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The series of phone calls, and bunny trail that Moira found herself on wound this way and that. First inquiries about her work and its use were followed up by vague conversations about genetics, genetic testing, and the applications of said research.
Follow-ups had produced slightly more productive information, and, eventually, an invitation.
Which is how Moira had found herself here. The conversation about the meeting had been vague: show up promptly for 3:15 pm. There wouldn't be much time outside of an hour for the meeting, but evidently someone from something named 'The Project' wanted to see her.
The meeting room itself, is a small government office located in downtown NYC. The office itself, however, is white, white, white. Comfortable. Shiny.
Upon arrival, a young receptionist had led Moira down a series of hallways into a conference room with large leather chairs and a long mahogany boardroom table. Which is where they had left her.
After five minutes of waiting, promptly at 3:15 pm, the door opens, and a gentleman with a goatee steps inside. "Doctor McTaggert," he reaches out his hand to shake hers, "I am William Stryker."
A tall Asian woman follows behind him. He gestures towards her, "This is Yuriko Oyama, my personal assistant. You haven't bene waiting long," it might be intended as a nicety, but comes out more like a demand than a question.
*
One doesn't obtain multiple advanced degrees without being incredibly sharp, but also being incredibly DETERMINED. This series of events is no different as Moira keeps trying, poking at the beehive, looking down other caves, paper trails, etc. Eventually, however, she strikes gold. So, here she is, waiting in those sterile, perfectly clean and proper offices, her pale eyes studying absolutely every detail around her as she waits.
The man will find possibly not what he expected in Moira McTaggert — she's young, barely in her 30s, and attractive in a too-thin, willowy sort of way. Moira's dressed to the business nines today, an autumn suit in dark burgundy and black plaid across her slender frame, a-line skirt, dark stockings and even a pair of low heels, though they are harder to walk in with the crutch, she wanted to give the best impression possible. She stands up, a business like smile crossing her lips as she leans into the crutch and offers her right hand in his direction.
"Mr. Stryker, it's a pleasure… and Miss Oyama. I very much appreciate you meeting with me this afternoon. No, I've not been waiting long." The tone of her voice is just as clipped and eager to get to business.
*
"Commander, actually," Stryker corrects. He takes the seat closest to the door, and allows his fingers to steeple as he leans his elbows on the table. He issues a nod towards Oyama, who seems, altogether disinterested, but present.
"And yes, of course we would meet with you," Stryker straightens and hums quietly. "My resources suggest you have been asking about how your work has been," his eyes narrow, "appropriated." His eyes narrow into slits and his nostrils flare. His lips purse tightly, as if aiming to maintain some kind of secret, but then with a twitch of his lips, asks, "What," he lifts an eyebrow, "inspired you to look into this in the first place?"
*
"Commander Stryker. Forgive me." Moira corrects herself with full respect, tilting her head in acknowledgment and a touch of deference to him. She understands the game — around men and military — that she should show the upmost respect and be demure otherwise. It's not a game she's great at, but she does it. She sinks back down into the chair, then, setting her crutch to the side and resting her hands, neatly folded, on the edge of the table across from him.
"Well, it first came to my attention when the matter hit the news a few weeks ago. I recognized some of the things I'd been researching and, naturally, was curious. From there, it simply took a few phone calls with old friends in similiar fields. I'll admit, I am a touch sad that the government didn't reach out to me for assistance. If you all were interested in such work, I would be more than happy to support such explorations. That's why I do it in the first place." Moira explained smoothly, even if the sympathy is a lie, she's played out this scene a thousand times in her head. They are lies she's ready to tell.
*
Oyama wordlessly stares at Moira as she speaks, and her expression is undeniably casual. Nothing about her reacts to anything spoken. Instead, her hands merely clasp on the table in front of her.
Stryker, on the other hand, takes up a ridiculous amount of space. All the time. His chest puffs with a long inhaled breath. The Doctor's deference is enough, apparently, to satisfy his authoritarian appetite. Stryker hums quietly. "Our work has been rather," his eyes turn upwards, "long term. We have specific goals of the project, most of which have not been — " his lip purse, " — explained. Not in the media or otherwise."
"Doctor McTaggert, do you understand the potential applications of your work? For decades, governments have attempted to create super soldiers. Imagine the potential." His eyes narrow, "But along with that," his lips quirk, "imagine the ability to cripple your foes. Imagine the ability to stop anyone capable of doing anything extraordinary. We believe, Doctor, that your work is the key to unlocking that."
