2011 06 17: Political Research

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Mission Name: Political Research
Date of Mission: June 17, 2011
Locale: Training Lab - Division HQ

Geoff 'helps' Crewe with a bit of research pertaining to someone in the press.


crewe geoff

While all the recruits are out and about taking advantage of the nice weather to get in some PT, the computer lab typically sits idle. That, of course, makes it easier for other people about HQ to get in and use the computers for their own ends. One workstation is occupied by a ponytailed blonde, a small laptop open along with the workstation's desktop as well.

Geoff steps in from the Training Area, taking himself a seat at a station. He's all sweaty, a towel around his neck, probably having come from a training session. His expression is serious, though dull, as he sits down and opens a program.

"I knew it…seriously, I fucking knew it. I knew I'd seen you before," comes the voice from a station one down from Geoff. And know Geoff knows too…exactly what it is her janitorial work includes. The only few programs she's got open are basic internet browsers and, as one can expect, the background checker programs. Most of the Google search results are about a particular Senator, one Senator Roger Taylor, and of course, plenty of gossip about his youngest kid.

Geoff looks over at Crewe. "Oh, hey," he says. "Is that why you were dropping all those heavy-handed hints? Or are you just still excited about being a spy?" He certainly doesn't seem surprised to see her here. He's opened an analysis program to check the readout from the training dummy.

"Gee, and here I thought I was being subtle." At the mention of being a spy, however, she narrows her eyes. "I'm not really a spy, though. Not in that sense. I've just got one life and it's my own. Too much sneaking around for me, and I'm pretty bad at it so far. My jobs are a lot more direct. Like this one, for instance. Definitely more my style than sneaking around and playing information thief or whatever."

"Yeah, whatever," Geoff says. "I get the idea, you're a cleaner. I'm guessing sniper. And I hate all the windows in this city, too, by the way. I just don't talk that shit in public, you get it?"

"Sorry. Call it frosh enthusiasm. I just want to get my damn patch, you know? But even this one is less cleaning job and more…well, less lethal. Pretty simple, but, still have to do your homework. But then, you probably know that by now, huh? You're probably old hat at the sneaky stuff." She gives him a playful little wink, then leans back on the stool and undoes her ponytail to shake it out and redo it once more.

Geoff shrugs. "I just got out of training two months ago," he admits. "But I've been killing professionally for a long time." He scrolls through the report he's reading. "So it's kind of whatever."

"Really? That's crazy man. You don't seem like the type, you know?" Statement made, she goes back to the computer screen. "One problem with this career path is that it makes it hard to cast votes. You think you would've voted for him?" she asks, turning the screen some to reveal the pictures of Senator Taylor there. Candids; Paparazzi shots; newspaper articles: they've all got a place there on her screen on one tab or another.

"Hm?" Geoff asks, glancing over at Crewe. "What type do I seem like?" he asks. He looks over at the senator on her screen. "I don't know," he says. "They're all crooked. What does this one do? Thai hookers?"

"He's got a binge-drinking daughter, for starters. It seems like she takes after her mother, in that respect, since the older broad has been rumored to be in and out and in and out of rehab. The Senator though is rumored to be looking at the presidency, but if he does declare, I can't imagine that either of those things are going to be good for his campaign. Guess that's why Division here is taking an interest. More specifically, telling me to take an interest."

Geoff chews on his thumbnail. "Oh, whatever," he says. "He can just say how much he supports his wife in battling her addiction, take some pictures with her at a twelve-step, stick the daughter at some fancy boarding school or college or whatever, and jam her in rehab when it doesn't work. As long as he's not making new friends in the men's room, I reckon he can get through it," he says around his thumb.

"You think that's all it'd take? Just stick them in rehab? That doesn't seem like a very Christian, family-oriented kind of person…and you know how Americans eat that shit up. My parents did, and so did ninety percent of that shithole city where I grew up. How many of the last presidents have run on that platform?" Back to the screen, she adjusts some stuff around, focusing on her screen when she pulls up more tabloid stuff about the daughter. "Man, she's on her way to going totally Lindsay Lohan," Crewe adds with a little shake of her head.

