Industries fulfilling contracts."
"It's not about government contracts," Moira countered. Maeve was clearly adept at corporate speak -- telling clients what they wanted to hear while dancing deftly around the truth. She wondered if Maeve could rest easy knowing what sort of man her new employer really was. The quality and efficiency with which he was carrying out his religious crusade. "Tell me, are you familiar with Mr. Sommerhaulder's prior business experience?" she asked. "Did Mr. Stryker ever talk about him, about their time in the service together?"
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 28, 2018 13:44:37 GMT -8
"Tell me, are you familiar with Mr. Sommerhaulder's prior business experience?"
Maeve's lip twitched with the slightest hint of disgust. "Well, I wouldn't classify The Purifiers as a business." 'More like a socially acceptable collection of genocidal sociopaths.'
"Did Mr. Stryker ever talk about him, about their time in the service together?"
"I maintain a strictly professional relationship with all coworkers so no, we never talked anything but business. However, due to the classified nature of Trask Industries, it's part of my job to look into people who will be stepping foot onto one of Trask's properties. That is how I knew they'd served together. Stryker only had me set up one or two appointments with Mr. Sommerhaulder. They were off the clock and off the books. I assumed Stryker was merely catching up with an old acquaintance and showing off his accomplishments."
Maeve sat back, eying the Officer and mulling over revealing more of her personal thoughts and feelings on the matter. There was something honest and trustworthy about her, despite the fact that she wasn't telling Maeve the whole truth of her interest. 'It's not about government contracts. No, indeed it wasn't. Officer McTaggart's interests seemed to specifically be in Mr. Sommerhaulder himself, not how business was going under him at Trask. "Trask Industries mainly contracts with military branches of the government. We do not currently, nor have we ever, had a contract with the CIA." Maeve leaned forward again, pinning the woman with a sharp eye. "Why the interest in my new boss? Why track me all the way to my private family home? What's your endgame, Officer McTaggart?"
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 28, 2018 20:00:47 GMT -8
"Why the interest in my new boss? Why track me all the way to my private family home? What's your endgame, Officer McTaggart?"
"My end game, Miss Charbonneau, is stopping a domestic terrorist," Moira stated plainly. So Maeve knew about Sommerhaulder's connection to the Purifiers, but she probably didn't know how deep or how dangerous it was. Very few people did. Neither the government nor the media seemed to find it beneficial to know the whole truth.
Moira opened the folder that she had brought and began placing photos on the table in front of Maeve -- undeniable evidence in black and white of what the Purifiers could and would do. "These are just a few examples of the Purifiers' handiwork," she explained. "A church in Decatur, Georgia, vandalized for performing a wedding ceremony between two mutants. An apartment building burned down for supposedly sheltering mutants. A school bus full of mutant children on a field trip who are only alive today because of an incompetent bombmaker. I could go to jail for even showing you these, so I hope you understand how big of a risk I'm taking."
Moira studied the woman across the table for any sign of sympathy or agreement. "I'm not a religious woman, Miss Charbonneau; I don't claim to know what God does or doesn't want. But I damn sure didn't put my life on the line all over this world to let people like Roderick Sommerhaulder crucify and condemn my fellow Americans just because of their genetic code," she declared.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 29, 2018 22:58:09 GMT -8
Maeve's jaw tightened in anger with each picture that turned over. She'd heard their rants and had heard of some of the things they'd done. But there was so much more. So much worse. Of course it wasn't shared by the media. Most humans turned a blind eye, fear of the different, the unknown, being fueled by the Purifiers as they twist the gifts of evolution into terrifying scenarios, painting mutants as villains who will abuse their gifts for their own benefits.
"I'm not a religious woman, Miss Charbonneau; I don't claim to know what God does or doesn't want. But I damn sure didn't put my life on the line all over this world to let people like Roderick Sommerhaulder crucify and condemn my fellow Americans just because of their genetic code,"
Maeve's eyes were still on the picture of the mutant children, fear on their little faces as they were being hurriedly escorted off a school bus. The woman's words broke down Maeve's wall. "I haven't heard a human speak with such conviction on behalf of mutantkind since my parents," she said softly. Maeve looked back at the woman, a fond smile on her face but sadness in her eyes.
