Aberrant: 200X - [Event] One Man's Innocence (1 of 2)

[Dawn OOC]

N!ews Breaking Story – November 11, 2010

Quote:

Today is the day that you crazy Corbinites have been waiting for – the man himself is due to be brought before the World Court. Rumors are that he’s going to continue to protest his innocence. Usually in these cases, this reporter would say that the damsel protests too much, but there are whispers that there may be some truth to those claims…

Dana stared through the binoculars at the man standing in the field. She wanted to go down and talk to him, but she was worried. This could so easily be a trick to capture her. But if he had the information he claimed, it could save Andre. The problem was that she didn’t know why this guy would be willing to hand over what she so desperately needed. Like most of the other Aberrants, Dana was sure that Corbin hadn’t killed Slider.

Utopia would love to get their hands on her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she knew that Andre was innocent and Utopia was behind the frame job. This man claimed to have proof of that, but could she trust him?

The answer was no, clearly. Dana swallowed, brushed her hands over her hairless head and took to the air. She had to get the evidence if it existed. And if it didn’t, maybe she could get some evidence of Utopia playing some dirty games. Anything to help Andre.

Click to reveal..

Feel free to fill in what was happening before the trial; on the 11th or 12th, I’ll progress the story forward to the trial. I just want to give a couple of days of lead-in before the trial begins.

Dana’s story will finish depending on what you guys do in your parts. Feel free to help or hinder her and other Aberrants in their quest for the Truth.

[Evo]

November 8th, 2010

The Office of John Argyle, CEO of the Argus Agency

Donald was a little nervous, coming to the boss' office. Particularly when this boss is the company's CEO. Donald knew that it didn't look like there was nothing to worry about, his starting first job searching out a theft of nova-detecting technology absconded with by Michaelites had gone reasonably well, as did some pro bono rescue work in the mountains of Colorado, and he had earned a friendly nickname of 'Evo', based on his rapidly evolving body and the changes already wrought.

And- though this was merely personal and inapplicable to the current situation- he had gotten an apartment to move into with his fresh paychecks, and could actually start rebuilding his life.

Yet, rumors from those who had met Argyle knew that he often talked with employees in person when assigning them for very special missions of high importance. And given that the company's business came from reacting impossibly fast to foreseen dangers, disasters or issues that befell other people, it sounded like he might have a doozy of a job. Or not.

Evie, for a surprise- since he hadn't seen her much since their first meeting- was there, waiting at the door, wearing her usual combat boots, and a very vivid maroon red t-shirt and black shorts. Donald looked somewhat similarly dressed, wearing a light blue shirt under a plaid-checkered light jacket and regular blue jeans.

"Mr. Argyle wanted to speak with the two of us." She said casually by way of explanation.

At that precise moment, a loud, Scottish brogue-flavored "Come in!" could be heard from beyond the door, and glancing at each other, the pair came into Mr. John Argyle's office. The handsome male nova greeted the two with a reassuring smile and a firm handshake for Donald. "Ah, pleasure to meet you Mr. Wallace, and good to see you again, Evie. Sit down, I don't want to be abrupt, but I would like to get down to business."

The two sat in comfortable leather-padded chairs, and Argyle walked back around his (chestnut wood from the texture, Donald noted) desk, smile dimming a bit professionally.

"Now," he began solemnly, "in three days, Andre Corbin stands trial for the murder of Jennifer Landers." A line which made Donald start to get curious, as people did with the biggest world news and conspiracy theory topic of the day. "Suffice it to say, it is of the utmost importance that he not be convicted."

"You're saying that he's innocent, sir?" Donald queried, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going. Argyle shook his head and ran a hand through his neat beard. "I cannot say for certain, though my personal feeling is that my fellow Scotsman is not the murderer of his teammate. What I can say, is that he must not be convicted, or there will be dire consequences down the road."

This ominous prediction had the naturally expected effect of making Evie and Donald trade worried glances, and Argyle continued to go on.

"I have been in contact with the Aberrants, and the Argus Agency will discreetly, and for free, aid in the search for evidence. Now, you two are going to Scotland, as according to second-hand information, Corbin says he was there the night Landers was killed, in the area of Dundee..."

It was later when they left the office that Evie glanced at Donald. "So, Evo. We go to Dundee, and find court-worthy and sufficiently secure evidence that Corbin was there that night. Thank god we have company-paid accounts for this. It's gonna take a lotta money to get to the floozies and bars he said he was visiting that night."

Donald grinned despite himself as he walked with her. "Without full names remembered, but certain clear personal details are. This will be a nice challenge to take... provided we keep in mind that a man's whole life is at stake here."

