Encounterlogs
Syls Odd Encounter Sr Winston 240915
Syl finds her peaceful evening at Harriet's manor in Haven interrupted by a pressing call demanding her immediate involvement in a delicate operation. Tasked by a figure from her past with strong Slavic ties, she must extract crucial information from an Interpol Agent, Alex, using her wits and technological skills without resorting to violence or breaking the fragile peace. Accompanied by the imposing yet familiar Dmitri, Syl navigates this precarious situation with a blend of flattery, subterfuge, and direct hacking skills. Despite Alex's initial cooperation, charmed by Syl's facade of an inexperienced yet enthusiastic student, the situation escalates quickly when he realizes the true intent behind their visit. His desperation peaks as Dmitri physically restrains him, leaving Syl to make a critical decision about his fate.
Opting for tactical pragmatism over personal vindication, Syl decides against eliminating Alex, recognizing the long-term benefits of turning him into an asset for her organization. The choice reflects her deep understanding of the stakes involve and her capability to prioritize the Family's interests above personal grievance or immediate satisfaction. Dmitri's approval of her decision underscores Syl's successful navigation through the tense operation, affirming her role and value within the intricate power dynamics at play. The resolution solidifies Syl's position, showcasing not only her professional skills and strategic outlook but also her potential for leadership and intricate problem-solving within the shadowy world she navigates.
(Syl's odd encounter(SRWinston):SRWinston)
[Sat Sep 14 2024]
In Entrance Hall
This grand entrance hall that exudes an air of elegance and sophistication,
with high, arched ceilings of aged hardwood. A magnificent chandelier hangs
from the center, its crystal droplets casting a warm, inviting glow
throughout the space. The walls are paneled with rich, dark wood, creating a
sense of warmth and depth. The floor is covered in polished marble tiles,
arranged in a geometric pattern that adds to the overall grandeur of the
room. To the north and south, wide hallways lead off to the respective wings
of the house, their entrances framed by ornate archways. A grand staircase,
with intricately carved wooden banisters, sweeps down to the lower level,
its steps covered in plush carpeting that muffles the sound of footsteps.
To the west, the entrance hall opens up to the dining room, separated by a
set of impressive double doors. The doors are made of the same rich, dark
wood as the wall paneling, with brass handles that gleam in the light of
the chandelier.
It is night, about 70F(21C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with extracting a piece of information from a member of an opposing faction or subfaction but they cannot break the understanding to do so.
)
Autumn is rolling around the corner, and summer is waning. There is, beneath and beyond the heat, a flicker of something cold. Of the rotting, decomposing and the dying. The discoloring of leaves and the crashing of rain and cold, ready to claw its way across the sky and out beyond the horizon. Summer's ending. Fall is on its way. And with the turning of the seasons comes more trouble. Time churning onwards and Change heralding Change. And that is where this very late evening comes to break Syl's peace. In the entrance hall of a grand and beautiful home, in a place of serenity and domesticity and grace. There comes a rattling, pounding at the door and shattering the glorious quiet.
At the exact same time, the phone starts buzzing, and ringing, texts pounding at Syl's attention, faint voices outside the door rising in their needy panic, her attention is necessary. Her skills. Her talents. Her -presence-. So much for peace and quiet.
Syl was at her new home away from home - far from Las Vegas in Haven. Harriet's manor was a big place and she had been walking from her room in the northern tower down to the living room where the Switch she often played on was when the call came. Her techwear clothing had whispered softly as she walked, shshsing with her motions and her gait had been a confident one. Yet the ringing and texts stopped her cold near the door as she hurriedly extracted the phone from one of her too many pockets. Answering the phone Syl drawls, "Syl here. What's up?" She glances around the entrance hall to make sure no one is around to listen.
All at once, all the voices and needs and demands come crashing down into Syl, the moment the call is answered. Whatever echoes beyond the door goes to a still, and the Voice lifts itself up to pour into Syl's ear with a thick, Slavic accent. Ah, home. However far one runs, it will find you. With a slither and a cough, ancient and ragged, the voice beyond the phone says "Syl, darling. Dmitri is at your door. You are needed. Unfortunately," Oh, dear.
