1963-12-09 - Alias, Work
Summary: A few of the Alias family (that's the other f-word) intersect at Apartment 2C
Related: The Grim Connection
Theme Song: None
sinjin hannibal jessica 


It's right around the dinner hour. Given the time of year, it's fully dark outside not that Manhattan is ever truly dark, not even in Hell's Kitchen where streetlights with unbroken bulbs are more of a novelty than something to be expected. Hannibal raps on the door to Alias' office, wanting to see if any new information about those parties has been unearthed. As he waits for the door to open, he dabs at a couple blood spots on the front of his coat with a handkerchief. Breakfast tonight was unusually uncooperative.

*

Sinjin is working — he's not usually at the office but file sharing requires that he show up, in person, to do the work. When the door knocks, he startles, nearly knocking an empty mug onto the floor.

"Yeah, hang on." It's dark, he doesn't remember it getting that dark, but the ache in his back says he's been at Jessica's desk — in her terrible chair — for a while. He swings the door open with noticable apprehension. He's on edge a lot lately.

"Hey, come on in." Sinjin gestures for Hannibal to join him. When he became someone with any business inviting someone into the office is beyond him, it just happened. The business is a bit like that. It just sucks people in somehow. "Everything okay?"

*

Hannibal offers a nod when the door opens and then he steps in, shutting it behind him. "Never better. Armageddon couldn't have chosen a better time to start." Mutant riots, mythological gods, aliens. All they're missing is plague. "John, wasn't it? Happen to have any soda water?" Out out, damn spot.

*

Jessica has arrived.

*

"Fridge. But watch out for the Chinese food, I think it's from last year." Sinjin doesn't dare touch any of the takeout in there for fear of being consumed or infected. "It's good for business, at least. Any news from your end?" He flops back into Jessica's chair and starts putting the files she'd let him access back together so he can clear out of her desk. He's got what he needs and he's copied his notes from interviews for her in turn. The sharing thing is working out okay, there's that. So far, there's detente around Trish as well. Good enough.

*

"Nothing." Hannibal answers, going over to the fridge. "After what happened at the last party, my source decided they weren't for him and he'd go back to smoking in his dorm room. An inconvenient time for him to actually make a smart decision." Pulling out a bottle of soda water, he pours some into a glass then put it back.

*

The pronouncement of Jessica's arrival happens well before Jones appears. The sound of heavy booted steps echoes down the hallway, suggesting that someone is, indeed, coming. The door opens again, and Jones, flips a chip in the air (causing it to spin), and catches it moments later before pocketing her newfound treasure.

Her lips curve slightly into a tight line, and her eyes flit between the pair in the office. She sucks on the inside of her cheek and removes a red sweater from her neck, that is promptly hung on a coat hook adjacent to the giant HELP written on the wall. Her eyebrows lift, and her head shakes.

There's nothing like seeing ones failings day in and day out. Humility and bitterness seem two sides of the same coin. Her cheeks puff out, and without issuing either of the men a greeting, she trails to the kitchen.

The sound of a running tap indicates she's at the faucet.

*

"People coming to their senses is a mixed blessing." Sinjin sprawls on the couch instead. He's pretty sure it's a health hazard but he survived years in the jungle. He can survive the couch. "Any news on that warehouse fire? I keep hoping to get a lead on one of those parties — again — before it happens. There's a couple kids I want to interview who haven't been home in weeks. Their parents say they're moving around, coming home sometimes to grab food or steal a few things to pawn, but that they seem to be finding parties to attend nonetheless. 'Got a party tonight, can't stay.' And then they're gone for a couple days."

It's a bit weird, watching parents who actually care worrying about their kids. Weird. Alien. And sad — it's the sad that bothers John the most.

*

Hannibal looks over at the sound of someone approaching and gives Jessica a nod as she steps into view. "I've got nothing at all." he tells John, dipping a corner of the handkerchief into the soda water then dabbing it at the blood spots. "I don't have the contacts here yet that I do in London. It's going to take some time to find enough idiots who are willing to talk in exchange for not being beat up."

