Forms and Formalities

Summary:
July 22 2014: Paul Manning, Jericho Trent and Sam Wilson meet in front of a police station

One Police Plaza

The home of special cases… and all the paperwork involved in doing a Lazarus.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
[* None]


New York may be the city that never sleeps but it certainly does get drowsy. That's when Jericho prefers to take his runs. It's part of his old training regimen that he prefers to keep up wherever he can. Spec forces conditioning has saved his life more than once, and anyway being in top shape just feels good. Anyway, there's something about running that's just relaxing. Just one foot in front of the other. It's quiet and gives him time to think.

Today it's not just about the run though. He has some information to drop off at the police station. Information that he doesn't trust to just anyone: His list of names on the NYPD that are provably dirty. Most of them, in fact, all but three, aren't actually Hydra agents. Most are just dirty cops. Sadly, the list is a lot smaller than the list of people he reasonably suspects are dirty but… the NYPD can't do anything with that. He's just coming up to 1 Police Plaza where Special Cases and the only cop he trusts, are.

*

Gods above, the paperwork. Who knew that shooting someone was less paperwork than coming back from the dead? At least it was not even a week ago and they didn't even release the body yet or file most of the documents proclaiming him dead. Getting his social security number back would be a bitch even worse than convincing them he's not dead. He could only take so much paperwork at one time so spread it out. He's returned to the precinct after a late dinner to do some more of it and ignoring all the zombie slash vampire cop jokes he's already heard a dozen time.

*

Sam Wilson was called in to the police station for a few more questions about his encounter with the teenage mutant ninja mean girls last week, but after an hour or so of questioning, he thinks the cops are finally satisfied that he doesn't have anything interesting to tell them. He wends his way between desks, dodges rushing policemen, and finally arrives at the front entrance and escapes into the open air.

*

"Alright K'nert," a fit looking, vaguely middle-eastern man murmurs to… it's not really apparent whom. "Stay back unless I call, 'kay? I don't want stuff hitting the fan here." The man has a clear military bearing to him even if his hair is a bit longish. A vet, maybe. He's in running pants and a long sleeved tee shirt as he walks up to the station, nearly crashing right into Sam.

"Woah there! Sorry."

*

"Okay, I've had enough." Paul declares. "Of the paperwork, not your zombie jokes, Harrison. Unlike you, those never get old." The other cops listening find this hilarious since Harrison's the old timer of the precinct and the joking turns to AARP. "I'll be back tomorrow to finish things up and file everything." Putting the file into his desk drawer, he gives the others a wave and leaves. But once outside, he comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes focusing immediately on Trent. "Why me, oh gods? Don't I deserve a break today after all I've been through? Now what?" This directed not to any gods but to Trent.

*

Sam was so relieved to get out of the station that he wasn't really looking where he was going. He steps out of the way, hands up defensively. "Nah, my bad," he answers, a little more friendly in his tone than the typical New Yorker. As Paul appears behind them and groans his sorrows to the heavens, Sam turns, eyes wide. "Friend of yours, I take it?" he says, a smile spreading across his features.

*

Jericho was in the process of slinging a drawstring bag off his shoulder and pulling something out when Paul appears. "Manning…" He greets the other man warily and backs a bit, carefully remaining out of arms reach. If Paul's paid attention at all he's noticed that Jericho's eyes are flecked with amber. They're not anymore. Sam and Paul can both see they're banded now, looking a lot more like tigerseyes. Paul in particular can sense that Jericho's whif of the demonic is a lot stronger now.

"Not… precisely." The hacker answers Sam.

"I was just gonna leave something for your partner, Detective."

*

"I wouldn't say that." Paul echoes the meaning if not the words and begins to frown, looking around before turning back to Trent. The frown grows as he steps forward and peers at the man's eyes. "You stink worse than before." he notes. "Interesting contacts. But Sara's on leave still."

*

The sudden tension in the standoff puts Sam on alert, wiping the smile off his face in an instant. He's got no experience with the demonic, but several lifetime supplies of experience with volatile confrontations. He turns so that he can face both men, watching for sudden aggressive moves. Given his background, he's inclined to side with Jericho against the NYPD, and Paul's comments about the stranger's hygeine are solidifying that tendency. "Everything okay, guys?" he asks, his tone cautious.

*

Jericho also seems to be wary of sudden aggressive moves. As Paul approaches he backs again, circling slowly back toward the door and quite intent apparently on staying out of easy lunging distance. "Thanks." Jericho doesn't wear contacts and it's fairly apparent if you know what to look for. Paul probably does.

"Yeah, man, everything's okay. No trouble here." He pauses with a frown as Paul mentions that Sara's on leave. "Well crap…" He draws his hand back out of the little bag to the rustling of paper.

