10066/Into the Deep End (Part 1)

Into the Deep End (Part 1)
Date of Scene:	16 November 2019
Location:	New York, Central Park
Synopsis:	Caitlin and Roxy meet and start discussing their 'camp' days, coded euphemisms for their escape from CADMUS. Some details don't seem to quite line up, though... what does this mean for the GenActives who're coming out of hiding and finding the one public member of their little family doesn't share their memories?
Cast of Characters:	Freefall, Fairchild

---

Freefall has posed:
ONE MONTH AGO - A TRAILER IN A SETTLEMENT NEAR SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Roxanne's sprawled out on a mattress in her room, so close to sleep that the sound of her phone beeping at her elicits a full-bodied snap-jerk reaction. Remnants of drool and fabric lines across her cheek give her an especially sleep-blasted vibe, one only exaggerated by the artificial glow of her phone's display. She wakes up tremendously upon reading the screen.

~SNAPCHAT~
MinuteMan88: hey saw ur story. listen. only seen one girl with purple eyes in my whole life. u kno alex fairchild?
GravityBites: who the fuk r u
MinuteMan88: u can ask but i wont tell. listen. if i was a bad guy ur whole sitch wud be blown up rite now. tryin to help. u remember the redhead?
GravityBites: WHO THE FUK R U
MinuteMan88: lololol. listen. redheads in trouble. u kno who. ill hit u up l8r becuz they track all our cell activity, but im on snapchat lotz. add me. i kno u havent talked to her or nothin but nows the time. they got plans to get her back. want her body. for science.

~TRAILER~

Roxanne is wide awake. In minutes, she's thrown clothes on and is rifling through the disaster of strewn posessions she calls a room - there's a Folgers can here, somewhere, with two hundred bucks in it. That should be enough, right?

TWO WEEKS AGO:

It wasn't enough. A small-time loan and a telephone interview later, Roxy's got a job at the Halo Burger in Flatbush and a plane ticket out.

A WEEK AGO:

Roxy's in debt, has a job she hates, a manager who loves to ride her ass for having a 'unique' hair color and a penchant for smoke breaks. She's met a wrestler and an alien space god - what's next? Payday's supposed to happen *soon*...

TODAY:

Roxanne rolls out of bed, living low-rent in Flatbush. A studio that offered to put her up when she proved she was employed. Drool. Fabric lines.

~SNAPCHAT~
MinuteMan88: cool ur in NY.
GravityBites: oh so ur talkin 2 me again?? NICE TO SEE U. WHO THE FUK R U.
MinuteMan88: a guy giving u a phone number. call text or whatever but this is how u get ahold of her. i know its weird but im helping i pro000mise.

~CAITLIN FAIRCHILD'S PHONE, TEN MINUTES LATER~

"210-555-4234: hi. roxy. u dont remember me, but i remember u. we went to camp together."

Fairchild has posed:
It's a working lunch in the Stark Industries labs. Caitlin's at one of the workstations with a bunch of trailing wires going into a plastic shell. A soldering needle on a microcontroller is carefully switching paths of electricity around to install a new microchip onto the silicone backboard.

In her other hand is a big 128oz jug with a faded 'RoxXon Gas' logo on it. Probably from a Rox&Go gas stop. Were someone to sniff at it, it'd be mostly strawberry mix and protein powder. She's already had half of it.

The notice vibrates her phone. It takes Caitlin a second to set aside her things and check her messages. The redhead's brow furrows in confusion. Camp? What on earth?

Fingers dance over an input panel to compose a polite response and then Caitlin's eyes fly wide as the entendre hits her.

"J-Jerry, I gotta run, I've got an... emergency thing," Caitlin tells one of the technicians. "Wrap this up for me, I just need to make sure the expanded storage modules are holding. I'll be back... probably tomorrow morning," she concludes.

Quick steps bring Caitlin to her office and she closes the door behind her. The sPhone in her hand includes a security suite, one Caitlin's modified herself for additional encryption and security. The program is activated and a text is sent back to Roxy:

"I didn't think anyone else from camp was around still. Are you in trouble?"

Yes, that is how Caitlin texts. She even uses proper punctuation.