"Your free time is about to become a lot less 'free'. There is a mess. It requires your attention. We are simply too far to come and clean it up, and you are the closest we have at hand. We have sent Dmitri by Pathway, but he is, of course, unfamiliar with the landscape. You have been there long enough to help guide him. He will point you to the mess. YOU-" There is a sucking of teeth, and then, a faint groan in the background, before that other voice is gently shushed back into silent mewling, "You will be the one to clean it up. Do you understand me?"
Syl absorbs the words, but it takes her a full second for the reality of them to crash through her. Her hand tightens minutely on her phone. "Understood," Syl agrees, voice dull and numb with the weight of the moment. She collects herself quickly. When she speaks a moment later her voice is more composed and her often-light slavic accent is a bit thicker. "I will take care of it. Dmitri will point me to it."
Syl keeps the phone to her ear as she moves to the door to open it for the large Russian man.
"Good girl," utters the voice on the other end of the phone. "Remember, be clean. Behave. Play nice. Our reputation is far, far more important than individual pride." It is a lesson that Syl has, perhaps, had to hear over and over again, spoken by family members young and old, by lines and ancestors, and woven into her blood. Reputation over Pride. It is what built their empire into something that may, one day, rival the Big Three of Haven. That has embedded their claws into Vegas and most of Northern Russia and Scandinavia. And beyond that, still. "Interpol Agent. Demigod. Proud. I believe he is somewhere in this town. Dimtry has the details. This one is running his mouth. And yet is suprisingly tight-lipped when it comes to the necessary information." The door is opened, and there, of course, is the man as promised.
A hulking thing of pure, Slavic might and well-groomed aesthete, Dimitry is simply -there-. At the door, as if appearing from nothing, waiting patiently for Syl. He looks at her with a simple lift of his brow, and then to the phone at her ear. He gnaws at a toothpick, cricks his right shoulder, and waits.
"This is diplomatic work, lisichka. Play nice. No weapons. Only your words. Your fingers. Your mind, if necessary. You can do this, da?" The voice on the other line waits, in silence, for Syl's supplication. Her confirmation. And Dmitry waits at the door, the headlights of a running car waiting just beyond the frontage.
Syl tilts her chin up at Dmitri in greeting, eyes questioning. She would shut the door behind her after leaving the house.
"Da," Syl agrees. "Dmitri is here." Her professionalism breaks down a bit as she adds, in a tone that reflects her relative youth and nerves, "Thank you for trusting me with this. I won't let the family down. I promise!" She moves to leave the manor, heading for the car.
And then the call ends, and there is Dmitri. At the door, his brow still raised. "Yagatka," he says with a small, affectionate smile. "It is fine. You are local expert now, da?" Ah, Dmitri. Good, old Dmitri. He holds a hand out for Syl, calming, expert, readied. There's no need for Syl to go anywhere armed. Whatever trouble they may find themselves in, Dmitri will handle it for them. But he is blunt, and they need something sharp. And knowledgeable. This is where Syl comes in.
One they are in the car, he turns to look at her, and says "You look good. Very good. This town, it is treating you well?"
Syl lifts her hand in a so-so gesture. "Only been here a few weeks, but that's what I'm hearing," Syl smiles at Dmitri. She reaches out a hand - dainty tiny hand in comparison to Dmitri's, letting him take her hand in his. Meanwhile, her other hand is moving down to one of her pockets. Wearing ACRONYM clothing, she has a tactical look to her in the poser sort of way that isn't actually tactical, but it has the practical impact of meaning she has more pouches and pockets on her than she would ever really need. The phone is secreted away into one of them.
Syl grimaces.
Syl says "Caught a lucky break getting holed up in this place. It's a got a nice spa, great food, a stable! What did you think I'd go off on my own away from family and start struggling?"
Syl makes a pffting sound.
Syl rubs her neck idly, glad that her makeup covers the evidence of an all but healed cut to it.
