2007-09-28: Numb In The Aftermath


Bob_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif

Summary: Felix has an unexpected houseguest after the events of Damage Assessment.

Date It Happened: September 28th, 2007

Numb in the Aftermath

Queens, New York City

It's been a hell of a night for members of the Company.

Imagine how it's been for one of the important higher-ups. Say, one of the men very much in charge.

The unexpected visitor did not move an inch for approximately eighty-six percent of his time on the couch of one Felix Ivanov. He stared at the angle between the ceiling and wall, eyes starting to bug, for an entire hour, not once catching a wink of sleep. In the last fifteen minutes, his eyes have started to rove watchfully around the room, twitching behind his glasses at every sign of movement. In the last five minutes, he wiggled his feet and hands. Presently, he pushes off, sitting up from his stiff, corpselike pose.

The first thing Bob Bishop after that is sneeze violently. The second thing he does is neatly adjust his jacket sleeves. The third thing he does is glare.

The sneeze is certainly noise enough to catch the attention of the attendant Russian woman, who had been coming in to fret her brow just on the periphery of the paralyzed Bob Bishop's view before scampering off to other corners of the apartment. Poor Mariska. She had no idea what'd happened to the man or for how long he'd be playing possum on Felix's couch. She peeks her head out from the kitchen and brings with her a glass of ice water, offering it over to the big boss with a still worried expression written over her face. "Are you… how do… are you alright?"

There's the sound of the key in the lock. Felix is home, having driven all that way. He's still sodden, reeking of smoke, and rather shell-shocked looking - thank god none of the neighbors were looking. Bob Bishop is neither someone he knows, nor someone he knows of. Not yet. So he stop short in the entryway, frankly just staring at Sammy, I mean, Bob for a few heartbeats. And then he looks to Mariska. Is this ….a family member?

"I'm fine," Bob assures Mariska curtly, brushing at his sleeves and adjusting his glasses from side to side. A glimpse of politeness presents itself as he takes the water. "Thank you. As I said, Agent Lensherr has the ability to secrete toxins through the skin. Paralysis is one of her many specialties. The effects are temporary, as you can see. Merely a precaution." The boss man squints at Mariska and glances suspiciously around the apartment. His nose is a bit shiny and red. "Do you have cats?" The answer to the question, if it comes, is ignored. "Ivanov." He promptly stands up, walks over, offers his hand. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting formally. Bob Bishop." Company Smile. "Your boss." At least one of them. Smile gone, graveness takes over, given the circumstances. "I see you've just come from the facility. Report."

Oh, good. Felix is home. His timely arrival spares Mariska any further awkward moments with Bob and yet, when she sees the condition he's in, her face momentarily falls into a jaw-dropping expression that resolves itself only when Sammy Jankis Bob Bishop speaks. For the time being, she lingers in the living room and plays mute.

Fel has that impassive mask on again, his general reaction in times of great shock. But he's survived enough, including 9-11, that training just grinds on, no matter his emotional state. "I am told Sylar appeared and released a number of level 5 Evolved. I personally encountered a female pyrokine. Agent Youngblood and I shot her several times, though no one wound was fatal. This was in the hospital wing - the sprinkler system was set off. Youngblood was wounded by her abilities, but is now in care. Agent Winters was apparently stabbed. I didn't see it happen, but encountered him and Agent church in one of the stairwells. Winters is now also in hospital in Hartsdale, I believe. To the best of my knowledge, neither the escapees nor Sylar nor the pyrokine was secured," he answers, even as he takes Bob's hand unthinkingly. With no sign of irony, he asks, "May I ask to what I owe the honor?" The cats? Well. They peek out of the rear hallway, Glock with an expression of idiotic hope, Ingram with cynical suspicion. The human keeps bringing more humans home, and disrupting precious routine.

Bob follows Felix's report grimly, his mouth a harsh frown, his brow full of deep furrows, showing no signs of surprise at any juncture. His firm grip falls away. "A minor misunderstanding during security and assessment protocol in Level 5," he explains in regards to his presence. "A change of scenery was required," he adds with a pointed look at Mariska, briefly. "You're correct," he tells Felix. "Sylar, Kellie, and three of the most dangerous inmates the facility has ever seen are now at large. Congratulations, you survived. Now comes the hard part."

