16090/Reavers: Epilogue

Reavers: Epilogue
Date of Scene:	16 October 2023
Location:	Pierce Consulting, New York City
Synopsis:	Nettie seals the deal with Donald Pierce.
Cast of Characters:	Joshua Foley, Nettie Crowe

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Joshua Foley has posed:
Joshua had been getting ready for making the delivery of the morning parcels when a suit approached him. He bolted back inside, tearing off his helmet, the new pompom hat settled on his head. "Mom!" he calls out, voice torn with panic and fear. "MOM!" again, as he races to find Nettie.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie comes up from her apartment below the Candle, Corvax on her shoulder giving a harsh cry of alarm, wearing a housecoat and bunny slippers, unlit cigarette in her hand and her gray hair all akimbo.

    "Joshua! What on earth --" she calls out, pulling the sleeves over her hands to try and catch hold of him.

Joshua Foley has posed:
If Joshua did not have golden skin, he'd be positively pale. It takes all he has not throw himself into Nettie and go into hiding, as he pulls back. His hands hold out, offering her a card. "This... this just came via courier!"

It's a gold-lined business card. Impeccable font. Perfectly spaced and sized.

D. Pierce
CEO, Pierce Consulting

On the back, scribed in ink: We should talk. Appointment at 9:45. Be prompt.

"You're not going are you?" Joshua is practically begging her. He thinks it's a trap. He knows it's a trap. At least that's what his panicked mind is telling him,

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie looks at the card, accepting it from Joshua as she turns it over, frowning. She darts her eyes up to a clock, and then frowns harder.

    "No. I'll go. Corvax will keep watch, and I'll shoot Miss Kinney and Detective Pezzini, along with Ms. Deitrich a note with where I am going. And if he tries anything... well. There's a reason we have so many soldiers of fortune on retainer." Nettie states softly, and she pats Joshua on the head.

    "I shall be safe and return to you, Sunshine. You're my family." she whispers softly, still-covered hand resting against his cheek briefly before she turns her head to go change.

    "ANd really, the next morning, so early? Bastard."

Joshua Foley has posed:
"Be careful. Please." Nettie's the only family that Joshua has and he's loathe to lose her. But he releases and steps back. "I'll work on these deliveries while you're gone." Because she'll have to come back and fill new ones. Flawless logic.

A close of his eyes, a brief prayer of a breath, and a glance back to Nettie before he's off.

A few minutes later, as Nettie is finishing preparing, a town car pulls up outside the store. A driver - not a reaver, or a cyborg - steps out and holds up a sign. 'N. Crowe'. What, he didn't want her getting bugs or bird poop on her nice clothes and it totally wasn't a powerplay to keep her grounded.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie comes out and was just going to take the bus.

    Gray hair pulled back and in a bun. Her eyes are still far grayer and colorless than when she went into the Reaver base, so she's got half-moon, tinted glasses on, and a gray skirtsuit that wouldn't be too out of the ordinary for any lawfirm. Sensible Mary-Jane style heels with rounded toes and straps that she felt comfortable running in, if she had to, along with a worn, black, leather messenger bag.

    No witch should be without her bag of tricks, after all.

    "Good morning!" she greets the driver, with a little bit of surprise to her voice, and she steps into the vehicle.

    And Corvax alights on the top, drawing down to hold onto the roof.

Joshua Foley has posed:
"Good morning." the driver greets, holding the door for the witch. Inside, coffee and a spate of breakfast pastries have been set up. The driver attempts to make pleasant small talk on the trip to the business district. Weather. The games last night, if she liked hockey or football more.

Arriving outside the building, he comes around to open the door for her. "Mister Pierce is in the penthouse suite, security already knows you have a pass to come up to see him." The inside of the building is old mixed with new. Marble columns along with graphics screens showing the latest is robotic defense security and military applications. The secretary smiles at Nettie as she passes and presses a button to open the secure elevator.

The doors open. A doorman waits. "Going up?" he asks, pressing the 'P' button that takes them up to the top floor.

