3970/Rising Tide: Smoke and Mirrors

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Rising Tide: Smoke and Mirrors
Date of Scene: 26 February 2018
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Arnim Zola, Quake
Tinyplot: Rising Tide


Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     A concrete cell, cold and uninviting. There were no windows anywhere, nothing to allow in natural light of any kind. The only source of light was a single bulb recessed deep into the ceiling of the holding cell. No bed to sleep on, only the cold hard poured concrete, and a single metal toilet bolted into the wall.

     The cells were each identical, making it next to impossible to even tell if you'd been thrown back into the same one or some place completely different, save for the small mouse hole in the wall.

     Time worked differently here, at least it seemed to. Was it weeks, months or maybe even years? It could have just as easily only been days. With the way the flickering lights always stayed on it was impossible to tell what time it might have been.

     The prisoners each had the same uniform a bright orange jumpsuit, long since faded with age. Their hair had been shaved completely bald their first day in here, leaving them cold on the harsh concrete floor.

     The only entrance or exit was a single thick riveted metal door with a slot on the bottom for food to be passed through, and a small window just barely big enough to peak through covered over by a sliding metal latch, with nothing to grip onto on the inside of the cell.

     Occasionally through the walls boots could be heard clattering against the concrete hallway beyond, doors sliding open, the screams of other prisoners as they were lead fourth from their cells. Sometimes the man in the blue uniform with his matching flat cap would come by to slide in the days rations in a simple metal bowl, or to take prisoners out for questioning. If this wasn't hell on earth then what was?

Arnim Zola has posed:
ZeroPain, AzureTinge and Curse, all broke early in the grey hell of those cells, spilling every bit of information they had on the Rising Tide and when that wasn't enough to get them loose, they just made stuff up. The main points were true though, that what was going on, was /not/ how the Rising Tide operated normally, it was usually more bottom up than top down; that they were told very little about what was going on, only what they were expected to do; and ultimately the inner circle knew most of what was going on. Oh, and had they mentioned Momento was part of that inner circle? Because yeah, they were more than happy to volunteer that.

Loyalty, it was something that wasn't part of the Rising Tide's make up.

Quake has posed:
Loyalty. It most definitely wasn't part of the Rising Tide makeup. You got in, you got out. If you hit a wall of trouble, you ran. If you had to burn bridges, you burned them without remorse or regret. That was really the way of organizations like theirs. And certainly hackers by trade. And it wasn't like they'd compenstaed her well enough to keep her mouth shut...

Still, Momento had reasons to not speak up. At least at the beginning. Pride certainly ranked up there. Along with the fact that she knew the inner workings of Rising Tide. And that she'd met the Benefactor. Unlike Miles, Momento knew, or at least highly suspected, that SHIELD hadn't offed Saffron. Momento was pretty certain that was an inside job.

If she was going to spill, it was going to have to be worth her while.

Still, it was cold and miserable in that cell.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Footsteps echo out down the hallway as they all too often did in this place. Slow, methodical, practiced. They come to a stop at memento's door, and there's silence for a long moment.

     The lights of the cell are dim, barely flickering away as it seems the bulb is on its last legs completely still providing a constant annoying hum. There's barely even enough light to see.

     That makes it all the more shocking when the small window slams open with a KATHUNK, a pair of shadowy eyes peering through allowing the blindingly bright lights of the hallway to shine into the room making it nearly impossible to see.

     A moment later the latch slams back shut and the door slides open bathing the whole room in that same blindingly bright light. "Eight four seven two, it's that time again." The voice holds a slight Czechoslovakian accent to it his features almost completely obscured by the painful light. Waiting for her to step out into the hallway.

Arnim Zola has posed:
As with each of the visits, the three hackers cower as the footsteps draw closer. When the bolt is slid open and it's not their own cell, they are both relieved and saddened. Relieved they won't have to answer more questions they no longer have truthful answers for but saddened that their isolation will continue.

Quake has posed:
Momento had no illusions that time held any meaning here. Time was what her captors made of it. Wasn't that how it went in all the spy movies and books? You disoriented your prey - she had no doubt that she was prey - and broke them down. Got them to give you anything you wanted.

More fool her captors, though, she thought. She hadn't needed to be broke down. Not really. You didn't sell your soul to a group like the Rising Tide. There was no KoolAid like at SHIELD. It wasn't a life; at best it was a lifestyle, and Momento had no intentions of dying to it.

