2007-08-05: DF: Scenario A

Starring:

DFCyprus_icon.gif DFLogan_icon.gif

Summary: Cyprus deals with one aftermath, distracting Logan from another. They come to a conclusion on the former.

Dark Future Date: August 5th, 2009

Scenario A


Marquis Marriot

It's a day after a certain train derailed in Pennsylvania, and the storm has begun. In this, the current crisis center set up in a lower suite of the Marriott Marquis in New York City, phones ring, people talk, and computers hum and whizz. Various civil servants buzz about, moving quickly, and with purpose. Amidst them, Homeland Security intelligence agents, separated only by the badges and the less frantic expressions, read from over people's shoulders, and listen to phonecalls with their hands resting on mute buttons. This is undoubtedly a scene out of someone's nightmare. And that someone is Cyprus Donovan.

In the center of the whirlwind, he stands, but is hardly the eye of the storm. There is nothing of peace in his demeanor and movements, instead he seems to not only caught the frenetic energy filling the room, but is furthering it. He gives orders and answers questions, takes forms and hands them out, and signs things with only a glance at them. All the while, he would be talking to himself like a seeming madman, were it not for the bluetooth earpiece. "Find me a survivor, Margie," he is saying at the moment. "Make sure they're young. And pretty. Not too pretty, though. We want them believable. But make sure its someone who'll actually survive. I want soundbites prepared and ready to run by 11 PM tonight. No, I want every contigency covered. And try to steer away from actors, if you can. Something this magnitude, we should be able to find /someone/ desirable."

Logan is having something of a nightmare, as well. A completely different kind. To everyone else around him, the world is ticking by normally - as normal as it can - and everyone can account for this afternoon but he. Apparently he left, he cleared it with those that needed to know he was heading out, then came back, his injury worse for wear but aparently fine. None of that is anything he can recall, secondhand information from a bewildered PA. It's a blank spot, and he knows why it's blank, and that makes him nervous. Mysterious bruises and a furtherly screwed up shoulder aside, he wants to know what happened. And Nathan isn't talking.

Furthermore, he can't even take the day off. Terrorist activity, an extreme act, is calling for his attention, and Logan strides moodily through the office set up, arm now secured back into a sling and a suit jacket resting over his shoulders. "Donovan," he says, as soon as he sees the man, and that's all he usually needs to say to receive and update. Cyprus has a tendency to state the obvious. He likely gets paid for it.

"Just get it done, Margie, the President just arrived," says Cyprus, before pressing a button on the earpiece. He pulls it out, slips it into a pocket, and turns to face Logan. He is not smiling, and that is not a good sign. He takes in the anger in stride, and gestures for one of the interns to fetch something. She prompty scurries off as Cyprus strides towards Logan. "Mr. President, it is good to see you," says Cyprus evenly. "I have been trying to contact you all day, but I was told you were busy. It is good to see you came as soon as you could. We have a situation." And there he goes, stating the obvious.

There's a pause after Cyprus says this, allowing the sound of hustle-bustle, buzzing instructions and the sound of paper rustling, phones ringing, to fill in the space. "We do have a situation," Logan agrees, with a slight twist in his smile. As for him being unavailable all day, well, that gets not even a pause. "Someone ran numbers by me but it seems to be changing every hour. What's the official deathtoll, how many of them were Evolved?"

"Two hundred and sixty eight confirmed dead," states Cyprus without even looking at one of ubiquitous papers floating about. "With another fifty five in critical condition. Fifteen were Evolved. Of those fifteen, nine were found dead on scene, and the remain six died of their injuries shortly afterwards. Several of them, it is suspected, survived the crash unharmed only to be killed by the terrorists." The intern returns, and hands a folder to Cyprus. He doesn't even glance at it before holding it out to Nathan. "In there is the estimated damages to equipment, as well as initial figures in how much it will take to repair it and get the trains up and running again. It's… well, simply, sir, it's staggering. I haven't seen something this bad since the war."

"Jesus." He knew it was something bad. It would have to be. Temporarily, Logan even forgets about his own personal problem, awkwardly opening the file with effetcively one and a half hands, really, but it does the job as he scans the information presented. 'Since the war,' Cyprus said. The war that catapaulted him into power. He's trying not to smile. And no, he may like senseless violence from time to time, but that's not the cause for the smile he's restraining.

This is an excellent opportinity.

"Well. The American people will be looking for answers," he says, glancing Cyprus's way with a twitch of a raised brow. "They'll be looking for leadership. I guess I have a speech to write."

While his own expression can be hard to nail down, one part of Cyprus's reaction is clear. He's watching the President very carefully. With the comment on the speech, the aide nods, and glances at the intern with a gesture. "Our thoughts exactly, sir," Cyprus comments. "Though… when I couldn't get ahold of you, sir, I authorized the strategists to come up with some… situational outlines, Mr. President. Mostly, how best to prepare the country for you." There is a pause there, and Cyprus looks at Logan. "What it boils down to, sir, is… are we going to address the issue of… Peter Petrelli?" And there's the rub. "If you need, sir, I have already prepared statements which will guide the media towards a less potentially volatile terrorist." Always have a scapegoat ready.

"And why would we want to do him that honour?" Logan says, smoothly. No question there. He may not want to risk messing with Peter's personal life, but he's made his own bed with this one. Then in addition, the Peter Petrelli circa 2007 might get a run for his money, a thought Logan keeps to himself. This wasn't just an act of terrorism against the government. This was against the people most freedom fighters are attempting to protect. "He can't blame me for being honest with the world." He can do much worse than that, actually, but hey.

"As you wish, sir," says Cyprus. He shoots a glance to the intern, and business suddenly begins again. This was the cue they were waiting for. All the preparation built up to this moment releases, and even the most tired assistant suddenly moves with a purpose. Cyprus turns back to Logan, and clasps his hands behind his back. He tilts his head to the side just slightly. "By the time you give your speech, Mr. President, the country will be ready for you to name him as you see fit. But you have my word, sir, no one will so much as utter a word placing Peter Petrelli alongside… well… the only other real comparison we have." Cyprus smiles. "Sylar." Pause. "I believed you would want the honor yourself, sir."

Now that, that earns a smile. Logan can almost feel better about today, despite the chaos. "Correct," he says, without much of a moment's hesitation. Then, he gestures towards Cyprus with the file he's holding. "I want outlines on anticipated media reaction on my desk as soon as possible. Then I want Laurel Halifax contacted, specifically. We're not doing a press conference in my hotel suite, but I'm not taking anymore chances." He starts moving away, likely to head back to his own suite.

Cyprus takes the folder, and nods to the President. "Yes, sir," he assents. He holds the folder in his hands, and lifts his voice slightly rather than follow after Logan. "I will notify her immediately." He takes a breath, and passes the file off to an intern walking past with a look that brooks no room for questions. As the President nears the exit, Cyprus slips out the bluetooth earpiece, presses a button on his cellphone. After a moment, he says "We're going with scenario A, Margie. Get the soundbites ready. And make sure NBC keeps in line, this time. We wouldn't want a repeat of the Nevada incident, do we?" And with that, he's rejoining the movement of the room, furthering the President's will.

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