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Post by Jordanna on Jan 5, 2006 20:44:09 GMT -5
George wondered if Daws was really that furry all over.
He was sitting on one of the crates that comprised the only furniture in the sparring room, watching the insensate Dawson while the Boss was sent for. The detective lay like a rag doll on the concrete floor, drugged and for the moment quite defenseless. George had never been cad enough to take advantage of that sort of situation; he liked sport with unusual mutant women, alright, but he liked them willing and responsive. However, he was in the position of a weasel guarding a proverbial chicken coop.
Fortunately, before temptation could overcome George's one vague semblance of virtue, Taniwha stalked in through the metal double doors of the cavernous room. The mute bodyguard was followed by Nick Tiernan himself: pale, vampish, bent-backed and yet darkly elegant, his long cape adding an anachronistic touch to his very contemporary designer suit.
George sat up straighter, but the godfather of the mutant mafia did not acknowledge him. Instead, Tiernan strode purposefully to the place where Daws lay. He folded his arms and gazed down at her for a long moment, studying her intently.
"I had a kitten when I was a boy," he said at length. He turned to sit down on the nearest convenient crate, and added in a completely offhanded manner, "My stepfather killed it."
George fidgeted. One thing he could never be faulted for was his Of Mice and Men-caliber fondness for small, furry creatures.
"Explain to me precisely why you saw fit to bring a detective down here," Tiernan said with patient tonelessness to George.
"She was asking questions. 'Bout you. 'Bout what you do."
"Hm." Tiernan regarded Daws skeptically. "And you believe she has an interest in... how shall I say it... causing us trouble?"
"Oh, no, Boss!" George blurted, then recollected himself. "That is... I donno quite what she wants. But it could be she wants in. She doesn't like 'umans--'ow could she, lookin' as she does?" He tilted his head to the anthropomorphic feline sprawled on the floor. "An' talkin' of you, she was wishin' you well, Boss. 'S all I know."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't have had a kind life," Tiernan murmured. "I do know something about her. She does a bit of her own work in our line, helping other mutants with their troubles. Whatever she knows, she's never gotten in our way. This sudden interest of hers is certainly curious." He arched an eyebrow at George. "Perhaps she has seen one downtrodden client too many, and would like to do something more proactive about the human problem."
"That must be it," George agreed eagerly.
"Or, perhaps she's working for the authorities."
George frowned.
"Best to find out, now that she's here," Tiernan concluded. "Wake her, George."
With a nod, George slid down from the crate to the floor, kneeling beside Daws. From the pocket of his jacket, he took a hypodermic identical to the one Pink had used; this one contained a counteragent to the sedative. He gave Daws the injection, and then wisely clambered back to his place on the crate, anticipating that she would be in very ill humor indeed when she came to.
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Post by skybright on Jan 6, 2006 0:07:25 GMT -5
Awareness snuck its way back into Daws' brain like a teenager out past curfew. The first sensation she had was a roaring, hollow headache that promised to be staying with her a while; that was followed quickly by the feel of a cold concrete floor against her face. That, and the dull, smarting pain in her upper arm added up to one thing -- she'd been drugged. Snuck up on and then drugged.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. She growled inwardly at herself. Tell me something, Ace Detective -- why is it whenever you try treading lightly you always step right on a landmine?
Never mind, She countered, You've stepped on it, now's the time to deal with it. Put those much-vaunted superior senses of yours to work, Ace, and observe the situation already.
Okay; touch -- the aforementioned cold floor and various pains, which didn't seem to include any sort of restraint injuries. She tried shifting her hands and was rewarded with what seemed to be totally free movement.
Smell; concrete, cardboard, general Damp. A warehouse? The greasy smell of the Ferret and Taniwha's scent, as well as a whiff of sharp, expensive cologne.
Hearing; my personal best. Three distinct people breathing, the hum of fans in a ventilation system. The echoey sound of a big, empty room. No traffic . . . almost unheard of in New York. Not the country . . . Oh, come on God, please don't tell me my luck's that lousy, I've been to Mass twice this month . . .
All of this added up to her, the Ferret, Taniwha and an unknown individual in a big room that she really hoped wasn't going to be as unpleasant as she was anticipating.
She decided to add Sight to the list of observations and cracked open one eye. The light was painful and exacerbated her headache, but she did manage to focus on the Ferret -- who was perched on a wooden packing crate looking at her with serious trepidation.
Daws extended her claws, curled her upper lip back, glared at the little Englishman with her one open eye, and snarled "The next time you offer me a drink, George love -- fact, the next time you look like you're gonna offer me a drink -- I'm gonna feed you those bright pointy teeth of yours one by one and serve up your switchblade for dessert."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 6, 2006 21:40:52 GMT -5
In response to Daws' threats, George did what he always did when frightened: he cringed and began wheezing asthmatically.
