2009-11-01: A Pleasant Introduction To Hell

Starring:

Max_V4icon.pngTracy_V4icon.png

Date: November 1st, 2009

Summary:

Tracy gets a tour of Building 26, courtesy of Max.


"A Pleasant Introduction to Hell"

Building 26

Washington, D.C.

Max wasn't surprised to learn that Tracy Strauss was given full access to Building 26. He was surprised to see it happen so quickly. She must as persuasive as she claimed, and then some.

And so Max is waiting at the main entrance for her to arrive. Freshly trimmed around the hair and beard, freshly dressed in a loose, lightweight suit of dark grey wool, and a smile on his face, a styrofoam cup of fresh coffee in each hand, he's the definition of welcoming PR representative.

It may be Sunday, but those toiling within Building 26 don't seem to have paused their work. As such, Tracy can forgo a day of rest. Rest is for the weak when there's work to be done. Lounging takes a far, far back burner. When she arrives at the building, she is very slightly dressed down from her last visit, but no less faultless in her choice of wardrobe: fitted black dress pants and a dark but vivid green sweater, ribbed cardigan with cuff sleeves; a string of pearls can be seen just above the top of her modestly buttoned sweater, matching the pearls at her ears.

"Mr. Swan." she calls out as she nears, smiling brightly. "You're my welcoming committee again."

"Of course," Max replies, tipping a nod and offering one of the cups to Tracy. "I was pleased to discover that your request for clearance had already been processed and transmitted. Coffee? Or if you prefer, we can move directly to your tour."

Behind him, the hustle and bustle that forms that more legitimate majority of Building 26's business continues, completely unabated and unaffected by time and day. Beneath it, a gritty, ugly interior is itching to be exposed. And somewhat perversely, Max is itching to expose it.

"Thanks," Tracy replies as she reaches for the coffee. Even if Max probably isn't psychic and doesn't know how she likes her coffee. "I did say it'd be cleared up. I knew it wouldn't be a problem." There's that confident smile of hers, confident as ever. "I can multi-task," she says with a glance beyond Max into the building, lifting her cup upward ever-so-slightly in indication. "I'm eager to see what you have going on."

"And I'm eager to show you. Follow me, please." With another smile and nod, Max leads Tracy on a slow, occasionally winding path through the office area. He could cut straight to the more meaty locations, but for him, it's far more delicious to stretch things out a bit. "This is our administration area," he explains, waving a hand at the mass of desks and office workers. "Where all the worker bees buzz about their business. Trivial, I know, but each is an important cog in our vast machine. Though our purposes differ, I think you'll find that we aren't structured very differently from a small corporation."

Tracy follows briskly — just behind Max at first, but quickly claiming up space near his elbow. She takes in the sights with new eyes this time around, even the boring worker bees. A renewed, hungry interest has taken over her watchful blue gaze — because this time, she knows she can see through the barriers. "So I see," she says — appraisingly, sure, but not exactly thrilled. Give her the meat. "I'd expect nothing less," she adds with a smile; a tinge of warmth. The Senator's had a hand in all this, after all. "Does the resident 'physician' always act as a tour guide here?"

Max tries to suppress another smile with only partial success. "I find myself being thrust into new roles with alarming frequency," he admits. "But I don't mind. Here, we all serve for the greater good. This time, I'm lucky enough to serve with pleasant company at my side. This way, please."

A quick right brings the pair to Human Resources. Max pulls a keycard from his belt, swipes it, and then lays his hand on a biometrics scanner. After his prints have been confirmed, the door slides open. "Through here, please. This is the Human Resources department, where we process and study our new detainees."

And so the descent into Hell begins with metal tables, heavy restraints, and huge arrays of medical equipment, implements, and testing supplies.

Human Resources. As Tracy's brisk pace comes to a halt just inside of the room, she realizes that there's something of a disconnect between the generic moniker and… this. The decidedly pleased expression she had been wearing starts to fade. Slower high-heeled footsteps venture further in, her eyes slowly, methodically sweeping over every detail. The metal tables… the restraints, especially.

"This is…" Even this ice queen doesn't go unmoved. There's a brief moment wherein she looks rather… unsettled. Her gaze moves a little faster over all the medical supplies and she turns back to Max, jaw hard-set. "What's next?" To her credit, that unsettled look has taken a back seat.

As she studies the area, Max is studying her. Though he is as externally bland and placid as ever, he is devouring every twitch, every gesture, and every expression that Tracy displays.

His smile widens and takes on an almost unsavory quality as he shows rows of white, even teeth. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to have a closer look?" he queries innocently.

"It looks pretty straight-forward," Tracy replies with a slight edge to her voice. It's just that: slight. The rest is measured, controlled. She does, however, glance past the green-fabric angle of her shoulder toward those cold, metal tables again, just for an instant. "You said //new/ detainees," she points out, inquiring. "So this is temporary?"

