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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Dec 19, 2017 8:16:13 GMT -8
CIA HeadquartersLocated in Langley, Virginia the base includes offices, conference rooms, secret bunkers, and the like.
Moira's Office     |
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Dec 21, 2017 19:18:14 GMT -8
Moira sat across the desk from Director Bennett, doing her best to not look nervous as he reviewed the request she had submitted. Hoping that the exhaustive dossier she had prepared on Roderick Sommerhaulder would convince him, and the Agency, that a veteran-slash-televangelist was a potential threat.
Bennett closed the folder with a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Moira, but no,” he declared.
“No?” she repeated.
“I am not authorizing a surveillance operation on a private citizen just because you have a hunch.”
She crossed her arms and prepared for the uphill battle that never seemed to face her male colleagues when they wanted to initiate an investigation. “I had a hunch about Colonel Hendry and the Hellfire Club, and I was right.”
“This isn’t about your record, McTaggart," he replied, "I need a viable reason to surveil Sommerhaulder.”
“His connection to William Stryker, Stryker’s connection to Trask Industries, the financial and logistical support happening between the two. Why would a Department of Defense contractor be giving such large amounts to his so-called church?” she rattled off. "And that's just what I have so far. If I had more time --"
Bennett held up the folder in his hand. “Moira, this is all conjecture.”
“I’m telling you, this man is dangerous.”
“That may be, but there are a lot of dangerous people out there. This one isn’t worth our time. Now I want you to report back to the Near East taskforce. There's growing unrest in the Sinai Peninsula.”
"There's always unrest in the Sinai Peninsula," she grumbled.
"Moira," he cautioned, sliding the folder back across the desk to her. "It was not a request."
She did her best to not look defeated or discouraged. She would just have to find another way. “Yes, sir," she agreed, as she retrieved the folder and left his office.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Sept 30, 2018 8:42:33 GMT -8
With her chin resting in her hand, Moira sat at her desk and continued to shuffle through a stack of spreadsheets. Since her supervisor had nixed any official investigation into Roderick Sommerhaulder, she’d had to work the case off the books and off the clock. But she felt certain that he and his followers, the so-called Purifiers, were a bigger threat to national security than the group of Coptic Christian missionaries in Jordan that Bennett had tasked her with researching. They would casually talk genocide, the murder of their fellow Americans, as easily as deciding what was for breakfast. Merely for the crime of being born with a slightly different genetic code.
“Hey, I brought you some coffee.” There was a light knock on the doorframe as she looked up to see her colleague, Agent Wittman, standing there.
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the offered styrofoam cup. It might have been sub-par breakroom coffee but it was still coffee.
As she took a sip, his eyes glanced over the landscape of her desk. He could clearly see that it wasn’t about Jordan. But Moira had worked with him long enough to know he wouldn’t sell her out, even if he was curious. That was the job, anyway. “I thought you were off the Sommerhaulder case,” he remarked.
“I am,” she declared. “Officially.”
“Because all this,” he continued, waving a hand over the collection of documents and photos, “might give someone the impression that you’re on it.”
“Wittman, I’m not,” she insisted. “But if I were…I could use another set of eyes on this. I feel like I’m missing something.”
Wittman’s eyebrows flicked upward in amused surprise. “You’re asking me to help you? Unofficially? You think I won’t tell Bennett?”
“You think I won’t tell Bennett who keeps stealing his yogurt from the breakroom fridge?” Moira countered.
“That is emotional blackmail, Agent McTaggart. Shameful,” he stated with a stern expression that almost immediately shifted into the excitement of a forbidden venture. “Shameful but effective. What do we know so far?”
“Well, Mr. Sommerhaulder has recently taken over the daily operations of Trask Industries from his friend and fellow veteran William Stryker. So far, there have been no major changes in the day-to-day business, merely the usual cleanout that comes with new management. But he does seem to have retained a new accounting firm.”
“One that’s better at covering a paper trail?”
Moira nodded. “That’s what got me suspicious of Sommerhaulder in the first place. A DOD contractor making generous and repeated payments to his church. But now that money seems to have been allocated to an office rental in Arlington.”
“Let me guess, no office?” he surmised, glancing at a picture of a building near the Rosslyn Metro stop.
“An empty storefront, and a very expensive one at that.”
“You think he’s laundering money?”
“Among other things.”
Wittman crossed his arms in contemplation. “Then the next step is proving it. You think you could flip someone on the inside?”