"Calm yourself, George--and I might say the same to you, Miss Dawson." Tiernan stepped into Daws' view, leaning over her slightly, and gave her as urbane a bow as his somewhat hunched back would permit. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure. I understand you were inquiring after me." With a dark smile, he added, "You see, to the right person, I'm really very easy to get an appointment with. All you have to do is ask."
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Post by skybright on Jan 8, 2006 14:40:34 GMT -5
Daws slowly opened the other eye and studied the dark-clothed man before her (really above, since she was still lying on the floor).
He reminded her of a villain from one of those old Universal horror flicks -- careful grooming, impeccably suave manner, refined accent (of course, the long black cape didn't hurt the impression, either). He smelled of rich cologne and money; but there was another scent there, too, underneath -- something Daws could quantify only as dark. This, Daws quickly decided, was not a nice man; there was a darkness just beneath the surface, roiling in those black eyes.
Count Dracula, Daws thought, feeling the fur on her back prickle. Wasn't it cats that Dracula couldn't stand?
Well, films noir had always been more Daws' speed -- and the smart-mouthed private eye was a role she knew well. She rolled slowly into a sitting position, lifting one hand to her aching head, and fixed the man with a much-diminished version of her usual grey-eyed stare. "You must be Tiernan. You'll have to forgive me, but when I think of 'easy to get an appointment with' I think of walking in and giving my card to a receptionist -- not being drugged, bundled off to a warehouse, and dumped on a concrete floor."
Her hand darted suddenly to her black hair, and she glanced sideways at George -- who was, despite Tiernan's advice, still wheezing and cringing. "At least tell me you didn't leave my hat at Lusus."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 8, 2006 21:43:24 GMT -5
Any imminent threat seemingly past, George's breathing began to stabilize somewhat. Looking around, he spotted Daws' hat, which had apparently fallen about halfway between the door and the place where she now sat. He scooted off the crate, went to pick it up, then returned and handed it to her--flinching slightly as she snatched it from him.
Tiernan observed these proceedings with faint amusement. He was curious about the acquaintance between his pet spy and the detective, and watching the two was more enlightening than asking questions. Obviously, George was not Daws' favorite person.
"I apologize for your discomfort," Tiernan said, as Daws settled her hat on her head. "But you understand that I have to take measures to protect myself. There are quite a few anti-mutant activists who don't like me. I certainly have no delusion that you're one of those--but some mutants have cooperated with them, for one reason or another. I presume that isn't the case either."
He folded his arms and looked at her intently. "That leaves the question of what you do want. You have some idea of how Tiernan Enterprises operates, I believe, but you've never taken an interest in us before. So why the sudden curiosity, Miss Dawson?"
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Post by skybright on Jan 9, 2006 15:57:56 GMT -5
Comes right to the point, doesn't he? Daws scratched behind one ear and took a moment to collect her thoughts.
She really hadn't expected to wind up face-to-face with Tiernan so quickly -- apparently George Stubbs was better-connected and more important to Tiernan than she'd guessed. But it didn't take a genius to guess that if drugging people and quasi-kidnapping them was how Tiernan made an "appointment", his methods for dealing with troublemakers weren't pleasant ones. Daws had made a long and so-far successful career out of not winding up dead, and she felt like continuing it.
So let's not be troublemakers, Ace -- at least not yet.
She clambered somewhat unsteadily to her feet -- it didn't help that headache any, but she wasn't about to let Tiernan think he could loom over her -- and cleared her throat.
"Well, I'm not looking for trouble. Truth is, we're in the same business as far as I can tell -- helping out mutants. Naturally I'm curious about anyone else in my business.
"I don't work for any organization. I'm strictly freelance. But . . ." She pushed her hat back on her head, "That doesn't mean I wouldn't be open to contracting out now and again. For someone in my same line of work, that is."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 9, 2006 23:36:29 GMT -5
Interesting. To Tiernan, Daws' answer was not unexpected; if she were snooping around on someone else's behalf, she would hardly admit it. On the other hand, it was awkward to make an introduction after being drugged and abducted. That was another reason he did things that way; disoriented people usually weren't up to telling very convincing lies. Daws may have been telling the truth.
In any case, he could afford to give her the benefit of the doubt, letting her hang around for a while without finding out anything more than she already knew. If she was genuinely useful, he could bring her further in later.
Not that he would make it too easy for Daws to involve herself.
"That's an intriguing offer," he said blithely, "but as it happens, I already have a sort of 'detective' of my own." He tilted his head toward George, who blinked quizzically.
"So just what sort of services would you propose to do for us, Miss Dawson?" Tiernan asked.
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Post by skybright on Jan 10, 2006 15:59:03 GMT -5
Well, if nothing else she now knew what it was George did for Tiernan -- although she probably should've been able to guess as much. Hardly anyone would snoop around as much as George did unless he were being paid for it. Daws made a mental note to take all of George's future information with a larger grain of salt.
