We Float

Who: Alistair Icenhour and Katherine Athena.
What: Katherine may have the plan, but Alistair has the plans for the plan. Conversation is had over wine.
When: mid April, 2096
Where: Alistair's house
Status: Closed; complete


Alistair opened his front door and wasn't distressed at all to see Katherine behind them. He was, however, surprised to see that Katherine's car was driving away without her.

"Bart drove you in?" he asked as he stepped back to let her into his house.

"Yes. I haven't quite figured out how to get the car to drive itself for me," she said lightly as she stepped inside. The woman's head craned behind her, watching as the Angel turned the corner, disappearing behind a copse of trees and a thin cloud of smoke. "Don't worry." Katherine lifted her phone. "I can call a cab."

"Just surprised he's in town," Alistair backed off, closing the door behind Katherine and leading her through the corridor into the kitchen. The living room, dining room, and staircase to the upper floor passed them along the way as they usually did - if any business was to be done at Alistair's house, it was done in the kitchen. He'd given any number of excuses over the years as to why this was, but the simple truth was it had the most space to pace in, it was readily accessible to drinks and no one came close to his bedroom.

( They don't pay us to be human. )

Who: Alistair Icenhour and Katherine Athena.
What: Katherine tells Alistair of her plans to create a Wild Cards team.
When: early May, 2096
Where: Katherine's office in Seattle, Washington
Status: Closed; complete

For once, the office of Senator Athena was silent. No pale blue shadows on the wall, no buzzing whine of computer. The only sound to be heard was the scratching of a pencil on a thin piece of linen paper. Katherine liked the feel of wood beneath her hand. It reminded her of childhood- warm grass and muddied knees and all of the things that she had run so swiftly away from and into adulthood without meaning to at all.

( You can thank me when this is over. I'll appreciate it more. )

Who: All characters who received a black envelope, plus Katherine Athena, Alistair Icenhour, and Tereska Wasserbach.
What: The web begins to unravel. Or the first part, anyhow.
When: May 8th
Where: Anhalt Building, 1005 E. Roy Street. Begins on the upper floor.
Status: Open; in progress.
Notes: This thread is likely to run slow because of work schedules and the east/west time zone divide. Sorry about that... :( You're welcome to continue on the other thread. This simply takes place at a nebulous time afterwards.

It was time.

It had been past time from the moment the senator had heard ""Well, I don't think it'll actually answer... just that we might get a response if we ask for one." That was all that Katherine needed to stand up, nodding to her companions as she unlocked the door to the upstairs room and stepped out into the hallway.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty space, the sound of her heels confident as they crossed the floorboards, pausing for a moment on the stair.

Who: All characters who received a black envelope.
What: meeting cont. with input from outside...
When: May 8th, 5 pm [i think?]
Where: Anhalt Building, 1005 E. Roy Street.
Status: Open; in progress.

Mickey stood off to the side, periodically nudging his ear with his hand, trying to keep the music going when the news feeds bubbled up, wanting his attention. A sharp sound of an alarm sent his senses inward, his body stilling, eyes going up and disfocused as he sought sense from the ping. Something was important, something tripped an alert...

He murmured under his breath as he listened to the news spot, not realizing he spoke aloud. "Word reporter here, live on the spot. I'm seeing some smoke coming out of the underground here." Mickey made a noise of frustration, turning as if seeking an image to go with the sound and words he was saying. "It's unclear exactly what's going on, but the police appear to be evacuating area residents from Pioneer Square just over the--" a small hiccup, his voice rising rapidly as the words poured unwittingly from mind to mouth, "Joker Underground. I don't see any jokers here, even though there's some talk on the street already about a registration bill."

His gaze snapped back into almost focus abruptly, turning as if to look at the others, even though his gaze didn't settle on anything but the wall beyond. He rocked from foot to foot, hands clamped in agitation. "What is that smoke coming from? Are we looking at terrorist activity? Police aren't- wait, no, I'm a reporter. I have a right to be here. Wait, no..."

He went silent, both hands coming up to press against his eyes, then digging at his ear. "No, no, I need more. Where is it, why can't I get it when I want it. Damnit I need that back."

Who: All characters who received a black envelope.
What: First meetings or rather, distractions.
When: May 8th, 3 pm
Where: Anhalt Building, 1005 E. Roy Street.
Status: Open; in progress.

Nobody remembers Fred Anhalt anymore.

Like its architect, the Anhalt Building has slipped away from the public mind, even of those who walk past it. If a passerby stops to look, it's simply because they see another cracked window or because a phone rang in their pocket. No one ever rings the bell. No one ever goes in.

Perhaps this is why the door is unlocked when the first entrant tries the handle. The sound of the door swinging inward echoes into the empty corridors. The lights inside are warm, welcoming, uncharacteristic for a building that Seattle thinks abandoned. A faint scent of ammonia filters in from the hall. The corners are all well-swept. There is nothing here, beyond the age and cracking of the wallpaper, to remind anyone that the Anhalt was lost to history not long after its making.

There is only one unlocked room, however, and that is on the first floor. A long table rests in the center with exactly ten chairs.

There is nothing on the table, no sign that this is a meeting, but there is also no question that it is nothing but. For one, the table takes much of the room - a cocktail party would find its members casting uneasy glances at that table that is both unassuming and dominating.

Not quite a city
Crash
“Nobody move! You got no rights any more, meat!”

Phone call
“This country is ours again.”

Today, National broadcast

“And the challenges are expected to begin any moment, April, wouldn’t you say?”

“I certainly would, Mark – we saw yesterday that several of the expected organisations were so eager to challenge this that they forgot the precedent set by CCA v United States, but those SF95s are undoubtedly in transit now.”


“I’d say you’re right, April – the bill has been signed, he’s stepping away to shake the hands of supporters – this is all over for the moment. It’s a historic moment, definitely – the return of the Wild Card Acts.”

Today, in a tunnel
“Tap your buttons when you’re in position.”

A bar, somewhere nearby
“The delay doesn’t matter.”

“But –“

“It doesn’t matter.”

Feedsite, yesterday
“ ... today’s historic signature was delayed by preemptive legal challenges from the ACLU, JADL, and other groups. However, precedent is clear – a law must be enacted before it can be challenged. The signing is expected for tomorrow. In the Midwest ...”

Overheard, two days ago:
“He’s going to sign it tomorrow.”

“And the riots?”

“Everyone’s in place. It’ll all burn.”