Freefall has posed:
Illuminated by her phone and the light streaming in through a window, Roxanne's face blanches at the response. Proper punctuation? She already feels like she's done something wrong. It's like talking to Merriam Webster. The teen rolls to a sitting position, drags a hand through her hair, and fires off a little response of her own.

Cait's got a modified sPhone? That's neat. Roxy's working with a TracPhone (pay as you go, with rates SO low!), and hasn't noticed the applet she downloaded about a month ago - CyBorgServ File Cleanup. That's not what it does, but it wouldn't matter either way. Her phone is a tech enthusiast's nightmare.

"nah not me. u." Roxy chews on her lip while she pulls a pair of short-shorts on. Ugh. This camp analogy is WAY beyond her. She feels all Bond right now (cool!) but isn't exactly sure she can keep it up. A stumble-step through her door while she pulls a top on, and Roxy's next stop is the bathroom and a toothbrush.

SNAPCHAT:
MinuteMan88: oh rofl rite if she doesnt believe u or u dont know how to let her know ppl know bunches about her - she drinks protein shakes out of a 128oz mug. promise.

SOMEHOW ROXY DOESN'T FIGURE OUT THIS IS WEIRD. She just sees an opportunity to help.

ROXY'S BATHROOM:

"some dude told me ur in trubble. dunno what it means but he knows like a lot about u. like u drink protein junk out of gigundo mugs. god do u really do that? thats GROADY omg id die" Roxanne spits her toothpaste out, washes her mouth out, and moves to the front door. Grabs a Slim-Fast, a pair of shoes, and her sunglasses.

"anyway i dont know what to do about this at ALL and i kno u dont kno me but im kinda freaked out"

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin stares at her phone display while more messages come in. The redhead starts pulling her hair out of the clip holding it back and runs a comb through it a few times. She's apparently hit the right recipe of ambient humidity and hair straightener, as only the last inch of her red hair has any curl to it.

The comment about the drink widens her eyes and Caitlin takes a slow breath to steady her nerves. It freezes her in place in her chair. On the exhale she closes her eyes, counts to three, and gets to her feet.

The labcoat she's wearing is put up on a hanger and she pulls down a woolen calf-length overcoat, double-breasted like a navy peacoat and the same color. Her slipper shoes are replaced with brown winter boots with a low heel and a fuzzy ring around her calves. It takes a few hopping steps to get both on while Caitlin dictates a reply.

Roxy's phone vibrates. <Telling me someone is spying on me doesn't make me feel better,> Caitlin informs Roxy. <Are you in New York? Meet me at Central Park in 30 minutes. Near the outdoor theater.>

Caitlin pulls the coat on, wraps a scarf around her neck, and grabs her small purse before dashing out the door.

Freefall has posed:
Roxanne steps OUTSIDE.

It's FREEZING. She hasn't had the funds to put together a New England-friendly wardrobe, and Texas is still on fire. It's when she's inside, swapping out her Dukes for Levis and flipflops for a pair of Keds hi-tops - that's when her phone buzzes once again.

<Caitlin gets a .gif of Sailor Moon voguing in the affirmative in response.>

Since the look's gone leather, Roxy straps a choker around her neck, grabs her leather half-jacket, and heads outside. She's got a bus pass, which is good. Central Park's pretty easy to get to.

~CENTRAL PARK, BY THE OUTDOOR THEATRE~

THE OUTFIT: High-waisted jeans, a black crop-topped tee (in white: L.F.O.D.), a black leather choker, black leather half-jacket, hi-top sneakers. Her hair's cut short, bangs left long enough to frame her face in pink, multiply-pierced ears on display.

There's no way Roxy beat Cait to the spot. Public transport in New York's a joke, and Roxanne's still brand new to all of it. She isn't exactly hard to track down, wherever you happen to sit - who else walks like they're being stalked and sports a neon-pink stripe down her bangs? Not that Caitlin would remember the bangs, but... notable is notable.

<im the girl with the best hair in the park. where r u?>

Roxy's pretty sure she's already *found* Caitlin. Caitlin will recognize Roxanne as the girl looking at her like she's 6 feet and 5 inches of increasingly bad news.