Assuming you get out of here for there to be future information, Ace. She thought about Tiernan's question. Offering herself as a hired gun wasn't going to be any use -- aside from the personal distaste she had for the idea, Tiernan had Taniwha and (no doubt) a raft of other strongarms who could do that job a lot better than she could.
Daws chuckled -- she was still doing her best at the nonchalant card. "Well, George is a great sneak and no mistake." She said, fishing a cigarette and a wooden match out of her coat pocket. "But you may have noticed that he's not much for sticking his neck out. There's some investigations that need that. There's also some that need to push through a couple layers of cops to get to the information. I think we both know George isn't up to that -- no offence, George." She added, glancing at the little Englishman.
"I'm no fan of cops, but I'm not scared of 'em either, and I don't bolt when they start shoving -- I shove right back. Could be you might find the occasional mystery where you'd have a use for someone like that." She struck the match on a nearby crate, lit the cigarette and added finally,
"If you're not interested, no hard feelings. Just thought I'd make the offer. "
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 10, 2006 21:53:58 GMT -5
George glared at Daws with increasing agitation through her blithe proposal. She wanted to cut in on his turf! He was now definitely wishing he'd never brought her here.
Tiernan was well aware of George's reaction, and it amused him tremendously.
"There's something to what you say," he admitted to Daws. When George started to protest, he cut the little man off with, "Now, George, it's true that she has an entrée into places you don't." Again to Daws, "Certain information about police activities would be useful to me. Can you get that?"
In fact, very little happened in the city without Tiernan's knowledge--law enforcement included. But this would be a convenient way to test Daws.
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Post by skybright on Jan 12, 2006 17:27:16 GMT -5
Daws shrugged one shoulder. "I can't make any promises, not without knowing what exactly you need found out. But I'm not above tweaking the local law enforcement when I've got the chance."
Truth be told, Daws did her best to tweak the local law whenever possible. The NYPD was known to have a general disdain of mutants and an often-wilful ignorance when mutants were the victims of crimes. As far as Daws was concerned, they deserved any aggravation she gave them.
She didn't doubt that Tiernan was setting her up for a test of some kind -- nobody got as big as he was by being stupid with his organization -- but she wasn't going to fail right out of the gate by refusing a potential run-in with the law. Particularly since I'm snooping about illegal activities.
She blew a smoke ring and said confidently, "Tell me what information you're after, and if it's mutantly possible, you'll get it."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 12, 2006 22:46:22 GMT -5
Tiernan steepled his fingertips. "I have a... shipment arriving in three nights, at Pier Twenty-Seven. I'd like to know about any police and port authority activity that night."
We'll see what she does with that, Tiernan mused to himself. The "shipment" in question--half a ton of prescription drugs intended for illicit sale to human buyers--was not so urgent that it couldn't be delayed if necessary. After Daws was released, if Tiernan's other connections reported that the law suddenly took an interest in Pier Twenty-Seven, he would know she was playing games with him. And if she was...
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Post by skybright on Jan 15, 2006 18:55:01 GMT -5
Daws nodded. She had friends who worked along the piers -- mostly older guys who had been in the Army with her late partner -- and they were the sorts who noticed when the Law was antsy about something. They'd be able to tell her -- without tipping off any authorities -- if the law was taking special interest in pier twenty-seven.
"All right, Mr. Tiernan." Daws pushed her fedora back on her head and held out her hand, "You've hired yourself a private eye."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 15, 2006 21:13:10 GMT -5
Tiernan did not accept Daws' hand. He was not the hand-shaking sort. However, he did bow very slightly.
"Another of my associates will be with you in a moment to escort you back to Lusus Naturae, or wherever you wish to go," he said. "We'll meet again, Miss Dawson. Good night."
With that, Tiernan turned and strode for the door, giving Taniwha and the Ferret a small gesture to follow. Hori lumbered along obediently, but George was fairly hopping with agitation at Tiernan's side before they had even stepped into the corridor outside the sparring room.
"Really, Boss, I don't--"
"You protest too much, George," Tiernan interrupted him lightly, pausing outside the doorway. "As I recall, you were the one arguing on Miss Dawson's behalf a few minutes ago. I can assure you that she's no threat to you--but you have made some enemies among people useful to me. She may still have access to them. If nothing else, considering the clients she takes, she could be an excellent recruiter for us. That is if she proves trustworthy."
He turned to a lanky, red-haired teenage boy who had been standing beside the doors, attempting to be at attention but failing and fidgeting restlessly. "Joey, you may take the young lady in there wherever she wants to go. Use the west tunnel."
"Right, Boss," said his errand boy, Joey "Ricochet" Falco. He gave a slight salute and jogged into the sparring room, as Tiernan and his two companions continued down the corridor.