*

"Everything's fine." Paul answers Sam and doesn't try to pursue Trent though he does turn to keep watching him. "You should really do something about that infection before it turns into something permanent you really don't want." Shaking his head, he tucks his fingers into his jeans pockets. "Want me to give it to her? We're both on leave till everything gets straightened out."

*

Sam gives the bag a quick glance. Clearly, there's something important in there. "Great. No trouble, everything's fine. Good to hear," he says warily, watching the other two circle each other. For the moment, it still seems ill-advised to get too involved, but he's intrigued enough not to make an escape just yet. Call him addicted to danger, if you want.

*

Jericho sighs. "Yeah. It's great." He says rather flatly. He wants to like Manning, and doesn't dislike him per se, but suspicion breeds suspicion and having someone magically freak out and go for your throat leaves some memories even if they do manage to get ahold of themselves even minutes.

"Just… take this, then." He hands the whole bag over. "That's everything I've got that's provable. Along with supporting documents, a lot of financials. Just don't ask how I got them."

*

Paul takes the bag but lets it dangle from one out stretched arm. "No one was murdered to get it, right?" He can make an educated guess about what other laws were broken but he has a line in the sand. As to what is in the bag, he can make a guess about that too but will find out for certain later when he looks. Then he frowns and turns to look at Sam. "Were you here to report a crime or something?"

*

"Already did," Sam answers Paul. "Hell, I already caught the criminals, too. You might remember a werewolf coming through here last week?" He can't help but give the cop a self-satisfied smirk. It's not every day a man with no powers gets the drop on a couple of mutants. "You're welcome."

*

Jericho folds his arms. "Of course not. If I had, I wouldn't need to hand over the documents to you." Curiosity finally gets the better of his wariness and he nods briefly to Sam. "Jericho Trent." He says by way of introduction. "Are you feeling okay, Detective?"

*

"A werewolf? No, I've been out of commission for a bit. Good for you though." Paul gives Sam a nod of approval then studies Trent as the man answers. He nods once then slings the bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, all recovered. It'll take time to get used to things though. We should talk about one of those things." And to Sam, he adds "Detective Manning, special investigations." The ones who actually do get handed things like werewolves and other bizarre crimes.

*

"Sam Wilson," the black man introduces himself, crossing his arms across his chest. "Sam Wilson, werewolf hunter," he amends experimentally, cocking his head to one side. After considering the sound of it for a moment, he laughs and shakes his head. "Just Sam, actually. I shouldn't get too big a head about it — I didn't realize it was a werewolf when we started wrestling." He seems relieved that the tension in the situation has wound down, and is doing his part to speed the process.

*

"Good." Jericho has no idea what happened to Paul but given what happened on the Quinnjet… it seems like it was a Hell of a thing.

"Nice to meet you Sam." Jeri nods to the 'werewolf hunter', the mention of the supernatural causing him to quirk his head.

There's a movement in a shadow nearby which Jeri turns to glare at. "Not now."

*

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson." Paul tells him. "Just be careful you don't find yourself over your head. Give us a call next time and we'll send some officers to take care of things. Be sure to ask for special investigations for all your werewolf problem needs." It's difficult to tell if he's serious but he does sound very dry. And thank you, Jericho, for letting him know where the thing is. He's still new to this but now stares into the shadows. "I see you." The simple words do contain a threat. And if he can tell what the demon is, it works in reverse too.

*

Sam smiles and answers, "Likewise. I'll keep you guys in mind if I run into any more Universal monsters." He's about to add to the joke, but cuts himself off and follows the others' gazes into the shadow. "I don't see it," he says, perplexed. "What am I supposed to see?" His hand flicks up to his temple, but then he grimaces. Sure would be nice to have the Exo-7 goggles on right about now.

*

"Nothing. Sorry." Jericho jerks his head at the shadows in a 'make yourself scarce' gesture. He doesn't want poor K'nert getting eviscerated. Nor does he want to explain to Paul why he doesn't want poor K'nert getting eviscerated.

"I should probably let you get to wherever you're going, Detective. I'm sure you have a lot to do and catch up on." And this isn't making the case for you not trying to arrest or pummel me any stronger so…

"Nice to meet you Sam. If you're werewolf hunting, good luck. I don't go in for that sort of thing myself but it's possible I may see you around.

*

Paul stares into the shadows a moment more then shifts position so he can keep it and Trent in his field of vision at the same time. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Wilson. I'll see to it that Sara gets this, Trent. Have a good evening. And be careful you don't get over your head."

*

"Not exactly something I go looking for, either," Sam admits, relaxing a bit but still staring into the shadows. "More of a target of opportunity." Now that the confrontation seems to have ended, so has his reason for tarrying outside the police station. He should probably go get dinner anyway. "Nice meeting you both. Careful out there." He stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.


Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License