|You Have Arrived At Your Destination|
|Location||Glen Haven, Colorado|
|Participants||Richard, Sumit, Jeremy, Rosalie, Tiffany, Maxim|
|Summary||A little worse for wear, the troop arrives in Glen Haven with the package.|
|Scene GM||Roz, Tat|
It's still a good twenty-five minutes to their destination, high in the mountains and rather in the middle of nowhere, even driving like madmen. And women. The tight curves and falling darkness make going too fast simply impractical, and so those last few miles seem to crawl by. Eventually, though, their directions lead them to a gate. It's a pretty damn serious-looking gate, surrounded by a pretty damned serious-looking wall, the sort that means real security. They're stopped at the gate, their credentials checked, and even then, in the end, there's the sense that it's mostly Richard's presence that gets them through without something like a full-cavity search. The vehicles are waved inward, the SUV to a parking lot and the van straight toward a garage with a ramp that slopes downward, taking it underground. Sumit's kicked out of the driver's seat just outside, leaving him milling around, until finally someone comes out to greet them semi-properly.
Having stashed his gun somewhere out of sight once the immediae threat is gone, Sumit only gives grudging concession to the twisting roads and fading light. The security at the gate is tedious, but expected and as he's kicked out of the van he makes sure to grab his bag of stuff in case it's never seen again. Eyeing the road down back towards where the SUV was diverted he keeps look out for the rest of the team, slightly anxious to see how they all fared first hand.
"Good driving," Maxim says to Rosalie, squinting a little as he looks around the heavily fortified facility. "Huh." This, it seems, is the extent of his verbal opinion on the place.
Rosalie's blizzard dies down. Eventually. There's still a taste of wind and snow in their wake. She swallows as she guides the SUV toward the parking lot. "Well," she says after a moment. "We survived." She sounds a little startled at that.
Once they drew close to the facility, without any further sign of enemy interference, Richard did sweep back down to return to one of the cars for their arrival. The van, just to keep Sumit company (until they're summarily expelled). He's left glancing surreptitiously at Jeremy with a concerned cinch to his brow and an overall air of wary discomfort as they wait.
Jeremy is ... awake. That's about what can be said for him. He keeps hacking irregularly with a cough that sounds like he's going to die of consumption any day now.
"Do you want me to do a little recon?" Tiffany asks mildly. She hasn't left Jeremy's side, in no small part because they were stuck in the backseat of the SUV together. She likely has backed off some from her swaddling once he awoke, and now has become much more conscious and controlled in how comforting she is willing to be. ...She pats his back from an arms length away.
"Excuse me, excuse me--" The facility isn't /crowded/, but there's definitely people keeping an eye on them, and it creates a bit of a sea for their contact to wade through. He makes it through and into the gated lot. He's a man of middling to tall height looking in his late fifties or early sixties. His skin is a rich olive a few shades darker than Richard's, but his hair is considerably more greyed. He looks at them all with alert intelligence and interest behind frameless glasses. And then his gaze lights on Richard and he smiles. "You made it," he says. He strides towards him and takes his arm in a firm clasp, refraining from more intimate greetings in front of Richard's colleagues.
"With some interference," Richard says with a taut, forced smile. His gaze flits to the others with a certain shy hesitation. "So -- everyone. This is my kid brother Robbie."
Robert scowls at his brother and addresses the others with more dignity. "Dr. Robert Rider. A pleasure to meet all of you. You've certainly done a lot to assist us."
Maxim turns his squint on Robert as the man is identified, but offers him a little puzzled nod of acknowledgment. "Hello." Once out of the SUV, he rubs at his hand a little self-consciously. It's not hurt -- but maybe he's thinking about having punched things he probably shouldn't have punched. (Not Tempete. That guy deserved punching.)
Sumit flicks his eyes back to Richard after he's taking a long, slow, look at their surroundings. "Any idea what they wanted with the cargo?" he asks, voice low so it shouldn't carry too far, "or how they knew what and where it was?" With his hands dug deep into his pockets he drops silent for a few moments as Robbie arrives, silenty scrutanising the man as he the brothers are reunited. Weighing up his options he decides to be subtle about it it, subtle like a brick, "what exactly is it we were transporting Dr Rider? There was some, interest, in it along the way."