Mariska's posture straightens as Bob shoots her a hard glance. Note to self: Next time leave the stiff-as-a-board boss behind if this is all the thanks she's gonna get for possibly saving the man's tweedy backside. Still, she's getting the skinny on the carnage she witnessed and so she keeps her mouth shut and fixes her green-eyed gaze on filthy Felix. Poor guy looks like a drowned cat.

Wait, that was the easy bit? May I please reconsider the mindwipe? Fel shows his displeasure only by blinking. He does, indeed, look half-drowned - he's already stripping off his ruined suitjacket and discarding it, to move on to the important business of making damn sure his gun hasn't been affected by the indoor shower. He nods, eyes still on Bob, even as his hands reflexively go through the business of breaking down and inspecting the pistol. It's like they belong to someone else entirely.

Well, these two are a chatty couple, aren't they. "I know neither of you are typical employees of this Company, but expect to be called on," Bob tells them. "You haven't yet been briefed on people of this nature, but I'm sure you're getting the picture. It's going to be an all hands on deck situation. They're undoubtedly free, now. And with Sylar and Kellie back in the picture— well. Stopping them and putting them is what we're here for. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He shuffles aside, digging in his coat. "I'm going to call a taxi cab…"

"I could take you back," offers Mariska, breaking her self-imposed silence in an attempt to be considered slightly less of a… bad agent? Of course, it probably wasn't pleasant experiencing the nausea that comes along with going for a ride while immobile so if Bob opts to decline she isn't apt to take it too personal. Regardless of the man's acceptance or declination, the Russian woman wants to get something else out before he goes, "When will we be briefed, Mister Bishop?" After all, the more you know…

The gun's back in working order, and restored to its usual place under Felix's left arm. His clothes are still plastered to him - he really is way too thin. "I understand," he says, in his accentless English, politely stepping aside to let the head honcho pass. Just another surreal moment in a very weird day.

"No need," Bob lifts splayed hands to discourage more teleportation. "I'm headed elsewhere. Our offices in Kirby Plaza will make do as our headquarters. You'll learn what you need to know there." He moves to let himself out, though he stops with his hand on the doorknob. "And Mariska, Felix?" Mr. Bishop looks back at them each in turn. "I haven't been able to contact Mr. Madson. If that continues to be the case, you might want to start inquiring as to the whereabouts of your daughter."

Mama's expression draws suddenly gaunt - all widened eyes and lips ajar. "What do you mean?" falls out of her mouth before she can resist the urge and impulse, taking a pair of steps in pursuit of the man with the Midas touch even as he moves to leave. I mean, yeah, she probably has an inkling of what he means but, everyone in the Company has this bizarre habit of never really being forthcoming about anything. Mariska requires clarification before she does anything… rash. "What has he done with my daughter?"

Fel's expression has gone flat again, but now it's the stoicism of someone trying to fight past a mortal wound. "You don't know where she is. Nor where Rainer is," Not really a question, that.

Bob shakes his head at Felix. "Your Sasha is no longer kept at Primatech Research. And good thing. If Sylar would ever…" He trails off with a nasal sigh. "No, why, Mr. Madson's taken her in, of course, under his guardianship for safekeeping," he breaks the news to Mariska as if she should already know, although he must know that she does not. "Now, I have to get going. I can't put out many fires from here, now can I." This time, he opens the door and fully intends to squeeze out.

Fair enough. Bob Bishop gets a bye while Mariska chews on the crumbs of clues as to her - or, rather, their (her and Felix) - daughter's whereabouts. Having borne witness to the carnage left on Level Five, her thoughts are suddenly scattered into every unpleasant nook and cranny they can find. By the time she manages to catch her senses and come back to the present, the Company man is long gone. She's forced to look at Felix now, expression pained and desperate. Time for a powerfully obvious statement: "We need to find her."

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