Day 58: Lt. General Charles Berg's Office [Second Shift]

[das_berg]

Upon hearing the shift change, and Harrington's subsequent announcement, Berg fought the urge to rub at his eyes. While he understood that neither himself nor Aguilar had the time to do something like work the intercom system during the day, sometimes he thought Harrington enjoyed his new responsibility a bit too much

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[deadlyjuliet]

"Get your hands off me!" Even if he felt sick from the sudden topsy-turvy whirlabout that came with whatever had just happened, Grell wasn't about to stand for being manhandled. After leaving breakfast, Grell had been escorted out of the Sun Room and abruptly blindfolded. At first he'd struggled, but when the world had pulled away and the voices from before began taunting him, it was like the rug had been pulled out under him.

"I said, get--" The hands holding him back suddenly let go and Grell stumbled forward. Once freed, Grell ripped the blindfold off, crumpling it in his hand. Even after replacing his glasses, it took time for his eyesight to adjust as well. This place was unfamiliar - an office of some sort with few frills. Much like William's little corner of bureaucracy.

And at the head of this all? A rather nondescript but authoritarian figure, glancing at his watch as if Grell were late. In a huff, the death god threw the blindfold down and stalked over to the desk. "Just what is the meaning of this?!"

[das_berg]

The moment another voice entered the room, Berg looked up from his watch. Once again the subject had been sent to his office at precisely the correct the time. (If only last night's mission reports could arrive so promptly, Berg wearily thought to himself, but there was no helping that right then.) The officer rose from his seat. If he was startled by the rather demanding question, he certainly didn't show it.

"Ah, Grell Sutcliffe," he greeted with a slight nod. "You prefer to be addressed as 'Miss', correct?" Better to establish such formalities in the beginning of their meeting rather than muddling through them later.

"Please," he added with a gesture toward the chair closest to the redhead, "feel free to sit. I'd like to discuss some things with you." While he could understand why subjects might grow angry at the sudden change in surroundings, Berg figured civility was often the best way to diffuse an unnecessarily explosive situation.

[deadlyjuliet]

Grell Sutcliffe.

How strange that something so simple as his real name could stop him dead in his tracks. Grell had become so accustomed to the officers and soldiers and nurses and orderlies here adhering stubbornly to the Geoffrey Burnett falsehood that having someone drop it so casually was something of a shock. The god straightened, giving the uniformed man before him a cautious stare.

"Yes...Indeed." At least he had manners and knew better than to try calling Grell a "mister." Carefully, he stepped forward again, easing himself into the offered seat. He's here to kill you. These men are all here to kill you. Grell started at the sudden appearance of Madam Red's voice, glancing over his shoulder but finding nothing but air. Trust him and you'll die, Grell. Betrayed as you betrayed me.

"I know," he hissed as the voices melted back into the ether. With a heavy sigh, the redhead turned back to this stranger before him. "And? Discuss away if you must, but answer me one thing: if you know who I am, you know how very

[das_berg]

When Miss Sutcliffe calmed down and took a seat, Berg sat as well. He placed his hands on top of the desk's surface, lacing his fingers together. Although the subject seemed to hiss something, the Lieutenant General didn't get the chance to ask for clarification. Instead, the redhead pursued their current line of discussion -- with an added threat, no less

[deadlyjuliet]

Bureaucracy was, as always, one giant mess of bosses and subordinates and far too many people doing useless things. Grell gave an exaggerated sigh and threw up his hands. If only he'd thought to take that plastic spoon-fork abomination, he could shove one into this man's eye and be done with him at least. Sadly, all he had was the pin on his beret and his glasses which, unfortunately, were much harder to stab through people's chests than some media might lead one to believe

[das_berg]

Ah, those English. Given the fact the very nation itself had declined his offer yesterday, Berg shouldn't have been surprised by Ms. Sutcliffe's response, but it was still strange to him. How did people in that country even function

[deadlyjuliet]

Grell wasn't one to change his mind when it came to coffee so he waved a hand dismissively, settling his elbow onto the arm of the chair. Charles was being a proper gentleman about this whole thing other than the blindfolding bit. Odd that the military would take such interest in them after pretty much ignoring their well-being for so long. The timing was just too convenient and, while Grell didn't mind basking in the glow of attention, Charles Berg was not the Spanish hottie she'd been expecting. Tilting his head to the side, Grell propped his chin lightly on the back of half-curled fingers, watching Charles closely