Thoroughly accustomed to encountering the strangest of fellow mutants, Joey did not pause or hesitate in the slightest as he approached Daws. He merely regarded her with innocent curiosity as he held out his hand.
"I'm Ricochet. The Boss told me to take you where you want to go, Ma'am."
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Post by skybright on Jan 15, 2006 21:36:49 GMT -5
Daws raised an eyebrow at the young man, but returned his handshake. "Regina Dawson. Don't bother with the 'ma'am', kid -- I'm not old enough, rich enough, or classy enough for it."
She studied the kid, surprised both by his youth and by the honesty in his features. She'd expected a hired thug to be her 'escort', someone more in Taniwha's line than the lanky boy facing her. Then again, she guessed she shouldn't really be surprised; crime caught the young, had in fact almost caught her once upon a time. Still, this kid didn't seem like the type who'd been into any sort of racket for long -- and Daws was fairly sure she knew a right guy when she met one. 'Ricochet' fell into that category.
She tossed her cigarette stub away (Let Tiernan pick it up, it'll serve him right) and settled her fedora firmly on her head (which still felt hollow and slightly too tender from the sedation). Then she nodded at the redheaded kid, who was still regarding her curiously.
"I could use a walk uptown, kid. You know St. Patrick's cathedral?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 15, 2006 22:17:31 GMT -5
"Yeah," Joey confirmed with a nod. "I'll show you the way there. The tunnel doesn't really come out in the nicest neighborhood," he admitted, with a shy grin and a duck of his head. He gestured for Daws to follow him, then headed for the doorway with his bouncy gait, taking it for granted that she would come after him.
From the sparring room they stepped out into a blank, square white corridor, part of the rabbit warren of tunnels beneath Tiernan Enterprises. Joey led the way toward the west tunnel, which ended at an exit five blocks from the building above them. The Boss probably didn't much care whether or not Daws could find her way back--he would have had her blindfolded or something if he did--but he was always moderately cautious.
For a few minutes, they walked in silence, and Joey couldn't resist darting glances at Daws. It wasn't that she looked like a cat, really; it was more that she dressed like Dick Tracy.
"So are you working for the Boss now?" he finally asked.
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Post by skybright on Jan 15, 2006 22:59:33 GMT -5
Daws scratched absently behind her left ear. "I guess you could say that. It'd be more accurate to say I'm under contract for 'im. I like to think I don't really work for anybody but myself."
She took note of the rabbit-warren of corridors they were passing through -- "tunnels", the kid had said, which meant they were belowground. That accounted for the absence of traffic noises. Daws was willing to bet she was currently somewhere below the Tiernan Enterprises building. Shouldn't surprise you, Ace. The City's deeper than it is high, after all. She did her best to memorize the various turns the corridor took -- it might come in handy in the future, if she decided to do some old-fashioned sneaking around.
Daws glanced sideways at the boy -- Ricochet. She was walking briskly to keep up with his long, loping strides. The kid moved with a bouncing gait that brought to mind words like irrepressable, shooting curious glances sideways at her as they went. "What about you, kid?" she asked, as they rounded a bend in the corridor, "You been working for Tiernan long?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 15, 2006 23:24:57 GMT -5
Joey shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Coupla years. I'm just a go-fer." He glanced sideways at Daws. "He pays me good, so I can take care of my Mom."
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Post by skybright on Jan 15, 2006 23:38:35 GMT -5
"Good for you. Family oughtta look out for each other." Daws nodded in approval. Her own homelife had never been a pleasant one, but she thought well of people who worked to support their family -- even if that involved doing odd jobs for people like Tiernan.
She chuckled as she glanced at the redheaded boy. "So tell me -- you got another name, or did your Mom really name you 'Ricochet'?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 15, 2006 23:55:37 GMT -5
"Oh." A hint of a blush crept into the teen's freckled cheeks, and he scratched the back of his neck. "My real name's Joey. Joey Falco. Everybody just calls me Ricochet because I kinda... bounce."
It was true both mentally and physically. For a moment, Joey fondly remembered playing basketball back when he was still in school; he was better than anyone else. Of course, that ended when his classmates found out he was a mutant, and he was rejected from the team. They'd accused him of cheating--but really, how could it be cheating if he was just using abilities that were natural to him?
He hadn't played since then. Nobody else who worked for Nocturne was interested in playing basketball.
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Post by skybright on Jan 16, 2006 0:05:18 GMT -5
Daws nodded and grinned. "Funny how we pick them up, isn't it? The nicknames, I mean. Seems like every mutant I know's got one." She snorted.
"Two different people I worked cases for insisted on calling me 'Grimalkin'. Both of them humans, by the way. It was like they couldn't get their brains around the idea that I had a real name, like they did. But then," She added, "A lot of humans can't seem to get their heads around the fact that I've got the same things they do."
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