*

"We may need a new approach," Jessica calls from the kitchen over the sound of the still-running tap. "Finding information the usual route is coming up empty. Also, it's eerie the kids are gone so fucking long without — " she doesn't finish the thought. Instead, the tap is turned off and she traipses back into the main room with a glass of water (probably?) in hand.

She sniffs loudly and takes a long drink from the glass. "If we get the news story printed," a look is shot towards Sinjin, "maybe someone with info will come forward?" She shrugs. It's not out of the realm of possibility. "Even if it's one of the kids themselves hoping to become famous by contacting John. The promise seems real enough."

*

"I can't push something to press faster than they'll let me print it." Sinjin covers his face with his hands and exhales with frustration. "It's December. Missing kids isn't a feel-good story and the city is basically crisis-numbed. It's got to be good. But with the warehouse fire the whole 'bad kids up to bad things' might be a hook. Parents looking for something they feel like they can control, feeling guilt. This new " He sits up with a groan. "Trying for the weekend edition. If we could link it up with that drug, that might get it out faster. That problem is getting more traction — guess it affects people more directly, getting rolled for their watches and wallets."

*

Sinjin has partially disconnected.

*

"Do we know just what the drug is that they're taking?" Hannibal asks, looking from one to the other. "For sure? I saw the news stories about that Vigor; pills that give anyone powers. And those kids did display power right after it looked like they popped a pill. And I don't believe in coincidence."

*

"Fuck," Jessica murmurs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Her hands drop to her sides and she lifts fingers to count and sort out information: "So. We have missing mutant kids." She holds up one finger. "Parties with lots of young people." She holds up a second finger. "And pills that give people powers." She holds up a third finger. "I cry foul." She squints, her weight shifts, and she trails to the door. "I'll be back soon." Wherever she's going is anyone's guess.

*

"That's not disturbing." John watches her go, then give Hannibal a look. "Maybe it's just as well I didn't put that story out yet. Couldn't convince Trish to leave town while shit blows over anyway — I don't think Jessica knows that yet, which is why I'm still breathing." He tugs the elastic out of his haphazard braid, which is unravelling around the edges, and starts to tidy it up.

"Do you think it gives just anyone powers? Or only people who have them already?" That's an important question. "I don't suppose an experiment is a good idea."

*

Hannibal watches Jessica leave without a word, merely leaning back against a wall and tucking his hands into t he pockets of his trench coat. "Trish?" he questions, turning his attention back to John. "Word on the street has it that it gives anyone powers. And if you already have them, it makes them stronger. Temporary though till the next hit." After a moment, he muses "I wonder if the power it gives someone who doesn't have any is the same every time."

*

"Trish. Her sister." Sinjin shrugs a little helplessly. If he'd known what he was getting into… "I could get some," he muses. Yeah, no idea how he gets himself into these scrapes. "Make a little more contact with the people using it or making it." He doesn't really have to take any himself. Doesn't plan to, he could wipe out a neighborhood. "Investigative journalism means investigating, right?" He twists the elastic back into his hair before he sits up.

*

"Are you saying her sister has been going to these parties?" Hannibal's not really clear on how the sister fits in all this. "But even if you can get some, unless you know a chemist, it's not going to help much." Pushing away from the wall, he walks over to look out the window. "The question is whether the ones holding these parties are the ones making the drug or if they're just taking advantage of it. And who was the illusion that was standing there watching? What's the point of it all?"

*

"Oh, no. Trish? No. But people try to kill me sometimes when I put a story out and Jessica has had her share of incidents and Trish is kind of a vulnerable point for both of us. She's a target. We'd like her to have a safer place to be but she's…well, Jess isn't the only stubborn one." Sinjin snorts with exasperation.