[das_berg]

It appeared he had piqued Ms. Sutcliffe's interest. Perhaps she would be more willing to share information than some of the other subjects he had met with so far. From the way the death god spoke, they would need to negotiate a price. But that was perfectly all right with the Lieutenant General. Making a small investment now could potentially lead to better rewards later, after all

[deadlyjuliet]

Time to haggle then, was it? Grell leaned in his seat, chin resting on the backs of his fingers as he continued to study the man in front of him. They knew of him and what he could do - even knew the honorific he preferred - and yet they weren't afraid. They had to have some way of controlling the powers of the patients here and Grell wanted that. He wanted something big, but she also knew she had very few cards to work with right now. One lured in more flies with honey and sugar than oil and vinegar and now was the time for honey-coated words.

The death god smiled slowly. "Very well then. You have a deal."

A cup of tea was a start. He would certainly appreciate that, of course, but further rewards down the line? That was what he wanted. Giving away information wasn't a single-shot sort of deal and there were certainly other ways of getting back at the people he despise here other than simply chasing them down the halls with a chainsaw. Here was a spectacular opportunity to absolutely ruin a certain boy's life

[das_berg]

Judging from Ms. Sutcliffe's reaction, Berg very well may have secured the help of an informant. While he knew that such help would come at a price, he was willing to offer rewards for efforts to keep the military several steps ahead of the institute's subjects

[deadlyjuliet]

"Well, let's see..." Messages Marc had sent while Mr. GodComplex was still on the throne? Grell hadn't been around for too long, but he did remember some. The more interesting ones, especially. Grell leaned back in his chair now that he had a specific set of questions to answer, relaxing as he twirled a few strands of hair around his index finger. "He has access to the town as I remember some people talking about meeting him there. And once, after a particularly nasty something or other, he called for help over the radio. Unlike that unhelpful dolt Jill - who, by the way, I hope you know about - he stayed on the quieter side, preferring direct contact with us. He did ask us to help that useless woman, but I don't see why. She was double-crossing him and us, so really she wasn't much help at all. Once he came in, he chose to work on the technology side of things - hacking into the systems, removing barriers, that sort of thing

[das_berg]

They did, in fact, know about Jill, but some of the other matters regarding his contact with certain individuals hadn't been confirmed. Berg had suspected it, of course, but all of that mostly took place under Landel's watch. It was refreshing to find a subject who was willing to discuss these matters

[deadlyjuliet]

"I can find that out." It was a simple enough thing to imitate someone's handwriting or to pretend to be someone else and ask for the right information. People here were so stupidly trusting after all. Grell smiled, raising a hand to inspect his nails. The red polish still looked good even after a day or two. Thank goodness for that

[das_berg]

"Excellent." While he could easily send his own people to pull information from subjects, it was far better to have a source who lived among them. "If you could be as detailed as possible in your notes, I'd appreciate that. I know some subjects discuss plans over the bulletin, but a few show some prudence about their precise locations and plans."

As for the tea request, Berg made a quick note of it. "Rose hip, got it," he confirmed with a nod. Upon being asked about the scent, he offered a dry smile. "I wouldn't know, since I've usually got a mug of this with me instead." To emphasize his point, he lifted his coffee up off the desk. He wasn't much a tea person, and it had never occurred to him to seek out any herbal blends.

"At any rate..." Lifting his pocket watch, Berg glanced at the time. "I think we may be running out of time soon. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?"

[deadlyjuliet]

"Certainly. I'll be as detailed as I can in our little love notes," he said, winking at him. There were some that used codes and some that liked to keep their rooms a secret, but uncovering room numbers was easy for the Institute. All that remained was to tell the guards where the patients were going, in how many numbers and what they were planning on doing. Easy enough.

Easy and profitable. Grell liked that idea wholeheartedly.

"Yes, yes, it does seem to be the time, doesn't it? I have nothing else-" Except-- No, asking after Aguilar here would be pointless. After a few more favors paid and some backstabbing in the right directions, Grell could ask and possibly get Harvey what he wanted. And if not? Well, that would simply be the unfortunate way the dice fell. "-to say. Although I do recommend tea. It's lovely and doesn't leave one's breath smelling quite so... strongNor was it as tasteless