“I think I have a candidate.” Moira retrieved a Washington Post article about a recent charity fundraiser, including a picture of the guest of honor William Stryker and a beautiful brunette that Moira had noticed was never far from his side. “Maeve Charbonneau. Long-time Trask employee and executive assistant to William Stryker, basically the gatekeeper,” she explained. “I’m guessing very little happens there without her consent. She was usually on the arm of Stryker at every function he attended. Could be she’s unhappy with the new boss.”
“Trading one asshole in for another is kinda’ corporate standard,” Wittman cautioned. “How do you want to approach her?”
“I don’t know yet. She keeps an apartment in McLean but she’s also the executor of her family’s estate in Fairfax County since her parents died.”
He let out an appreciative whistle at the photo of the Charbonneau estate. “Takes a lot of money to keep up a place like that.”
“More than one would make as an executive assistant. If Stryker was terminated, maybe her revenue stream was as well.”
He picked up the newspaper article again, assessing the photo. “Her place in McLean probably isn’t far from mine. I will gladly keep an eye on her.”
“Wittman, you don’t have to.”
“No, no, these are the sacrifices I make. For the good of the country.”
Moira fixed him with a stern look. She wouldn’t deny that she needed the help, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Wittman decided to redefine the meaning of field contact. “Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”
“I’m sorry, are you giving me instructions about a case that you’re not on?” he scoffed.
“Just keep an eye on her.” She snatched the article back, hoping she wouldn't live to regret this.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 14, 2018 18:17:57 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 Hollywood Heidi on Mar 16, 2019 17:28:34 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 Mar 16, 2019 20:25:43 GMT -8
When plans had been finalized, Maeve had called Moira at her home number as promised. She'd given Moira the update that things were coming together and had provided a generic time frame, asking Moira to be ready at a moments notice. She had to end with the promise to call back a bit later to finalize. Maeve still had several things to do, things she hoped wouldn't have complications, but there was no way to know. It was important to get the timing right. Maeve didn't want the two missions crossing paths, for the benefit of both parties. There was also the small factor of who they were breaking out. Maeve didn't want to risk the primary mission blowing up by the secondary party taking custody of a man on the government's terrorist list.
Moira had given Maeve another number to reach her at, informing her she needed to head into the office. Maeve hadn't thought anything of it. The CIA didn't exactly run on the usual Monday thru Friday, nine to five.
After completing her tasks, thankfully without a hitch, Maeve had picked up a phone to call Moira but calling a number in a government facility had given her pause. What if their phones were tapped as part of standard protocol, with or without the knowledge of the government employee? What if calls were listened in on, recorded, or traced? Maybe she was just being paranoid but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Maeve's simulation had popped into the front entrance in invisible mode. She took in her surroundings, getting her bearings, and did another teleport across the ridiculously huge span from entrance to behind the reception counter. She quietly hovered over the map that allowed reception to properly direct people to agents' offices until she found M. McTaggart. Popping in on people had always given her a kick. With a smirk of anticipation, her invisible sim popped out of the lobby.
A little bit of wandering and Maeve found the door bearing Moira's name. She popped inside but remained invisible and silent when she found that Moira wasn't alone. A man sat across from her desk, chatting with her. She considered waiting outside but then her name popped into the conversation. With concern and suspicion, Maeve silently popped herself into the empty chair beside the man and listened to the conversation as it began to wind down.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Mar 18, 2019 19:03:46 GMT -8
"...And this is a little gift from one of my Soviet associates," Wittman was saying, as he handed her an unlabeled floppy disk. "It should be able to break whatever encryption Trask has on its protected files."
Moira took the disk, gingerly turning it over in her fingers while giving him a grateful smile. "Tell your friend I owe him a very expensive bottle of vodka," she said, stashing it in her purse alongside her other supplies for this impromptu mission. Maeve had told her to be ready at a moment's notice, and so she was when she finally got the call.
"Indeed I will," he agreed, leaning back in the chair and temple-ing his fingertips in study. “You know you still haven’t told me what had you so freaked out over the comm?”
She shook her head dismissively. “I wasn’t freaked out.”
“You said you saw Maeve at her country house just minutes after I saw her go into her apartment. You said that was impossible.”
“And it was! Look, I was tired, hungry, the light was dim,” she stammered. If Maeve had effectively hidden her mutation for this long, Moira didn’t think it was her place to change that. Besides, it would only bring up more questions from the agency about the effectiveness of her new asset. “It was just a neighbor checking the mailbox who looked similar from a distance.”
