Q And A

finnegan_icon.png muni_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Primatech Paper

When: August 7, 2012; Afternoon

What: Things go a little sideways as the agents question one of their guests about the past.

Rylie, is a bucket of worms that the Company is going to have to deal with.

But the main bucket is Zan. Alexander Caldecott. Thorn in the company side ever since he was shot by Tilly in the bar. After that, there seemed to be the Mayors son popping up on the Advanced radar enough to warrant a little conversation. Conversation with Finnegan and Muni in attendance. A chance to get down to brass tacks with the boy.

Muni's looking a little worse for wear, pulling the midnight oil with regards to his agents both present and in the past. Coffee in hand in a mug proclaiming him to be supposedly the worlds best dad, he's entering the interview room where Zan was brought, letting Finnegan come after.

"Good afternoon Mister Caldecott. I hope that we're treating you well. Would you like something to drink?" Files are dropped onto the table and the salt and pepper beareded man takes up a seat at the table.l

The agent following Muni looks tired as well, thumbs in his jeans as he moves to the table to ease himself into a seat.

"Hey, Al," Finnegan says with a somewhat weary smile, the nickname more for all times' sake or something, rather than to irritate the man. Finn looks a little bit better than he did last time Zan saw him; the cut above one brow is healing, at least, but the worry is still present on the agent's face.

Muni and Finn certainly aren't the only one looking like he could use some sleep. Rylie's predicament and the ordeal leading up to it has Zan looking ragged with sleeplessness and anxiety. What trouble he could possibly be in hasn't registered with him yet, or it's tried but was immediately dismissed as inconsequential. Point in case, that he didn't come to this meeting willingly nor without argument, practically refusing to leave his girlfriend again.

In short, it was a futile effort anyway. And when the agents come in, the boy is sitting at one end of the table. His hands are clasped and resting against the edge of the table in a shadow of ease, though a keen eye can pick out traces of tension in the set of his mouth and the curve of his shoulders. His eyes flick up from the table top when the folders touch the surface, moving from Muni to Finn then back again. "I'm fine, thank you," he answers, to his treatment and the offer of a drink.

"So we have a problem. What to do with you Mister Caldecott. If you were in our position and some college age kid, kept popping up on youtube as a glowing streak going across the sky, with no regard to the fact that it might stir up all kinds of trouble. Goes through portals that lead into 1955, with very same disregard for appropriate clothing, money, attitude. Who has run into our agents a few times and usually at the center of trouble, what would you do?" Through this all, Muni is flipping through a file, at least a good inch thick, and Zan's photo paperclipped to the inside. Zan file, it seems. Not insubstantial.

The lack of greeting from Zan makes Finnegan arch a brow.

"Good to see you, too, kid. Why, yes, you're welcome for me getting your ass back to the present, along with that of your girlfriend. Don't sweat it. It was nothing," Finnegan says, leaning back in his chair as he regards Zan, then tipping his head to make a show of reading the file, reaching to tap on the file, as if pointing out a bit of information to Muni. Just a bit of charades, to irritate their prisoner.

A breath escapes Zan, a heavy sounding sigh the second the list begins. A frown twitches across his brow, his expression darkens for a beat while Finnegan speaks. "It's Zan," he states firstly, a bit of sass directed toward the younger of the two agents. His hands come apart and rub at his face, as though the action would put aside some of the weight of his plight for a few moments.

"Who are you," he asks instead of answering their statements or offering any ideas of his own. "And how do you know so much about me? How'd you find out about the portal and why did you send Finnegan and Amelia back there?"

"My name is Agent Shaw, and we know so much because it's our job to know as much as we do. What I do not know is how you and your girlfriend found the portal and what do you know about it. As well as…" Muni's gestures to the second file and for Finnegan to show the picture of the man inside. "Who this man is, and what exactly do you know about him?" Inside the folder that's significantly thinner than Zans is the picture of The Doctor.