A woman hurries behind Robert, her strides long and quick. Her hair is still dark despite the fact that she looks well into her 60s - probably she dyes it - and she's coiled it up at the top of her head in a neat bun. She's wearing a labcoat, with a heavier coat hurriedly thrown on over it, and despite the fact that she's clearly wearing Eyes (they whirl a little as she approaches), she's also got a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. "They made it?" she asks Robert a little breathlessly, and nevermind his current scowl. "We caught wind of the rockslide," she adds, looking over the group.
"Hi," Jeremy says with a slight lift of his chin as he slants a look across Robbie. The bright alert interest expands to the new arrival that turns up at his elbow. "Nice specs," he approves generally. "It was an exciting--" He pauses, turns his head and hacks several times into the crook of his elbow, swaying a little unsteadily on his feet with the force of his attempt to divest himself of his own lung. This is what my court appearances were like today, too.
Maxim slides a hand out and puts it gently at Jeremy's back. Y'know. Just in case he's looking at falling over or anything.
Tiffany crosses her arms and directs most of her weight to one hip. She regards everyone that comes out of that facility with scrutiny.
Rosalie is quiet, watching the others with curiosity. She remains quiet--just watching. At least the snow has stopped falling.
Robert blinks at Sumit like he's surprised he would even try asking. "Oh, I can't tell you that," he says rather breezily. "I'm afraid that's classified information. But suffice to say that it is extremely valuable and that you did excellent work transporting it here." He glances over at his colleague as she approaches. "Yes, Dr. Simon was rather worried about your chances," he says in a drier tone to the others. With a casual, thoughtless sort of loyalty, he says, "I knew Richard had things in hand." He focuses rather inevitably on Jeremy, and the knit of concern in his brow provides a quick note of resemblance to his brother. "Are you all right? I suppose I should be asking all of you." Richard blows out a breath and scrubs a hand through his hair restlessly.
Jeremy straightens up, drags a hand back through his hair, and gives Maxim a thumbs up. He clears his throat, and then he clears his throat again, and then he says, with a sunny smile, as he pulls his charm out in a voice only slightly ravaged by what he has been doing to his throat in the last few minutes, "No job too odd, Dr. Rider! Thanks for asking, but I'm okay. We're all fine here. Professionals." (Professional what?) "One of your secret admirers spat poison gas at me or something, that's all."
"I imagine they wanted what we want with the cargo," Dr. Simon says, giving Sumit a dry sort of look that nevertheless contains a hint of amusement. "Which is why we went to some effort to keep them from getting it. Nice work, by the way." Her gaze skips over to Richard, giving him a flick up and down, before she says, "Looking good, Richard. I'm glad you had it all in hand." Here she is /clearly/ amused, but she makes no actual jokes. She instead turns to Jeremy, her brow furrowing with sudden worry. "Sounds like we should get you in to medical. Do the rest of you want bed, or food?"
Taking the gift that's handed to her, Tiffany nods a few times in short succession. She runs a hand from her hip across her stomach and brings another to her brow, "I think I should lay down, maybe... actually..." She has like, a scrape.
"I could eat," Maxim acknowledges, because it's basically always true. He frowns down at Tiffany and says with concern -- and a smidge of guilt-- "Did rock hit you?"
Sumit offers Robbie a faint frown, but the answer isn't exactly unexpected so he makes no more of it. As Jeremy replies though he notes, in case it's important, "called herself Miasma. Some sort of sleep vapor, I bounced it, but it felt wierd on my skin for a moment." Information imparted he glances to Dr Simon and just about manages to bite back a sarcastic retort, focusing instead on her final question, "beer, steak, and a long hot shower, not necessarilly in that order. Also, do you happen to ahve a swimming pool?"
Rosalie does have a scrape from a falling rock--it cuts across one cheek, all artistic and owie. She looks around the group, and bites her lip. "Maybe bed," she ventures. It was a tense drive here, after all. "Although I suppose I could eat, too."