"Okay,” Wittman said slowly, in a tone that seemed doubtful. “And you're not gonna' tell me how you convinced Miss Charbonneau to cooperate with you?"
"No."
“But you think you can trust her?”
“Yes, I do,” she affirmed. “She doesn’t have allegiance to either Stryker or Sommerhaulder. And I don’t think she particularly enjoys the idea of working for a genocidal fanatic.”
“But if this Roderick guy is as dangerous as you think, you’re gonna’ need my help.”
“No, you’re going to need plausible deniability if this goes south. This is purely a fact-finding mission. I just need enough concrete evidence to link Sommerhaulder to the higher-profile Purifiers that we’ve already got eyes on and get Bennett to open an investigation.”
As she busied herself with last-minute preparations, Wittman decided to scan the papers still scattered on her desk. “Speaking of eyes on,” Wittman said, reaching for an open magazine. “Are you still crushing on this guy? What is the appeal of some stuffed shirt Oxford professor?”
“Charles Xavier is not a stuffed shirt,” she shot back. “He is one of the world’s foremost authorities on genetic mutation. I am merely following his schedule of public appearances. Being an outspoken advocate for mutantkind could potentially make him a target for the Purifiers.”
“Uh-huh. So you wanna’ discuss the impending threat to him over a steak dinner?”
“Oh, don’t be crass. Most of us are perfectly capable of separating our professional from our personal lives," Moira chided him. "Besides, his speech is in Baltimore, and he’d probably prefer their crab cakes.”
Her colleague gave her a knowing smirk. "Well, whatever you're about to do, be careful out there," he advised, getting up from the chair and walking to the door. "If you need me, call me."
"Thank you. Goodnight, Wittman."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Mar 19, 2019 21:21:42 GMT -8
Despite feeling a bit guilty for eavesdropping, Maeve was glad that she'd done so. Figuring out if you could trust someone, especially a stranger who'd just stumbled into your life, was a cumbersome and draining burden of watching yours and their every word and every step. She couldn't have timed it better if she'd tried. Hearing out things said about herself was one thing but conversation had unexpectantly turned to a personal nature concerning Moira and an apparent thing she had for the very person Maeve had turned to for help with the mission that would be running parallel to Moira's. Small mutant world.
Maeve patiently waited a couple beats after Moira's colleague closed the door behind him to be sure he wouldn't be returning with something he forgot. Satisfied with the quiet and hopeful there wouldn't be any more intrusions at this late hour, Maeve invisibly teleporting to the door. She turned fully tangible and immediately locked the door before speaking. "I'm not sure he bought it but I appreciate you trying to keep what I am a secret." Maeve looked apologetic but a corner of her mouth quirked in slight amusement. "Sorry, I'd expected to find you alone." Wanting to avoid any further intrusion or uninvited actions, Maeve remained by the door and gestured to the chair in silent request to join Moira at her desk.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Mar 21, 2019 15:55:16 GMT -8
"I'm not sure he bought it but I appreciate you trying to keep what I am a secret.... Sorry, I'd expected to find you alone."
"Oh my God!" Moira exclaimed, feeling her face flush red and clutching at the edge of her desk as Maeve suddenly appeared at her office door. "That is...flagrant misuse of your mutation. And now I'm really hoping I didn't say anything stupid." She nodded as Maeve gestured toward the chair. "Anyway, you can count on my discretion as long as I can count on yours."
Moira shut down her computer and pushed her chair away from the desk. She laid out a small arsenal that was tucked into a desk drawer and began placing the weapons in a backpack, along with the purse that held the computer disk. Black to match her shirt, pants, and boots. Classic sneak-in ensemble. "My colleague, Agent Wittman, is a good man," she said. "I'm going to owe him answers sooner or later. I just hope I have good answers. Now that I'm all packed, anything else I should know?"
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Mar 22, 2019 21:45:36 GMT -8
"Oh my God!" "That is...flagrant misuse of your mutation. And now I'm really hoping I didn't say anything stupid."
Maeve moved toward the chair and settled into it. She felt a twinge of guilt for her little parlor trick but she'd had good reason in her mind to have had to show up like this. She couldn't deny that there was still that little evil corner of her mind that still found amusement over people's reaction.
"Quite the contrary. And to be fair, you scared the hell out of me when you showed up at my family home," she pointed out.
"Anyway, you can count on my discretion as long as I can count on yours."