"Stable?" This, of course, interests him. If only because, well, why would there need to be horses? The car, beautiful, sleek, and simple, drives out and away, down the road, as he squeezes Syl's hand affectionately. "That is interesting. Horses? They have horses, here?" Of course they do, by the Gates, usually, but not -here-. And certainly not at a giant manor house. "Ah, no, yagatka, no, you wouldn't struggle. Always a fighter, you. And this?" He gestures, now, slipping his hand free of Syl's as they wind around the edge of town and get onto the highway, pushing out a bit, towards the outskirts, and to the edges, of the Township itself, rounding the Forests without going into them. "It is...soft. You will make it bend to you. Of this, I am confident."
"So. He told you we have a job. Is..." He glances, sideways, for a moment, at Syl, his expression hardening. He reaches out, takes Syl by the shoulder, and squeezes, gently, before cupping her cheek. "Ah...well. So, is an Interpol Agent. Demigod, yes, but is also...hrm. How to put this?"
And so, absent the right words, he switches to Russian, and tells Syl the problem as they come back around to the edges of the Township of Haven, somewhere deep, deep out from the Bay, near a more 'rural' area, approaching a small, squat home. "He's Greek, or Macedonian. Something in that region. Probably Latent, but he's got some files on the Family that we needed to get back. Problem is, he's a bit...resistant, to the normal practices. If we can't find the servers, then we can't get the data, and the Reputation will be tarnished. So..." he sniffs, faintly, and looks to Syl, "Can you help soften him?"
"Da," Syl agrees. She can speak Russian, but its not her first language. She was born and raised in Las Vegas. It shows in how she has to pause and the relative lack of sophistication in her questions when working in the other language. "He likes girl? Be complimented, because pride?" Her tone doesn't judge the idea, but is searching, trying to understand exactly what angle it is her family is expecting her to take. "Or simply, you not know how to trace his connections, need someone with skill?"
There's a gnawing of teeth as they come a stop in front of the house, several people in a variety of inconspicuous and non-descript clothing standing outside the door. It's a small ranch, on a lone county road, JUST far outside of Haven enough that it's a little murky as to whether or not HSD would have jurisdiction here. The car stops and Dmitri looks to Syl, a faint smile of pride blooming on his face. "Ah, well. See, look at you. Already making the connections." He pats her cheek, adoringly and, yet, a bit patronizingly, infantilizing in its affection. "I think, da, he likes women. But do not lay on charm so thick. We want information. We want location, and encryption. Is good, perhaps, to make of him an asset, but this is...secondary goal."
"He is being..." He tuts, pulling the car to a stop and opening the door, unlocking Syl's with the keys, "Stubborn. And we are not wanting to make a mess with this one." A few figures at the front door give a dip of their chins in recognition. Several words of greeting are exchanged in Russian, before Dmitri opens the door to the country-road ranch house, and gently guides Syl inside, a hand at the middle of her back, as one might a child.
And once inside, there is...nothing. Nothing overt, at least. There's a man, maybe in his mid-30s, early-40s at the latest. There's a woman with long, cascading blonde hair and sharp, Slavic features, in the kitchen, brewing tea and making pelmini. There's a TV playing, and it's got some sort of play-by-play of an earlier game on ESPN. Everything seems almost...domestic. Strange. "Alexander!" Dmitri says, closing the door and walking over to the man on the couch. "It is good to see you. Bella, she is treating you good, yes?" The man looks up at Dmitri, at first, non-plussed, and then...
Syl takes in the domestic air. No one has been worked over. Things are comfortable.
Syl adopts the same blaise casual air as everyone else as she gives a pleasant smile.
Syl runs her eyes up and down Alexander as if checking him out and liking what she sees, though she keeps it subtle, and in a demure way, she looks away right after - using the opportunity to check over the room to see if there any computers present.
The man looks up at Syl, when he is studied, but he's busy greeting Dmitri and he offers the man a firm handshake, and a nod. "Yes, thank you for your hospitality. I'll be glad to get back to work, but, well, it's nice to have a vacation, at least, for a brief while." His voice is dazy. He's handsome, a bit rugged. Probably overworked. And when he speaks, it sound almost robotic. And the woman in the kitchen looks over at Dmitri and Alexander, and speaks in that firm coo that Russian women seem to naturally develop over the course of their lives, saying "You needed the rest, of course. When you're ready, you'll get back to work. You've been working so hard on cracking those files." SOMETHING is present in that voice, something familiar enough to Syl, but not so clear as to land explicitly.
