Logs:Elevator Pitch

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Elevator Pitch
Dramatis Personae

Ansel, Aubrey, Jamie


"Shouldn't you all get some weekends, too?" (Set in the Blackburn Prometheus facility.)


<PRO> Blackburn Research Facility

The halls of Blackburn are quieter on the weekend. Muted but not completely empty; perhaps more industrious than required or perhaps out of a complete lack of weekend activities in the surrounding lack-of-a-town, some researchers do occasionally choose to continue working. Ansel looks approximately as bored today as he does every day of the week, trudging along silently as he ushers his two charges out of their exam room following their most recent lab session. There are lights along the corridor, in the guard station before the elevator, over the elevator door, to monitor the -- currently off -- suppression grid. There is /probably/ some kind of protocol about where and when he is supposed to wait to have this switched on before continuing, but the guards in the station at the end of the hall just wave them along toward the elevator without bothering.

Jamie dips his head in deference to the guard as they exit the lab, his movements squirrely and nervous as is common for him, after these sessions. He /had/ been diligently suppressing his companion's powers, but now relaxes his hold -- or /shifts/ it, rather. It might not /feel/ like anything in particular, but he is now throwing as much power as he can manage into augmenting rather than dampening Aubrey's ability. By way of indicating he's accomplished this, he says, "Sorry that you have to do all this on a weekend, Mr. Covey."

Aubrey is as quiet as he ever is, heading out of the lab. Arms crossed over his chest, his head bowed and shoulders hunched. His eyes dart up -- only briefly -- as they wait for the elevator. "Do you -- do you have a long shift today?"

Ansel frowns almost reflexively when Aubrey speaks. He grunts something unintelligible, at first, staring at the light over the elevator and then at the two labrats. "Fff. Same as ever. Don't know why that handler of yours insists on doing this shit on a Saturday. Shouldn't you all get some weekends, too?"

"It /would/ be nice," Jamie agrees wistfully, his voice small and diffident. "/Most/ of the researchers don't like weekends, either, but I think he mentioned something about...preferring it when things are quieter?" He looks to Aubrey for confirmation.

"I prefer it when it's quieter, too." Aubrey nods to himself and straightens as the elevator door slides open. His fingers squeeze hard at the crooks of his arms, and as he steps into the elevator he rocks slightly to himself as he waits for the others to follow. He glances quickly to Jamie -- then to the doors. Takes a deep breath -- when he speaks again his deep voice is firmer than his usual mousy hesitance. "Covey. Stay quiet and listen to me. Tonight at midnight you need to shut down the suppression grid in the cellblock. You'll make sure the alarms don't go off and keep the grid turned off. You will not tell anyone else about this, and if confronted you'll say that it's a planned test. Confirm that you understand what you're going to do."

"Been too quiet, lately," Ansel complains as he steps into the elevator. "Some fucking bug going around and the rest of us gotta work --" His eyes narrow abruptly -- but he quiets when Aubrey speaks. He stares at the doors -- doesn't actually scan his badge to send the elevator back to the cell floor. "Of course I understand," he answers gruffly. "Turn off the grid, it's not rocket science."