2010-02-15: Pushing Buttons



Date: February 15, 2010


Um…. AP Staff "Get Along"

"Pushing Buttons"

Staff Room, Building 27 — Governor's Island

Dressed very different than her usual garb around Building 27, Lt. Cmdr Katherine Josephine River Scott looks like her non-AP self, or closer to it in a way. Her tailored navy-coloured naval uniform is offset by three golden buttons. A white blouse peeks out under her tailored uniform jacket. Her skirt falls just below her knees — navy issue and her uniform is dressed with various pins denoting her rank.

She sits at a staff room table, papers strewn about. Her naval cap lays next to the papers.

Unlike Commander Jo, Cody Baker holds no rank, has no decoration, no dress uniform… other than what she has at Alpha Protocol. So she swaggers down the hallway in her black flack suit, studying a print out of a photograph that's been crumpled so many times it looks like she dug it out of the garbage. The clomp of her footfall favors the right boot, always, left left left right left. It's like a monotonous tune that pours through her mind when she's trying to keep everything else out.

Passing by the staff room, Cody catches a glimpse of the officer and then pauses a few paces from the frame before doubling back. "Lookin' good Scott, your big date happening today or something?" Cody's in an unusually cheerful mood.

Jo offers Cody a weak smile. "Thanks. No dates. Ever." What counts as a date anyways likely wouldn't be fun in the marine's eyes. "Besides, men just complicate things. Like I said, all we need is chocolate and a really good shower head." Not that she's been needing hers lately. "No, I'm paying my respects. And I haven't worn them for awhile working here and all. Ordinarily for a day like today I'd have gone for the dress whites, but I imagine that would just garner far more attention." Her cheeks flush slightly. It's a vulnerable day for her, but she tries not to let it on.

"So… why the good mood Baker?" she asks with an arched eyebrow as she stacks her papers together. "I'm just buried under a mountain of paperwork. I'm a marine, not an administrator…" she chuckles.

"Yeah yeah… men complicate things. A lot. I had a date though, first one in twenty years. I think it's a record." Cody folds up her wrinkled peice of paper and tucks it into one of her vest pockets. "Who are you paying respects to? Anyone I should know?" If it's someone from around the office, well then, she might feel a little bit bad if it's someone she actually liked.

Rolling out one of the other chairs with her foot, she takes a seat and lifts her feet up on the table. Then feeling around in one of the side pockets in her cargo pants, she pulls out a chocolate bar and her notebook. "And… paperwork? What are you looking into? Anything I can help with?" Not that the woman doesn't have a few of her own issues to deal with, but it's always good to have a few fingers in a few other pies. Just in case.

"Well congrats on your date." There's a pause as Jo narrows her eyes, "A real date you mean? Not just sex? There is a difference." She hasn't been on a date in ages. Not an actual date. In fact, she just can't remember a time she'd ever been on a real date. Except maybe high school and all of her brothers had scared him away.

"No. No one you knew and they died a long time ago now. But there are some things that need to be done to honour a person's memory. This is one thing I can do even if I have to work." And visit their grave if she gets the opportunity; not that she's anxious to go this year. She doesn't want to meet up with any of her family there, it would only complicate things. She hasn't gone to the grave in ages.

She redirects her attention to the papers in front of her. "Yes. Paperwork. It needs to be finished and I am finishing it. Mostly prisoner reports… my account of how different takes went down. I think they're going to be analyzed or something. Probably by one of those shrinks." She shrugs and then smiles wickedly. "You work closely with me Baker. Do you think i'm insane?"

"Yeah, no sex happened. He took me to some really fancy place in Brooklyn where the steaks cost fifty bucks apiece. Get this… they had bacon as appetizers. The guy is great. We had beer." The blonde takes her first bite from the chocolate bar and chews slowly before swallowing. One of the peanuts must have gotten stuck between her teeth because immediately afterward, she snakes her tongue up to her incisors and makes that annoying little sucky sound as she tries to get it out.