Doors open. Lush carpetting, exotic animal heads. Models of not yet developed military tech. A large wooden desk that's at least one hundred and fifty years old overlooking the skyline of Manhattan. And a blonde man, in his late thirties. Designer suit, no jacket, tie, what looks like gloves on his hands as he rises to his feet. "Miss Crowe! How pleasant. I am Donald Pierce, please, come in, make yourself comfortable. Was your trip over decent? The roads in this city, sometimes they're just..."

"...killer."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Football, of course, means Soccer to Nettie, who natters on about a couple of local clubs near to where she was born in the UK. She subtly checks the coffee to make sure it's not drugged. Just because she can withstand some substances (Thank you entire decade of the 1980's) doesn't mean that it's pleasant for her.

    A crow caws when she gets out of the car, and she looks up to it.

    "Ever hear of the old rhyming game with crows? One for sorrow--" Nettie states, giving a smile as she walks in.

    Two for joy -- she gives a smile to the secretary and a nod as she looks over the displays. Her heart sinks. Human experimentation used to be a strong plus for her, before...

    She gives a smile to the doorman. "Yes, to the penthouse, please." she states gently, looking to the mirrored sides of the fancy elevator. Three... a girl.

    And then she steps out of the elevator, pausing "Is it normal to tip the doormen in the lift?" She questions, and she slips a crisp fifty dollar bill to the gentleman with a smile. "Americans have such an odd culture!" she gives a sweet smile to him, her gray gloves situated neatly on her hands as she adjusts her pin, naturally for the season it's a skull with a crow perched atop it. Four -- a boy.

    She steps into the penthouse, looking up and over the taxidermy. She keeps her head high as she walks, all five-foot-three of her, five foot four and a half in her heels, and she hardly looks intimidating.

    She's surrounded by Death, after all, and she's quite used to it.

    "No need to get out of your seat, Mr. Pierce. After all I'm just a bookshop-and-teabar owner." she gives a charming smile, as she walks, and then takes a seat without being bidden to. Peirce isn't royalty. She's not going to treat him that way. She does mark the gloves on his hands -- similar to her own. Neither are clean.

    "Now, what can this young lady do for someone like you, Mr. Pierce?"

Joshua Foley has posed:
Nettie is winning friends and influencing people all the way up the chain. But the buck -- like that majestic beast that's mounted on the wall with eight points -- much like the mutant child that was chained in a basement lab that two much younger mutants discovered is upon the wall.

"And it is such an enchanting little shop." He retakes his seat and settles in. "Which is why I suppose I have called you here today. It seems one of my employees... or rather, past tense, someone that was employed by us has caused quite the amount of trouble."

He pulls out a pair of files. One for Foley, Joshua. The other a project out in Australia. "We had him in our program for trials to try to figure out how to cure him of his unfortunate condition, but it seems that with the recent activity in Congress and an unfortunate accident in our lab in Australia, I am having to make some changes."

He slides both folders forward. "Since the boy has listed you as his next of kin, it is only proper to speak to you since..." he opens the file, and there's Joshua's death certificate. "...he is a persona non-grata. This isn't official yet, praise be that I raise that type of commotion. But... I could." A glint in his eyes.

"I'm willing to remove the boy from my records. And as for the lab in Australia... lab accidents happen and considering the energies surrounding the place, it seems I am in need of a magical consultant. All you have to do is..."

A document pushed between the two. "Is sign this." A non-disclosure agreement. She, nor the JLD ever talks about what they saw in Australia. The do not mention the Reavers connection to Pierce. They do not even know who Donald Pierce is. In return, she gains Joshua Foley's employment contract and Gateway's lands to do as she sees fit.

"An insignficant price to pay, is it not?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "So odd that you would think I would have a dead boy in my employ. For one, I don't employ the dead. That seems rather the realm of the fantastic, doesn't it?" Nettie gives a cold smile. "And I'm so sorry about how you have a lab in Australia that appears to have exploded. I'm not sure what all it has to do with me, considering if your lad is dead, any contract is void in the United States, since it would have passed to his next of kin at the time of his death. And you can do all the research into my legal self, and see that I have no next of kin. Orphan, you see." she states, and she draws her eyes down to the folders.