Maeve nodded with confidence. "I know I can. Whatever doubt I still had is gone after my unintentional eavesdropping. I trust you. Though I may have inadvertently caused you to be skeptical of me." Maeve leaned forward, clasping her hands in her lap, her brow creased with worry. "I was going to call. Even picked up the phone and began to dial. Then paranoia set in." Maeve's eyes went to Moira's desk phone as she gestured to it. "Tapping, tracing... You can't trust technology these days, especially in a government facility." She looked back at Moira. "You can trust in my discretion because finding my sister depends on it." There was no better reason a person could give than that.
"My colleague, Agent Wittman, is a good man," "I'm going to owe him answers sooner or later. I just hope I have good answers. Now that I'm all packed, anything else I should know?"
"I'm sorry you're having to lie to him on my behalf. Finding my sister is all that matters. After that, I don't care who knows my secret. You can tell Agent Wittman everything. Hell, I'll even join you if you want, show off my gift, explain everything, if it helps."
Maeve glanced at her watch and switched back to business. Time was ticking by. "There's a little 24 hour diner beside Trask Industries. Park there and go in for a coffee. I'll pop in to let you know exactly when. Keep in mind, it's important that I'm not seen anywhere in the vicinity so you won't see me, only hear me. Try not to freak out," she said with a quirk at the corner of her mouth. She helpfully added, "When you see the cleaning crew arrive, you'll know it's almost time. Once I give the go, take the little footpath between the parking lots of the diner and Trask. Go right on in the front door. The cleaning crew will be busy doing their thing in another part of the building. Take the stairs to the left right up to the executive offices." Maeve stood and dug into her coat pocket, producing a letter envelope. Inside were a piece of paper with codes and a piece of tape with a fingerprint Maeve had lifted. She placed the envelope on the desk and pushed it toward Moira. "Stryker's fingerprint and codes are still active. I'm not sure you'll find much on the computer, but there is a treasure trove of information hidden behind the painting behind his desk. You should have a decent amount of time to take photographs of enough things to keep your head spinning for months. I'll pop in to let you know when it's time to leave," she reassured.
Maeve sat back on the edge of the seat. "If you avoid taking anything or leaving evidence you were there, it could give us the opportunity to sneak you in another time. If that's what you want," she added with a shrug, making it clear that she didn't care if Moira decided to instead walk out with all the files she could carry. As long as Moira was willing to help her, Maeve was willing to try to pull off getting her into the building again if it was possible. Maeve's eyes went to her watch again. Only her rapidly tapping fingers on her knee gave away her hurried anxiety and anticipation. "I was able to get you in because I'm risking taking advantage of a big, well planned job to sneak you into the building as a side job. It's extremely important that you keep to my timing to avoid complications." Such as breaking a high threat-level person of interest out only to have the CIA attempt to take custody of him. That would not end well. For the CIA. "I need your word that no matter what, you won't interfere."
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Mar 23, 2019 13:59:34 GMT -8
"...I was able to get you in because I'm risking taking advantage of a big, well planned job to sneak you into the building as a side job. It's extremely important that you keep to my timing to avoid complications. I need your word that no matter what, you won't interfere."
Moira took the offered envelope and instructions, thinking that it sounded simple enough. "I suppose when you're holding all the cards, you set the table's rules," she mused, hesitant to sound too eager. She had sat across from terrorists, kidnappers, drug dealers, and counterfeiters; this woman could glower with the best of them. Maeve drove a hard bargain, it was beyond tough to stifle her innate curiosity, but Moira doubted she would ever have another chance like this to peek behind the curtain at Trask.
"Fine, you have my word," she agreed. "As long as I have your assurance that whatever this side job is doesn't come back to bite me in the backside while I'm intentionally looking the other way."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Mar 23, 2019 15:20:52 GMT -8
Satisfied, Maeve gave a curt nod. Maeve hoped Erik made better decisions in future. Mostly, she hoped he'd do the smart thing and live a quiet, happy life in hiding. Whatever he'd done, whatever he decided to do, they weren't even variables in the equation. This came down to the choice of letting Trask Industries carry out a death sentence they have no right to carry out or freeing a man before it could happen.
"I'll see you at the diner, then." She emphasized the two words as a reminder for her to not freak out. Maeve stood in preparation to teleport out but paused when the open magazine caught her eye. "I can't blame you for following his work." Her knowing look in Moira's direction implied she figured there was more reason to follow Charles Xavier than his 'work'. "He seems like a good man. If all goes well with our partnership, I'll introduce you to him some day."
