2007-09-03: Internal Rendition



Guest Starring:


Summary: Felix's acceptance (resignation?) to sign on the Company's dotted line comes to a point. "You'd do well to act less like a prisoner and more like a man of some importance, son."

Date It Happened: September 3rd, 2007

Internal Rendition

Rainer's Office, Primatech Research

Hartsdale, New York

The uninteresting officespace that Rainer swayed Mariska away from in the days prior because of its potentially claustrophobic atmosphere is precisely where he calls one Mr. Ivanov. It's not so different than a run-of-the-mill office at the Bureau. Metal filing cabinets line the walls. The office's stark owner sits behind a heavy wooden desk, his hands folded over a file folder. The curtains behind him are open, but the day is grey. More shadows than light fill the room. The door is ajar; he knows Felix is coming.

Felix isn't cuffed. But he's still in prison scrubs. His expression is utterly neutral, as it tends to be here. He's ushered in by his escort, and stands before Rainer's desk, eyeing the Company man in mute expectation.

"Ivanov," Rainer rumbles, gesturing vaguely with a nod of his head to the office chair opposite his desk. His clasped hands relocate from the folder to rest over the buttons of his suit jacket for the time being. "You'd do well to act less like a prisoner and more like a man of some importance, son. Please — sit yourself down. Day's full of good news."

The only reply Fel vouchsafes Rainer is to sit, obediently, across from him, and arch his brows enquiringly. At least he's moved beyond the stage of constant bristling retorts - the general bitchiness seems to have ebbed.

Rainer clears his throat, low and grumbling. For a time, the room is soundless, filled by two silent men. The man behind the desk then coughs and rolls his chair in closer to the desk's dulled edge. "You've agreed to cooperate with us in this venture and I respect you for that, Ivanov. You're getting nothing but gain from a career move of the Company's calibre. Now, before you say a word— " He eyes Felix sceptically, as if doubting the possibility of that ever happening, at this rate. " —you should hear this. You'll be pleased to know you have a job to go back to at the FBI. With conditions."

The muscles in his jaw work with the effort of biting back something - either question or riposte. But the mask cracks enough to reveal real incredulity. They must be the ten thousand sons of Houdini if they think they're going to fandance this in a way the Bureau will believe. He just nods, almost demurely, for all the world like a schoolboy called on the carpet by the headmaster.

"The Bureau will believe that you've been taken-by its own government, point of fact-swept clean off the radar. Accused of sellin' secrets. Once they realized their mistake… well, up you turn. You'll 'wake up' in a little hospital close-by outside'a Hartsdale and tell your colleagues the whole story." Rainer pats the folder in front of him and hands it over the desk to Felix. It's a drab manilla folder, thick with contents. "There's grounds enough to back it up." He sounds very, very confident. It's just a fact. "We protect our own here at the Company, Ivanov, and we do it well."

That's the most terrifying thing yet. If you can blame something on the CIA…. AND back it up in the way the FBI will have to believe…..well, that reaches Kafkaesque levels of conspiracy. Fel's eyes widen as he looks over the file. "Internal rendition," he says, musingly, as if mulling over stock options, before raising his gaze to Rainer's. "You have people in the Firm who will back up this story? For real?" His voice remains mildly surprised.

Rainer sits back in his chair a faintest creak. The man's stern mask of an expression flickers into something akin to amusement. He works his jaw slowly from side to side before answering. "We have every way of making them believe we do."

Felix exhales, slowly, and just shakes his head. More in amazement than denial. He does not ask what would've happened had he continued recalcitrant.

"I pushed to keep your position inside the Bureau," Rainer explains, gruff. "It's … beneficial for everyone that way. Every now and then, the FBI runs into some manner of case involving a person with an ability; 'course, they don't realize what they've gotten into. Always winds up in blood. They're not equipped for it. Can't wrap their heads around it. When you get back — you look up the Sylar case. Point here being, with someone like you on the inside, we can intervene before it's too late. Takin' note of threats of an unusual nature— that'll be your duty to the Company, Ivanov."

Felix points out, gently, "My specialty is organized crime. Am I to be transferred to serial homicide, or something like that?" He doesn't sound all that averse. But that seems to be a cause he can get behind - some of his tension has eased. At least they won't be asking him to do horrible things right off the bar.

"No, I want you exactly where you are," Rainer points at Felix before his hand drops and lies flat on the desk. The definitive way he speaks ought to indicate there's a solid purpose to this reasoning, but the explanation is sorely lacking. "But you keep your ear to the ground — any indications from other units, especially serial homicide and violent crimes that somethin' isn't addin' up…" He splays his hands. "You have contacts, don't you? We'll play it by ear."

Felix is running his eyes over the file again. "And with the NYPD, as well," he says, almost absentmindedly. "Though of course there's Damaris for that. The locals do so hate the Feds, not that I can blame them," But he nods, patiently.

Mr. Madson makes an indistinct sound amounting to 'mmh'. "Memorize every detail of that file. We'll take care of the rest. There's more paperwork, of course… details to go over." He opens a drawer and calmly roots through it, paper rustling. "Our nondisclosure agreement is very solid."

That provokes a flicker of a smile, though it seems rather gallows humor. "Yes," He says, gently.

Rainer rises from his seat with a stack of paperwork neatly tucked away into a portfolio under his arm, adjusts a button on his coat, and nods to Felix. "There's an empty office down you can use to go through the paperwork in." He moves around the desk to the door and opens it, waiting. "Your transportation will arrive when you've finished. I'll also be giving you the number of your new contact here at the Company."

It can't be that easy, can it? Felix looks frankly bewildered. "I understand," Though really, that's dubious. "I….for what it's worth, I'd like to request Damaris be my trainer, or mentor, or whatever you have here? I've known her for some years."

"Duly noted. Damaris hasn't been with us for long, but she has a level of experience with the type of cases we expect you to repor… a level most people are fortunate enough to never know. Learn what you will from each other. Share your contacts. Mentor's goin' a bit far." Rainer offers a preemptive handshake, firm and brisk, should Felix accept it. "Welcome to the Company, Ivanov."

Felix actually does accept the handshake, though he looks down at his hand as if it were doing something entirely alien to him of its own accord. "Thank you," he says, finally.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License