2007-08-11: DF: Innocent Blood


DFCyprus_icon.gif DFLogan_icon.gif

Summary: Pay no attention to the man behind the briefcase. Or do. Closely.

Dark Future Date: August 11th, 2009

Innocent Blood

Undisclosed Evolved Holding Facility

It's one of the Homeland Security holding facilities down near where Battery Park once lay. Once, it was a warehouse with direct harbor access. Now, it is a place where Homeland keeps detainees of Evolved nature, but not quite considered a high level of threat. The evening after Kate's speech was broadcast nationally, and the news has devoured it and spread it like wildfire. It must have been played over a dozen times already tonight, the words "Gabriel Gray… is alive and he has killed again." And it's at this facility that the man behind the three ring circus of the media waits. Cyprus stands outside the front entrance of the facility, dressed in his usual suit, with a coat.

Cyprus doesn't have long to wait. A black limo comes purring sleekly up to the front of the building, and inside the car, Logan hangs up the phone. Whatever call he was just dealing with, it wasn't one of good news. No matter. These days? Hardly ever is. Stepping out of the car, he walks towards his aide, flanked by minimal security. "Mr. Donovan," is the cursory greeting.

"Mr. President," replies Cyprus, nodding and gesturing towards the building. "This way, please." Why Logan was called out here was not precisely revealed, save that it was a matter of security. Once the President has stepped past him, Cyprus moves to follow. "I trust you were watching the Mrs. Petrelli's press conference?" Is that a hint of pride in his voice? Unmistakably.

"I managed to catch a rerun, yeah," Logan says, lightly, though he glances at Cyprus with a more telling smirk. "I'm guessing that you got exactly what we needed from Kate." Not Mrs. Petrelli. Kate. That could, of course, be out of familiarity! "Very good. Although I did say no surprises. Learning that Sylar's alive, well, that's a surprise."

"She caught us offguard," admits Cyprus, with a faint shrug. "It was impressive, though. Gabriel Gray, alive and killing again. With nothing but targets as far as the eye can see. It's a powerful message, sir. It's a terrifying message." There are soldiers and checkpoints, but they are bypassed as they see the President and his aide approaching. Doors are held open, and the pair with their guards can pass through. They're heading into one of the holding areas. "Also, I have to admit, I could not have predicted your brother's wife publicly undoing the one unquestionably good act everyone knows about…"

"He gets a pass on the trainwreck," Logan says, shrugging his uninjured shoulder as they walk. "Now he gets to answer the question as to why Sylar is still alive." So no, not terribly mad about such a twist. "We need to be cautious about the potential backlash from the Evolved about how we've basically exposed them to the threat, while humans stay safe in their camps. I suppose it helps that we're just as much at risk." He doesn't sound overly concerned, however - Sylar is Sylar, but Logan has resources. Now, he asks, "You going to tell me about why I'm here?"

"What's three hundred humans to the greatest evil the Evolved have ever faced?" equates Cyprus rather coldly. "It was not the government who exposed them to the threat… it was Peter Petrelli for lying to us all." He leads Logan down a few hallways, and nods to a young soldier who is stationed outside a door. The soldier nods in return and Cyprus opens a door further down the hallway than the soldier. It's an observation room. And on the far side of the one-way glass? Sits a man in a messed up dress shirt and pants, tied to a chair. He has the look of someone beaten, but no physical injuries on him. He's just slumped in the room on the other side of the glass. Cyprus picks up a folder on the table. "Matthew Danko," he reads. "Assistant Cabinet attache to Homeland Security. Been with us for sixteen months. Mindreader. Quiet, efficient… up for a raise pending a positive review. Probably would have gotten it, too, had I not checked his personnel file. Seems he was married to a human before the war. She was placed in a camp, and was shot and killed during an escape attempt." Cyprus holds the file out to Logan. "Motive, means, and opportunity. This man was the leak that caused the facility attack a week and a half back."

Mindreader. Not a risk. Rianna being the most powerful telepath Logan's identified and still managed to keep himself a secret, and besides, this man… well by the sounds of it? He's a dead man. All the same. He makes sure to keep lurking subconsciouses quiet. Logan takes the file, glancing over the information. "Motive…" Logan repeats, then peers at the man from behind the glass. "Confession?" he asks, more out of curiousity than concern.