Without waiting for a response, Maeve held up her hand and wiggled her fingers in goodbye, then vanished.
***Maeve exits to Mobile - X-Jet***
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jun 23, 2019 23:51:51 GMT -8
(via phone)
The phone on Moira's desk starts ringing.
"Available for a last minute meeting?" came the cryptic question in a familiar voice.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Jun 24, 2019 16:14:32 GMT -8
The nauseating effects of the supersonic trip from inside the Trask Industries to outside the neighboring diner may have subsided, but Moira's head was still spinning. Questions with answers that only led to more questions. So she had decided to order a grilled cheese sandwich with French fries to go and head to her office at Langley. It would be quiet there, and more importantly devoid of her co-workers.
The de-encryption program that Wittman had given her would take time to work its magic, so she sat back in her chair as the computer hummed away. The next day, she would hand off the photos she'd taken to a trusted and discreet lab tech to be developed. This was the hardest part -- looking at dozens, maybe hundreds of puzzle pieces strewn haphazardly on a tabletop. it was only when one started to find pieces that fit together that things got interesting.
Moira exhaled and closed her eyes for a few minutes. Sometimes the adrenaline rush of corporate espionage took a while to wear off, but she couldn't deny she was tired. Until the ringing phone echoed loudly throughout her office. She hesitantly picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Available for a last minute meeting?"
"Oh, of course," she answered, relieved to hear Maeve's voice on the line. "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 11:08:57 GMT -8
(via phone)
"And I thought my boss was tough. See you in a few."
***Maeve's sim appears, controlled by Maeve back at Virginia - Maeve Charbonneau's Family House***
In only a few, as Maeve had promised, her sim appeared fully visible inside Moira's office near her door. As close to arriving like a normal guest as was possible. "Knock, knock," she said, making her presence known. Maeve moved toward Moira's desk, eying the woman with concern. Things hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. Hopefully Moira was able to get what she needed before things went sideways. More importantly, they were all alive and seemingly well. "Are you alright?" she asked, wondering how she'd faired through all the chaos and the extremely speedy exit.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Jul 7, 2019 15:15:51 GMT -8
"Are you alright?"
Moira looked up from her papers with a slight start at Maeve's voice. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to the woman's disappearing or reappearing act. "Oh, I'm just peachy," she replied. "Once my brain caught up with the rest of my body. Don't suppose I'll ever get an explanation as to what really happened back there...."
She waved a hand toward a chair, inviting Maeve to take a seat. "Despite the unforeseen complications," she began, a hint of guilt in her voice, "I think I still succeeded in getting at least enough intel to convince my supervisor to take a closer look at Mr. Sommerhaulder. His calendar, contacts, business ledger -- you don't happen to have any 'enhanced' accountants on speed dial, do you?" Moira inquired.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jul 7, 2019 21:18:48 GMT -8
"Oh, I'm just peachy," "Once my brain caught up with the rest of my body. Don't suppose I'll ever get an explanation as to what really happened back there...."
Maeve shook her head, a slight smile on her face. She took the seat Moira gestured to. "They don't know about you, you don't know about them. Better for everyone that way."
"Despite the unforeseen complications," "I think I still succeeded in getting at least enough intel to convince my supervisor to take a closer look at Mr. Sommerhaulder. His calendar, contacts, business ledger -- you don't happen to have any 'enhanced' accountants on speed dial, do you?"
Maeve relaxed into the chair with the news that Moira had gotten enough intel. She chuckled at the last. "I'm afraid not." A newspaper clipping with a photo partially sticking out of a folder pushed toward the end of the desk caught Maeve's attention. She recognized it as the one Moira had been perusing last time Maeve has visited. It was out of the way for the Trask info but not put away. Maeve leaned forward, placing her elbow on Moira's desk and resting her chin in her palm. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye that went along with her teasing smirk. "I could ask Charles for you," she said, placing a finger on the corner of the article and pulling it free enough to showcase Charles' picture. Maeve didn't intend to ever bother Charles or his crew again, but that didn't mean she couldn't tease Moira about him.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Jul 10, 2019 17:59:37 GMT -8
"I'm afraid not. I could ask Charles for you."
Moira's cheeks flushed red at Maeve's suggestion and she snatched the article back, shoving it into a drawer without looking. "I'm sure Professor Xavier has much better things to do with his time," she asserted. Like a schoolgirl caught daydreaming about the boy in biology lab. It was bad enough she had to take it from Wittman.