Fairchild has posed:
Sure enough, Caitlin got there first. Being able to hail a corporate car for a quick dash across town has some perks. The black SUV is parked in a garage a block away, leaving Cait only a very short walk to the meeting point. It also gives her a chance to covertly deploy a few palm-sized spy drones into the air to set up a little early alert grid around her position. Just in case ninjas with machine guns show up.

Caitlin's trying to look around her in all directions at once. She actually passes over Roxy twice, until the shorter woman is within a good ten strides of Caitlin. The redhead shifts a little and hitches her purse on her shoulder. In contrast to Roxy's streetwise attire Caitlin's clothing looks newer. Expensive, too. The earrings she wears are merely clipons, but they look like proper jewelry. And her black handbag is a Coach.

"...Roxy?" Caitlin ventures. "I'm Caitlin. I mean-- I know you know that. Hi. Um..." She looks around. "This probably isn't the safest place for a public conversation," she suggests to the punky young woman.

Freefall has posed:
There's something about sensory input that dredges up all kinds of memories you'd thought you buried. It's like the way the smell of home cooking can bring to mind memories of your kitchen, growing up. The way the sight of an old car might help you remember seeing your father in the garage. The way a *voice* brings to mind a gawky redheaded supergeek.

"Holy shit," murmurs Roxy, whose eyes are suddenly, inexplicably moister than they'd been a minute ago. Cait can puzzle the sudden wave of emotion all she'd like, but the younger girl's quick to blink her knee-jerk reaction away. "S-sorry. Just a lot going on. Uh. Yeah, this is prolly a *real* bad place, like. Buncha Borises around, yanno?" Roxy thinks Boris was the bad guy in Goldeneye. She can't remember. This is all highly spy-level stuff, though.

"So where to? You got a place, or were you thinkin' we could do this in that huge jacket or somethin'?" She steps towards Caitlin, maneuvering around a passerby 'till her shoulder bumps the taller redhead's upper arm. Cait will note Roxanne smells like menthol and acrid smoke - lovely.

What neither woman will be aware of is the way Roxanne's phone is suddenly depleting its battery at a much higher rate than usual. With luck, she'll have forgotten to charge it again.

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin, unfortunately, can't seem to process Roxy as viscerally. Recognition is fleeting-- it falters on her face before she can connect some tenuous dots. Caitlin's certianly changed phyiscally but the fundamental structure of her features are the same. When Roxy drifts near, Caitlin tenses just a little and clutches the front of her jacket protectively. "It's not /that/ big." The words are muttered defensively.

Caitlin eyes Roxy and then starts two paces forward. A short gesture beckons Roxy along. "C'mon. I've got a place in mind. Nowhere's really secure around here and--- and I'm not bringing you to my apartment," she says in an attempt to reclaim a bit of equity in the relatively one-sided exchange. "I still haven't verified who you are."

The place in question proves to be a bagel shop across the street. Caitlin declines conversation until they're inside, often forcing herself to slow down a hurried pace so Roxy isn't obligated to run to keep up. They head directly to a back table and Caitlin purposefully sets herself so she can see the front door and have her back against a wall. At least no one's going to ambush her here.

"This'll do. Now-- how did you get my number?" Caitlin inquires. While she speaks she unbuttons her jacket to wriggle out of it. "Who told you about my lunch-- and it's a diet thing, I have to eat a lot of protein," she addds with another defensive tone.

Freefall has posed:
"Don't wanna see your apartment anyway," grouses Roxanne, whose natural inclination towards cynicism remains her greatest strength. "Betcha don't, like, have step-ladders for us lil' people..." She's motivated, weirdly enough, by seeing Cait act a little more tacticool than herself. A step past the taller girl allows Roxy to secure the other half of the Central Park perimeter, but Cait's moving before Roxy gets the chance to say something slick. This means Roxy is hop-stepping along to catch up.

Bagels? Carbs? Blegh. Roxy's sporting a wan face by the time Cait's ushered her to a table in the back - jealousy, she lets her gaze flit over New Yorkers enjoying lox and cream cheese on an everything roll. Her stomach rumbles at the sight of it, but she pushes the sensation downwards. SOME people pay a PRICE to look good. Others... well. Roxanne follows a few wayward glances, tracks the source of their intrigue as Caitlin -- who's shrugging that coat off and getting comfortable.