In short, other than the discomfort of where she was, and the extreme boredom, she was ready to move on to the next phase. Only, unlike the others, she wasn't going to go into it whining or peeing her pants in fear. She had no intentions of going down fighting at this point. No. Momento had every intention of going down making the best deal possible for herself that she could.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     The man in blue leads the way down the hall once Memento leaves her cell. The door closes right behind her with a loud slamming noise all on its own. Everywhere one looks the lights are so blindly bright it's almost impossible to see any details. What can be seen are the rows and rows of doors they pass by. Just how big was this place?

     It was far from the first time she'd made this walk. This had been a regular facet of her time here. The man in blue leads her to one door out of the many that line this seemingly endless hall left open. He stands by the door and ushers her into the room proper.

     It's a simple room, a metal table bolted to the concrete floor which holds a single grate in the center of it. From a glance it's clear there's blood that's been left behind fairly recently from the looks. It doesn't seem like they've cared enough to clean the room between uses.

     Once she enters the room, the door closes behind her leaving her with some time alone.

Arnim Zola has posed:
The three other hackers breathe sighs of relief as they hear Momento go. Still, they're alone in these grim cells so any relief they feel is limited.

Quake has posed:
Momento didn't drag her feet. It didn't help. The first time she'd tried that they'd just dragged her along anyway. It wasn't an experience that she cared to repeat. It all came back down to the fact that there was nothing or no one in Rising Tide that she cared to spend her life upon. She was a survivor and she'd not gotten this far in life by making stupid mistakes of honour and misplaced loyalty. Far from it. Even if she suspected the Benefactor wouldn't take kindly to her defection.

However, the Benefactor wasn't here, and this particular set of jailors was. The choice was, in her opinion, simple. Live now; worry about the Benefactor later.

Momento sat in the seat they'd plunked her in and tried not to think about the blood on the floor. Or the fact that it was so commonplace here that there was a grate specifically to make cleanup an easier thing. She knew part of the reason for leaving the mess behind was to spook her, and if she were quite honest, she'd say it was working. Only, she was doing her best not to show it. Freaking out wouldn't get her out any sooner or more alive. She needed her wits about her.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     There's a long silence in that room as Memento is left alone. The only sound is the low humm of the light bulbs, and footsteps outside the door occasionally walking past. She's allowed to simmer there for some time. Out in the hall someone screams out. "No, no, no. You can't do this I'll give you anything you want just please don't do this." The voice getting closer. "I've already told you everything you want to know just let me go." Getting louder and more desperate as they plead for their lives.

     "Please don't I'm begging you I've got a family, I never meant for anyone to get hurt, you just have t-" And then a gunshot echo's out from beyond the door. Soon after a thud, and then sounds of something heavy being drug away.

     It's only a little while longer before the door slides open, a man walking in who can be best described as a G-man. Pitch black suit and tie, a briefcase in one hand. The way he walks makes it hard to get a good look at his face as if he was intentionally looking off to the side. He sets down the briefcase onto the table with a hefty kathunk. The only thing that's visible in this lighting of him is his outline and the white of his shirt giving away the presence of a pitch black necktie.

     Opening up the briefcase he pulls out a small recording device, making a show of setting it down onto the table in silence. His other hand hits a button on the other side of the table causing a small desk lamp to rise from the table.

     He twists the lamp so that it shines right into Memento's eyes obscuring his face completely once again just as it starts to come into view. Soon after he takes a seat across from her setting out some paper-work in open view. The Briefcase goes under the table and he folds his hands one over the other in front of himself. Waiting for her to say the first words.

Quake has posed:
Momento had no clue if the sounds she heard in the hallway were legit or not. She wasn't sure she even cared to know. If they were just a ruse, someone was going to a very long length to scare the fuck out of her. And if it wasn't a rude, well.. it was working. Momento was frightened. Very frightened. She was just working very hard not to show it.

When the G-Man arrives, she tenses, the woman sitting uncomforatbly bolt upright, knowing she can't escape. Trying not to look terrified was a battle she knew she wouldn't win for long. At least not if someone didn't do something to break the ice soon, and until she knew exactly what they wanted - whoever they were - all she could do was second guess what that might be. And until Momento knew better, she wasn't offering anything. At this point all the information she had was currency, and she wasn't about to give any of it away freely. She needed it all to buy her way out.

