2009-10-11: A Sensitive Operation



Guest Starring:

Agent Hamm of Alpha Protocol

Date: October 11th, 2009


An uncomfortable Gene Kensington is questioned in captivity.

"A Sensitive Operation"

(Previously on Heroes MUSH… When Hunters Become the Hunted)

Rural NY

The organized hustle and bustle of people coming and going has been going on for at least an hour. Boot-steps, vehicles rumbling, orders being barked and low voices relaying orders. Now, it begins to slow and the world around Mr. Gene Kensington becomes quieter, less chaotic.

The young man has been situated on a metal folding chair, wrists and ankles restrained, nylon rope lashing around his chest and the chair itself to assure he hops nowhere. The surroundings are made up of what appears to be a large military tent of heavy-duty army green canvas. The bare ground is trampled by use and a few tables have been set up, on which portable computers and other devices are laid out, along with rows of weapons.

A few figures linger in this place. The agents in the black tactical here actually have faces, their features no longer hidden. A man and a woman go over information on a laptop while an older, grizzled man with a scruffy grey goatee and shoulders like a linebacker paces back and forth in front of the captive, speaking on the phone. His voice sounds like gravel and shrapnel churning together. "… Lenk let the teleporter get away before she could be subdued. The search party is continuing the hunt. No luck so far. We're runnin' facial recognition on the captive, sir."

The pain in his back is the first thing Gene feels, the electrical burns still hot against his skin. Last time he felt pain like that, he was just a kid. Like before, a force more powerful than himself using pain in order to gain control of a situation.

Forcing his eyes open, the young genius keeps his gaze to the ground, trying to determine what the voices are saying. Right now, it's kinda hard, but seems to be slowly improving with time. He is groggy, the forced hyper-adrenaline rush Elena used to try and power their escape making him sore as all get out. He's alive though, that's saying something.

"Yes, sir," the gruff voice near Gene says brusquely — curt, but obviously consenting to a respected higher command. "Do you want him sent back to Washington?" The tall man pauses his pacing to look down at Gene. "We'll see what we're working with and wait for your green light. Yessir, of course, sir." The device is beeped off and he crouches down on front of the captive, steely eyes looking up at his droopy face. "You awake, kid?"

There are a lot of choices ahead of him. Even in a chair, captured, there are different ways. Butter him up? Nah, that won't get him anyway, most of the people captured he's sure tried that. So he tries the different approach.

"I feel like crap. I take it either you are the most equipped criminals I've seen in awhile, or your with some organization."

"We're not the criminals here." The man pushes meaty hands off his knees and stands up. "If I recall, you were the one found attempting to break into a government-sanctioned operation." He ambles around Gene's chair to pick up something lying against the inside of the tent wall. It's the charred remains of Gene's backpack. "With…" What exactly?

The young man's attention stays to the ground, his eyes in a look of concentration. Not exactly easy to be on the top of his mastermind game when he's in pain. He is cranky, the frustration of being here and the pain overriding his fear for the time being. When watching movies, he'd wonder why the good guys or the bad guys would always get so mouthy when they got caught. It didn't make sense. Of course, now that he's here, he suddenly sees what it's all about. Anger of being powerless, with a hidden but desperate desire to regain control.

"I was trying to break into a train at an abandoned station. You guys just happened to be here. You have actual IDs or something? If you don't, just hurry up and write the damn ransom note. Hurrah, you captured a politican's son trying to make sure a girl who needed his help was okay. Good. For. You."

"Son of a politician?" That bit of news captures the man's attention, a silvery eyebrow raising and crinkling ruddy skin. Uncinching his bulletproof vest, he tears it to the side to remove a gold and blue shield tucked in a shirt pocket. "Agent Hamm. I'm part of an agency overseen by the Department of Homeland Security. That train is a military train, son, and it's property of the United States Government. It contains federal prisoners— now, why don't you tell me your name?"

A glance is given to the badge, Gene again deciding to not answer any questions. It seems legit, but Gene was pretty sure it would. "First, you tell me why you took the people you have" comes the swift reply, Gene's eyes meeting Hamm's. His eyes are almost like that of a caged animal's…. A rage powered by fear. "Because I'm SURE most, if not all, those people have committed any crimes at all OR received a trial."

"I'm not authorized to divulge their identities or their crimes. I am, however, authorized to detain you under suspicion of terrorist activities." Agent Hamm looks along his shoulder and calls out to the man and woman who seem to be subordinates to him. "How're you two doing with the system?"

They look back. "It's a little slow out here, I think it'll kick in soon, sir," says the dark-haired woman.

Hamm eyes Gene once more. "We're going to find out who you are anyway, only a matter of time, you heard them. Who were you looking for on that train?"

"Emily C-somethingwhatever. Without my cellphone, hard to remember people's full names here. And sure, look me up. I just figure if you aren't being a trustworthy government, you'll just have to parden me for being an untrustworthy citizen."

There is an awkward pause as Gene tries in vain to cross his legs.

"Do I get a cup or something to pee in? If not, do I get sponage baths? And if so, do I get to request WHO gives them? Cuz I'm about to pee my pants and since I am kinda parched, it's gunna be that really stinky pee. And this is a nice tent. It would suck of it smelled like stinky pee."

Gene, a special kinda prisoner.

The younger man at the computer raises a hand and steps away to reveal the laptop's screen. "Sir," he interrupts politely as possible. "We have a match. Gene Kensington."

"Hold it, Gene," Hamm says gruffly. The order has double meaning, no doubt about it. He abandons the prisoner briefly to examine the timely results displayed with facial recognition software. "Gene Jack Kensington, born 1988 in Charleston… I see you work at EvoSoft." A discerning look is shot Gene's way. "Company that deals in all sorts of technology, right?"

Now Gene is going to have to pee AND they know who he is. Time to come clean, unable to stall for time much longer without making himself look worse off than he already is. Which is pretty dang bad.

"Yeah, I'm an intern there. I'm a genius when it comes to technology which is why I didn't need a college degree. It came naturally to me like music did for Mozart. So, I took their designs and using my own money, built stuff to protect myself. Seeing as I thought Emily was taken by criminals, I merely took some self-defense measures to protect myself if push came to shove. You'll note that I only attacked when I had been fired upon FIRST, without being told of what was going on."

"You have to realize, this is a highly sensitive operation," the man tells Gene as he turns away, leaning over the computer to eye the information further. There's likely more there that he isn't narrating out loud. He offers no further explanation, simply heading back the young man's way. "Now about that cup."


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