2007-08-29: Kaboom!


Benjamin_icon.gif Church_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif

Summary: There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom… and there was. (Felix, you dumb bastard.)

Date It Happened: August 29th, 2007


Hartsdale, NY - Primatech – Cells

With neither light-shedding windows to the outside world nor tick-tocking clocks to count away the hours, the holding cells beneath Primatech's Hartsdale facility make for an interesting sort of experimental environment as the 'guests' accommodated therein are forced to rely on their own circadian rhythms in order to tell time. Mariska, aided by residual traces of the tranquilizer she was treated to yesterday, has spent the lion's share of the last few hours sleeping. But, now she's begun to rouse and soon enough she's on her feet and slowly pacing the inside of her cell like a drowsy, caged animal.

Among all the drugs they've been feeding Felix (or not, considering the testing they've been doing on him), one of the ones that they -haven't- is the one he needs. Lithium. Fel's already pacing as well, but it's the agitated circling of someone trying to burn off energy he can't otherwise deal with. His expression is pained, inward turned, straining at the mask he's been wearing.

Two of a kind. Mariska, meanwhile, is pacing not out of nervous necessity so much as to think; as if the movement might somehow stimulate her brain and assist her in more readily calculating the contingencies needed for finding a way out of the clink. When she happens to note Felix's similar behavior from the corner of her eye, she pauses a pace shy of her giant window wall and watches him circle the drain of stability.
Just another winner in the generic lottery. And we're not talking his monkey trick. If he thought they'd let him out to run, he'd be banging on the glass. Then it all ebbs away, and he casts himself down on his bed, for the moment, anyhow. Facing away from the glass, as if it might give him some modicum of privacy.

The only mildly intrusive staring from across the way probably isn't helping any, eh? That's okay. She can take a hint. While Mariska keeps her shoulder pressed against the glass, she averts her eyes and pretends to spy on something down the hall when Felix retreats from frantic fidgeting to take a seat. She asks gingerly, «Is everything alright?»

His reply is neither snarling sarcasm nor sulky denial. « I haven't had the actual medication I'm supposed to be taking for about two weeks,» he allows, quietly, gaze on the floor, rather than meetings hers. «It's just manic depression. Not a big deal.» Which isn't entirely true, but at least he's not yet trying to find a way to hang himself from the light fixture. Give him a week or two.

Her next question is so naive it's almost painful, but she asks anyways for the sake of… well, honestly, she doesn't really know why she's bothering with this. He's an asshole, right? Let him suffer. But, no. «Anything I can do to help?» Seriously. She's gotta be some kind of masochist. That's the only possible explanation.

Nor does Felix. He shakes his head, matter-of-factly. «No. I don't know if they don't realize, or don't care, or think that the meds would affect the tricks they're after. Real exercise would help a little, but I'm not allowed out of the cell.>. The crushing hopelessness of all this isn't doing much, either.

DOOM! Mariska's mouth quirks as she receives an answer similar to that which she anticipated. She then hazards yet another inquiry with eyes still averted as if that might make enduring her across-the-hall concern a bit easier to bear, «Have you tried… telling them?»

«I seem to recall mentioning it when I was in the hospital wing,» He explains. «So I suppose it's deliberate.» Let's hope Sasha doesn't come down with this when she's older.

Well, /that/ doesn't bode well. Mariska falls silent as she attempts to rationalize the repercussions; if they're being so negligent with Felix in pursuit of his powers, could they really be taking such good care of Sasha?

«Or else they are, and it's just not working, and they need to up the dosage,» he says, glancing at her, for just a moment. Well, Fel's a recalcitrant adult. Sasha's a pliable little girl with a very valuable power.

And up gets Felix again. The agent is pacing around his cell like he's this close to trying to climb the walls - his face is pale and drawn, and there's a very unhealthy gleam in his eyes. «God only knows what kind of drug cocktail they're slipping into my food,» he says, quietly. Wonderful. He's less of an arrogant asshole when he's on the cusp of an episode.