[Evo]

Afternoon of November 8th, 2010

The West End, Dundee, Scotland, United Kingdom

The side street in the West End was crammed with cars, apparently an effect of the nearby University of Dundee in the area of the West End. Or so Donald had been told. The smell of gasoline was strong, albeit mixed with the fragrant smells he could detect from the also close enough Botanical Gardens. Evie and he had arrived in Dundee via teleport within a couple hours of the briefing, and they had taken the time to check into a local hotel, and get secured for a day or two's stay.

Now, they had a chance to go over their notes of Corbin's recollections and make sense of it, if any. With Corbin's reputation, there wasn't much to be available, probably. And so it was.

Evie's listing for the people and places of the day was pretty much summed up by the first place and person. "College art student from the U of Dundee, and they went to a bar in the West End that played the Dude Novas 24/7. And the bartender was named Clint MacMacon. It was the day his friend and ex-teammate was murdered and he can't remember more?"

"I think that's enough," Donald murmured, expression slightly abstracted, "see I have an idea..."

It took a few minutes to get the method across, as Evie had no idea of Donald's capacity to make his senses synthesia-perceiving, and found it a strange, though intriguing concept. But she agreed it might work.

As Donald had found through the slow process of exploring synthesia over the months, sounds had a certain unique 'visual appearance', and the pattern of a song was no less one of a kind. So, they went to a music store, and let Donald specially observe the 'look' of various Dude Novas, familiarizing them in his head.

Then, when observing the bars in the area, they would see if they found the pattern streaming from a bar, and it should be the bar that Corbin mentioned.

It took them a couple hours, and in the November sky, it was getting dark when they found the place. The Sprite's Fiddle, a reasonable-looking place just opened up for the night.

No one else was in there when they entered, except one older graying man from behind the counter, apparently the bartender. "What can I do for you two?"

"Well..." Donald began casually...

[Bombshell]

Jason 'Bombshell' Bellefleur walked through Central Park, NYC, on her way back to her hotel room at the On The Ave Hotel, having just come from a late lunch meeting at Star Lord's with Lydia Divine. The lowering sun painted the park in tones of gold and rose and orange, bare trees stark and dark, the ground covered in the fallen detritus of autumn. Against the November chill, Jason wrapped the long, knit scarf Danielle's mother had made for her around her neck and zipped up her bomber-jacket, hiding the red T-shirt with the demand, 'You Better Be Reading My Shirt!' strained across her chest.

Jason was in New York, doing a round of the talk-shows, promoting several charities for victims of the Victoria Crush. It still surprised her, the mix of generosity and ignorance the Americans had for disasters outside their country. Since they were both on town, Jason and Lydia's agents suggested they meet to go over a movie proposal a well known director wanted them to co-star in.

Jason hadn't been that enthused about the meeting - the Crush was still too raw - but since the Canadian government had halted reclamation efforts at the Victoria Crush, life was slowly moving on, and she needed to do something to get over the horrors and destruction she'd seen and waded through. So in addition to the charities for the survivors of the Crush, and getting Valkyrie back into production, she was in NYC for a fashion show and maybe to see about doing a couple of cameos or movies.

Lydia had been coolly cordial to the new, rising actress and XWF star, maybe feeling a bit of a threat to her reign of Hollywood Supremacy, and the extra publicity Jason earned from being on site of the Crush had raised her popularity even more. For her part, Jason didn't understand the coldness in the veteran actress' green eyes. If she hadn't been in a good relationship with Danielle, Jason would have been willing to try her chances. Hell, she was pretty enough to make her almost consider it anyway. Lydia had gone to an XWF with Katie Holmes after all. Maybe she did that just to be chic or whatever. Or she doesn't like the fact I used to be a guy. That really puts people off sometimes.

Jason left after two hours, having consumed an extra-large nova-sized meal, which Lydia noted with a condescendingly arched brow, accomplishing little save to find out that someone as hot and charming as Lydia Divine can still be a bitch. I don't need the diva attitude, thanks. My girlfriend is way hotter than yours and you don't have anything I don't have in spades. Lydia seemed to think so too, considering the way her eyes widened when Jason stretched. Damn right, bitch.

Regardless, both of them were professionals. They gave the script a thorough look-over. It was good - very good, great dialogue, funny and would resonate with the audience. Bantering ideas back and forth, they found the beginnings of a mutual respect, even if they would never be friends. They didn't come to an agreement, yet, but promised to talk again and when Jason had mentioned a possible charity auction in passing conversation, Lydia asked her to keep her in mind. Still, when Lydia offered her limo to take Jason back to her hotel, Jason declined, preferring to walk to release some of her pent-up irritation. She could radiate an effortless charm at will; that didn't mean she couldn't get really annoyed with people.

Which was how she found herself striding through the brittle, turning greenery in the midst of Manhattan, long legs carrying her with a fluid pace that any baseline would have trouble matching with a jog. Jason was all too obviously a nova, she proclaimed it with every move she made, every word she spoke, in her very appearance from a hundred meters away an more. She couldn't help but draw attention. Of all sorts.