*
Pale eyes flicker in Oyama's direction for a just a heartbeat, a flutter of thoughts across Moira's mind considering if, somehow, he's got a telepath on his staff. Was that woman reading her mind this whole time? If so, Moira was a fish in a barrel. There was no way to lie with her very thoughts, even if her tongue and body language was quite good at it. She had no choice but to carry on, continue with the ploy, and hope her worries were just paranoia. She then looks back to Stryker, but a handful of seconds after she looked away, a half smile on her lips.
"With all due respect, Commander, I fully understand the implications of my work. Much of what I have done is in efforts to unlock the secrets of these genes so we *can* control them. Make them dormant, if needed. While these mutations can be quite powerful, they are also dangerous, and often cause great mental or physical pain to the person. I am a geneticist, but also a doctor… I wish nothing more than to find a way to put these people out of their pain. It's a shame we have been working separate avenues on the same problem." Moira puts all of her heart behind those words, lies or not, trying to be the most bleeding heart, sympathetic, seemingly easily manipulated scientist ever.
*
The Commander leans back in his seat and considers Moira's words. After several long beats, he gruffly smirks, "Indeed," his eyebrows draw together, "Doctor McTaggert. We aim to," a glance is given towards Oyama, "provide a cure for the mutant gene. Currently, many suffer," his eyebrows lift, "from the burden of their mutation as found in one of those treacherous articles that didn't even aim to get the story correctly."
His throat clears loudly. "So. Are you suggesting you want to collaborate on the project?" Stryker's eyes narrow and his jaw tightens considerably while his muscles tighten considerably.
*
"A normal, healthy life is a blessing… That means shutting these genes down, forcing them back into dormancy and giving these people *normal* lives. It's impossible to 'cure' a gene, Commander. But you can shut them down. I intend to make that possibility reality." Moira affirms, a touch more confidence behind her voice as she does speak about the things she knows as deep as her heart.
Then the next question comes and her heart leaps just slightly in her throat. Maybe the con has been effective. She straightens a bit more in her seat, meeting his eyes without fear. "If you would have me, I would very much like to come aboard. I am currently teaching at Columbia, but I would be willing to take a leave of absense for this. It's important work."
*
"Call it what you want Doctor McTaggert," Stryker lifts a hand dismissively. "The effect is the same." His eyes lift towards Oyama and he hums quietly. "Well, relatively." His eyebrows tick upwards and his gaze settles uncomfortably on Moira. "Doctor, what we are doing here far outweighs anything on the outside. There are those that would discredit us, those that would eliminate what we have to other, and those that would threaten our important work." His eyes flit back towards Yuriko, "But your efforts could bolster our own. We have a keen team anxious to get results in our," his hands rest flat against the table, "multifaceted, important efforts."
*
A single brow arches as he says it's the same. That's the look of a scientist who really, truly is biting her tongue because it's NOT the same, but she needs to play nice. Still, it's the look of someone who is brilliant and knows her field of study as thoroughly as anyone in the world. She unfolds her hands, taking in a deep breath and resting them flat on the table. It's a motion of mirroring, something meant to subtly encourage another to be more trusting and friendly to their opposite. Moira could use all the encouragement of him she can manage.
"I realize the importance of your work. It is a shame the media portrayed it the way they did, but they will do anything to sell papers. I only wish you'd approached me before. I'd have been on board with the project from day one, if I'd know. Now, however… I come offering what you will take. I am willing, as I say, to take a leave from Columbia if you would have me aboard full time. I look forward to meeting the rest of your team."
*
Stryker slides away form the table, "The decision isn't mine," he states blandly, "but if it were, you wouldn't be joining our ranks. Not now. Not when — " His eyes narrow, He inhales a sharp breath, "The Director, however, is incredibly keen to have you join." He shifts is weight to his feet and backs off from the table. Evidently Moira had a spot before coming to this meeting. "The meeting was a formality. Yuriko," he motions towards the woman, "will see that you get settled in our lab. We have a current mutant who has undergone a procedure and has joined our ranks as a result, and the new initiate will be within your purview. Additionally, you will be given resources to access our data and progress to date. I believe you will find these satisfctory."