"Theoretically," Max says, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm afraid that discharges aren't my specialty. However, I'm given to understand that the detainees are here solely for the protection of themselves and others. My research is currently being applied in an attempt to treat them. To cure them, if you will."

Another shark-like smile. Slowly, the monster within is being exposed for the benefit of Ms. Strauss. "When we have determined that each individual is no longer a threat, they are transferred to a rehabilitation facility for the duration of their treatment."

The appearance of the shark-like smile has piqued the woman's curiosity more than anything else; rather, the words that go along with it. She is staring at the man with an increasing intensity. "Cure them," she repeats. "You're trying to make them normal." Tracy glances again to the rest of Human Resources, though her eyes only slide to the side this time for a moment. She considers. "And this room holds them." The observation is poised with an air of query, even skepticism. "Despite their… abilities?"

"Because of their abilities." The clarification visibly amuses Max. "We aim to make them as normal as possible. For their own good, of course." He clasps both hands together at the small of his back. It's a crisp gesture. A familiar one for him. "The study of Evolved humans is my life's work. Discerning the what and why of it all. Testing limitations. And, as needed, providing means of neutralization. Effective means."

Tracy watches Max as closely as he watches her. "You keep them … neutered," she interprets. Slowly, she nods, accepting it. "For their own good. Of course." A hint of a smile — a reserved curve of painted lips — seamlessly cuts her otherwise hardened features. She steps around Max, taking the lead to reopen the door out of Human Resources. "So tell me about these means of neutralization." Multi-tasking doesn't just apply to coffee.

Like the gracious host that he is, Max adapts to Tracy's more forward take on the tour. "We use a drug that I have refined to a near-perfect form," he explains. "It is odorless, colorless, and tasteless. Effective as an injection, an inhalant, or via oral administration. Around here, we fondly refer to it as the Solution."

On the other side of the door, normalcy overtakes the pair like a tide breaking against the rocks. One moment it is absent, the next it is present. Somehow, Max seems less at peace than he was when surrounded by the fruits of his labor. He clears his breath and continues. "Currently, the Solution is a stopgap measure. As the body metabolizes it, the effects begin to wear off. I'm confident that we will soon have a more permanent Solution."

Another smile, this one small and satisfied.

Well, that's nice and terrifying.

"Fascinating work, Mr. Swan." Wasn't this the very thing Tracy asked Ivory for those weeks and weeks ago? A cure? Something to take away her ability? Somehow, when faced with the possibility here and now, she's not comforted. However, while she certainly looks thoughtful and considering, the consultant's innermost sentiments don't show.

Tracy takes a drink of the provided coffee as she walks through Building 26 with Max. "So. Am I allowed to know if Peter Petrelli was one of the detainees now?" she says with a joking tone to her voice, making light of things like captives and her prior lack of clearance.

"Of course," Max replies humorlessly. "Peter Petrelli is my… guest. There was an unfortunate accident, after which I brought him here. He's resting comfortably now, and I will be personally supervising his rehabilitation."

There's that word again. Rehabilitation. Every time he says it, it sparks the most genuine emotion that Max has displayed. Avarice. A greedy need to know, to understand, and to control.

Unsurprised — in fact, looking slightly vindicated — Tracy nods as she walks, as if she understands. In a way, she does understand the want for rehabilitation, although her line of thought is completely divergent from Max's. "I suppose that's why he's not in there," she says with a glance back, barely more than a shake of her head that tosses the pin-straight blonde hair brushed over her shoulder. "Is it true he can … regenerate?" she asks, more quietly. "I don't mean to make the guy out to sound like a myth, but I've heard things."

Max cocks an eyebrow. "It's true," he admits. "And he is capable of a great deal more. I look forward to mapping his potential. He and I are becoming quite close, which may soon benefit our organization."

He pauses in front of a narrow hallway that could easily have been overlooked. "I'm afraid that we're out of time. However, If you continue on down that way…" he points to indicate the path. "…you will reach my private laboratory. Mr. Petrelli is resting there. When you're finished, you may show yourself out."

Max offers a final smile and a hand for shaking. "Ms. Strauss, it has been a pleasure."

"Likewise," Tracy indulges with a smile as, switching her cup from hand to hand, she shakes Max's hand. The gesture is as firm and professional as the last, but warm from the hot coffee. Deceptive, that. "Thanks for the tour. I'm sure it won't be the last time I learn something from you." With that, and another smile, she pulls away and strides down the narrow hallway Max indicated. She can't pass this chance to investigate.

But the pleasant smiles don't last long once her back is turned. She's not as pleased by her Building 26 tour as she thought she would be. What was she expecting?

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