Putting the bar between her teeth, she holds it there was she grabs a stack of files and begins to peruse them. Then she takes a bite, catching the rest of the bar as it falls with her free hand. "You know… the take downs were pretty on par. Within budget… Any other reports that they might be looking at?" Cody grabs another file from one of Jo's stacks and begins to rifle through it. "They might ask about that one interrogation we did with that little ice joker. Unless you start pulling your fists and boots out on anyone else, you should be golden. They can't kick you out because you get your job done."

"No sex? Really?" Jo's eyebrows furrow as she hmmms. "Well even if the food was good it must not've been the best date." At this she leans back in her chair and nods. "Fair enough. I think I just might like my job too much." She says with a broad grin. She crosses her ankles underneath the table. "And I didn't touch her pretty face for the record. I touched yours." She peers at her comrade across the table, "It got better."

And then she adds as a kind of afterthought, "I'm not exactly worried about being kicked out though. Things aren't… what I'd expected." She sighs and smoothes her navy coloured naval skirt.

"Really, and it was fun, just perfect without the sex. We're going to do it again sometime." Cody comments idly as she searches through the files. "Well there's nothing here that they can claim is overboard. Everything is well within acceptable limits for a takedown. I'd have to see your interview tapes for those, but these are good." Arranging the files back into some semblance of order, she stacks them into neat piles. All in alphabetical order. "I can't believe you're this behind, I always do mine as soon as possible. I hate leaving loose ends."

Jo is treated to a suspicious glance when she voices her concern, "What about it isn't what you expected? We find them and we take them down. Simple. Don't dally or get attached."

"Oh I don't have hesitation about what we do. Or how we do it. I'm a marine, I don't exactly hesitate about hurting other people for the good of the country." At this Jo shrugs. "Maybe that makes me sound heartless, but duty is what we are. That's what makes me a good marine. No, that doesn't bother me. I just — haven't been doing my job well enough. It's not always a straightforward take and you have admit they're becoming less frequent." She sighs heavily, "And as far as the paperwork goes… I hate it. I always have. This is why I could never be a cop — you discharge your weapon you have to fill out countless forms."

"I can't believe you made officer without filling out your life story in quadruplicate." Cody comments idly, then she pulls her trusty notebook from the side pocket of her cargo pants and drops it with a heavy thunk on the table. "You need to start keeping one of these. Record everything in it and you'll never have to do that." She gives an upturned nod toward the stack of files. "It makes life so much easier, you don't have to bother remembering every little detail because it's already at your fingertips." As for the other stuff… Cody remains silent, perhaps she's just a little bit glad that the takedowns are becoming less frequent, they do still have the list on the board. They're onto the hard ones now.

"HA! I was an amazing officer! And I procrastinated on my paperwork then too, except… my CO made me do it everyday. No one watches us that carefully here." Jo shrugs. "Besides it seems minor in comparison… to taking down a perp who can freeze me or something else equally terrible." She clucks her tongue.

Well, it's certainly never a dull moment when you're working with people who have abilities, whether those abilities are suppressed or not. Fred is always amazed whenever he shows up to do psych evaluations or to help interrogate. Today? He was just observing. And writing. And then observing some more. It's really quite monotonous when you think about it. But it's what Fred is paid to do, so he's gonna do it, or get fired trying! Taking a break, he heads up to the staff room, where he's stored a sandwich. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he made all by himself and everything!

Cody crumples up her candy bar wrapper and tosses it into the trash bin… it wiffles and float somewhere near it, but comes a few feet short of its goal. "Pick that up, would you?" she says to the man just entering the staff room, then she promptly ignores him. He's a suit, like the rest of the suits, probably not worth much of her time. "Thanks."

"You should be watching yourself carefully, Jo. You can't have someone dogging you over the shoulder every second. You want to get somewhere you have to learn to do things yourself." It's probably one of the most serious things Cody's ever said to the other woman in their lifetimes. But for now it's true to form. "So… Have you been on any good stakeouts lately? I've been taken off the hotdog carts, which is a very good thing."