"Caldecott," Finn decides is easier than calling Alexander by his preferred nickname, "here said that no one knew about the 'rift' other than himself and this Abrams." He glances from Muni to Zan.

"How do you know that? In fact, why would you assume that? I find a magical portal that brings me back to the past, I'm pretty sure I'm going to assume someone else knows about it, personally. Unless I know how it got there in the first place. So. Why is it you are so sure no one else knows about it?" Finnegan asks the younger man.

"And what are you an agent of, Agent Shaw?" Zan's gaze, after looking at the picture, settles on the table. Again his hands fold together, though this time he leans forward enough to rest his forearms against the edge of the table. "Why should I assume anyone else knew about the portal," he asks. "Didn't look like the house had been disturbed when Rylie and I got there. That break through the other wall, was from me getting out of the portal before it closed again."

His hands raise to rub knuckles against his chin, the moment taken to gather his thoughts. "Rylie and I were at a gala, my dad was there so…" Zan shrugs slightly, the reasons for the event and their presence irrelevant. "Some guy ran into me, frothing blood. I got him out of the crowd and before he passed out he gave me that address." The one to the house.

"What I'm an agent of is irrelevant to the conversation at hand. As for the house, others have gone through, you were not alone in knowing about it, nor were we and it's imperative that we control the flow of individuals, in an effort to ensure that little remains changed as possible Mister Caldecott. As my fellow Agent here pointed out, it seems silly to assume that you were the only ones. This man, do you know if he was taken to a hospital?" There's a glance to Finnegan and Muni plucks out the last two files, both thin as well, one more than the other. A picture of Paul and one of Bruce, though the one of Bruce is of poor quality. "Either of these men the individual in question who collapsed at the party in question?"

Finn glances at the pictures that Muni shows Zan, tipping his head curiously, then looking up at Zan. "So you told me you're the only one who knew about the rift, but you got this address from some frothy guy who probably knew about it, right? That seems silly to assume he didn't know about it, Al." Back to Al.

He taps the photos. One, two, three. Bruce, Paul, Doc. "Answer the questions, kid."

"The guy who gave me the address is the …love interest of a singer who goes by Thisbe." Zan's gaze focuses on the pictures as they're tapped. As he speaks, he studies the pictures, each in turn. "Thisbe, when Rylie and I first went through, asked about him. She told us that he decided to stay here, he found a way over and he stays but visits there. Pretty sure she knew the way between was through the closet. But the guy was taken to one of the local hospitals." He gives up the name that was on the visitor's tag, along with the room number.

"None of those are him," the young man continues, finally addressing the pictures. "The Doctor… He preferred to be called Doc. Had a room filled with boxes that had dates on them. He wasn't surprised to see me in modern clothes, while everyone else kept giving me strange looks. He was hiding my girlfriend and I think he has something to do with her memory. Him or the guy in the hospital. Or maybe Thisbe, though seems farfetched. Doc put a gun to Rylie's head when Finnegan and I were talking to him."

"Shit. We have a temporal rifter. God damnit. I hate those ones" This more to Finn than to Zan himself, though the name and room number are thumbed into a smartphone - not a kind that's ever been seen by the general public - and a message sent, someone to get right onto that. "Never know from when they are" Not where. When. "You got this, while I go make some calls, see what I can find out about this man?" Whether he means the doctor or the mysterious portal creator, who knows.

"So you lied to me when you said no one knew about it but you," Finn points out. "Fucking bull shit, man. That shit needed to be out in the open. And you talk about trusting you? Trusting you?" Finnegan snaps at Zan, shaking his head and standing, his arms crossing as he strides across the small room and then back.

"Yeah. Told you he was sketchy, that Doc. It's either him or this Thisbe's feller who's doing it. My guess is maybe the guy having the fit. Maybe the strain of the voodoo? It's one of them, I'm sure," he tells Muni, before turning back to Zan.

His gray eyes narrow. "What do you know about these two, then?" he asks, regarding Paul and Bruce.

