Day 58: Mission #1 [Scarecrow and Depth Charge]

[scarefaux]

[From here.]It was not the hallway they found on the other side of the door. The crossing of the threshold was accompanied by that spinning sensation in the Scarecrow's middle- similar to feeling he'd had the night the doors were enchanted- and it was no mystery of why: they had been spirited away to somewhere else entirely. Decorated tables,

Comments

[scarefaux]

"I suppose," the Scarecrow answered, still eyeing the rest of the room. He didn't yet see the woman- Rosemarie- that they were supposed to be looking for. He gave himself a nod of encouragement- they had a little time to plan ahead. Though simply asking for the client's name would have been easy enough, it was the part about doing it covertly that made the situation tricky. Adding pressure was the fact that there was so much at stake: they'd said they'd punish everyone should things go badly, which meant the job had to be done and there'd be no chance for anything like an escape, as tempting as it sounded. It wasn't as though life at Landel's was ideal as it was- he wasn't about to let someone else take his punishment if he could help it

[damned_soldiers]

Her expression turned wistful, an unspoken want behind her seemingly pleasant facade. "You're right," Rosemarie replied, voice soft. If only their actions could be forgotten, even at the cost of a better perspective...

Here, her eyes wandered to the book in her hands. As if struck by a thought, the woman reached in and pulled out her laminated bookmark. This should fulfill the objective quite nicely, as much as the men had passed her criteria. "Sorry to have chosen something depressing as a distracting topic, gentlemen. Hopefully my suffering has made you feel better at least," she said as Rosemarie held the object out to the pair. "Here. A gift."

It was an ordinary bookmark with a bright red tassel. On one side was the aforementioned Camille Monet on her deathbed. The other contained the words "Prescott Gallery" with the signature of its most prized patron:

Major Claude P. Harrington.

[scalyfishman]

Depth Charge could see the Scarecrow's hands shaking in his peripheral vision; if he listened carefully below the clatter of the cafe, below the thrum of his own thoughts, he would probably hear the man's teeth clinking uncomfortably against the rim. It was unlike the Scarecrow to be so quiet, so obviously nervous without any obvious danger.

Well. Any obvious danger to them.

He didn't need to look straight at Rosemarie to know they were through- it was clear enough from her voice, and then, as she reached for her book, from her 'gift'.

The Maximal took it with a nod, doing his best to conceal the fact that he'd never seen an object like it before though its function seemed clear enough. As he turned it over in his hands, though, its real purpose in their conversation became clear- and his blood turned cold with acceptance. Major. They were sniffing out a traitor

[scarefaux]

With all those second thoughts getting to him, the Scarecrow almost didn't realize the conversation had abruptly ended until Depth Charge was on his feet, handing over the strip Rosemarie had given him- well, not so much of handing or offering as silently demanding his roommate take it. The picture had no true meaning to the former strawman; he turned it over in his hand, apprehension building in him from what he might find on the other side.

And waiting there was exactly what they'd been looking for, he presumed: the name. Harrington... He'd heard it before, hadn't he? But where

[scalyfishman]

The Scarecrow seemed to be a couple of steps back from him, but so long as he could hear the man's footsteps Depth Charge didn't worry- or rather, he didn't allocate any more of his processor for worrying about that particular thing. There was enough for him to think about already without the additional concern, particularly when he knew that the Scarecrow could probably walk to the slagging door without needing his hand held. It had occurred to him earlier that the guy'd done well so far, that maybe he'd been worrying too much in general, but even that fell by the wayside as they made their way to the exit.

The Scarecrow fell by the wayside too, out of step for a moment before he started to speak- still using their code names, he really was on the ball. And Depth Charge's gut wrenched.

Why did Rosemarie have to do this? They'd have done fine if she'd just handed over the name without saying anything, if she'd just shut up and spilled. Then they could have left with their heads held high, not exactly happy of course but still

[scarefaux]

Even with as complicated as the situation was, the answer the Scarecrow was looking for came easily enough. One look at the mention of the Rebel's name, and he could tell Depth Charge was thinking the same thing: that taking the steps to accomplish one goal could set everyone further back than they'd ever expected. It was a dangerous task, sending a little girl and her newfound companions to face a witch for a chance at some brains- and in the end whether he got them or not, he'd decided then that he'd help Dorothy get home either way

[scalyfishman]

Crazy as it seemed to him now, Depth Charge was glad that it was the Scarecrow with him at that moment- someone he could trust not to overthink the situation, because how could you overthink something when you didn't even think you had the equipment to think at all? This was just one big game of second-guessing, third-guessing, fourth-guessing at the sort of reaction either action would get

[scarefaux]

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Scarecrow knew what Depth Charge was saying was probably true: that it was too late to warn Rosemarie, and that keeping her friend's identity a secret was now on their shoulders. Another weight added, each one more tangible than the last. He could only hope that the second part of what Depth Charge said was just as likely- that maybe if they didn't draw her back into it, anyone watching them might just let her leave. After all, the military had sent them on the mission in the first place to get the name without raising suspicion, right? Surely they'd only take action if they thought they really had to

[scalyfishman]

That was a no to the ripping part, then, though by this point Depth Charge was probably riding on enough nervous energy to tear through three of them at once. Slag, if he'd had them on hand with the waitress' sudden arrival in the mix he could probably have managed ten. She really had a thing for bad timing, huh? Couldn't say handing over the whole wallet wasn't exactly inconspicuous, either. Even so, it was a relief to see the bookmark finally vanish off with her- good thinking on the Scarecrow's part.

As he watched her head back towards the front of cafe, though, he couldn't help but feel a creep of of suspicion sneak back into place. What if she was a plant? They'd already decided that this place was probably full of soldiers, so for all they knew their waitress was just going to hand it straight to one of those officers when they got back, and no amount of playing dumb would save them then, or the other patients. And when the entire point of this mission for him had been to keep the Scarecrow safe...

No. Keep it together, DC.

[scarefaux]

Another false name- they certainly were handy, weren't they? The Scarecrow nodded at Depth Charge's suggestion, sure that his roommate knew best, even if his expression seemed grim at times. It had to be the stress of the situation they were in, he reasoned: the thought that someone could be hurt- someone who could make a difference and actually help the patients trapped in Landel's, or at least was trying- was a lot to handle, probably even more so on a brain that was in proper working order. How Depth Charge managed himself was something the Scarecrow was sure he'd never know

[scalyfishman]

Depth Charge couldn't help but smile a little at that. "I know a Peter, too. Maybe they're the same guy." It didn't seem all that unlikely that Peter would be happy to sit and help the Scarecrow come up with an alias, knowing the guy; not many people would shrug that kind of thing off and actually be useful rather than just nodding and smiling, but he had patience for three. Had to, if he was a medic of some sort. Kind of made him feel a little guilty about the number of medics whose days he'd turned into a disaster zone, to be honest.

He still wasn't sure if using that name would make things difficult for the Peters still in the Institute, but at such short notice it was the only reasonably convincing name that either of them could come up with. And anyway, surely they wouldn't seriously think to associate the name with any of the patients? They knew them. They had them on file, for Primus' sake.

With a quiet breath, he followed the Scarecrow to the door. "Ready." Then he opened it and stepped back through.

[to here]