"I don't have the mental space to remember all of the time," Jo answers simply, "And yeah, I know I need to work on the paper. I just hate it so much. Especially all of the signing and crossing the t's and dotting the i's, you know." She shakes her head, "No real stakeouts." For work, anyways. "How do you feel about the barracks? I think it's asking for trouble. They escaped a train while they were unconscious…"

Fred eyes Cody before nodding. "Yeah, sure, I can get it. No problems." He bends down and retrieves the crumpled piece of paper, throwing it in the garbage. Once his sandwich is properly retrieved, he takes a seat of his own, and he starts to eat, half-listening in to the conversation the other two are having. "They escaped a train because the proper security measure were obviously not it place…" he murmurs quietly.

"Thanks chappie." Then she turns back toward Jo, but the suit isn't done talking yet. Cody slowly turns to look at Fred with one eyebrow twitched sky high. "Our problem is transport…" Cody agrees, sliding her chair backward so that she can look at both people. "They escape on trains, they escape on trucks. Well they have the collars now, they'll work better than a tube up the nose." Her head jerks toward Fred as she slowly takes her notebook and tucks it back into her side pocket. "Who are you?"

Jo narrows her eyes at Fred. "Maybe. But even then letting them walk around and plan." Not that the prisoners have the guns, the drugs, or the tools, the idea that they can walk and move around leaves her feeling unsettled. She arches an eyebrow at Fred before her lips curl into a sadistic kind of grin — like her lips were never designed to smile. "And what security measures are those Suit? I wouldn't think anything less than short of death would be truly effective at containing the threat. And some threats refuse to be contained." She takes a deep breath, "In war that's what we do. And isn't this an extension of the war on terror?" She continues to smile sadistically.

"I'm Dr. Fred Stone." Fred replies in regard to the question of his identity. "If the prisoners are planning anything, I doubt it will succeed. Escaping from here is a lot more difficult than escaping from a train or a truck." He says rather seriously. "I wouldn't pay much mind to them, really. They're no harm to any of us at present." He smiles brightly. "Oh-ho. What a high and mighty woman you are, calling me a 'suit'." He says to Jo. "You in your fancy dress uniform. You know, that's considered a form of a suit, so really…you're 'insult' is just as 'insulting' to you as it was meant to be for me." He says happily. "Let me guess though…the President is coming for a visit." He furrows his brow. "But then…why aren't you dressed up?" He says, winking, a grin crossing his lips again. "The threats that 'refuse' to be contained need to be dealt with swiftly and appropriately, wouldn't you agree?" He asks, leaning back and swiping aside a part of his jacket, showing a holstered gun.

Cody is in no mood to get into a verbal battle with someone in a suit. She does that enough in regular every day life, bartering for a nickel here or a dime there while suits buy a hot dog, which she tries to determine who is who among the degenerates of this decadent society. When Fred addresses her, her eyebrow sink low, hooding her eyes in aggravation and she sets her jaw stubbornly. "I don't get dressed up," she says simply. There's something wrong with that one, he's just too happy. That's her job. "Some of them are immune to your gun, we have to be inventive."

"No. The President isn't visiting. And believe me, I normally don't look like this, Dr. Stone," Jo says somewhat blandly. "And Suit wasn't exactly meant as an insult, just something to call you. It seems fitting. You're almost too young to be one of them. Twenty-somethings don't belong in suits and definitely not in ties." She offers him the same polite smile she issues. She doesn't feel the need to expand on why she's dressed up or why she's here, instead she just organizes her files into a neat pile. Bemused she adds as a sort of afterthought, "Have you ever even fired your gun, Dr. Stone?"

Fred shakes his head, smiling at Cody. "That wasn't meant to demean your appearance, ma'am. You look fine dressed as you are. I've got no problem with it. I think it's kinda awesome, dressing how you please." He says with a firm nod. He shrugs at what Jo says, "I'm half way through my twenties, thank you. And I am a professional. Though I do know my appearance of youth catches people off guard." He smiles. Nodding, he answers the question, "Yes, I have in fact. And I've worked in the field to round up people with abilities." He tilts his head. "Might I, um…enquire as to who the two of you might be?"