She looked at the pictures again as she quietly considered. Maeve had been carrying the burden of fighting on her own for so long. She was exhausted, overwhelmed, and now with the Purifiers having infiltrated Trask, she felt as if she was fighting a losing battle, sinking and suffocating under the weight of their power with nobody to throw her a lifeline if things went wrong. Giving over to the idea of having someone with the backing of the CIA on her side gave her the sense of emerging from the quicksand, finding level ground to fight on again. "I'd like to help, Officer McTaggart. That monster and Trask industries is a scary combination. The problem is, I'm trying to keep him from finding out about the risks I've already taken," she confessed, hinting at the fact that she herself already had her own hidden agenda.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Oct 30, 2018 17:55:43 GMT -8
"I'd like to help, Officer McTaggart. That monster and Trask industries is a scary combination. The problem is, I'm trying to keep him from finding out about the risks I've already taken."
"You mean like him finding out that you are a mutant?" Moira asked. "A colleague of mine was monitoring your apartment in McLean. He saw you arrive home and go in. And minutes later, I saw you checking that mailbox," she explained, pointing toward the road. "Bilocation? That's gotta' be a handy skill. To be honest, I'm a little jealous."
Moira's warm smile and detour into humor then veered back into serious territory again. "Your parents were right to want to protect you, and anyone like you. You shouldn't have to be afraid to be who you are. Especially if your powers aren't a threat to anyone," she said. "I mean, if you've read Professor Xavier's work on mutation, people like you are just a higher rung on the evolutionary ladder. But not inherently dangerous, by any means."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 4, 2018 16:55:31 GMT -8
"You mean like him finding out that you are a mutant?" "A colleague of mine was monitoring your apartment in McLean. He saw you arrive home and go in. And minutes later, I saw you checking that mailbox,"
Maeve was prepared for the possibility of someone figuring it out and had worked out different scenarios in her mind of how to talk her way into convincing them they'd figured wrong. What threw her now was the fact that Officer McTaggart had known this whole time but hadn't used it against her, despite the fact that this information could have been dealt as a blackmail card.
"Bilocation? That's gotta' be a handy skill. To be honest, I'm a little jealous."
There was no trace of the intent of malice with what she knew. No sign of fear or disgust or distrust over the fact she was a mutant. Maeve's demeanor relaxed, her stern features softening to meet the woman's smile.
"Your parents were right to want to protect you, and anyone like you. You shouldn't have to be afraid to be who you are. Especially if your powers aren't a threat to anyone," "I mean, if you've read Professor Xavier's work on mutation, people like you are just a higher rung on the evolutionary ladder. But not inherently dangerous, by any means."
Officer McTaggart had the same stance on mutants that her parents had held and had instilled in their daughters. It was also an interesting coincidence that she knew of Professor Xavier. Maeve hadn't been aware of who he was before Erik had told her about him. "My parents used to tell us that same thing." Maeve paraphrased their words. "Anyone could be dangerous, mutant or not. Everyone has something they excel at or can find themselves in a position that gives them power that can affect others. What's important is to not abuse what you have over others."
Side tangent aside, the real reason for the comment she'd made came back to her. Maeve frowned again. "But being found out to be a mutant on Trask Industries payroll wasn't the risk I was referring to. It's those slip-ups; the few mutants who'd escaped from Trask facilities. It's harder and harder to make it look like faulty equipment or incompetent staff at the facilities. Sommerhaulder is taking a very close look into things that have happened and into the existing staff." Maeve's brows furrowed with her already existing trepidation that she was already putting everything on the line. Erik would be the first and last person she would be able to help under Sommerhaulder. She couldn't take any more risks after that. Not until she found Ivette. "I'd like to help, but it's very important I don't lose that job, Officer McTaggart."
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Nov 7, 2018 16:00:56 GMT -8
"But being found out to be a mutant on Trask Industries payroll wasn't the risk I was referring to. It's those slip-ups; the few mutants who'd escaped from Trask facilities. It's harder and harder to make it look like faulty equipment or incompetent staff at the facilities. Sommerhaulder is taking a very close look into things that have happened and into the existing staff. I'd like to help, but it's very important I don't lose that job, Officer McTaggart."
“Believe me, the Agency wants you to keep your job as well," Moira assured her. True, it wasn't technically the Agency that wanted it. And Maeve herself had admitted to undermining Trask in the past. A little corporate espionage wouldn't be completely out of the question. Moira felt she had the beginnings of a positive relationship with this asset, a mutant hiding in plain sight behind enemy lines. She didn't doubt Maeve's compassion or conviction. But she doubted this brief period of bonding would be enough to persuade Maeve to act merely on Moira's hunch.
