2010-01-17: Coded Colloquy



Date: January 17, 2010


Here I go again on my own….

"Coded Colloquy"

Six Months Ago…

More information crops up on the video beyond the exchange of folders. The alley feed has audio, but it's mostly garbage; lots of background noise and rare sound bytes that are usually irrelevant. As the two men on the monitor speak and shake hands, Leader can be heard dully, his voice cutting in and out.

« — in America»
«from their government»
«Human weapons»
«calling it their (???) Protocol»
« — cooperation — »

Cody's contact comes through with another message, sending back his own confirmation of identity. Confirmed, Baker — don't know what's going on here. Pull out

Cody leans forward and rewinds the byte and then replays it a few times, just to make certain what she thought she heard was correct. Then she begins to type very carefully, for once, she has orders to give.

Pulling out of the area entirely. Need to investigate this further. Check out Lancaster Industries and the government. Get me into something called Protocol. Will be back at base in three days. Waiting confirmation, then silence.

Then she sits back. More human weapons… Thoughts begin to whirl through her mind at a furious pace. Either the government is dealing in human weapons or they were building a force of them. Either way her job in Delta Force would be affected.

My last day in the Middle East, I stood in the light of the sweltering sun. The sweat stains on my shirt were drawn out like the map of a brand new world. At first it felt cleansing but then it was like the planet turned under my feet and it knew what it was that made me scream in terror. I looked up at the sky, so lit up with the fire of human ambition and I knew that God wasn't there anymore. Not for me, not for the people who live here, not for the people who live back home.

Three Weeks Ago…

"When you're finished with the pages, I'll need them back for my book." The woman says coolly as she picks the armor up off the floor and hefts it over her shoulder. From the stack of notebook pages on the desk, Cody really has been a busy girl. It is a fair deduction that Max isn't the only scientist that will be given a chance to study her captures. And his names total at least 15. With one last glance to the pile of dead rats, Cody thrusts open the door to the room and walks through it. It's a pleasant gesture that she didn't slam it on the way out.

As much as I hate the terrorists, the businessmen, and the politicians, I'm just as guilty of playing God. It's not God that slaughters children, or fate that butchers them, or destiny that feeds them to the wolves. It's us and only us. After tonight I will be cold, suffocating in the dark, forever alone. Living my life as though I lacked anything better to do.

Trudging down the hallway, Cody pulls her flack armor back over her body and fastens every little buckle and strip of velcro. The suit is form fitting and like Dungeons and Dragons female plate, Cody has absolutely no idea how it would protect her in a real fire fight. She's always relied more on her cunning and wits, cunning that most people here don't give her credit for… mostly because she hides it well beneath a facade of good nature and carefree whimsy. She's the My Little Pony of Protocol agents, a fact that doesn't bother her in the least. The more they assume, the less they know when it hits.

She pulls a pay-as-you-go cell phone from her pocket and doesn't begin dialing until she is outside of the building. "Same place, meet me as soon as you can." She keeps walking until she disappears from the circles of light….

There is nothing.

Existence is random.

Christopher Pyle sits on the pair's regular park bench in Battery Park. It's a particularly cloudy day, but his sunglasses remain fixed over his eyes. He sips at a disposable Starbucks cup yet another cup rests on the middle of the bench. His lips curl downwards into a frown at the taste, however; clearly, he's not impressed with it for some reason. Besides the sunglasses, Pyle looks like he belongs in this park. He's wearing a bomber leather coat and a pair of dark wash jeans — all-in-all he does casual well and always has. Just a little ways in the distance some teens are skateboarding, grinding several benches which, really, is a park no-no. But this makes Pyle grin. For whatever reason, this is particularly fascinating to him.

There's no pattern to my epoch, except what my mind creates after staring at it for much too long. No meaning, except for what is imposed on me.