The way she melds, a bit, into the background, makes noticing her hard for a moment. He's focused on the voices, until there are blue eyes and a pretty face looking at him. Jarring. Sharp. Different. And Alexander pushes himself off of the couch, and Dmitri walks over with him, eying Syl with a lift of his brows, and a look at the back of Alexander's head. "Oh, hi there," he says, smiling limply, the warmth not yet reaching his dulled eyes. "Dmitri here said that you'd be coming. Or, well, he said he had a friend coming over, and that- Well," he shakes himself, and steps closer into Syl, reaching to touch her wrist. "Agent Alex Kleinhausen," And there's the lift, the lilt, the trained accent slipping to reveal something a touch Germanic. Mixed parentage, perhaps? His English is impeccable, but not without it's lilting flaws. "I didn't think the friend would be so stunning. Come here. Bella's said that she's almost ready. You're hungry?" It's not really a question.
He's trying to pull her with him. To the kitchen. Where, opposite it, is a small, temporary home office, with a terminal, and a bricked-up hard drive that absolutely isn't being cracked so easily.
Syl allows herself to be pulled along. "My pleasure to meet you Alex," Syl offers, giving him a smile as she allows him to take her arm and drag her toward the kitchenette. She isn't sure exactly what just happened, but she has guesses.
Syl says "Dmitri may have undersold you a bit too. Did you say you were an agent? That sounds like really fancy work. Do you catch criminals and so on?"
Syl beams.
Like a needle into the back of Syl's had, Dmitri's voice blossoms, telepathic and present.
"Bella's here for damage control. When he was caught, since we've had a tail on him for days, we tried the usual. Interrogation. Torture. Even coercion, psychically. Hypnosis. None of it works. SOMEONE has already worked on his head. We need help disentangling it. We have psychics. But we need someone grounded. Bella'll keep you safe, and I'll kill him if I need to. But you, Syl, kukolka...are ground. Earth. Bring him out, so we can get the information we need. Use whatever you need to. Charm. Coercion. Kindness. Penetrate through the conditioning."
And then Dmitri goes to sit down at the counter, because the effort of pushing himself out like that has always taken a toll on him. Bella turns to ladle Pelmini into a bowl for Dmitri, pushing it close to him with a few, endearing words in Russian. And Alex is happily in and amongst Syl's attention, and her space. "No, really. It's my pleasure. Dmitri said that he knew someone in town, but he never mentioned someone so...striking. It's a great sense of style you have there. Syl. Yes?" The ranch is small, and the house doesn't allow for a lot in the way of privacy, or room. The terminal is -right- there. Syl could access it, if only Alex wasn't blatantly trying to get into her personal space. Distractions to allow her to get to it are on the table, but distractions are messy. Reputation above Pride.
"Oh, yes. Well. Sort of. I'm an analyst for Interpol. Mostly I do a lot of data analysis and tracing and combing of databases. My work helps field agents catch criminals." More than happy to oblige, insofar as he's cognizant of it, Alex gushes. "Oh, Dmitri speaks of you incredibly highly. Pretty. Smart. Pugnacious. He's undersold you by half, and then some." Boldly, as is often the case with all Demigod-blooded people, especially the men, Alex takes hold of Syl's upper arms and holds her out at arm's length, assessing her, blatantly. "I mean, look at you. Stunning, really. So, what do you do? Are you a local? I've not had the chance to really get -into- the town, but I've heard there's quite a lot of nightlife. Dancing. Drugs. Party scene. Makes sense for a college town. Are you a student?"
It's -right- there.
Syl says "Is your work like SQL queries then? I've worked with that a bit in some of my courses. Just small datasets though."