"Miss Charbonneau, I'm asking you to take one more risk. With me," Moira added, leaning forward to punctuate her words. Because failure might not just mean the two women losing their jobs, but possibly more dire consequences for Maeve if her boss decided she was no longer useful. "Sommerhaulder’s prints aren’t on these attacks, he’s too smart for that," Moira continued.
"I need to find some connection between him and the Purifier extremists. Money, supplies, a list of targets. If you can get me access to his computer, his private files, I'm hoping I can find a tangible link between his orders and their actions. If we can find enough evidence to charge him with material support of a terrorist group, we can put him away for a very long time."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 10, 2018 17:24:12 GMT -8
The wheels in Maeve's mind kicked into full gear as an idea began to form. Two birds, one stone, and she wouldn't directly have to be involved. They would already be gaining access tonight. It would be the perfect opportunity for someone else to slip in with their own agenda.
"I have an idea," Maeve said, scooting to the edge of her seat. Her posture and tone added to the confidence on her face. "I could get you access into the Trask building. Tonight. I just need to get the details ironed out." Maeve was purposefully keeping it at 'I' rather than 'we' in order to avoid any unnecessary information getting out, even to someone she felt she could trust. The less anyone outside of the rescue team knew, the easier it would be for them to maintain their anonymity and avoid culpability. "Do you have a number where I could contact you once I get it all worked out?"
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Nov 10, 2018 20:54:40 GMT -8
"I have an idea. I could get you access into the Trask building. Tonight. I just need to get the details ironed out...Do you have a number where I could contact you once I get it all worked out?"
Moira sat in stunned silence for a moment. Obviously, she had hoped that Maeve would eventually agree to help her but she was also prepared to play whatever persuasive cards she had left. "Um, yes, of course!" she stammered, digging through her purse for a pen and paper. "This is my number at home. Just let me know when to meet you at Trask, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Moira began a mental checklist of any equipment she might need for the impromptu breaking and entering. "And let me add, I don't expect you to do this pro bono," she said. "If you help build my case against Roderick Sommerhaulder, and it certainly sounds like you can, I'll do whatever I can to help find your sister Ivette. Not promising anything," she added, "but the CIA has abundant resources in finding people. It's kinda' what we do."
Moira found herself offering the carrot and completely neglecting the stick in this negotiation. But to be fair, it was clear that Maeve wasn't involved in placing Sommerhaulder at the head of Trask Industries; she was equally unhappy and endangered by the move. And Maeve had quickly agreed to cooperate with Moira's investigation with little resistance. Until proven otherwise, she preferred to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and consider her an ally, a trustworthy accomplice in a not entirely government-sanctioned operation.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 17, 2018 13:08:03 GMT -8
"Um, yes, of course!" "This is my number at home. Just let me know when to meet you at Trask, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Perfect," Maeve said, folding the paper in half and tucking it into her pocket. "As soon as I've got it all worked out, I'll call you."
"And let me add, I don't expect you to do this pro bono," "If you help build my case against Roderick Sommerhaulder, and it certainly sounds like you can, I'll do whatever I can to help find your sister Ivette. Not promising anything," "but the CIA has abundant resources in finding people. It's kinda' what we do."
Maeve had been half listening, half mentally working out details until the mention of her sister. Her full attention was back on McTaggart. The woman had been thorough, digging enough to make the realization that her sister was missing. Whether or not she was connecting the loss to Trask or merely offering help with finding a missing person as repayment, Maeve wasn't entirely sure. It didn't matter. Not only did McTaggart seem a genuine mutant sympathizer but she'd hit the nail of Maeve's hesitation square on the head. All that mattered was finding her sister and with the offer of the abundant resources at her disposal to assist in the search, Maeve felt her dwindling spark of hope come fully to life again. In a rare moment, her features softened back to its old self. The swell of emotion at the thought of having her sister in her life again was almost enough to make her cry. Maeve looked off to the side, feigning consideration as she blinked back the sting at the back of her eyes.
Composed and regaining control of her emotions, Maeve pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "You've got yourself a deal, Officer McTaggart," she said, holding out her hand.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Nov 17, 2018 17:40:07 GMT -8
"You've got yourself a deal, Officer McTaggart."