Small favors taken as they come. «When they come back, tell them.» Of course, that's bound to depend greatly on which 'they' happens to wander their way next. In the mean time, Mariska attempts to keep the conversation going, if only because (by some miracle) it hasn't broken down into crying or screaming or wacky hijinx that earns either one of them a dart in the back. «How long have you been here?»

«At least two weeks,» Felix says, after pausing to nudge his bed and desk into the center of the room so he can pace the full circumference. "At least, by counting sleeping and waking. I haven't yet gotten to the part where I scratch 'God Will Give Me Justice' into the wall," he adds, lapsing back into English again.

Wandering your way? No problem. It ends up being a face that Felix probably hasn't seen for awhile that pops up in the glass, but only after passing in front of Mariska's window. He looks in that cell for about three seconds before stopping on the man's literal doorstep. Lawrence smiles warily into the window, rapping on it with a pair of knuckles and mouthing 'what's up?'.

«I need,» Fel says, before stopping and trying again in English, after frowning at the lapse. "I really need to get out and get some exercise. Or have the doctors do a lithium level and up the dose," he says, trying to reassume the mask of neutrality he wears when confronted with the Company's agents, but he's still got that pained, drawn look. "If it gets too high, I go into toxic reaction when I have to use my abilities, and my control slips," he adds. Might be telling the truth, even.

Felix's confession saved Mariska the embarrassing task of doing it for him. And so, instead of playing worrisome nursemaid, she inches back away from the glass of her cell's observational pane and slinks back to her bunk to try and attempt nonchalance while the men converse.

There is a pause from Church on the other side of the glass, who seems to be considering options before making a movement to unlock the door and let himself inside. It is a practiced and swift movement this time around. He learned that one time. A little. "If you get properly suppressed, we could probably take you to the Gym. Tell me more about the toxic reaction?" Lawrence's first mistake is assuming he can still be entirely Good Cop.

Yeah. Oh, yeah. "I've got fairly decent control over my powers," Fel explains, lowering his gaze to the floor. His English is accented, albeit faintly - but it never has been before. He's translating - thinking in Russian. "But it does take it out of me. I'm on lithium to control manic depression. Or I was, before I got here. I'm not sure that's among what I've been given. I feel ….odd. Anyway. If lithium levels in my blood get too high, I go into a sort of shock. Lose fine motor control, articulate speech - the initial stages look a lot like drunkenness," he explains, gesturing, lazily. He's drooping, shoulders slouched - it's not his usual posture.

The acoustic arrangement down in the cells seems to be situated in such a way so as to hinder much in the way of carrying on a conversation (or eavesdropping, as the case may be) if both parties aren't all but breathing on the glass or back to back against a shared wall. And thus, this is the reason the Mariska departs from her cot and moves to stand with her temple pressed to the unbreakable glass… she's terribly interested in whatever's being said over in Felix's cell.

"To be honest, you're not looking your best right now. If I were in a bar I'd start keeping an eye on you. Have you slept much today? Eaten?" It does sound like he's been drinking, even. That's a weird accent coming from Felix. And the lazy slouch isn't showing his best side either. There is definitely something starting up, and Lawrence is inclined to believe it further. "What dosages do you take regularly?"

"Fifty milligrams, extended release. The brand name is called Eskalith," he says, calmly, working on pushing the bed back to its proper place against the wall, as if this were just his furniture at home.

Church jots this information down on the little notepad in his head. "I'll get that information to the nurses. Have you been eating? Sleeping?" Answer me, please. "If you've not been sleeping much, I'm thinking that's not so good either."

"I've eaten what I could." Which has never been much. Scrape, scrape, there goes the desk, back where it was, as well. "And no, I haven't been sleeping as much as I should," He puts his hand on the rickety little folding chair, as if to set it neatly facing the desk. There's no indication in his face or posture of what he's about to do. Which is to summarily hurl the chair at Church, full force, power behind it.