"Seriously," Syl asks, in the tone of one caught up in the excitement of the moment. She isn't particularly good at vapid looks, usually her default is a cold stare, but she tries to appear interested as she gazes at the man who is holding her arms. "That's so cool. I'm actually visiting the area, because I wanted to get to know it before I start at Brown. I'm planning to major in Information Security there. I've been checking out some of the local sights. Succubus Cafe and Trove Arcade were pretty cool. Rosie's Diner, not so much."
Syl says "Is your work like SQL queries then? I've worked with that a bit in some of my courses. Just small datasets though."
Easy. She's pretty, he's a bit lonely, because, of course, he's far from his home, and he's stuck in this little house, and all Alexander wants to do is to get home. He's no field agent. And Syl's closer to him in age, and aspect, than any of the sharp-featured members of the Family stationed inside the house and out of it. The only reason he's not panicking and bolting is because he knows, somewhere, deep down, that that is a Bad Idea. "Oh! Yeah, that's fantastic. Congratulations," he effuses, squeezing gently before pulling away from Syl. "Brown's a fantastic school, or, well, so I've heard. I studied at Frankfurt, before I was recruited. Civil Service, first, and then, well. Interpol. There's a lot that goes into it, really," and he wheels away to the terminal, at which Dmitri and Bella stiffen. Anticipation. Fear. Dmitri shoots Syl a look.
"Get to it, Syl, before he gets to it. We're not sure if he has a deactivation code in his brain. Get his hands off of it. Have him direct you, have him show you, do NOT let him wipe his hard drive."
Again, the mental toll it takes on Dmitri to do that weakens him, and Bella steps around the counter to pat at his back, beginning to feed the big man to help re-bolster his strength. Alexander, however, is listening to Syl, and when she mentions the Arcade, he piques, immediately. "Oh...Oh! Oh, wait, really? There's an Arcade? I've mostly been housebound, coordinating with regional Headquarters, but I've been dying to get out. I LOVE retro games. But..." And then she asks, and he nods, excitedly, moving to get into contact with his keyboard, rattling away "Something like that, yeah. Parsing large data packets, often encrypted files and video files. Usually through database scraping and then compiling and reframing for the larger network. Analysis is complex work, and it's as much programming as it is pattern-awareness. That's really the heart of it. See?" And he tries to go for the touchpad, to show Syl something.
Syl has always tended to be quicker and with faster reflexes than others. It's one of the reasons she excels at games. So as Alexander is moving, she is too. And she moves quickly. "Wow! That's so impressive! I've love to see." She moves to grab Alexander's arm, pressing her body up against him as she does and spinning a bit; it's a playful flirting motion, meant to ensure she's the one getting to the computer first and leaving him flustered as she does it.
Syl continues in a cooing drawl, "Everyone I've talked to says that people make so much more in industry that the best teachers aren't in academia for computer science. I bet you could teach better than the Brown teachers if they could afford you."
Syl says "You've got actual on the job experience, you know?"
Syl playfully steps back to the terminal to steal the seat and driving position, if able.
It's a whirlwind, of course, and Alexander is taken up by it. In part because Syl is beautiful and in part because he's not all there in the head. Something kicks in to tell him that he really shouldn't be letting anyone else touch his terminal, but then Syl's touching HIM and he's trying to touch her back and then she's...in his chair. At his seat. By the terminal. He's flushed, his head spinning, and he tries to right himself by grabbing the back of the computer desk chair, one hand white-knuckling it while the other wipes at his brow, and then scratches at his hair, before planting that palm on Syl's shoulder to lean over her. "...Y...Yeah, yeah, sure. Thank you! Yeah. Okay, so..." And he leans over her, touching his chest ot the back of her head to try to guide her, mostly away from anything sensitive, almost all of which is guard-locked behind truly SO many passwords.
Bella and Dmitri watch, very carefully. This wasn't their forte. It's why Syl was brought in. Both to charm, and to code-crack. She's doing both rather handily, and Dmitri looks on at her with a deep sense of pride behind his mask of anticipation and bored, exhausted caution. He speaks to her, lowly, in Russian, while she seeks to charm Alexander and keep herself between the Interpol Agent and his terminal.
