Washington
Jan 12, 2013 0:05:10 GMT -5
Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 12, 2013 0:05:10 GMT -5
It was three hours to Washington by train for the congressional inquiry into Times Square- long enough to necessitate a hotel booking for at least two days, to be safe. Unlike the voyage to Moscow, Adrian had deigned to leave Megan behind in New York to rest while this business was handled, not least because he wasn't sure he trusted her face in the senate chamber while he was being questioned- not for his safety, but hers.
The toll the stress was taking on Megan had always been obvious to Adrian, but it had started to cross a line from an acceptable and surmountable obstacle to one of actual medical concern. The day before he was due in Washington, Megan had come into work wincing and gasping and miserable, red-faced and close to tears when asked to explain what was going on. She called it a seizure before giving Adrian a significant and rather hateful look, and her meaning was immediately clear.
"I... see."
"Shut up," Megan groaned, sinking awkwardly into a chair and trying to compose herself.
Adrian blinked.
"How long-"
"This morning?" she wheezed. "About- gah- three hours now-"
"I meant, how long have you-"
"What the hell makes you think I want to ta- to taaah-"
Adrian's eyes widened. He held up a hand.
"Never mind. You're excused for the day."
Megan staggered up and tried to walk to the door.
"Subways'll be real fun-"
"I'll call a cab," Adrian cut her off. "Try to get yourself to a doctor when it's passed, will you?"
"Whatever," Megan muttered as she limped out.
In any case, the stress probably didn't help her condition at all, he figured. The facts at hand were that Adrian's previous assistants had all been Ivy graduates in line for greater careers later on (including Melissa, rest her soul), and Megan was moody, directionless, and something of a liability. At 22, before Karnak, she had seemed closer to 18, wide-eyed and a bit childish. At 23, she was practically curdling.
All his concerns of security aside, the solution was obvious. He needed to let her go, for her sake.
This wasn’t as simple as just telling her he didn’t need to keep her close anymore, however. She was stubborn and tended to cling to the few scraps of pride she felt she had left. Convincing her that he’d continue paying her rent and utilities no matter where she went would be difficult, no matter how much of a challenge finding a place to rent in this city might be in itself. And Adrian understood her to have... dependents, of a kind, Thor and a few others he hadn’t encountered yet but had gathered to be significantly less capable than an alien who looked like a bodybuilder and was at least generally considered to be a god.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then reached inside his briefcase on the train to pull out some stationery and a pen with which to write a letter to Megan, in case he found himself in Washington longer than anticipated and needed to inform her by mail.
Phone calls would probably go ignored, after all.
“Excuse me?”
The voice had come from behind him. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and found himself facing a grinning, heavyset man in a green blazer.
“Yes?” said Adrian.
“Adrian Veidt, right?”
“Yes,” Adrian replied, all sudden smiles and good humor.
“Oh, man- I wasn’t sure, on account of the white hair- no offense, of course-“
“None taken, don’t worry.”
He laughed and held out a hand to punctuate this, and the man warmly shook it.
“Marcus Lennox. I was at the Yankee Stadium thing last December-“
“Ah, thank you- feel free to sit, if you’d like-“
Lennox went to sit in the empty seat across the row, continuing, “The whole time you were up on those bars, I kept thinking, ‘this guy’s older than me, how’s he doing that-‘”
“Practice,” said Adrian, and he began laughing again.
Lennox laughed too.
“I don’t want to disturb you much longer, but have you got a moment for a photo? My wife’s going to freak out- why’re you headed to DC, by the way?”
Adrian’s smile faded a little.
“...Congressional inquest into New Year’s Eve,” he said quietly.
This had a sobering effect on Lennox too; he looked away and took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” said Lennox. “Forgot they were doing that.”
“I was one of the only humans with whom Manhattan maintained regular contact,” Adrian said, turning back to the letter with a sigh.
“Now listen,” Lennox interrupted. “There wasn’t a thing you could do. Okay? That was- I mean, Manhattan- the guy wasn’t human. Who knew what he was thinking, or planning... And between you and me?”
He leaned forward and added, conspiratorially, “It finally got those clowns trying to blow us all up to back down. It was like God whispered in his ear or something. You know what I think? I think it was all part of God’s plan.”
Adrian looked up at him again, face carefully still.
“I don’t normally say that. I never used to,” said Lennox. “I used to wonder, where was God when there are kids dying all over, when I’m afraid to let my daughter walk home alone, when we’re all trying to see who can build the bigger bomb? And then Times Square happened, and I asked, where was God during that?
“And then I realized it. I don’t think God sent Manhattan- that wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe it wasn’t His plan. But you know what? I think it finally made God listen. It made God show his face, and tell all those men in suits making decisions for us that they weren’t doing the right thing.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Adrian said.
“I think it brought God back,” Lennox said solemnly, leaning back in his chair. “It made Him realize what he’d forgotten. And you know what, Veidt? I think you’re doing God’s work.”
Adrian’s expression had gradually become one of horror. He turned back to his work.
“...sorry, that got a little heavy,” Lennox said, with an awkward shrug. “Can I still have that photo-“
“What- oh, yes.”
Lennox pulled a Polaroid camera from his suitcase and knelt beside where Adrian sat for the photo, pointing it at the pair of them.