Church had the feeling that Felix wasn't feeling too well, but this takes the cake. The agent has only enough time to whirl himself sideways and throw up a quick sort of deflection. It hardly has time or power to fully work, however, and the chair slams into the back of Lawrence's shoulder with a clang. "AGH-" That smarts, but he'll be fine. "-try that again and I'll take your head off, Ivanov." Warning while the shit is flying. Maybe the only one.

Across the hall, Mariska barely knows how to react. The initial fight or flight impulse fires a little flood of adrenaline into her veins and she instinctively ducks her shoulders and turns away from the glass as if somehow she expected Church and the chair to go flying all the way into her own cell. When this doesn't happen and, indeed, the noise of potentially serious scuffle remains muffled, she's once again pressing herself from hip to nose against the window, straining against the barrier. «What are you doing??!»

Even when he's fighting, there's no anger in Felix's face. Just cold, animal determination in the pale eyes. He snatches up the chair, but rather than flinging it, uses it as a bludgeon. Quite set on taking Church down - he's after the bigger man like a terrier after a rat.

The next few seconds shows that the warning Felix got was indeed the only one. The fiery explosion that rattles the small cell is brain-jarring; from outside of that glass window, all that is visible is the agent's back until all of a sudden… BOOM. The man keeps his back to the window, but soon there is no window at all. The glass shatters into a million pieces behind him, and in front of him, everything gets a head-on dose of Demolition Man. Crash, Boom, BAM. The smell of smoke and dust filters everywhere, and the heat feels momentarily like a small inferno. The inside of Felix's cell is practically laid bare, smoldering chunks of tile gathered around Lawrence's feet. Felix probably just got tossed back into the Stone Age, even though the agent pulled that particular punch when it came to aim. Not dead, by a stretch; just probably beaten to a real pulp all over again. This time there are likely some small heat burns to go with it. Hopefully that Healer is still bungling around the premises, because someone is going to need them.

Oh. Fuck. As if stuck in slow motion, Mariska once again goes for the duck and cover maneuver… only this time she's making a break for a far corner. She was /not/ expecting that. At all. And it takes her a few seconds to recognize the degree to which havoc and destruction have been wrought. Slowly… very slowly… she lifts her hands up off of the top of her head and dares to look out across the way and… OH MY MERCIFUL BABY JESUS IN A MANGER!!!1 She's so frantically panicked that she's literally falling all over herself to scramble back over to her smoky, smudged window; it's hands and knees first and then feet. BAM! There she is greeting the window with a full-body brand of enthusiasm. "FELIX?!"

It's gone. The desk, blasted to splinters. The chair is a sad little tangle of twisted metal tubes. Even the bed is shattered. The sketch of the Tin Man and the books are all nothing more than smears of ash. Fel, smashed into the wall, leaves a smudge of blood as he slumps slowly to the floor, and then collapses to one side. He's entirely still, save for faint coughing - the cracked ribs that were almost healed? Well, all the doc's careful work is undone, and Fel is spitting blood, as he tries to orient himself, stretching out a hand as if reaching for something.

There is a reason that people get warnings. Warnings are meant to be followed, and to be heeded as if your life could one day depend on it. Felix ignored his, and there were very obvious consequences. In the smoke and hot haze of air, Lawrence stands immobile, arms held at his sides and hands curled into white-knuckled fists. His usually jovial and welcoming face is now creased in a whole frown, dark eyes concentrated on Felix and both brows knitted together overtop. "You had your warning and you deliberately chose to ignore it." The click of the agent's heels on the scarred floor nears the fallen man. "Do you see what happens when you ignore me?" Lawrence has crouched down in front of Felix, eyes stony and one fist uncurling to grab the battered man by the bottom of his face with the intention of making Church the only thing he might be able to see. "/Never/. Ignore. Me." That voice is not Lawrence's voice. It is the voice of the Company, in your face and in your ears. Welcome to reality, Felix.