"Oh, he's a Republican?" Geoff asks. "Even better, he can just take her to church. That's way cheaper." He looks over at the screen. "And buy his daughter some panties, too. Nobody wants to see her little Britney."

"Oh…I think he's a Demopublican. I'm guessing he's whatever one will get him elected, but nobody wants to vote for a bachelor president, or a pres that's banging hookers a dozen at a time. They want good family men, to be the nation's dad." As for his daughter, Crewe just laughs. "Well, I beg your pardon, but someone wants to see her for something. I know that for certain."

"Wait, who wants to see her vagina?" Geoff asks, brow knitting in confusion. "I don't think that's real good family material. I guess the paparazzi are into underage parts?"

"Not her hoo-hah, doof. Her. Various people with reason to believe she's got some, ah, ulterior motives, aims, aspirations, and or employers. So, here I am doing my homework. How about you, huh? Looking at score from the Punchomatic 3000 there in the other room?" She turns on her stool to face him a bit, revealing that the sweats and t-shirt she have on are Division-issue. And they fit a lot better than a baggy army jacket too.

"Well, sure, people want to see her. Just not her little /Britney/." Geoff shrugs. "You think she's on the take against her own daddy? Sordid shit." He bites the knuckle of his thumb, nodding. "Uh-huh."

Crewe narrows her eyes at Geoff, and the finger-biting, knuckling-biting action. "So, hey…what do you know about her, huh?" she just blurts out. No sense in trying to sugar-coat that, she figures. All that fidgeting has to mean something, right?

Geoff takes his finger out of his mouth. "Nothing," he says, with a slow blink at Crewe. "I'm not really a political guy. Basically, I wait around until they tell me I need to punch somebody or shoot somebody, I punch or shoot that person, and then I get back to my fake life." He gives an insincere smile, eyes dead.

"Nothing political about my question. I asked what you knew about her, personally, politically, shit…even financially. Anything and everything. That's what I asked. Not if you were a political guy." Dead stare, meet wild-eyed stare. He's not doing a very good job of fooling her, it seems, and she bores into his head with her wide, crazy stare, as best she can muster!

Geoff lifts an eyebrow. "I said I don't know anything about this chick. I never heard of her until you just explained to me about her. " He looks her up and down. "What's your deal? Paranoid?"

"No, just fucking crazy!" replies Crewe with a little smile on her lips. She had been leaning forward on the stool a bit, but now she's gone back to sitting up straight and tall, grinning and winking - winking! - at Geoff. "No meds for me though. I'm just volatile. A low boiling point. Oh…and I'm explosive too," she says, just as sweet as sugar, before pushing a finger out and tapping Geoff's chest. "We're all killers here, remember. But how many killed in cold blood before signing up? And I don't mean on Uncle Sam's commission, either."

"Kay," Geoff answers. He doesn't look terribly frightened by her claims to being crazy, although shen she pokes him in the chest, he says, "Don't do that." It's a calm request, though. "And yeah, you're super-scary," he adds sarcastically.

Crewe gives a disinterested shrug of her shoulders, and stands up at the workstation. Busying herself with the process of unplugging the laptop from the power cord and the internet provided at the workstation, she answers to Geoff. "Not trying to be super-scary. Just telling you the God's honest truth. Weird huh, that someone in Division should enjoy the truth. I haven't lied about a thing though…and I've got court transcripts to prove that." Bundling the one computer up under her arm, she looks about ready to leave. "I'm sure that if you ever met this chick though, you'd be a real pal and give me a heads up, huh? As a co-worker and all that, I mean."

"Yeah, obviously," Geoff says. "I'll text you or leave a note in your locker or whatever. What did you say your name was again?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow as he looks at Crewe. "And yeah, I buy it. Don't need the paperwork."

"Crewe. Jess Crewe. Slap it on my dorm door for all I care…seeing as how I live here. No cover right now, so that makes it simple." At the moment, simple is better, at least until she's more practiced. There's no other words though, as she slides out of the training lab and back towards her room, to start lining up the information she's collected and putting together a plan of attack.


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