"Your cleaning crew left quite a mess back there at Trask," Moira remarked, eager to change the subject. "If a massive power surge was part of the plan, I could have used a heads-up. Sommerhaulder's gonna' have a lot of questions for you, and he'll no doubt suspect the intrusion into his office was an inside job."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jul 14, 2019 22:42:32 GMT -8
"I'm sure Professor Xavier has much better things to do with his time,"
Maeve chuckled at Moira's reaction. A sudden memory of her sister reacting similarly when Maeve had teased her gave her a pang. Maeve pushed it aside and concentrated on Moira's subject change.
"Your cleaning crew left quite a mess back there at Trask,"
Maeve smirked. "Pretty sure finding a new one will be one of my tasks, come Monday."
"If a massive power surge was part of the plan, I could have used a heads-up.
Maeve shook her head. "It wasn't. I was just as surprised as you." She never did find out what had caused it. Whatever it was, it had had good timing, distracting the guard so Maeve could knock him out before he got to Moira.
Sommerhaulder's gonna' have a lot of questions for you, and he'll no doubt suspect the intrusion into his office was an inside job."
Maeve frowned, her eyes going to her hands folded in her lap. She's gone into all this with full understanding and acceptance of the consequences. She nodded and finally looked back at Moira. "He took over the position because he already suspected someone on the inside was working against them. It's not the first time a mutant has disappeared from a Trask facility," she explained. "I was always careful to make it appear to be a fluke; faulty machinery, someone miscalculating dosage." Maeve made an et cetera circling motion with her hand. "I'm glad you were able to get in there and gather what you could because after today, he'll have no doubts." In other words, there would most likely be no chance of pulling something like that off again. Security was going to be heightened through the roof. Sommerhaulder would probably put all employees through another round of checks and interrogation hell. "I'm sorry about the painting. It seems he had sensors installed without my knowing." Setting up such things was her job so for him to have handled it on his own when nobody had been around to witness it was further proof that he didn't trust his employees.
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Jul 22, 2019 17:22:59 GMT -8
"I'm glad you were able to get in there and gather what you could because after today, he'll have no doubts. I'm sorry about the painting. It seems he had sensors installed without my knowing."
"No apology necessary," Moira corrected her. "You got me the sort of access no one else could. My mistake was underestimating Roderick's paranoia. Most people don't lead a double life without being incredibly careful. At least those of us who can't create doubles of ourselves," she added with a sly smile.
"Anyway, you kept your end of the bargain, Miss Charbonneau. I fully intend to do the same," Moira declared, folding her hands and leaning forward on the desk. "Tell me what you remember about the last time you saw your sister."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jul 29, 2019 0:02:45 GMT -8
...At least those of us who can't create doubles of ourselves,"
Maeve smirked with pride. She quite enjoyed her gift.
"Anyway, you kept your end of the bargain, Miss Charbonneau. I fully intend to do the same," "Tell me what you remember about the last time you saw your sister."
With a somber expression, Maeve cast her gaze downward and took a moment to collect herself. It was difficult for her, talking about her sister. "Eight months since I've seen her. Six months since we last spoke." Maeve raised her head and sat up straight, keeping herself composed. "Three months before she disappeared, she'd moved about an hour away to start at a new hospital. Ivette's a nurse," Maeve clarified, though she figured that was information Moira had already easily gathered. "Ivette wanted to help more people, which was why she'd sought out a position at a bigger, busier hospital," Maeve explained. "Distance isn't a factor for me, as you know, but I can't do anything about time. We wouldn't be able to see each other as often as we'd like anymore, but we agreed to try to get together at least once a month, even if it was a quick dinner, and to try to call about once a week.
"We managed it the first month but the second, we'd missed a couple of the calls and couldn't quite make the one meet-up work. All those hours were catching up with her. I could hear it in her voice. She apologized profusely but I told her I understood. She was doing what she loved and I didn't want her to burden herself on my account. I told her not to worry about the promise we'd made, for her to concentrate on getting the rest she needed and to just call whenever she could.