Moira took the gesture as a way of saying this meeting was adjourned. Which was just as well since she had a lot to do in a short space of time. "Thank you, Miss Charbonneau," she said, returning the handshake. Then she gathered the photos scattered across the table and placed them back in the file. "I imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could go. But I'm really glad that we can help one another."
Moira offered Maeve one last sincere smile before heading for the door. "So will you be meeting me at Trask, or your double, or...?" she wondered aloud. "Nevermind, I'll never be able to wrap my mind around it. But I will be there. Thank you again." She exited through the screen door and let it close behind her, returning to her car and starting up the engine.
*** Moira exits to elsewhere ***
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 18, 2018 17:14:33 GMT -8
"Thank you, Miss Charbonneau," "I imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could go. But I'm really glad that we can help one another."
"Me, too," Maeve said on both accounts. Though all of Maeve's imaginings upon a stranger's arrival had conjured nothing but bad scenarios. Instead, she was feeling the effects of relief and a twinge of optimism for her future.
"So will you be meeting me at Trask, or your double, or...?"
Maeve merely gave a secret, coy smile. She'd given away enough for now.
"Nevermind, I'll never be able to wrap my mind around it. But I will be there. Thank you again."
"You'll hear from me soon," she promised.
Maeve shut and bolted the back door. She turned and leaned back against it, closing her eyes. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her task for tonight had just doubled but she was confident in her ability to pull off the two assignments at once, neither party knowing of the other. She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. Time was ticking away. She'd just unexpectedly used up some of that precious time but she felt it would be worth it in the end.
Pushing herself off the door, Maeve hurried upstairs for a quick change then to the coffee table in the family room. She folded up her copied rough sketch of the Trask blueprint and tucked it and another couple items into her pockets, the only way she'd learned to make small things teleport with her, and vanished.
***Maeve exits to New York - X-Mansion - Front Yard and Front Door***
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Mar 16, 2019 17:29:20 GMT -8
A couple hours have passed.
Charles, Jean, Logan, Maeve, and Peter had finished plans for breaking Erik out of Trask Industries.
Maeve has left a van from the cleaning company at the arranged landing spot with uniforms inside, ready and waiting for the rest of the team who'll be arrival shortly.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jun 23, 2019 23:47:46 GMT -8
***Maeve enters from X-Jet***
Maeve teleported from the jet to her bedroom. She lay down in her bed, the quick motion making her wince at the twinge still in her abdomen. There would be time later to look into that. Right now, she needed to be somewhere else. Maeve closed her eyes and relaxed, sending her Sim in invisible mode to watch from the tree line near the jet.
She watched through her Sim, catching the group ascend the last part of the gangway. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Erik and she watched him until he disappeared inside, the gangway lifting and locking close behind. Maeve waited but several more minutes went by without the sound of the engines coming to life. What were they doing, she wondered? It was tempting to pop in but she didn't dare. It was hard enough leaving last time. She wasn't sure she'd be able to walk away again. Maeve had been on her own long enough to have become fairly numb to loneliness. Her Saturdays with Erik then these past couple of days working with Charles and his group had reminded her what she was missing. Now here she was, right back at the starting point of a rough and painful road. How long would it take this time to find that numbness again? She had nobody to blame but herself.
Finally, the engines came to life and Maeve watched it disappear from sight. She took another cautious look around before allowing her Sim to materialize in the seat of the van. Maeve made quick work of returning the van, careful to not leave any evidence and keeping her head low beneath a hat on the short drive. Once the van was parked back in its spot as if it had never left, she disconnected and her sim vanished from the seat.
Maeve opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. Already her mind started to veer toward the people on the jet. Annoyed, she quickly sat up and winced once again, her hand going to her abdomen as the twinge distracted her from her previous thoughts. 'At least there's one good thing about this new problem,' she thought dryly.
Making her way to the bathroom, Maeve lifted the hem of her top to assess what was going on and found a quarter-sized bruise, the darkest spot in the center the size of a bullet with the coloring growing lighter as is flaired away from the main point. The black and blue of it stood out in contrast to her porcelain skin making it appear worse than it was. It didn't hurt overly much, just as a bad bruise would. A hell of a lot less than if she'd actually been shot. It was more the surprise it always gave her when she did something that caused it to twinge. "Merde," she muttered as she yanked her top back into place. As with any bruise, she'd soon be accustomed and ignore it until it faded away. Maeve teleported downstairs, pouring herself a bit of brandy, quickly throwing back the shot as she pondered this new development.