"Well, I can only think of a couple things," he muses. "One — the drug is a way to find out what people can do and how good they are at it, potentially. That's why I wondered if it only really worked on mutants. Two — scaring the shit out of people has some other kind of benefit for whoever that was. Terror is a potent weapon. I don't know if the drugs are tied to the guy with the illusions or not."

*

"You're involved with her sister?" Hannibal asks, lips twitching. "I barely know any of you but even I can tell that's dangerous. Good luck with that." As for the drug, he shakes his head. "We don't know enough to make any informed guesses. Which annoys me and makes me want to ruin someone's day. I just don't have any names. I don't suppose you'd like to print a story designed to make someone want to kill you?" he asks hopefully.

*

"That's what I'm trying to do," Sinjin says, without a hint of self-consciousness about it. "It's just been a bit of work to get it out there. There's a lot of pushback around this. But hopefully, this weekend." He actually looks a bit enthused about that. The scars visible on his face and throat suggest that his sense of self-preservation is shockingly low, even for an Australian.

*

Hannibal smiles at that bit of info. "Good for you. Let me know if and when it gets printed and I can help keep watch over you." Giving an an approving nod, he says "So, I've spoken with you and Ava and a bit with Jessica. Who'd the fourth who was there that night?"

*

"North? The tall guy, kind of grim? Sorry, I guess we didn't do a great job of introductions. I figured you knew everyone already." Sinjin thinks back to that night. "Or Remy, guy who showed up here. Cajun with the odd eyes. I don't know much about Remy but North's the man who gets me into more trouble than I can get into myself. He's good people, don't get me wrong. You need something, he can probably sort it out for you."

*

"Legally or otherwise?" Hannibal asks. "North's the one I meant. The one who went through the wall and didn't need to go to the emergency room. I got the impression from talking to Ava that most of you don't really know each other. Do you work together or not?"

*

"Legally or otherwise. Both. North's just smart. He's been around." Sinjin ponders the question for a moment. "I don't really work with anyone. I guess I don't think that way. But North asked me for help once and I said I would. And…" He gestures around. "…one thing led to another. I didn't intend to end up here. Just weird luck that North works for Jessica and she's also Trish's sister. How'd you get caught up in all this?"

*

"Now and then, one of my cases would need some work done here in the states so there are investigators in different cities I've made connections with. One of them is here in New York." Hannibal explains. "I flew over on a totally different matter and called ahead to let him know I'd be in his city. I specialize in the weird shit and he knows it so when the missing teen job he accepted turned out to be heading in that direction, he asked if I wanted to take it. The client agreed."

*

"This city has a weird gravity. If you're still here after this case, you might not get away." Sinjin laughs quietly. "It never ends here but it's never boring. If weird shit is your thing, New York could keep you busy for a lifetime. Is this the usual weird?"

*

"I wasn't planning on staying long but it's been a while since I was back in the states. Might even open an office." Crossing over to a chair, Hannibal sits down as he shakes his head. "Not the usual. Not even all that weird. My cases usually involve the occult in some way. This is turning out to be just another drug case so far. Unusual drugs but drugs."

*

"The occult is way above my pay grade." Sinjin makes a face at that. "Hell, mutants are usually way beyond my scope. Drugs, though. I know drugs. This is my first time dealing with the street side of it. I'm not used to the people." He's definitely uncomfortable about that. "Don't know how you do it, if that's part of it for you. The parents, the siblings, the grandparents. It's claustrophobic. But there's a story and even if we get this one done, there'll be another. There's always another story."

*

"Sometimes that's part of it. And sometimes it gets really unpleasant." Hannibal notes dryly. "Take my word for it and stay far away even if there's a story there. Some things just aren't worth it." Standing back up, he starts for the door. "You know how to reach me if you find anything." At least Jessica does and whoever else was listening when he gave his hotel.

*

"Yeah, thanks." That's all still strange, having people to call on. And Sinjin just might. Meanwhile, he needs to get a little deeper into the story if he's going to get it on the page tomorrow. And then, maybe, someone will take the bait.

*

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