*
A touch of confusion crosses her features and Moira tilts her head slightly to the side. "Not when… what, Commander? If you are going to have issues working with me, I would rather have everything out on the table so I know how best to assure your worries. We are both professionals. I can handle it. Why don't you want me on this project?" Moira dares to ask, a touch more fire behind her eyes than she showed before, especially now when she knows that she's in the door and she doesn't quite have to be the meek housewife. She does give the woman a slight smile and a brief nod, as if to say she'll be along after a minute, but she wants to hear this.
*
"Not when the press had such a field day about our project and you still wish to be involved," Stryker's eyes reflect a fire of his own. Undoubtedly, he's skeptical. "Anyone desiring to join our efforts then is either a bleeding heart," his lips hitch up on one side, "or a true pragmatist. Anyone joining this late clearly doesn't have the mettle to be involved." His lips curve into a sinister smile. "So no, Doctor, I don't want you on the project. I don't trust you." His eyebrows lift. "But that isn't my call. Even if it's a bad one."
*
A slight line comes to her lips, "You should thank the press for even making me aware. I probably fall into the bleeding heart camp, and would have been here from the beginning had I known. But, as you said… it's not your call. Now, there is work to be done." Moira pushes herself up onto her good leg, getting her crutch back under her and making her way back around her chair towards the other woman's side. "I'd be very curious to see the labs and the set up, Miss Oyama. Thank you…" One last smile is given to Stryker. "It was good meeting you, Commander. I do hope, one day, we will see eye to eye."
*
Stryker's jaw tightens as Moira says her piece. "Indeed, Doctor. Good day," he hisses.
Yuriko nods at Stryker before leading Moira down the hall. "You will find the facilities are well resourced," Oyama say smoothly. Yuriko leads Moira down a web of hallways in relative silence. Finally they reach the main lab. The white on white motif resounds, but the scope of the operation is extensive. Thirty or more scientists mill about the lab, looking through microscopes, pulling together data, and writing in clipboards. Unquestionably, this place is a well-oiled machine, and it's becoming increasingly clear that some kind of research facility has been in operation for some time.
*
Heart in her throat, Moira follows the slim woman down the hallway. Her high heels clip in their uneven, slightly limping rhythm along with the tap of her crutch. She studies everything doubly so, far more than when she was waiting. She's now getting into the heart of it and just how terrifyingly elaborate a set up this was. She swallows back against her pulse, keeping a neutral smileo n her lips as they turn into the main lab. "This is…Most impressive. I'd be curious to meet the director, but I imagine he's quite busy. If I can see who I'll be working with, I can make initial introductions, bu I will need a few days to wrap things up at Columbia before I can be here full time."
*
Oyama seems unimpressed by the set-up, and instead keeps her expression entirely even. "This is merely the genetics wing," she states blandly, as if she has no emotions with which to express herself. "And the Director expressed a desire to meet you, but could not find time in his schedule today. He sent the Commander instead." Her eyebrows lift and she nods. "And he suspected you would have some loose ends to tie."
She motions to the hallway, "I will see you out, Doctor."
*
"Excellent. I look forward to it. You clearly have all my information. Is there a better number or desk I should call when I'm ready to settle in? It should only be a few days." Moira asks respectfully. "…And…while I look forward to working here, I would be interested to see the whole scope of the project. Knowing how the genetics work is being implemented will be vital to any progress I make in the future. But, if preferred, we can save that for another day." Moira's doing her best not to look TOO curious or pushy, but it's hard. She wants to get as much information back as possible…
*
"I suspect you would need to speak to the Director to acquire that information in its entirety," Oyama replies. "But he is likely to engage with your inquiries. He seems genuinely interested in what you can contribute to the project." She finally leaves Moira back from whence she started. "If you have any further questions, please use Stryker's card," she reaches into her jacket pocket and extracts a simple card. "You will receive his direct line, and likely, myself. From there we can get you set, Doctor."
*
"That sounds excellent, Miss Oyama. I look forward to working with all of you." Moira states with a clipped but warm smile. She's all business now. She reaches up, taking that card and looking it over, memorizing the number for just a moment before she slips it into her jacket. "If you have any ideas or need me to bring any further research this week, you know how to find me. I'll be in touch in a few days." With that, Moira turns on the ball of her foot and heads for the door. It's the same quiet, clipped limp of before, but her step might be just a bit quicker. Part of her is eager to get out of this place. Something about it makes her skin crawl.
*