A wan face becomes a pale one. Holy gawd. Who died and made it so Cait got all the best kinds of puberty? Did she do a second puberty? Is that even how it works? Fairchild doesn't even need to say anything witty to win the argument now.

"...Huh?" Roxy blinks a few times, right, Caitlin's talking. Cait will note that this is the first and -only- time Roxy gets caught up in the stare. Object of envy noted and stashed in back pocket, never to be acknowledged again.

"Oh, the number? Some dude tried pickin' me up on Snapchat," she affirms, reaching up to twirl one dyed bang around a finger. "Sorta a Melvin but I haven't gotten a pic from him yet. He hasn't asked ME for one yet, which is WEIRD..." Eyes widen.

"Wait, do you think it's like, a setup? Or maybe he works with you or somethin'?? Does anybody you know stare at you bunches??"

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin ignores the looks with studied indifference. She'd dressed quite modestly; a purple dress with a short v-neck and demisleeves. The skirt flows from her waist down in natural pleats and stops just below her knee. But the outfit does very little to detract from the near-impossible combination of curves and muscle she possesses.

"Snapchat? People -do- that?" Caitlin goggles at the idea. "Golly."

"I, uh, I don't know much about how people talk online. I block everyone who asks me for pics," Caitlin admits. "They're creepy and weird. So I mean, if they're doing something other than being a total dillweed, then I guess they might be on the up and up. Right?" She doesn't precisely sound New York. More like an accent that's been diluted into something a little more pan-American with a subtle Midwestern touch.

Caitlin shifts; the metal seat under her creaks protestingly. "But -everyone- stares at me. So that's not new. Is it-- is it maybe someone who bro-- er, from camp?" she amends swiftly.

Freefall has posed:
Roxanne glances behind her for a few reasons. First: Are they being watched? Caitlin seems worried about this. Caitlin's smart, too, so. Also, Rox needs to validate that at least somebody, somewhere, is looking her way. Lavender eyes narrow while she considers the crowd, and one middle-aged lookin' guy with a cute goatee gets a crinkling of the eyes from her.

Aw! There is hope! He thought he was bein' sly, peeking over his coffee mug.

"He said, like, he wasn't bad. He said the people he works for would have firebombed my tra- house if they knew, and since my place is alright it means he's a good guy. Makes total sense, you know? Super scary either way, but you know." Roxy looks back to Cait, summarily in a better mood. She leans in, on second thought. Cait knows other people from the experiment?

"...You know other people from camp? Like, I was in, uh. Another age group and stuff. I didn't really talk to anybody who..." made it out? "was on our bus." ROXY YOU'RE SO GOOD AT THIS GIRL. Eyes sparkle with pride! Take that, Borises!

Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I don't-- I don't remember much of it. Of anything, really," she confesses. "There's some blurry bits. Lots of screaming and explosions. I was--" Caitlin swallows back whatever she was about to say. "I mean, I got hit on the head." It's a lie, and a badly told one, but clearly its' a personal issue with Caitlin and not some attempt to be duplicitous.

Not that it takes a detective to figure that out. The brawny redhead would be the world's worst poker player.

"Anyway, it's been like... years now. No one's ever come looking for me. I figured, maybe I'm just the oldest and everyone else is young enough they forgot." She shrugs. "Or they were told not to. I was." Another omission, but only a partial one. There's a story there Caitlin's unwilling to share with Roxy, just yet.

Freefall has posed:
Roxy barely remembers anything from that entire portion of her life. Half of it's self-preservation - she was tortured, her family killed, so on - and the other half sheer wracking guilt. What Roxanne does remember are the emotional moments, the things tattooed onto her soul through pain of failure. Unbidden tears find her eyes again, an unwanted guest banished by the swipe of a now-moist hand. She's better at poker than Cait, but she isn't aware there's a game being played. Even if there was, she's only playing with half the deck.

God, Roxy *RULES* at metaphors today.

Her face screws up when Caitlin mentions being told *not* to look for them. She immediately launches into a half-baked, mildly offensive questioning, but the focus of the scene shifts.