So incensed by what she's just coweringly borne witness to, Mariska just doesn't have the brain capacity left to spare the courtesy of translation; her frantic shouting, muted only half as much now as she'd been before, is entirely in Russian. «WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!! ARE YOU OKAY?!? CAN YOU HEAR ME??! FELIX!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?» Her wild, gibbering lung capacity exercises are accompanied by the banging of her fists against the unbreakable barrier that probably just spared her a solid share of hurtsville herself.

It'd be more effective if Fel weren't mostly deafened and entirely stunned by the blast. There's blood at nose and mouth, and there are the scarlet bubbles that mean at least one rib has pierced a lung. «Wh - What?» He wonders, mastery of English entirely gone, as he peers blearily up at Church, eyelids fluttering. «Wha' happened?»

Church stares down at Felix with that same frown, the hand grasping his face moving just enough to wipe away the bubbles from the edges of his lips. "You're lucky I'm not by nature…an angry man." Lawrence turns his head to shoot a glare across the window frame at Mariska's, but just for a moment. He stands up straight, prying his phone from a pocket and pressing just a few buttons to call in the nurses. They'll be here rather soon, what with what has been going on with Felix Ivanov the short time he has been here.

The smoke clears, slowly, leaking out of the smashed window. Fel's still got that bewildered look on his face, trying to figure out just what happened, as he tries to roll on to his side. He meets Misha's gaze, but it's utterly blank, lost in confusion. And then it penetrates, dimly - the window's open. Gone. And Felix is trying to drag his broken body over to it, and out. It's a testament to the sheer idiotic power of his will, as he drags himself over the floor. Must. Get. Out.

Holy shit. He's still alive. And Mariska is, believe it or not, relieved. Witness the miraculous healing power of frenzied shouting! Thankfully, the nurses that Church had previously summoned are now darting down the hall like soft-shoed angels of mercy and before Felix can make it more than an inch or two in his desperate attempts at blood-breathing freedom, he's loaded up onto a gurney and hefted off down the hall (presumably in the direction of the hospital ward). Mariska, meanwhile, has reverted to a silence art piece; traumatized and pressed like a slidecover against the glass wall of her cell. She just looks at Church… horrified.

It is hard to stay so serious upon seeing Felix start to drag himself bit by bit over the floor. Lawrence stands there quietly, peering down with a twinge of guilt. Guilt for exploding so harshly, more so. Maybe he did too much? "Felix, buddy. What are you doing." Church makes his way over to the window, picking out some shards of glass before perching himself on the edge of the sill. It is then that the nurses practically appear out of thin air and do their job. Lawrence remains there for now, picking at the pointed window shards to his right. The brunette then turns his head just enough to look into Mariska's window, eyebrows remaining straight and pinched. What?

Felix is still, god help him, trying to get away. It's about as effective as a kitten trying to yank itself out of a mastiff's mouth, but he's struggling still. Like he can beat two perfectly healthy nurses. Cue the theme from Chariots of Fire. He's spitting blood, and still doing his best to not be strapped down.

For the briefest of moments, there's a very dark look dawning behind Mariska's pale eyes… not that it likely matters much to Church, but it's there all the same. Note to self. Felix's pathetic attempts to reclaim his freedom manage to simultaneously stoke and melt Mariska's cast-iron resolve. This place that Doctor Suresh spirited her away to is apparently the asshole proving ground for human and Evolved alike — except for Benjamin, who is made of please, thank you, and win.

The shoulders facing Mariska lift and drop with a heavy sigh, and Lawrence blinks once and turns his attention away again. The heat is mostly gone, and the faint haze remains floating around the cell block. When the explosive agent stands back up, there is a precautionary brushing of the seat of his pants, and a similar brush across his hair. So much for first impressions. "Sorry that you had to see that." Is all he offers to her before departing again. Felix will be helped to heal, suppressed, and medicated; at least he's going to get what he wanted when Church showed up in the first place.

There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom. And clearly, there was.