    "I can't sign these -- there's no such organization as a 'Justice League Dark'. Can you imagine what someone like Superman or Batman would do to such a group? Using their good names to back a bunch of militants that go around and do whatever they want?" she questions jovially, and she raises her eyebrows, her lips pursing. "Not to mention what they could do if they had the information on all the poor lads and lasses that might have been lost. I mean, after all, it's not as if magic is real, is it? No one can..." she waves a hand around "Talk to the dead and find out where off-site information caches are located. Or have connections to pull security footage and information from machinery. Back track to missing persons reports or -- worst of all..." she points up to some of the taxidermy.

    "Be related to a shipping company that knows the transportation of painted antelope, a critically endangered species, warrants a full investigation of personal travelogues, which could bog down production for months, if not years." she gives a small smile, though her eyes, behind those tinted glasses, show fury.

    "So counter-offer. I happen to be distantly related to the founders of a shipping company and receive dividends. I buy your wreck in Australia for a nominal fee -- always wanted a vacation spot in the Southern Hemisphere." she gives a smile. "And you close out your file on everyone who was killed in the last year and let the dead rest."

Joshua Foley has posed:
Pierce grits his teeth. It's a small motion, but one Nettie catches. That NDA was his hope to get leverage to use in the future, but just like that, it's gone. And he's in a lurch, truth be told. This has to get swept under the rug.

Because it messes too much with other wheels in motion, at higher grounds that demand much more attention than some...

"Very well." he agrees. "My apologies on the boy. He was so much wasted potential. I'll have my lawyers draw up the contract to transfer the land to your company's care once payment is received."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    That's the beauty of a dark organization. Superman and Batman and Wonder Woman would never avow the Dark. That was their jobs. Someone's doing the skullduggery. Emphasis on the skulls.

    "Don't apologize if you don't mean it, Mr. Pierce," Crowe replies, and she gives a brilliant smile, all together too many teeth. Some of them a little crooked -- she's a fair shake before braces after all. "It makes you sound ingenuine."

    She takes her phone -- a Wayne Tech model with very good encryption -- and she tapes a few buttons.

    "I've created a mutual account that can be accessed by your financial department once the contract has been reviewed. I expect that the amount will be satisfactory." she states, crossing her legs at the ankles.

    "And, theoretically speaking, Mr. Pierce, should you come after anyone I /do/ employ or partner with in the future, I would imagine, if I were so inclined, you would be joining your taxidermied friends. I *do* hope that, in the hypothetical, is enough of a deterrent."

    And she takes off her glasses. Her eyes have lost all color, simply white and black, irises expanding slowly.

    "Because, if I were who your research may indicate I am, it means I've been at this game far longer than you've been alive, and I am /terribly/ good at it."

    And she gives a grim smile.

Joshua Foley has posed:
Donald Pierce locks his jaw, a glare at the woman sitting across from him. A momentary, fleeting thing before he sits back down in his seat and draws a breath, even as he's facing down Nettie's witchy gaze.

"I'm sure my legal department can handle the crossings and dottings as needed. There's no need for threats, I assure you, such destruction would wager a high cost. Not all are as well fortified as your charming little shop." he reminds her grimly.

"But my ten o'clock will be here soon, and I prefer not to cross my meetings. I believe we have reached a mutually beneficial solution and neither of us shall acknowledge or mention the other again."

A gloved hand extends as he rises to his feet, his eyes focused on Nettie. "If we're in agreement, I big you best wishes with your new acquistions."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "And I wish you a life not worth investigating." Nettie states, giving a cool smile at that and a tilt of her head, and she rises from her chair.

    She does not agree to not mention him again. She simply turns, satisfied momentarily with this win and trusting that Pierce's locked jaw means she has enraged him enough to push boundaries, and she goes to exit his office.

    And, if Pierce were to look behind him, to that fantastic view of the Manhattan skyline, the ledge of his window is lined with black birds.

    Crows.

    All... staring... at him.

Joshua Foley has posed:
When Nettie steps on the elevator, Donald Pierce turns to face the window.

And all the crows. His whole frame tenses, as the mechanics just beneath the surface whirl.

Then cracks his neck, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Pestilence carrying freaks." he growls as he slumps into his chair behind the desk.

There is much left to cover up, but at least those two loose ends are knotted off.