“Thanks. Try not to let this all bring you down too much.”
Adrian smiled thinly.
“Well, I’ll certainly try,” he said.
As Lennox left, Adrian sighed again. There was still a chance that that photo would have a very different impression in only a few days.
The toll the stress was taking on Megan had always been obvious to Adrian, but it had started to cross a line from an acceptable and surmountable obstacle to one of actual medical concern. The day before he was due in Washington, Megan had come into work wincing and gasping and miserable, red-faced and close to tears when asked to explain what was going on. She called it a seizure before giving Adrian a significant and rather hateful look, and her meaning was immediately clear.
"I... see."
"Shut up," Megan groaned, sinking awkwardly into a chair and trying to compose herself.
Adrian blinked.
"How long-"
"This morning?" she wheezed. "About- gah- three hours now-"
"I meant, how long have you-"
"What the hell makes you think I want to ta- to taaah-"
Adrian's eyes widened. He held up a hand.
"Never mind. You're excused for the day."
Megan staggered up and tried to walk to the door.
"Subways'll be real fun-"
"I'll call a cab," Adrian cut her off. "Try to get yourself to a doctor when it's passed, will you?"
"Whatever," Megan muttered as she limped out.
In any case, the stress probably didn't help her condition at all, he figured. The facts at hand were that Adrian's previous assistants had all been Ivy graduates in line for greater careers later on (including Melissa, rest her soul), and Megan was moody, directionless, and something of a liability. At 22, before Karnak, she had seemed closer to 18, wide-eyed and a bit childish. At 23, she was practically curdling.
All his concerns of security aside, the solution was obvious. He needed to let her go, for her sake.
This wasn’t as simple as just telling her he didn’t need to keep her close anymore, however. She was stubborn and tended to cling to the few scraps of pride she felt she had left. Convincing her that he’d continue paying her rent and utilities no matter where she went would be difficult, no matter how much of a challenge finding a place to rent in this city might be in itself. And Adrian understood her to have... dependents, of a kind, Thor and a few others he hadn’t encountered yet but had gathered to be significantly less capable than an alien who looked like a bodybuilder and was at least generally considered to be a god.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then reached inside his briefcase on the train to pull out some stationery and a pen with which to write a letter to Megan, in case he found himself in Washington longer than anticipated and needed to inform her by mail.
Phone calls would probably go ignored, after all.
“Excuse me?”
The voice had come from behind him. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and found himself facing a grinning, heavyset man in a green blazer.
“Yes?” said Adrian.
“Adrian Veidt, right?”
“Yes,” Adrian replied, all sudden smiles and good humor.
“Oh, man- I wasn’t sure, on account of the white hair- no offense, of course-“
“None taken, don’t worry.”
He laughed and held out a hand to punctuate this, and the man warmly shook it.
“Marcus Lennox. I was at the Yankee Stadium thing last December-“
“Ah, thank you- feel free to sit, if you’d like-“
Lennox went to sit in the empty seat across the row, continuing, “The whole time you were up on those bars, I kept thinking, ‘this guy’s older than me, how’s he doing that-‘”
“Practice,” said Adrian, and he began laughing again.
Lennox laughed too.
“I don’t want to disturb you much longer, but have you got a moment for a photo? My wife’s going to freak out- why’re you headed to DC, by the way?”
Adrian’s smile faded a little.
“...Congressional inquest into New Year’s Eve,” he said quietly.
This had a sobering effect on Lennox too; he looked away and took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” said Lennox. “Forgot they were doing that.”
“I was one of the only humans with whom Manhattan maintained regular contact,” Adrian said, turning back to the letter with a sigh.
“Now listen,” Lennox interrupted. “There wasn’t a thing you could do. Okay? That was- I mean, Manhattan- the guy wasn’t human. Who knew what he was thinking, or planning... And between you and me?”
He leaned forward and added, conspiratorially, “It finally got those clowns trying to blow us all up to back down. It was like God whispered in his ear or something. You know what I think? I think it was all part of God’s plan.”
Adrian looked up at him again, face carefully still.
“I don’t normally say that. I never used to,” said Lennox. “I used to wonder, where was God when there are kids dying all over, when I’m afraid to let my daughter walk home alone, when we’re all trying to see who can build the bigger bomb? And then Times Square happened, and I asked, where was God during that?
“And then I realized it. I don’t think God sent Manhattan- that wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe it wasn’t His plan. But you know what? I think it finally made God listen. It made God show his face, and tell all those men in suits making decisions for us that they weren’t doing the right thing.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Adrian said.
“I think it brought God back,” Lennox said solemnly, leaning back in his chair. “It made Him realize what he’d forgotten. And you know what, Veidt? I think you’re doing God’s work.”
Adrian’s expression had gradually become one of horror. He turned back to his work.
“...sorry, that got a little heavy,” Lennox said, with an awkward shrug. “Can I still have that photo-“
“What- oh, yes.”
Lennox pulled a Polaroid camera from his suitcase and knelt beside where Adrian sat for the photo, pointing it at the pair of them.
“Thanks. Try not to let this all bring you down too much.”
Adrian smiled thinly.
“Well, I’ll certainly try,” he said.
As Lennox left, Adrian sighed again. There was still a chance that that photo would have a very different impression in only a few days.