Still dressed in her black cargo pants and combat boots, Cody's top is a more casual style of t-shirt underneath layers of Hobo Chic sweaters and a hoodie. Her long blond hair is braided into whiplike dreadlocks that are wrapped into a ponytail on the top of her head. Approaching the man silently from behind, she doesn't ever know if she surprises him or not… He's never indulged the silly side of her personality with more than that easy going smile he's always had.

She hops over the back of the bench, almost landing on the extra cup of coffee, but she almost expected it to be there. Picking it up, she takes a much longer, much more appreciative gulp of the stuff. "Good stuff, where'd you get this from. That Starbucks across the road?" She starts the conversation off with light chit chat. Then she scootches a little closer to him, looking more like his date than his employee. "It's getting more aggressive, the weather, we got fifteen inches in the last few days…"

Our country is killing itself. Our country is suffering from a cancer that can't ever be cured.

Pyle smirks at the comment about the coffee, and offers Cody his usual easy smile. "Yeah. It's from that Starbucks. Freakin' five dollar coffee. It's robbery." He chuckles anyways, certain that they have the same conversation every time they meet. The five dollar coffee never appealed to him, particularly when he doesn't need anything fancy, in fact, he'd buy coffee from a gas station — the sludgier the better, but he drinks the brew he purchased, anyways.

"Things getting cold for you, Cody?" he asks with a tilt of his head. His lips curl into a smug smirk as he raises his coffee to his lips again. After taking a generous swallow, he glances up at the sky, pretending he's still talking about the weather, "If things are too cold for you, we could consider moving out West. I hear California's great this time of year."

What happened to America? What happened to our dreams? Some might say they came true and as our pennance we are foreced to fester in the pits of our own wealth and decadence.

"Yeah…" Cody manages looking down at the toes of her boots. As far as she knows there's no way that they would have been able to track her. All of her communication with Pyle has been in person, or over pay-as-you-go phones. No email, no regular channels. Sometimes there were package drops, but again, they were in person. She takes another drink of her coffee and closes her eyes rather wearily. "I haven't felt it yet, but that doesn't mean a front isn't headed this way. We're on the seaboard, the weather's been known to turn with the wind. Not like in Jordan, it was always nice in Jordan."

Turning her head only slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye, she lowers her voice even still. "I need someone to keep me warm at night, someone I can get into bed with. How's your love life going, by the way? I haven't seen that one girl around for months now… What was her name again? Started with a P, or something, didn't it? Petunia?" She tries to wipe the little smirk off her lips by licking them, then taking another long slug of coffee.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. If it will all work out in the end. Then I remember, nothing ends. Nothing ever ends.

"Well, at least you haven't felt the cold," Pyle agrees before he slurps back some more coffee. "I'm glad you've managed to stay warm so far." He narrows his eyes at the comment about the love life, calculatingly. Knowingly, coyly, he plays the game, "Patty. Her name was Patty. Honestly, could you see me with some woman named Petunia? Sounds like… someone who belongs in the cotillion." He clears his throat, "But you should get into bed with someone." He tilts his head as his eyes twinkle with mischief, "I could set you up, maybe? I know lots of keen and available men. I'm sure they'd…" he shoots her a sideways glance, "…measure up to your standards." He smirks again before chuckling at one of the kids who wipes off his skateboard.

Cody's eyes drift over to the kid as he sits on the ground, hugging his knee. Maybe she should feel more sympathy for him, but right now she just doesn't have it in her. Her curved lips match the smirk on Pyle's and she downs the rest of the coffee in the cup. "Mmm, maybe, but my standards have always been high. No one has ever compared to you. I'll never understand why we didn't work out." Getting up from her place beside him, she tosses her empty cup into the wastebin and calls out over her shoulder. "Next time, we're getting dinner and you're buying. I'm not a cheap date, you know, if I'm expected to put out I'd like something fancy."

When I look down and see all of them lying on the tables with those tubes up their noses, I feel afraid. I feel afraid for the world. I don't think any of us here understand, they're not locked in here with us, we're locked in with them. These special people can be dangerous and if they ever figure out what's going on… God save us all.

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