"I only got a couple calls from her the next month and we missed meeting again. She disappeared shortly after but it was nearly a month later before I even knew." Elbow on armchair, Maeve rested her brow against her fingers as regret always hit her at this point. "I just--I thought she'd been too busy, too tired. I should have known something was wrong sooner. She'd never gone that long without a call." Maeve dropped her hand back into her lap. "I wasted two more days trying to call her various times throughout the day, hoping to catch her. Then I popped over to her new place. Everything looked normal. No sign of distress. Everything neat and tidy and in place. She'd never go off anywhere without telling me but I checked just in case and there were no signs that she had. So I waited at her place a full day, but she didn't show." Hospital staff sometimes caught a nap between shifts, but an entire day away from home wasn't right. Maeve shook her head. "I tracked down her place of work and was informed that Ivette had resigned nearly a month before. A letter of resignation was found on the front desk, short and simple, no explanation. The receptionist was kind enough to provide me a copy." Without hesitation with the clear distress of a family member, Maeve recalled. "I know she didn't write that letter. She wouldn't just up and leave, especially without explanation."
Too drained to continue the façade, Maeve relinquished her straight posture and let herself lean back into the seat. "I should have talked her out of working at a busier, more populated hospital." Another regret that haunted her. Maeve explained why, a reason that would connect the dots as to why she'd gotten herself involved at Trask. "Whatever ailed a living thing, it tended to mend at a faster pace in Ivette's care. Someone must have noticed."
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Aug 3, 2019 17:28:16 GMT -8
"I should have talked her out of working at a busier, more populated hospital. Whatever ailed a living thing, it tended to mend at a faster pace in Ivette's care. Someone must have noticed."
Moira stayed quiet, content to simply listen and observe as Maeve told her the story of her lost sister. "Well, you really shouldn't blame yourself," she stated. "If mutations run in the family, I'm guessing stubbornness does, too." She gave the drained woman across from her a sympathetic smile before mentally setting the Sommerhaulder puzzle pieces aside and taking up a new set. "You two were close, and she wasn't one to keep secrets. So it's reasonable to say if she were in a relationship, or having financial troubles, she would have spoken with you about it rather than just disappearing."
Maeve seemed smart and determined enough to have already ruled out the usual reasons that a sibling would go radio silent. And given that Ivette had powers like her sister, it could make her a target of someone scared of that power or someone who wanted to exploit it. "We need to start by making a list of people who had contact with her -- other family, friends, neighbors, hospital personnel, and patients," she began, mainly talking aloud to herself. "Perhaps a patient who was seriously ill or thought themselves to be may have wanted her exclusive attention. Hospital records are some of the most difficult to access.
"Doesn't mean that it can't be done," Moira added quickly, seeing the fallen expression on Maeve's face. "Everyone said getting an asset safely out of the Turkmenistan embassy was impossible, until I did it."
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Aug 17, 2019 19:17:00 GMT -8
"Well, you really shouldn't blame yourself," "If mutations run in the family, I'm guessing stubbornness does, too."
A part of her knew she shouldn't blame herself but she couldn't stop beating herself up over pointless hindsight. As for Moira's good natured stubbornness jab, Maeve smirked. She knew she was stubborn. The fact it was a trait she'd been often accused of in fond frustration by her family turned what others might consider a slight against their character into a compliment in her eyes. Ivette was only stubborn when it came to standing by her selfless belief in helping others but the tenacity of her stubbornness over that one thing equaled Maeve's stubbornness in all things. Maeve should have at least tried to talk her out of it, even if it would have most likely been pointless. Damn hindsight.
"You two were close, and she wasn't one to keep secrets. So it's reasonable to say if she were in a relationship, or having financial troubles, she would have spoken with you about it rather than just disappearing."
Maeve gave a short nod. "There were never any secrets between us and even during the emotional rollercoaster of losing our parents, she kept a straight head on her shoulders. Which is more than I can say for myself." Maeve looked down momentarily, the reminder of her short stint into idiocrasy always causing her a mixture of embarrassment and anger at herself. Maeve let out a short, humorless snort and added dryly, "She'll never feel the need to keep anything from me for fear of my judging her."
"We need to start by making a list of people who had contact with her -- other family, friends, neighbors, hospital personnel, and patients," "Perhaps a patient who was seriously ill or thought themselves to be may have wanted her exclusive attention.
The exhaustive amount of work still ahead of her--no, them now--had Maeve slightly hunching in her seat. She'd already done so much of the watching and checking out people from her sister's life but that was on her own with limited resources. She could have easily missed something.
Hospital records are some of the most difficult to access.
And she hunched further. As if climbing to her position in Trask hadn't been a long, exhaustive process in itself, Maeve still had a lot of work cut out for her.
"Doesn't mean that it can't be done," "Everyone said getting an asset safely out of the Turkmenistan embassy was impossible, until I did it."