"Miasma?" Dr. Simon exchanges a quick look with Robert, raising her brows before she looks back to the group. "It was them, then." And then, very professionally, she adds a heartfelt, "Shit." There is a beat before she recovers herself and says, "We can have food delivered to your rooms, if it's easier. You can clean up, we'll send over a medic for any scrapes and bruises."
"It's probably the dust killing me, not the weird gas cloud crap," Jeremy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "At least there's no pollen. Look, really, I'm probably fine." He seems to perk up a little bit at the idea of like, having rooms and the ability to clean up and all that, although before he can say anything else, he wheezes into another coughing fit, ugh, this is the worst.
"You certainly look like it, young man," Robert tells Maxim, eyeing the man's considerable size. (It's Middle-Aged Man talk enough to have Richard looking pained.) "Yes, we'll have everything sent to your rooms. We'll just have to escort you. I'm afraid we can't let you wander the complex freely." He looks to Sumit with wry apology. "No pool, I'm afraid. Alas."
Richard smiles thinly back at Dr. Simon. "Uh, thanks, I guess." He sidles a little closer to Jeremy with a lingering note of concern, and then nods. "Yeah, sure, we'll go sit in your containment cells. I mean guest rooms." His expression is dry, but then Jeremy is hacking up a lung again, and he sides even closer so he can set a worried hand on his shoulder.
Maxim frowns at Richard and rumbles mildly, "I do not like cells."
Letting her hand wander up to gently cradle her throat, Tiffany gradually takes on the roll of a much more weary traveler than she is. Wandering the facility freely is something that she fully intends to do. The wheels in her head are turning.
Sumit folds his arms up over his chest as the Riders talk, flicking his eyes back and forth between them before he ends up tilting his head in faitn agreement towards Maxim. "Do we actually need to stick around now it's delivered? There'll be a motel somewhere nearby, and a few miles on the road tonight is a few less to be done in the morning." Nope, he doesn't like it here, and would rather put some distance between them and the magical, mystery box.
"They said _rooms_," points out Rosalie, encouragingly. Granted, they had rooms in the hotel too, but perhaps she wasn't the biggest fan of sleeping four to a room.
"We can send you out to a local hotel if you'd rather," Dr. Simon answers Richard, somehow both biting and dry. She's had many years of practice. Her head tips to Sumit for his comment, and she spreads her hands, all allowing. "Once we've ascertained that the cargo is intact and undamaged, you are, of course. Free to go. If you like."
Maxim's eyes go a tiny bit wider and his ears redden, but he doesn't comment on the whole "intact" and "undamaged" bits of that. He just lurks. Like a lurking lurker.
"I was joking, Max," Richard reassures the Russian mildly. "Just a little secret government agent humor." Hah. Hah hah. Robert sighs at his brother. "Come, we'll get you settled," he says, beginning to lead the way out of the parking lot and into the complex proper. They don't get to see very much that's exciting. Mostly they see hallways and lots of locked doors.
Jeremy leans a little into Richard's touch, bumping his shoulder against Richard's as he wheezes into something more like a snort. Then they're moving, so he ambles along. He says something like, "Hey, I appreciate the hospitality. It's been awhile since anybody put me in a containment cell."
It's less funny to an ex-con who may or may not have damaged an expensive gizmo recently. Maxim swallows and follows, though he doesn't look spectacularly happy about it.
Tiffany lingers, taking up at least part of the end of the procession. Even if they aren't permitted to see a lot, she plans on remembering as much as she can.
With the decision apparently made Sumit follows on behind Richard. He says nothing, but his eyes do flick back and forth as they walk as he makes a concious effort to remember the route well enough to be able to retrace it if he has to.
Rosalie looks around herself with open curiosity as they walk on. She remains quiet. There is no inconvenient weather.
As the group chooses cell over hotel, Dr. Simon gives Robert a look, then jerks her head toward the garage in the distance. And just like that, she's off, clearly headed to check out the damage - or lack thereof - to their cargo.
Richard's hand lingers on Jeremy's arm as they make their way through the closed hallways. He, for one, doesn't seem particularly interested in what secrets lie therein. Eventually Robert drops them off in a little suite of rooms with a small lounge space connecting them. "Encourages around the clock research," Robert says with dry humor. He murmurs a few final words to his brother and lets the group know that someone will be by with food and medical supplies soon before he slips out. It's not that the door is locked as much as it's -- well, guarded. But they're alone for now.