"I'm Baker, hunter." The curly haired blonde says as she holds out her right hand for a shake. The left is currently occupied closing up the side pocket of her cargo pants. Not waiting for the man to reach over, she takes the initiative and gives him a very firm handshake as well as a pointed look in the eye. "Don't underestimate them. The field is a dangerous place. They can play with your mind as well as your body." Quickly letting go of Stone's hand, she wipes it on the rear of her pants and saunters toward the door. "Scott, I'm going to hit the gym. If you need me, I'll be there. I have some things to think about."

A glance is given to Cody before Jo turns back to face Fred. "Hmmm." Her eyes continue to narrow as she uncrosses her ankles and plants her feet on the floor. She says nothing about experience or the like. A nod is given to Cody, "I'll let you know if anything comes up; I think I may actually leave early today."

She doesn't offer a hand to shake or give into social convention with a really polite introduction, instead she glances at Cody once again before nodding, "Scott, Hunter." She introduces herself plainly. First names are unnecessary.

Fred shakes Cody's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He says kindly to her. "I never try to underestimate them. In fact, I try to overestimate, so I can be aware of all possibilities." He offers a nod to Cody as she leaves, turning his attention back to Jo. "Would that be…Josephine Scott? I think I've read your name on some of the files of people you've brought in. Very impressive work."

"Yes. Except no one calls me Josephine." Her friends and close colleagues call her Jo. Beat. "You can call me Scott." She hmmms quietly, "It's not impressive. I just did my job." And happen to enjoy doing it no matter what it involves. Anytime she can hold her gun she's pleased. "It's good old fashioned American ingenuity, tag teaming, and training."

Fred shakes his head. "Of course no one calls you that." He smiles. "But that could explain why you're dressed up like you are." He tilts his head ever so slightly. "Your parents were military, weren't they? And this would be right around the anniversary of their death. Shame, really…how it happened." He clears his throat. "Tell me, Scott…how's your brother Theodore?"

"What explains the way I'm dressed, Dr. Stone?" Jo twitches, her one real tell. "My time with the SEALs or something else?" she lurches to her feet as she pushes the table away in front of her. Her hands are balled into two angry fists, as her entire body tenses. "Who the hell are you again?! And what business have you prying into information about my my family?! You don't know me! You're not supervising my work…" Beat. "You're one of them, aren't you? One of those shrinks… those fake doctors with their fake science… so much for ethics, doctor…"

Fred takes a bite out of his sandwich, calmly gazing upon the angered Jo. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just opting to eat his sandwich. Perhaps this is the reaction he'd hoped he would get. Perhaps not. Either way, he doesn't seem phased by it. "What if I am a psychologist? There may not be enough science in psychology to feed your desire to approve of it, but that doesn't mean psychologists with PhDs are any less worthy of their title of 'doctor'. After all, I studied hard to get my PhD. I earned this 'Doctor' that I have titled before my name." He says all too calmly. "Ethics and looking into the files of those capturing these 'people' is mutually exclusive, Lt. Commander Scott. I need to make sure that you're all of sound mind." He smiles at the standing woman. "You'd like to hurt me right now, wouldn't you Scott? You'd like to hurt me real bad. But if you did, I'd have to submit an official report that you hit someone without any physical provocation and thus are mentally unfit for duty at the present time."

"Doctor or not, you are an arrogant prat, doctor. And like it or not my background, my family, and my parents' untimely death has little to do with my job. And yes, you deserve to be punched right now, but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. Not in a million years." At this Jo turns on her heel, "I'm damned good at my job, and I'm not about to be relieved of duty by anyone. Especially not some two-bit psychologist who plays head games with American heroes rather than the terrorists on their radar." That said, the clap of her heels echoes down the hallway where she's firing range-bound. Yup, she's mad.

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