If it could be bought.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "Prisoner Eight four seven two." The man starts in a deep voice, after a long time spent allowing her to simmer in the moment. There's an intensity to his body language mixed in with the overly clinical tone to his voice, a very clear lack of accent as he speaks. He idly flips through the folder in front of him, running his finger down the list of information. "Please state your full name, and date of birth for the record."

     At the same time the footsteps pick up once again in the hallway. Unbeknownst to Memento one by one her friends are collected from their cells, and lead down the same hallway she had been. Each is told the same thing. "Unfortunately, it looks like this is your last day with us." By the man in blue, who would lead them each to the same room at the end of the hallway just down from where Memento was enjoying her conversation.

Quake has posed:
"Dana Morgan," Momento says quietly, rattling off her date of birth in a monotone, hoping to hide her anxiousness. At this point it wouldn't do to lose it.

Until 'your last day with us' filters on through and her attention is grabbed, the woman's gaze snapping over to the man. "What do you mean my last day? Am I going free? You make some kind of a deal with the authorities?" All kinds of other scenarios ran through her brain, including someone making a deal with the Benefactor.. all the while thinking: I didn't tell them anything. They can't kill me too, can they?

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     The man across from Morgan barely seems to react even as she begins to panic, save for a quiet scribbling of a few notes into the folder in front of him. Looking back to her he states. "Prisoner eight four seven two, I'll be conducting the interview here." Confirming his control of the situation. "You seem to be under the wrong impression here eight four seven two, we ARE the authorities." Spoken with the kind of confidence that only someone either telling the truth or very good at lieing could pull off.

     "Your activities have caused a good deal of trouble for our agency." He taps his pen down dotting his I's. "Please co-operate, we'd like to make this as painless as possible." A light pause is given while he continues that cold clinical tone. "Unless you'd prefer we do this the hard way?" Barely pausing. "Now, you are a member of the organization calling themselves the Rising Tide, correct?" A light pause for a reply before carrying on. "Would you please care to enlighten us as to the identity of the 'benefactor'?"

Quake has posed:
The authorities. This.. did not bode well. You read horror stories - hell, Rising Tide had /exposed/ horror stories like this - all the time, but usually they were associate with places like Quantimo Bay, or, you know, worse clandestine little holes in the ground that enjoyed being, if not above the law, at least outside the bulk of it.

But if that was the case, pissing them off further, now that she'd opened her mouth, wasn't going to help her any. Especially as that file in front of her suggested they already knew more about her than she could possibly deny in this interview. Except...

"I don't know who the Benefactor is. Some guy who told us to call him Karl. I wasn't the one who dealt with him. Miles was." Which wasn't entirely true. Yes, Miles had been the one doing most of the contact work, but Karl had contacted her about monitoring things. That the Benefactor hadn't trusted to Miles. Though once DarkSky had returned to the fold, the Benefactor had turned his smile upon that bitch instead.

To say Momento was upset about the matter was an understatement.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Calmly and quietly the figure adjusts his tie following a quick scribbling of a few notes. "Well if that's the case I suppose you're of no use to us." He pauses, before calling to the door. "Would you be so kind as to take eight four seven two out back behind the chemical shed, it appears she has outlived her usefulness." It was such a calm and collected way of saying it as he looked to the door. "Once you've dealt with her bring Miles back in, I'm sure he'll be of more use." Confirming the 'fact' they had already captured him.

     "I am terribly sorry we couldn't work together longer Eight four seven two, however I'm on a very tight schedule, and I don't have time for people who can't tell me what I need to know." As he places his pen back into the pocket of his shirt reaching over to the recording device ready to press the button to end the recording. "Unless you have some information of value you'd like to share in exchange for your release."

Quake has posed:
Games? Now Momento was perplexed. Especially if they had Miles. Miles knew more than she did, and she'd not held anything back. "I..?" Only what could she do? Beg? Protest he'd gotten it all wrong? All those things were what they wanted, only at the end of the day she'd answered his questions, and given him what she had. If this was some new form of torture, she wasn't sure how to play it. "I told you what I knew," she says quietly, no longer expecting that she was going to get out of this alive. Or that she was dealing with any sort of authorities.

Once the recorder was clicked off, though, she's given an out. A slim one, but one that Momento is willing to take.

"You mean like names and places? Yeah. Sure, I have those." At this point what she wanted most was to walk away alive. She wasn't quite into shitting her pants territory, but neither was she calm and comfortable and in control. "What do you want to know?"