She didn't usually mind signing a few autographs, and admittedly, with the UN, the Utopia Offices nearby, and the media, the people in New York City really weren't that bad, but at the moment, she just wanted to get back to her room and take a long bath as she glanced over a few proposals. Maybe call Dani again for some... distracting conversation.

She smiled at the thought, which would result in several traffic violations, two broke up couples, and one sexual reorientation, adding another sultry layer to her habitual sensual tones as she spoke into her OpPhone. "...Mmmm, okay, babe. I'm gonna be flyin' back tomorrow afternoon, but I'll be in the tub soon. How about you..." Jason offered a litany of sexy suggestions, devastating voice providing vivid detail, as she watched a bald-headed woman fly in to a landing on a field, unoccupied except for a man in a trench coat.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"Bald-eagle has come to roost," he whispered through his surreptitious ear-piece, eyes on the monitors which gave him a panoramic view of the man in standing alone in the barren field. "Scapegoat keeping position. Doesn't seem aware of our amendment to the plan."

"Understood," said an indeterminate voice on the other end. "Sending in-"

"Hold! We have another player on the field," he interrupted. He felt himself stiffen painfully. He hated these too pretty people and ones like her the most. "Dammit! It's one of those Canadian trannie dyke bimbos. Bombshell, Knockout, which ever one it is. She could be an issue. Bald-eagle and Scapegoat have made contact, our window is closing."

"What colour is her hair?"

He pulled his eyes of her divine rack and scintillating smile long enough to answer. "Silver."

The silence was intense, then, "We can use this, Mr. Black. If she wants to be a media whore, we'll oblige her. I'm sending in Godzilla. I should be able to control him long enough to dispatch Bald-eagle and Scapegoat. If the Barbie-Doll gets involved, all the media will focus on her and her endowments, overlooking our true goal. Her XWF... skills," the voice invested the word with scorn, "may be enough to tie-up Godzilla and reduce the acceptable losses and collateral damage. Or not. Her death would serve us even better. Utopia will be here soon enough anyway. Clear out, Mr. Black."

"Acknowledged."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Jason hung-up her phone and was going to continue pass the people in the field without another thought when she noticed the bum staggering from between the trees, a bottle in a brown paper bag in one hand and his ratty coat hanging off a shoulder. The man and woman started at his appearance and began sidling away from his evident smell when his face contorted and eyes flashed a baleful red.

Everyone stared in mute shock as in less than a second, the bum swelled into a near twenty foot tall lizard man, with a long tail and knobby, grey and black hide. Clawed hands spread open as its knife-filled mouth opened wide and issued a bellowing roar, a ruddy glow suffusing its throat.

The screaming and panic began.

Jason had a sudden urge to point and scream, 'Gojira!' at the top of her lungs. Instead, she raced towards the two people who were practically standing under its feet in paralyzed shock, her eufiber reforming into the dark-blue bodysuit with silver trim she used for her XWF fights. She was still man enough to come to a woman's rescue, especially one right in front of her. Ah, fuck! Hope he doesn't get stronger and tougher the madder he gets. I don't need a fugly Babezilla on my hands. "Clear the Park!" Jason commanded, her awesome, silvery voice a clarion reaching the entire park with inhuman clarity. "Clear the park and call the authorities!"

Just before 'Godzilla' exhaled his napalm breath on the man and woman at his feet, they felt a hand grab the back of their coats and toss them out of range. Though they flew a dozen yards through the air, they found themselves landing easily on their feet. They looked back at the woman who had just saved their lives, so beautiful she was almost painful to watch, as she danced between the giant lizard-man's legs, her movements an elegant symphony almost too swift to register.

"If either of you can lend me a hand here, that'd be great," Jason asked in excited terror, aiming tank-busting kicks and strikes at Godzilla's ankles, trying to cripple him, while staying ever on the move to remain an elusive target. One of them at least was a Nova and this wasn't a sanctioned XWF match with immediate medical aid on hand; she wasn't too proud to take any help she could get. She still remembered her pounding at Babezilla's hands. She might have been a virtual physical goddess, but she'd learned not to take it for granted.

Mostly.

"Otherwise, get help."

Click to reveal..

Used Enhanced Movement, Awe-Inspiring, and Obscurement (A: TNF, p.149-150) for the scene. Activated Quickness and Multitasking for the round, evenly divided between dodging and attacking. Using Clarion to make herself easily heard across the most of Central Park.

QP: 19/28 | WP: 9/9 | HL: 9/9

[Evo]

Evening of November 8th, 2010

The Sprite's Fiddle

The West End, Dundee, Scotland, United Kingdom

"...And that's all I know of. Corbin came in here at 8:30 pm with Mary till 9 and then they left. That and the picture. The rest you'd have to ask her." Clint MacMacon was sitting down with Evie and Donald in a bar booth with the door-front sign switched to Closed. There were also two bottles of Miller in the middle of the table, both opened, one for Evie since Donald had declined the drink, and one partially drunk already, for the bartender.