The hallway that Felix's cell was on? A disaster. Littered with shards of glass, with smoke rolling along the ceiling tiles. The window at the front of Ivanov's cell is entirely gone. The little furniture on the inside of the cell, blasted to kindling. There's blood on the wall, and on the floor - smeared on the latter like someone was trying to finger-paint. Or drag his bleeding self bodily out the smashed window. At the moment, a very battered Felix is being strapped down to a gurney by a couple of the Company's nurses. He's still protesting in a broken wheeze, with the idiot persistence of a toddler at bedtime, «No. No.»

Mariska remains plastered to the glass like an insect crushed against the windshield of a Mack truck until Felix is out of sight. Church's apology comes as small consolation and she says replies in an emboldened voice, "Rainer. I want to talk to Rainer."

Things don't go kaboom in a Company facility without attracting attention. Seriously. Several agents and security members are most likely dispatched to investigate. Particularly since it's in the cell wing. Among those sent to investigate or just gawk is Benjamin. "Sweet Lincoln's Mullet! What happened down here?" It looks like an IED went off! His gaze darts around the hallway, to the cell, to Felix being strapped down, to Church. Oh. Is /that/ what happened?

Church would backtrack just for talking to Misha, if more agents had not shown up. He ends up just pausing in front of her window for a few seconds instead, attention being drawn to Benjamin's colorful…language. Lawrence looks the part of stone again, the usually bright features drawn into a somber expression. "To be brief, I warned him against a second attack against me and he felt the need to deliberately ignore that warning. I was speaking to him with the intention of gauging his health. Luckily, he /did/ tell me what he needed before he decided to start hitting me with the chair."

"Rainer," the Russian insists in her impossibly thick accent. She punctuates her request by slapping the palm of her right hand against the glass. BANG. Benjamin's arrival amidst a gaggle of other agents is noted with a minutely hopeful look.

Benjamin's mouth opens, then closes. Okay. That sounds like a good reason. He can't really refute that… other than the display of force being a little overkill in his mind. Cause really… Church is a big guy. But this destruction? "Wow. Mr. Ivanov seemed reasonable to me." The look he gives Church now suggests that the man provoked an outburst. Possibly. "I can try talking to him later. About this whole… resisting thing." Because in Benji-land, people cooperate and things go more or less smoothly as a result. At Mariska's banging on the glass, he starts a little and looks over in her direction. "She okay?" he asks Church, even as he heads towards the woman's window to press the intercom. "Everything alright Miss… sorry… I forgot how to pronounce your name."

"She's fine. And he /was/ reasonable. He apparently needed anti-depressives that we somehow failed to give him. I need to tell the nurses to make sure he gets it before he wakes up and tries to beat on someone new. Every time before now he was perfectly fine with me, and I with him. He might not remember what happened, exactly." Not Lawrence's fault, you see. Felix was crazy, Ben! "I suppose I could have been less harsh, but what's done is done, now." The man secedes at least that. Church seems to sober up a little now, away from being the grumpy-faced, exploding man and slowly back towards exasperation when he watches Benjamin. Sigh. These crazy Russians. /Crazy/.

While 'crazy' might be towing the line in terms of proper terminology applied to Mariska, if she's anything like her more masculine counterparts, there's a corner soon to be turned and then… BAM! Headlong into crazy. I bet we all know where that button is, too. Lunacy aside, she's pried herself away from the window and now splits her attention between the Demolition Man and his penny-loafer cohort. "Dmitryeva," she repeats for Benjamin's sake. Crossing her arms over her chest, hugging her own shoulders, she manages to come full circle by voicing the very first words she spoke upon getting up (almost), "Is he… alright?"

Benjamin glances over his shoulder at Church and nods. "Sounds like a good idea. He should get the help he needs." The idea that Felix requires mental assistance is readily accepted. His attention turns back to Mariska and he smiles her way, "Sorry… Miss Dmitryeva." He tries to pronounce it right, but still mangles it a bit. "He'll be alright. We have some of the best doctors here." Giving her another reassuring smile, he turns from the window, "Better get up there and tell them about Mr. Ivanov's mental state… and budgies. Got a meeting I'm gonna be late to now." He casts another look around the state of the hallway before heading towards the elevators and back up.

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