She didn't even care if they really had Miles or not. If they did have him, though, Miles would sing like a canary. She knew she was being played, but it was still her best bet: speak before the hypothetical Miles spoke.

She told herself she wasn't doing anything he or any other member of the Inner Circle wouldn't do in her shoes.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Mr.G-man presses down on the button and begins packing up his supplies. The two were done here so it seems and it was time for them to part ways. He reaches over to shut down the light on the desk only for her to start talking. He pauses his motion and finds his way back to his seat, the pen coming back into his hand to take notes.

     "Let's start with the names of the other members of the inner circle, addresses if you have them." His free hand quickly opens up his jacket to allow him to set more comfortably. "I will warn of course we have ways of confirming the accuracy of your information."

Quake has posed:
"You know we don't know the real names of most of the crew, right? That code names are part and parcel of the whole hacker schtick?"

Still, she has a few. "You have Miles. He's .. He /was/ number one. DarkSky - Daisy Johnson - she was moving into that position. The Benefactor was bumping him from the Circle. Guy talks too much and likes his money more."

She shrugs.

"Saffron - she got taken out. Genus moved into her position. He's the newest."

She gives the last few names she has - all code names, but for Maria Vankovitch. They'd struck up an unlikely friendship shortly before DarkSky had returned to the fold.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Writing he quickly glides his pencil across paper to take manual notes on her words. As she finishes her list of code names he looks up from the page. "I'm well aware, but you will forgive me of course for committing to my due diligence." Pointed out as he sticks the pen right back into the pocket of his suit.

     Lifting up the paper he looks over it nodding his head quietly. "Well I wouldn't worry too much about Ms.Vankovitch, once we're finished here you'll be more then free to join her." A friendly smile of pure white teeth visible even through the darkness. "Now on to the matter of your reward." He pauses. "My associate will escort you out of the facility." Coming to a stand he holds out his hand. "It's been excellent working with you."

Quake has posed:
That? So did not bode well. But what was Momento to do? She was locked up. The only way out of the facility is /out/ of the facility, and while she expects it's a trap - she's really got no choice.

"Sure. Great. Thanks." Momento forces a smiles to her lips that she doesn't feel. All part of the show, right?

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Taking back his hand The G-man collects his supplies. It's not long after that he makes his way for the door. A quick knock sends it sliding open to one side allowing him to step out into the blinding lights of the hall. A second later the door closes behind him leaving her behind to think about what's transpired.

     After a time passes The man in blue enters the room, holding a black bag in his hands. "Eight four seven two, it's time for you to leave." Calm tilt to his voice the accent never failing as he speaks offering it out for her to place it on her own head. "If you'll follow me I'll lead you to the exit."

Quake has posed:
It's not like Momento has any choice. Who would even care if she screamed and yelled and fought in here. They'd likely just kill her anyway. Her best bet was still to do as asked. At least this way she wouldn't see the killing blow coming, right? Right?

Fingers trembling , Momento pulls the thick black bag over her head.

Arnim Zola has posed:
ZeroPain, AzureTinge and Curse all hear footsteps coming down the hallway, more footsteps than usual. Each has their door opened, the bright light streaming on, rendering the G-Men who collect them in silhouette. "Are we getting out of here?" ZeroPain asks.

"Prisoner Eight-four-seven-three, shut up," says the G-Man before the bag is shoved over ZeroPain's head.

A similar scene plays out with AzureTinge and Curse before all three are yanked blind into the hallway and frog marched out to where Momento has been taken.

Quake has posed:
Momento doesn't even bother telling them to shut up. It's their funeral.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     The changes from cold and uninviting to warm and welcoming a harsh shift in temperature as the sounds of boots on concrete are replaced by that of feet on gravel, and soon on dirt. No light travels through their hoods as they're lead along, the sounds of the outside world ebb and flow as they are lead to a stop.

     Suddenly each of them find themselves handcuffed their backs pressed up against some sort of a wooden pole. The wind blows softly warm air drifting from the east and rustling their hoods.

     There's silence, and then a collection of footsteps marching in perfect time growing closer. The footsteps come to a stop. "Ready!" Calls a voice from nearby. A clattering noise echos out as nearby multiple unknown figures draw their weapons.