When Donald had mentioned Corbin, it looked quite like the bartender was about to deny any such thing, but he'd closed his mouth and stopped for a second before closing the door up and switching the sign. He seemed to have decided that there wasn't much point in debating the question, thankfully.

Looked like there was good evidence. With the testimony of either MacMahon or Mary- who was MacMahon's niece at the University- and the picture, a photo of Mary and Corbin snapped by MacMahon at his niece's request and marked on the back in computer printer ink as taken the day of May 13th, 2008. Slider had been declared dead at 4:02 am on May 14th, and it was definite night in the background of the shot.

Donald smiled quietly, as it seemed the first step to proving- and it was a change from keep out of jail if you thought about it- Corbin's innocence had been made. Of course, he wanted to understand MacMahon's silence as the reason could bar them from getting the testimony needed to in court to back up saying that Corbin hadn't been in Calcutta.

"What was it that kept you silent when Corbin was accused of murdering Slider?"

Clint sighed deeply and took a sip of the beer. "Not long after Corbin fled the funeral in front of live media, that night I woke up cause the lights were on. I live alone. By the time I got down there, all there was was a letter and 20,000 pounds. No sign of how whoever it was got in or. The letter said, 'For keeping quiet on Corbin.' Same thing for Mary and the few regulars in that night when Corbin came in."

"So you stayed silent." Donald observed, understanding how that might have seemed. "For the money and for your safety."

Clint agreed. "Indeed, son. Now... with this man's life at stake, I could testify, if Mary won't. I'd keep her out of this, but it's her decision." He suddenly rose, explaining, "I'll call her here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mary, a brunette around the same age as Donald, ended up deciding to go. When Clint had protested, she pointed out that, "They'll want to hear me, and I want to be on camera for once. I'm a big girl now, Uncle, I'll make it."

Apparently, that line, and the look she gave her uncle worked. Donald nearly whistled at how Clint folded after that. No wonder Corbin had been attracted to her. It was agreed that Evie would provide teleportation transport for Mary and the two would do their best to look after Mary.

As Donald stepped outside to call Mr. Argyle to inform him and finalize the details, he heard the Dude Novas rocking on their first single. Appreciating the nuances of rock, he started tapping his foot as he pressed the number in on his phone.

[Precious]

Macquarie Fields, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Renee Burnett was just nineteen when Jennifer 'Slider' Landers had been murdered. She'd been with the Project for three years and completed her MBA through Harvard (after that dual-degree in the Arts and Law Utopia suggested) when the shit hit the fan. Now Precious knew white trash with a node when she saw it, and Andre Corbin had 'bad news' written all over him. But she also knew killers when she saw them, these days, and unless Corbin suffered Dissociative Identity Disorder (not outside the realms of possibility), he wasn't one.

A movement at the corner of the eye caught her attention: it was her youngest brother Jay playing with Novation action figures of Pax and Corbin, the former smacking the latter on the head. Because of the party line that she had to toe, Precious had to keep her doubts to herself... this coming trial would see the truth come out, she supposed. Though come what may, Utopia would spin it the best they could, and she would have to parrot it.

Her five-year contract was coming up for renegotiation... and these days, she was a hell of a lot smarter and savvier than she used to be. Precious wasn't quite as famous as a member of Team Tomorrow but given she had been a spokeswoman for dozens of programmes ranging from women's literacy to at-risk youth to urban poverty. Hundreds of thousands of people knew her face, if not her name, and a good many of them probably masturbated to it. The only reason she was behind Amanda Wu and Sophia Rousseau in the Top Ten Sexiest Female Nova Geniuses was because the former paid for the show and the latter was more notorious. She was as attractive as Geisha, and if not as persuasive (or manipulative), could hold her own in most social situations... and she was much smarter than the Jap chick.

Middle sister Jane had switched on the wide-screen HDTV, and predictably, it was on N!. When the eldest child of the family's a nova, that particular channel was on more often than not. But Precious had gotten a mega fuck ton of shit about Corbin and his perfidy (fancy word for the win!) for the past few weeks and was fucking sick of the propaganda. Let the trial decide everything.

The phone rang: she answered it with a heartfelt sigh, recognising J.J. Laragione's office's number. "Yeah, uh huh, I see. You want me to go and distract from the mouth-breather whose chest is bigger than mine? Wouldn't I be better used at Bahrain?"

Later, on route to said Middle Eastern country, she kicked herself for her big mouth. But when the choice was between Bombshell vs. Gojiru or the nexus of every nova on the planet's interest... She'd take Bahrain. Barely.