2009-10-03: The Wynning Team



Date: October 3, 2009


If You Can't Beat 'Em…

"The Wynning Team"

Building 26 - Isolation Room

There is no night or day in this plastic prison. Only the constant, harsh glow from a handful of bulbs and light strips. No clock. No sun. No way to keep time. After weeks (months?) of imprisonment and bondage with very little stimuli, Max has fully immersed himself in a meditative state. It has been his only defense against the slow, insidious creep of boredom and insanity. Irregularly spaced meals and brief naps have been his most exciting moments. Still, he has kept true to his word. Though he remains strapped to his glass table, he hasn't attempted to escape or to harm the guards that bring him his meals. He has waited. And waited.

Patience is a virtue, but his is starting to wear a bit thin.

Footsteps draw closer to the Isolation Room and the usual Guards First, Senator Second style of entering the room happens with relative ease. Senator Wynn, as usual, keeps his distance, while both guards immediately head over towards the table and stand on either side of where Max is strapped up very tightly. "My apologies for returning to you so late. There have been some things that required my attention." Ivory's tone is very honest and sincere, even if he does remain back close to the door, where a third guard is standing next to him, just in case. One can never be too careful. "How are you holding up?"

Max's eyes open and focus slowly on his host. Then, against all odds, he smiles. A dry tongue flicks out in a vain attempt to moisten cracked lips. "I endure," he murmurs, his deep, quiet voice reverberating through the small room. His smile turns wry as he gives a weak tug at the cuff around one of his wrists. "Please, step into my office. I'm sure you will understand if I don't shake hands."

"Ms. Walker is safe and sound. As promised." Ivory remarks, before giving a nod at the guards that are surrounding the table. They hesitate for a moment, before they unstrap the poor man that's been here too long or something close to that. The third guard steps in front of the Senator and holds his plastic gun at the ready. Just in case. Still. Ivory doesn't stop running his mouth through this time period, though. "I believe we have an arrangement to discuss. And as a show of trust, you are no longer confined to that table. Please don't make me regret this decision."

As soon as he's released, Max stretches anatomy that has been confined to a single position for an unbearable length of time. There's an audible snap-crackle-pop from joints, muscles, and sinews as his large frame settles back into a more comfortable configuration. He sighs with pleasure as he rolls his shoulders and wrists to relieve tension brought on by inactivity. "I believe you are correct," he replies when he's finished. "Is there anywhere in particular that you'd care to begin?"

Ivory keeps his distance even still, making sure that he's not too close to get caught up in a trap of sorts. The Guards stick close to Max, in the event of a sudden escape attempt. Ivory crosses his hands in front of him. "The Company. You were involved. I need to know what you know. Perhaps even more than you know." Ivory takes steps to the side, explaining more of what he's got up his sleeve. "I'm aware that they, essentially, are doing what The President has us doing. However, they were doing it for more personal gain. Whereas the President and I simply want to protect our great nation."

Max settles his feet to the floor and tests his legs before trusting them to bear his weight. When he's satisfied, he stands and steeples his fingers into a thoughtful triangle. "Spare me the propagana. I've given you my word that I will help. I intend to keep it."

He pulls in a deep breath and exhales before he begins his explanation, which is none-too-brief and is delivered in a crisp, military fashion. "They are an extremely well-funded group with no discernable far-flung goal, most likely due to frequent shifts in leadership. They are currently lead by Angela Petrelli, which is a name you may recognize. The number of active agents that they employ tends to fluctuate wildly, and includes a substantial number with… unique abilities. I would be happy to brief you in detail on the more noteworthy agents, but I believe that information would be better suited to a written report."

Ivory frowns at the 'propaganda' notion, since he seems to truly believe in what he's doing. It's always a shame when the Player may or may not be Being Played. There's even a small tilt of his head in relation to whatever it is that Max seems to think he's up to. Still, though, Ivory is not too offended to end this conversation right then and there. "Any information you can give us will be appreciated. We are currently considering the neutralization of The Company. We cannot have vigilantes, no matter how connected or funded they are, running through the streets and creating even more chaos." Ivory sighs and shakes his head at that thought. His nation falling apart at the seams. "I've done some homework on you, Swan. You would make a very good field agent, I'm almost positive of that. Unfortunately, I don't trust you enough to let you stray in that way. No offense."

"None taken," Max replies, baring his white, even teeth in another smile. "At present, I have given you little reason to trust me at all. Allow me to extend an olive branch of my own, yes?"

Unassumingly, he steps between the guards until he reaches the wall that's most distant from Ivory's position. Then he lifts a finger and begins to trace a complex empirical formula in the coat of dust that has accumulated since he was moved here. When he's finished, he clasps his hands behind his back and nods, apparently satisfied. "If you have a cellular phone, I recommend you take a photo and give it to your research team."

Ivory raises an eyebrow as he watches Max's movements with an untrained eye. He just kind of leans in close enough to see it from where he stands. Though, he does end up taking a couple more steps deeper into the room. In a jiffy, his cellphone is whipped out and aimed with the Megapixels of Expensive Nature. He speaks as he's lining up the phone's camera. "Exactly what am I looking at? While I love a cryptic puzzle like anyone else, my people would like to know what they're getting themselves into." Flash! Flash! A couple of pictures of the formula are snapped without fail.

"I call it the Solution," Max says, making no attempt to hide his pride and pleasure. "It is very similar to the concoction that you pumped up my nose, though it isn't so crude. It's a compressed gas. A weaponized version of the oral tablets that the Company uses to stifle the supernatural abilities of their prisoners."

He reaches fondly toward the dusty outline, but stops short of smudging it. "I originally designed it to be loaded into handheld canisters as a spray, but with a few small modifications, I believe I could create methods for distribution on a larger scale."

Ivory looks at his phone for a long moment. All the while, he's listening to what Max is saying. His eyes draw up from the phone to peer at the man that has spoken about this 'Solution' and proceeds to smirk, just a tiny bit. Within the next moment, he's turning on his heels to stride towards the door. "Find out what he needs and give it to him." is the order given, as Senator Ivory Wynn thinks he may have just found something that's going to give this organization the boost it needs.

This is what Max has been waiting for. A chance to ply his wares to the winning team. Or what he views as the winning team, anyway. Despite his disheveled, atrophied appearance, he immediately stands straighter and starts barking out orders with the ease of a man who is used to being listened to. "Get this damn table out of here. I don't care if you have to tear it from the floor. I'm going to need a desk and a computer in this corner. I'll need a workstation against that wall. Beakers, burners, scales. Whatever passes for a laboratory here, I want you to raid it and bring me one of everything…"

He grins fiercely, weighing the possibilities in his mind. He may still be confined, but now he is able to make something of that confinement. With any luck, he'll be able to produce well enough to see the outside of this cell.

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