"Sadly, none," says Cyprus with a sigh of resignation. "He protests his innocence. And no one else has pierced his mental shields enough to get names or places out of him. We've put him on Haitian pills, but even those don't seem to be affecting him as strongly as they should. We think someone may have tampered with the New York City supply." He glances towards the man, and narrows his gaze. "Luckily, a body can't help but tell the truth. And his body tells me he's lying."

The file is passed back towards Cyprus, Logan leveling his gaze towards the former official. "Good work," he says, a rare compliment (when he's not on painkillers) that's offered almost coldly, but then again, Cyprus does speak that language. "Your word is as good as law when it comes to traitors, Donovan. If you can wrangle a confession from him, all the better, but it won't be needed." One name, one face - Evolved, maybe, but if all goes well, there'll be more when he came from.

Cyprus takes the file back, and smiles to the President. "Thank you, sir," he offers in reply. "I will do my best." With that, he walks back over to the door, and pauses beside it. "Once I have something, I'll call you, Mr. President." He waits to hold the door politely for Logan. It seems the matter, for him, is concluded.

Logan pauses on his way out, turning back towards Cyprus. "On the off chance we get what we want from this man," he says, in a tone that assumes a big lack of chance in this equation, "I'll trust you'll know the balance between a quiet conclusion in a hidden room and word getting around. We have enough enemies on the outside as it is, they don't need help. If we have to be scarier than them, well…" A glossy smile. "These necessary evils. I'm happy to give people a good reason to remain loyal to the cause."

With a nod, Cyprus smiles. "Have I ever let you down, sir?" he asks with far too much confidence in his voice. It's a damning question, no matter how it is answered. Cyprus closes the door to the observation room, and remains standing in the hallway. It seems he is comfortable with the President and his bodyguards finding their own way out.

"Not yet," Logan says smoothly, with a slight smirk, and glances at his watch. "I'll be at the labs in the meantime. We have a new guest." Cyprus will inevitably know exactly what that means - or at least, the first part. A new human caught in the trap that is the holding facility slash laboratory might comes as a surprise. With that elusive piece of information given, Logan turns his shoulder to Cyprus to walk accompanied back down the hallway.

The aide waits for the President to be well on his way out of the building before he walks back into the observation room. He flips off the recording equipment, one by one, and places all the tapes on top of the folder. With that done, he steps back outside, and walks down to the door with the guard. He clears his throat, and smiles slightly at the young soldier.

"Give me your firearm, soldier," orders Cyprus. When the young soldier glances at him oddly, there is a bit of a cold glare from the aide. The young soldier doesn't hesitate any longer, and he unholsters his pistol and pulls it out. He hands it to Cyprus, and the aide takes it with a nod. He opens the door to the interrogation chamber, and steps inside.

The man bound to the chair lifts his head slowly, with a look of pain and fear coming fast to his face. "Please," he begs, his voice weak and broken. "Please… I'm… I'm innocent. For Christ's sake… I didn't do anything… please… please…" He sobs for bit then sniffs loudly. "Please! I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything!" He freezes as Cyprus chambers a round, flips the safety, and raises the gun. It's point blank, and Cyprus almost looks sympatheticly at Matthew Danko.

"I know," says Cyprus Donovan, before pulling the trigger once, then again. There is are two bursts of blood as the bullets slam into Matthew's chest, and the force knocks him clear over backwards. He coughs bloodily once, then goes limp. For a second, Cyprus simply stands there, smoking gun in hand and staring. Blood drips from where it sprayed onto him, on his cheek and forehead. He takes a deep breath as the door opens and the young soldier charges in.

The soldier stops, looking between Cyprus and the corpse, and seems genuinely scared for a moment. And then Cyprus is holding out the gun for the soldier to take. The young soldier takes it, flips the safety back on, and watches as the aide meticulously pulls out a handkerchief. "A terrible shame," he says quietly, especially after the booms of the gunshots. He wipes the blood from his face, and continues. "We could never have expected that. He was just a reader, after all. It's not your fault, however, that he got inside your head and made you kill him. He was just trying to protect the terrorists. He was a traitor."

"Yes, sir," says the soldier, without question but with a healthy amount of fear in his eyes. Cyprus tucks the handkerchief away now that his face is clean, and smiles. "Good boy," he says. He pulls out a card, and holds it out to the soldier. "After you're honorably discharged… maybe you should consider a job in the media. I think you'll find me an… excellent reference." And with that, Cyprus strides out into the hallway beyond, leaving the soldier to clean up the mess.

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