~A NEARBY VAN (NY PUBLIC WORKS):~

"-too GOOD to look for your FRIENDS? We RULED at that whole esca- nature hike thing! You were like, the brains, and Bobby was able to FLY and he SAVED ME from that GUY--" Roxanne's voice warbles out of a short-range radio setup, and two decidedly beefy utility men listen to the output. They both appear bored.

"Told you the descendant would be the first to give up the ruse. The clone's too smart to give up the goat."
"Shut up, Dave. Takin' a sure bet doesn't mean you're some professional gambler. When are we supposed to move in?"
"Haven't heard a go-ahead yet. Just make sure your gun's ready in case we get the word. Target 1 might have a desk job, but she's still a major problem. Target 2's a relative unknown, but seems low-risk."

~BAGEL SHOP~

"-with the GUN," continues Roxy, now fully in a Supermarket Whisper-Shout.

"What if they already got caught? What if YOU coulda done something to STOP it?"

Fairchild has posed:
A little tic appears in Caitlin's jaw. A mixed bag of anxious guilt and sudden irritation with Roxy's belligerent tone of voice. Just because she doesn't remember it doesn't mean those imprinted memories aren't installed with a lot of painful baggage. Roxy's firmly driving her metaphorial thumb right into Caitlin's feelings. Like pinching the nerve in someone's arm.

"I /told/ you," Caitlin says. Her cheery voice is a bit icier and pitched low so only Roxy can hear her. "I don't remember any of it. It's just a blurry mess for me. I have no idea about anyone else. I don't know who Bobby is. Uncle Wintergreen told me not to look into it, that it'd be safer for everyone if we all just went our separate ways. I've been all over the news for like, seven years now. Howcome it took you so long to find me? Did you guys not want me around or something?" she asks with a sudden surge of dismay.

Freefall has posed:
Punch and counter-punch! Nobody ever told Roxy *not* to look for her friends. In retrospect, it makes a lot of sense. In reality...

~LA JOLLA, YEARS AGO~

Everything's on fire. Alex Fairchild had been sloppy on the return. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he figured the girl wasn't going to get the same attention as the other Team 7 gen-actives... after all, who was claiming her? Mistakes don't get that kind of attention.

Color him surprised when it was Gloria who had opened the door and cried at seeing her baby girl brought back to her. Color him ashamed when it was Gloria who held him accountable for his failure to come back after he'd left her pregnant and waiting. Color him dead when the grenades landed, when the bullets ripped through his chest, when he reached out to tell Roxanne everything he could manage in those final moments.

She had a sister, and her sister deserved to know everything. Hide in the wreckage until it's all over and the sun's out again. Don't worry about the bad men. Daddy will take care of you. It's the least he could do. Mommy will see you in Heaven.

Find Caitlin and tell her I'm sorry.

~NOW~

"...Of course I wanted to find you." Roxanne's hiding her face in a hand, fingers splayed through uplifted bangs. She's keeping her expression hidden, though the huskiness of her voice suggests altogether too many emotions afflicting her.

"What was I gonna say? What if you didn't want to talk to me? What if they already got you and you were working for them? I..." *SNFF*. It's a wet one. Poor Roxy. She wipes her face again, and resolves to stop crying like a lil' bitch. Those eyes harden, her jaw sets, and she buries all of the vulnerable thoughts, the promises to dead people, the guilt towards the living.

"It doesn't matter! Look, who would wanna kidnap you if not THOSE guys? Have you heard of 'em ever since you got out? Did you even look? Like you said. You been in the news and you got really powerful friends, now..."

Fairchild has posed:
After Roxy breaks down crying the heat between them freezes into an icy and uncomfortable tension. Caitlin's an empathetic person by nature and just the sight of Roxy suffering brings a little damp to Caitlin's eyes. It stretches until Roxy gathers her alompb and puts a brittle edge on her voice. The shift in tone takes Caitlin by surprise; her brows hike and she hugs her stomach defensively.

"I don't know!" she blurts. "Maybe they just left me along 'cause of the friends I've got. Or they decided that I'm not worth it. Or they're actually dead and gone and maybe we don't have to worry about it." Even Caitlin seems unimpressed by that last option. "I haven't seen anyone from CA-- from there since the guy who attacked me in college. After this--" she gestures at herself-- "I never heard from anyone again."