"Lied nothing, Amelia knew about the guy in the hospital," Zan says quietly. It's not a meek nor mellow quiet, but that of cold anger coming to surface. "Trust is a two way street, Finn. You didn't trust me, why should I have reason to trust you? You want to talk about who's lying, your agency's name is irrelevant? That's true, then my lawyer and be ready to answer a metric fuck-ton of questions."

The boy still hasn't moved his gaze from the pictures, and he stares at them for a while longer before he sits back in his chair. His arms come off the table and fold across his chest. His gaze lifts from the folders and angles toward one side, away from either agent. His jaw clenches, and a crease sets into his brow as they pinch together.

Finnegan stares down at Zan, arms still crossed against his chest, and just as sullen and angry as the younger man in front of him. "I don't think you've figured out that we ain't a fucking police department, and you don't get a fucking lawyer."

His foot, clad in steel-toed Doc Martens, shoots out and kicks the lip of Zan's chair, shoving it backward to send Zan and chair to the floor if he can. "This could have been so much easier if you'd just cooperated back in 1955," the agent says, striding back toward the door.

Both arms and one leg fly out when the chair is knocked off its feet. Zan's efforts don't reward him with keeping his seat righted and he smacks flat, head and shoulders cracking against the floor in time with the back of the chair. It's a good couple of seconds before he drags himself free of the chair and rolls onto his belly to start picking himself up again.

"How didn't I cooperate," the boy asks, muffled, forehead resting against the floor once his knees are under him. "I asked to stay, to find my girlfriend. You two let me and I did what you asked." He pushed buttons, sure, but that's not a lack of cooperation.

The agent pauses at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "Threatening to fly away so I had to tranq you the first day lost us a bit of time. Not giving us all the information when I asked for it, trying to barter instead. It's possible that we might have figured things out before it had time to all go to shit. You let your attitude get in the way of your goal, pal, and trust me, that is something I know something about."

His hand on the door knob, Finnegan, shakes his head. "And now you're still withholding information that could possibly help us to get your girly's head back on straight, because of some chip on your shoulders. Whatever. No sweat off my back if she doesn't remember what she ever saw in you. She's kinda cute. Maybe I'll ask her out, huh?"

Zan's silent as he picks himself up off the floor and gets to his feet. He even drags the chair upright and pushes it into the table. He doesn't seem too willing to respond to Finn at first. For all he shows, he could just be ignoring the agent. But when the older man voices consideration for asking Rylie out, the boy's already short temper ignites, beginning with that telltale glow.

Of course, it might be difficult to make out at first, one second Zan's standing beside the table and the next he's literally flying at Finnegan. Fast. Nowhere near the fastest he's been clocked at, but fast enough it would be quite difficult to escape the boy's grasp and subsequent momentum-driven shove into the wall.

"Why are you blaming me," Zan demands, yelling. "Why don't you go bitch at Amelia?! She seems to know everything without a clue being given! Instead of pointing fingers and dropping threats, do something to help me help my girlfriend!"

Well, that certainly didn't help his injuries; slamming into the wall sends jolt through both broken rib and concussed head, but aside from surprise, there's only a brief grunt of pain and a wince that registers on the agent's face.

His hands come up to try to break Zan's hold on him, while one knee rises to begin to rail strikes against whatever he can hit — Zan's legs, hips, ribs mostly.

"She almost died trying to help you, so you can shut your fuckin' mouth about Amelia," growls Finnegan, pushing back to try get Zan back away from him.

Zan feels it - and not Finn's punches - the flicker of his ability going dark, as negation settles in and he's left powerless. While they may not have been negating him while he was here, you can guarantee that they'll be doing it now. The door swings open and two agents in their gray and black suits are barreling in, tranq guns drawn and Muni swift on their heels. It's the second time that Zan will feel the prick of a tranq dart, in culmination with the sound of the gun going off, the world starting to swim and go pear shaped.