Her sim had obtained injuries in the past. She'd always felt the full effect of them as if they were happening to her actual self, however, she'd never bore evidence of them on her actual person. But those had been minor cuts and scrapes obtained from kids being kids. It was a real blow to her confidence in her security, learning she wasn't invincible to what happened to her sim but for the pain. She now had something besides being discovered to be a mutant to worry about.
Deciding against a second drink, Maeve placed the glass down and popped upstairs to start up a bath. As the tub filled, she discarded her clothes and pinned up her hair, frowning as her eyes constantly went to the bruise that stood out.
Turning her back to the mirror, Maeve shut off the faucet and lowered herself into the steaming, soothingly scented water and laid back with a sigh. The shot of brandy had begun the process of relaxation but it was always a good soak that healed her mind, body, and soul. She felt herself start to drift off and welcomed it. A little nap in the soothing water would do her some good. Or so she'd hoped. Her traitorous emotions took over in her vulnerable state and with memories of her times with Erik, Jean's sweet nature, Peter's snark, Logan's amusing gruffness, Charles' comforting aura, and the offer of becoming a part of them all jumbling together in her mind, Maeve was not finding peace.
With a small growl of annoyance, Maeve stepped from the tub and yanked the stopper free. She quickly dried off and released her hair from the pins, then changed into some clothes, heading back downstairs in search of another distraction. Grabbing a few cubes of ice and the hand towel on the counter, she created a makeshift ice pack and lifted the hem of her top to place it against the bruise. She wanted to check in with Moira but out of respect, didn't want to pop in again unannounced. It was amusing to do so on ocassion but not twice in one day and besides, Maeve wasn't in much of an amusing mood at the moment.
Maeve wandered to her kitchen table to retrieve the business card, then to the phone on the kitchen wall. She quickly dialed Moira's office number and leaned against the counter. It was late, but she hoped Moira had returned to her office after the Trask chaos.
To Maeve's relief, the line was answered. "Available for a last minute meeting?" she asked, keeping it cryptic due to her distrust of phone privacy.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Jun 24, 2019 16:17:42 GMT -8
(via phone)
"Oh, of course! I, uh, I have to pull together a brief for the director so I'll be here working overtime for a bit."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jul 6, 2019 10:49:50 GMT -8
Maeve glanced at her clock. Working on a brief at this hour? Of course Moira may have only been saying that for the benefit of keeping the phone conversation normal. Most likely she was pouring over whatever she'd dug up at Trask. "And I thought my boss was tough," she joked, making light of working for a genocidal psychopath. "See you in a few."
Maeve hung up the phone and pulled the ice pack away to assess for the dozenth time. It felt much better, looked much worse than it felt. The ice was helping. She wandered to the living room and tossed all but one of the throw pillows onto a chair, then settled herself comfortably on the couch, pulling her long, dark hair over to one side and positioning the pillow comfortably beneath her head. Makeshift ice pack settled back into place, Maeve closed her eyes and sent out her sim.
*Maeve's sim goes out to Virginia, Langley - CIA Headquarters*
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Sept 1, 2019 22:33:12 GMT -8
*Maeve disconnects her sim from Virginia, Langley - CIA Headquarters*
After disconnecting her sim, the feel of Moira's office faded away and her actual surroundings came back into focus, filling her senses. After the crazy week filled with a whirlwind of activity, people, interactions, and an adrenaline filled double raid, the silence and emptiness made her feel as if she'd fallen into an empty void. She usually liked peace and quiet but wasn't finding it enjoyable at this moment. It was allowing her mind to run overtime, making thoughts, memories, and emotions so vivid, so loud in the big, empty house. Finding rest and relaxation in this state was impossible.
Maeve got to her feet and padded to the radio. Music softly filled the room and she let the lyrics override her mind. It helped, but only a little. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a good while. She wandered to the kitchen and scrounged around, noting that in all her busyness, she hadn't made it to the market in awhile. There wasn't much to choose from. She could go pick something up the old fashioned way by car or her preferred way of popping into the vicinity of wherever she felt like eating. Anywhere in the world, time difference being her only limit.
