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

[scalyfishman]

They both seemed to fall into silent deliberation, weighing up their options. Depth Charge wrapped his fingers on the table impatiently, as if appearing irritated enough would shame an idea into turning up for him. How would he have done it back in his old universe? If she'd known about X and he needed the information? Bugged the table and sent someone less obvious in. Hmm. Held her at gunpoint under the table 'til she spilled it? Probably not the careful, reasoned approach they were looking for here. Anyway, what if she was armed too

[damned_soldiers]

Fortunately for the men, Rosemarie was going to simplify matters. She had, after all, a task to complete in this little exchange as well as time constraints of her own. Of course, the woman couldn't just give away the name. No, they had to pass a criteria first.

Then they could have what was sought.

"I know what you mean," she said, nodding in their general direction. Her book was thoroughly ignored. "I'm working with a man right now. High-profile, apparently. He has some strange obsession with Monet paintings." The woman smirked in a mix of pain and affection, a bittersweet expression. "Real crazy, this man. He wouldn't let me sleep for two days until I found Camille Monet on her deathbed. Disturbing little picture."

With a strange look on her face still in place, Rosemarie paused. "Military officers are strange people. Avoid them at all cost."

[scalyfishman]

Sounded as though the Scarecrow was on the same tack as him: easy does it. Not Depth Charge's favourite strategy, but he wasn't stupid. They moved the conversation like safe-crackers, turning the dial a fraction and listening carefully for the click that would hopefully signify a breakthrough- or a security system being alerted and aiming all weapons in their direction.

It came sooner than expected, at Rosemarie's own pace.

The woman's expression struck Depth Charge before the contents of her answer, a cocktail of emotions he could half-empathise with- and then the pause. Military officers...?

ClickSlag it. He'd spent all this time assuming she wasn't going to want to talk, that they were going to have to lead her into it- but was she here specifically to tell them what they needed to know? And did that mean that she'd been talking in code this whole time while they'd rambled about some false rivalry and work

[scarefaux]

Or maybe a risk wouldn't have to be taken: rather than letting them work their way into the topic, it was Rosemarie who, in a surprising turn, brought up the military. The Scarecrow couldn't stifle his look of astonishment quickly enough as the implication that she might know why they were there- and possibly what they were looking for- hit him. There was no way to really tell for sure, unfortunately

[damned_soldiers]

Anyone with an eye could see: the men had caught onto her attempt at code. It was poor at best, but the one who had sent her wanted the words to be simple. For a child to understand. Rosemarie was not here to make small talk or discuss the intricacies of business. Rather, she existed to pass on a message.

One she hadn't a clue was now falling into the wrong hand.

Rosemarie tilted her head forward, contemplating their answers. "Who knows, right?" She laughed nervously. "I don't think even the public understands their movements. Though--" The skinner man was acknowledged, and the woman nodded at his statement. "--not all are that bad. There are a few good men, if you'll excuse the cheesy reference.

"Like my Monet fanatic. He's in it for the right reasons."

[scalyfishman]

It probably helped, having the Scarecrow's gentle trust to temper the Maximal's own flat cynicism; if he'd been by himself, Depth Charge had to admit, he'd have been monitoring himself and his words to the point of infuriating himself. Oh, he was still tense, but perhaps not quite in the way he might have been. Anyway. Tension did terrible things to him

[scarefaux]

Listening to both Depth Charge and Rosemarie, the Scarecrow took another tentative sip of his drink, only to have his nose crinkle a second time as he remembered why he'd stopped after the first one. He admittedly knew about as much about the military as he did about being human: very little, as neither operated the same way they did in Oz. That feeling of inadequacy rose in him again, as though nothing he did would make things work in the way they hoped. He may as well have been stuck on a pole in a cornfield again for as much good as he felt he could do

[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