Once in the lounge space, Jeremy flings himself down on the nearest couch -- because if it's a lounge, there must be a couch -- and pulls the nearest cushion over his face. He swears muffledly into it.
"It's a little..." Rosalie casts about the room, examining them. She isn't staring at the carpet here, but rather the walls. "Small," she finishes. It is just a teeny bit colder in here.
Maxim goes over and pokes at the TV until he figures out how to turn it on. (This involves getting out his datapad and looking up the instructions before he finds out usually it uses an Eye interface and only has a datapad option hidden secretly for luddites like himself.) He looks at it and sighs. "I miss buttons."
"Yeah," Richard agrees quietly with Rosalie, because if anyone likes open spaces, it's the flyer. He trails after Jeremy to the couch, shooting Maxim a brief but somewhat exasperated glance before returning his attention to the muffled-screaming form on the sofa. "You okay?"
Tiffany paces a little, chewing on her bottom lip. She wants to do it. She wants to explore. Looking around at the ceiling and the corners of the room, the psionic mumbles, "Do you think they're watching us?"
"Oh my God I'm fine." Jeremy peeks out at Richard from beneath his pillow shield and holds his breath for a moment and then lets it out in a long raspy sigh. He says, "Probably. Kinda goes with the territory."
Maxim gets the television turned on to something innocuous -- news, actually, so maybe it'll have something about the landslide -- and adjusts the volume to a modest but screening volume. "Da, it is likely. It is best not to draw attention, I think." This he says to Tiffany, his own voice low.
Rosalie watches Tiffany pace, her gaze following her about the room. She bites her own lower lip. "I think," she suggests, clumsily, "they are watching us enough to make sure we don't do what we're not supposed to, but not enough...to spy."
"Oh, sure," Richard answers Tiffany, but his tone is almost unconcerned with it. He settles on the end of the sofa, squeezing in under Jeremy's feet maybe. Depends how long the sofa is.
Tapping her thumbnail against her front tooth, Tiffany veers across the lounge. "I'm gonna lay down," she announces dryly. Lowering her hand, she lets it swing at her hip as she moves towards one of the rooms and then, thinking better of it -- lifts it to flip the bird to the ceilings and the corners and anything that might have a camera.
Rosalie is still watching Tiffany as she moves toward the rooms, dark gaze tracking her. Her forehead furrows faintly into a frown (yay alliteration). "Why do that?" she asks curiously at the gesture. She's probably never flipped anyone the bird in her life.
"Because the man keeps us down," Maxim answers Rosalie. He might be serious. He might not. He's Russian, sometimes it's hard to tell. He settles in to leaning against the wall, folding his arms in front of him, a pose that seems comfortable enough (to him) for him to stay that way for hours.
Jeremy lifts his feet so that Richard can sit down, and then pushes himself up so that he's sitting up, puts the pillow down between their laps, and says, "Actually laying down seems like a not stupid idea." (He just sat up.)
"You just sat up," Richard points out like he can somehow read Jeremy's meta. He kind of snorts at Tiffany's gesture and doesn't even argue about behaving at his brother's office.
"I mean in a bed. Just for a minute." He also recently took a nap, but he still rises. Jeremy glances aside and down at Richard, his eyebrows up. He tips his head, and then shuffles toward the door that will lead to a room he can bunk down in. He says, "Don't misbehave too hard, kids."
Tiffany closes her bedroom door behind her. She doesn't give Rosalie an answer. Max seems to have done a fine job of that already, in her opinion.
Maxim settles in to watch the news and eat pizza, both in probably ridiculous quantities. He's very fond of CSPAN.
Richard watches Jeremy sidle off with an expression just slightly touched with embarrassment. He stands, lingering there a moment. "I better, um--" he starts to make up some excuse, and then he just turns and kind of slinks off after Jeremy. It's super subtle."Good night, Richard. Good night, Jeremy," Maxim says easily, engrossed in senate voting counts and totally not reacting to incipient boning/spooning.