But Maeve wasn't feeling much like going anywhere, so she decided between two leftovers from earlier in the week, her hand automatically going for the one from the little café her father had taken her mother to on their first date in France.
As it warmed in the microwave, the memory of her parents regaling the story of meeting and the first date to their daughters played in her mind. It always warmed her heart to see how her parents gazed lovingly at each other. How could a little girl not see that and daydream about a day she'd have that, too?
The microwave chimed, bringing her back to the present. Maeve felt the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips and frowned at herself. All that naïve daydreaming in her youth had given her a false sense of reality. She'd learned since then that what her parents had had was something rare that most people could only dream about.
Distracted by nostalgic thoughts along with new memories of her Saturdays with Erik and her short time with Charles and his people, she hadn't realized that she'd finished off her dinner until her fork came up empty. Grumbling with annoyance, she let it fall with a clang to the plate, then carried them to the sink where she worked out some of her annoyance with a scrubber. Why was she suddenly being plagued by nostalgia? She'd had a strong wall built up around her that had been keeping out the memories and emotions of the past. She'd been doing just fine on her own, locking others out, concentrating on finding her sister.
She'd been doing just fine until she'd stumbled upon Erik in the depths of Trask. It was his fault, she told herself, as his face and memories of her visits with him haunted her thoughts for the hundredth time. It was his fault that she'd met the others. His fault that she'd kept going back.
Perhaps she could convince herself the rest was his fault but the last one, that was all on her and by that logic, she had nobody to blame but herself as everything had branched off her weakness of going back.
Drying her hands, Maeve surrendered and gave in to nostalgia. She wandered to a little corner of the house she usually avoided, memories there particularly strong. Turning the corner into the other room, she paused and stared at the piano, the photos on it a blur from this distance. Slowly, she pushed herself forward. Maeve let her fingers gently run along the piano cover, averting her gaze from the photos still.
Some of their happiest memories were around this piano, as witnessed by the photo front and center. Maeve picked it up as she settled herself on the piano bench. Memories of her father playing, her mother standing beside the piano and accompanying him with her voice as she and her sister sat on either side of her father washed over her. She and her sister had done their best to contribute, singing along at times but mostly content to just enjoy the show. Her eyes shifted to her own young, smiling face, so full of joy. She felt as if she was looking at a stranger. Some long forgotten acquaintance from the past.
Maeve returned the picture to its spot as her eyes scanned the two on either side of it; one of herself at the piano with her father and the other of her sister. She hadn't quite picked up the piano as well as her sister had, only managing to put to memory a couple songs by shear repetition, nothing fancy, no chords, just the songs at their most base form.
Her hands rested on the side of the piano cover but she couldn't get herself to lift it. Feeling raw and vulnerable, she'd already pushed herself too far and it was as if that one simple act would be the finishing blow to her fractured walls. Resolved to toughen herself back up and rebuild that wall, Maeve pushed to her feet and put the distance back between herself and nostalgia. It would get easier with each day, she told herself. Maeve settled herself back on the couch and lay on her side, staring at the empty fireplace, fruitlessly hoping to drift off so that she could get this day behind her.
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Post by DarkSideCookie on Sept 14, 2019 16:30:07 GMT -8
*** Erik enters from New York - X-Mansion via X-Jet ***
Once he was on terra firma again, Erik exhaled that breath that his lungs seemed to have held for a perceived eternity; maybe even for the whole while of his imprisonment. It was also just now that he truly realized that he was a free man now. All thanks to a woman who, in the end, had decided to lock herself up although she had been told to call on Charles' help. So, if she wasn't coming out, he had to step inside. Erik's head turned upwards one last time, watching Hank waving him farewell before making a u-turn with the jet. Then another breathing out, and finally a walk towards the address Charles had given him. It was not that he was actually nervous about meeting Maeve in person, without cold cell doors and cameras around at that, well, maybe a little bit, but also was it gradually dawning on him that he was taking steps into an unknown future. He actually had renounced emotions like this a while ago, yet this had been something that had just happened somehow. Erik wasn't even sure himself what this actually was. Eventually, he stopped his steps, looking up at the little house ahead. Running his fingers through his hair one last time, Erik took also the last meters until he was right at the front door. With his elbow leaning at the door frame, he reached out to the bell. He couldn't help it but, while he was waiting for her to open the door, his facial features weren't exactly showing a friendly smile, not that this was intended though.
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