Quake has posed:
This might be the first time in her life that Momento was sorry she didn't believe in a god - any god. Though she supposed in some ways she expected this. It wasn't like she /really/ exptected to be released into the wild - not if they truly were the authorities. And if they weren't the authorities, this was exactly the sort of endgame to her confinement that she expected. Though she did ponder if she might have been able to buy herself a few more days of life with silence. To what end, though? Nobody was going to come looking for her and rescue her. This was always going to be the answer.

Resigned, she stands at her pole, back straight, chin lifted proudly. She was going to go out on her terms. Not with a whimper, but a bang.

Arnim Zola has posed:
ZeroPain, AzureTinge and Curse, don't go as nobly to their end as Momento. They walk along easily enough when they come out into the sun, but when their backs hit the poles, they know what's to come and begin to sob, curse and yell, making up secrets to spill promising them anything. Then, when the footsteps can be heard and the commands are given, then, they finally quiet, their shouts turning to whimpers, and plaintive cries declaring that they didn't want to die.

And so they go unto their end.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "Aim!" Comes the second call rifles leveled by the unseen soldiers. Their guns can practically be felt pointing at them. The intensity of the moment builds as there's a long pause. They're given a moment to think perhaps it'll all be called off.

     "FIRE!" Comes the final call shouted out at the top of the man calling the shots lungs. The sounds of gunfire fill the air as presumably the soldiers depress the triggers flinging hot lead at the people strapped to the wooden poles.

     Except the bullets never make impact. Instead the group is left standing there for a long moment, before their handcuffs unlock, dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Quake has posed:
She can't even say it's relief she feels. In some way the lack of death after all this is a disappointment. Her body almost demands it, she'd expected it so.

Slowly, as it becomes apparent that nobody is coming to rectify this mistake - to actually shoot them all - Momento slides her back down the pole until the ground is supporting her, and after taking the bag off of her head, she clutches her hands around her knees and rests her forehead there, rocking back and forth.

How long she stays that was is a guess. It feels like forever, but really it's probably less than ten minutes, the woman finally getting up, and wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, she takes survey of where she is, and after that, makes her way to freedom. The other three? They can go fuck themselves.

Arnim Zola has posed:
The three they, collapse when the shots don't come and when they're freed they each pull of the bags and blink into the sun. "Where is everyone?" one asks. "Hey, Momento's here," another says, the third, says, "Where's she going?"

When Momento departs, he calls, "Hey wait! Come back."

The trio scramble to their feet in their sodden pants and after dusting themselves off, trail after her into the unknown.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     The crew find themselves in what appears to be some sort of abandoned movie lot. What had seemed an endless hallway filled with such blinding lights now appears to have simply been a corridor with a treadmill, and rolling canvas backdrop. Upon a closer glance it becomes very clear that everything they had experienced was done using tricks of the eye, lighting, and clever set design.

     All around there is nothing but desert for seemingly miles. The only hope is what appears to be a city far to the south. It glistens and glitters like a diamond.

     On the front of each of the fours bag there is a lone envelope with a wax seal. Inside the seal appears to be some form of family crest, a highly ornate one at that. Inside the envelope should any of them open theirs they would find a letter personally addressed to them. The contents read as follows.

     While I highly doubt this has changed your inclination any, I would like to assure you that any danger you may have perceived yourselves to be in was a complete work of fiction. This scenario was merely created to illustrate a very important point I feared you would miss otherwise.

     You are angering a number of very dangerous, very skilled individuals with power beyond your scope, had any of their ilk gotten to you before I did you would not currently be reading this letter, in fact I highly doubt you would ever be reading anything ever again. I hope the severity of this reality is far from lost on you. Consider yourself lucky.

     Inside this letter I have included the equivalent of 150,000 usd in local paper currency to see that you can begin for yourselves a new life should you so choose. If that is your choice you should have no fear for my efforts have allowed you the chance to start completely fresh here in Africa, and saved you from the potential ire you would certainly await stateside. Please take it and spend it how you so wish.

     Know that the rising tide has already compromised your real identities, and to America you are each highly wanted criminals, or rather you would be had I not taken the liberty of faking your deaths. Another thing you can thank me for atop feeding and clothing you, if you look inside of the shipping container behind the sound stage you'll find your old clothing freshly ironed and dry-cleaned.

     In the future, please refrain from any further hacktivism or the next time we meet, and should you continue down said route there will most certainly be a next time. Of that you can be completely assured. I will make certain the firing squad is very much real as opposed to a simple per-recorded message.

     Pleasant Travels, JB