"Back off Agent Finnegan" A gesture for the two other agents to move forward and pick up Zan before he can fall to the ground.

Trying to catch Zan's legs while he's flying only seems to anger him more. Hands still holding tightly, fingers twisted in the agent's shirt material. He almost gets himself fully airborne with Finnegan in tow, and it looks like he may be intending to break through the ceiling with the man. Or try.

And then it's gone in an instant.

Both Zan and Finn, the latter not so much as the former, drop back onto the ground. The agent's knees find more substantial targets as a puzzled look crosses the boy's expression. One that's replaced quickly by that swimming glaze as the tranq bites into him. All in a matter of seconds, his grip is no longer with the intent to do harm but to failingly keep himself from keeling over until his weight's picked up by the men in black.

When he's able to, Finnegan shakes himself out of the other man's grips; he's not above a cheap shot and he punches at Zan's face once more even after the tranquilizer is starting to take its effects. Maybe he didn't hear Muni's order. But then he does as he's told, striding away to lean against the far wall as the other agents manage cleanup on aisle 3.

"We need to find out who the fuck that doctor is," he mutters to Muni.

"Well, isn't it convenient that we have him" There's no comment made to the cheap shot that Finn gets in, almost expecting it from the Agent. There's another gesture and Zan is being carted off, likely to medical to monitor the tranq and a little selective memory editing. Tilly may have mad a decision a few months back to let him keep his memory of her actions and Muni respected that. But now, it's too dangerous.

"Do you need to go to medical again?"

Awareness slips sideways and away as hands finally and fully take Zan's weight off Finnegan. And, like the senior-most agent, the suits say nothing of the free shot Finn takes advantage of. The boy's head rocks with the force, just enough awareness left to make a pained sound before truly going limp. His head sags, body becomes little more than dead weight that hangs from two sets of hands.

The younger agent shakes his head. "I'm fine," is a terse answer before he seems to remember his supposed Southern manners. "Nothing some Tylenol won't fix. He's gonna feel like shit when he wakes up, though." There's no remorse in that comment.

Finnegan shoves off from the wall to go pick up the files and re-stack them, handing them to Muni in a neat stack. "Could work on my interrogation skills, I guess," is, however, a bit chagrined. The information is the important part, and he didn't get much of that.

"It could, but it's understandable" Taking the files from the younger agent, securing them.

"Archives found something" This offered up to Finnegan as he watches Zan carted out to a waiting stretcher.

That Muni doesn't reprimand him makes Finnegan smile a bit. It's not like the Company didn't know he was a hothead or a fighter when they recruited him, after all, and he does get some leeway given the fate of his last partner.

"Oh?" he asks, curiously.

"Someone went tripping through the database of old records, looking for any mention of Tilly, see if she was still alive" Current day that is. "Records transferred to digital from written, sometimes they didn't make it, we weren't holding out a hope, but Smith down in archives found mention in one of the government databases. A woman in 1955, making a claim to be a US Marshal. It tripped a few eyebrows enough to be recorded. Beyond that, we haven't found anything. But Marshall is still alive Finnegan. At that point, she's still alive. We haven't found anything else though and no record in our own database is altered, or our memory of her changed"

Finnegan listens, then nods at the end. "Then we retrieve her. Just let me know when, and I'll be ready to go," he says, not for the first time, and it probably won't be the last.

"Thank you for the update, sir," he adds. "I appreciate you keeping me in the know on the matter. More than you know." He looks away, one hand moving to his wrist to fidget with his watch.

"You won't loose this one Finnegan." Words meant to be reassuring, and not laying any blame. Not for past losses or present. "When Amelia's capable and deemed fit to resume duties, we'll deal with this Doctor. For now, we have leads from the kid, to follow up on. So go rest. In case the call to get marshall's ass out of flux comes in." Muni points to the offices and recreational rooms for the agents located here beneath the bowels of primatech. "I have to arrange things for Mister Caldecott"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License