Maeve straightening in her seat a bit as Moira's confidence lent her a bit of strength. She grinned, impressed by Moira's accomplishment. No doubt that had taken a hell of a lot of hard work, bravery, tenacity, and that same stubbornness Moira had pinned on her. "See, now, that is far more impressive than my way. Teleporting feels a bit like cheating." Maeve leaned forward and grabbed a piece of paper and pen, starting to jot information. "The patient thing," Maeve said, pausing to point the pen at Moira. "I hadn't thought of that. I still feel this is bigger than the work of an individual but it's worth looking into. Could be a patient who brought it to the attention of Trask," she said distractedly as she continued to think and jot names. Maeve was still convinced Trask was somehow involved.
Tapping the pen against the paper, Maeve reviewed the names in hopes more might pop into her head, but no others did at the moment. She turned the page and pushed it toward Moira. "No family. It was always just the four of us, then just the two of us," Maeve said in a quick aside, trying to sound as matter-of-fact about a fact that made this whole thing even more difficult. She leaned forward and used the pen as a pointer as she spoke. "Friends, current and from the past several years that she's lost touch with. Coworkers she's talked to me about, a few others she never mentioned but I'd looked into." She pointed to the neatly organized sub-columns within the two categories then shifted the pen downward to the next category. "Her address along with a couple neighbors she'd mentioned and others she hadn't. She never got to know them well, working those crazy hours."
Maeve placed the pen down and sat back in her chair. "That's off the top of my head. I have a folder back home with all the information I've collected. I'll have to figure a way to get that to you." She wasn't confident enough in her ability to teleport items with her, especially not something so important. "In the meantime, what else can I do?"
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Post by Kristi Lynne on Aug 25, 2019 15:35:42 GMT -8
"In the meantime, what else can I do?"
"You can go home and get some rest," Moira advised. "I know that's not what you want to hear, Maeve, but it's going to take a while to figure out just what kind of needles are hiding in this haystack." She set the contact list aside from the papers already strewn atop her desk, hesitant to admit that some of the letters and numbers were started to blur in her vision as a post-mission exhaustion crept in.
"Besides, you need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for your Monday morning meeting with Sommerhaulder," she continued. "At the risk of sounding insensitive, my employer needs you to keep a good relationship with your employer. At least for the time being. This sort of thing is a marathon, not a sprint. So I have to ask for a little more patience. I should be able to give you a status report in, say...72 hours?"
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Aug 25, 2019 16:51:04 GMT -8
It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear but it was the response she'd expected. She probably should get some rest. Maeve had been going non-stop for awhile, though she wasn't feeling all that tired. Most of what she'd done the past few days had been through her sim, which didn't tire her as much as things done by her actual self.
"Besides, you need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for your Monday morning meeting with Sommerhaulder,"
Maeve's stomach flipped at the reminder but she didn't let the anxiety show. "Mondays are the worst," she said, making light of the hellish day it was going to be. Walking into Trask Monday morning had been haunting the back of her mind but she'd been putting off thinking about it. What was the point of agonizing herself with worry?
"At the risk of sounding insensitive, my employer needs you to keep a good relationship with your employer. At least for the time being.
"I worked hard to get there. I'll do whatever it takes to hold my position as long as I can," she reassured. No matter how difficult things got. And they most certainly would after the double raid they'd pulled off today.
This sort of thing is a marathon, not a sprint. So I have to ask for a little more patience. I should be able to give you a status report in, say...72 hours?"
Maeve nodded. She'd been running this marathon at a slow jog for so long. Surely she could manage several more laps at that rate, especially now that she was had a flicker of hope with Moira on her side. "That sounds just fine. I'll update you then as well. Feel free to reach out if there's anything that can't wait. I'll do the same."
Plans finalized for the moment, Maeve stood and returned Moira's guest chair to its neat position. "Goodnight. Don't forget to get a bit of rest yourself," she said, giving Moira a smile of appreciation as her sim faded out.
***Maeve disconnects Sim***
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 3, 2019 22:20:30 GMT -8
Erik was successfully broken out of Trask Industries.
Friday has come to an end.
It is now Saturday, October 25, 1975, late morning.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Jul 4, 2020 18:50:57 GMT -8
A few hours pass.
It is now early afternoon.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Feb 5, 2022 17:06:16 GMT -8
The rest of Saturday passes.
It is now Sunday, October 26, 1975, late morning.
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