"Princess, be careful. He's physically harmless, yes, but if you push too hard -" He pauses, as Syl turns on the charm, and he waits, cutting himself off. Once she's finished, he nods, faintly and says "Yes, yes. But -gentle-. It's caution, really. We think something's in there, some sort of detonation code in his brain. Push -gently-, Princess, so as to not make him snap. You are doing well and-"
And Alex cuts off the conversation, looking back and forth between Dmitri and Syl, somewhat flustered by the sudden onset of praise and flirtation. And so he leans over Syl, body close to hers, to point out a few of the access ports and a few entry sub-processes. "You and he aren't...dating, are you? He's old enough to be your dad," he asks of Syl, all while guiding her towards an access protocol. "...So, a lot of it is basics. Fundamentals. And, yeah. It was a lot of self-teaching, and even on the job, we're thrown a lot of incomprehensible stuff. Like, I got into a data packet recently, that was mostly just scrambled code and a few embedded video and audio files-" And this, of course, has to be what the Family is after. "Seemed like nonsense to me, but HQ said it was important to parse out and so I've begun trying to filter it through... There! See?" He says, pointing to a background protocol, that's trying to unzip and decompile what looks to be nearly hundreds of gigs of information. However he got there, Alexander had stumbled onto a sizable chunk of the Family's records - dealings, contracts, contacts and ledgers. All things best left secret and OUT of Interpol's hands. It's not even clear if Alexander knows what it is. Just that his job has told him to parse it out.
And praise works WONDERS on him, because he sort of worms his way to try to sit down beside Syl, as if he were teaching her a piano lesson, and he says "...So. Basic decryption, right? Have they taught you that yet? And..." A flush, bright and deep, blooms at his cheeks. "...Oh, no. I couldn't do that. Not Brown. I'm not all that great in front of ... students. Teenagers. Stuff like that."
Syl shakes her head. "Dmitri and I aren't dating. No. Actually..." She doesn't bother to bat her eyes, though the tone is right for it. She's at the computer now with him behind her. There is no need to put on a false charm that he won't even be able to see. It's cold hard eyes that are staring at the screen, trying to take in every detail she can. "I'm single." Then, keeping things casual she continues, "What about you?"
"I see the file," she announces, as much for the person leaning on her as the others in the room when she's shown which file is being unzipped and processed.
"Yeah, I've been learning all about encryption. It seems so silly to me that they started with basic ciphers like ROT16. Like anyone would ever use that."
She lets him worm against her as she tries to figure out if she has all she needs to ensure the file is dealt with.
Syl says "I've been learning to use this program called Wireshark. I probably sound so new to all this, huh? I don't even know how you would get something like this. Brown's going to be so hard. I need all the help I can get. "
What about him? Well, whatever he is, wherever he's come from, and whatever his deal is, Syl has managed through the most mundane, and ultimately, most effective of means, to leash Alexander to her in the most fundamental of ways. He looks back and forth between her and Dmitri, as she explains that the two of them aren't dating. And then he offers Dmitri a sheepish, and yet knowing smile. "Yeah," He says, distracted, "Didn't think so. Sorry! Dmitri, you've been great, but, really, you're, like....-way- older than...Syl, was it? Right? Syl what?" Because it finally occurs to him that he hasn't asked her her name, properly, given that he's introduced himself properly. The question throws him off guard, a bit, because, well, he doesn't know how to answer it. "...Oh, yeah. No. I guess I'm single? I've never really thought about it much, because I'm usually so busy with work and...hey, hey, whoa! Not there!"
And he reaches for Syl's hands, to try to redirect her from the protocol she's poking at, shaking his head. "Yeah, no, I know, but, like, basic encryption ciphers aren't what I deal in, and if you fuck with it, you run the risk of spitting up something nasty and undoing all of my work. Here," and he's trying, so, so hard, to get her to back off, because she's getting quite close and it's too dangerous. He's panicking, just a bit. More than a bit.
And Dmitri leans forwards, his head throbbing from the telepathic effort, and he reaches towards Syl, though he's too far. His eyes tighten, and even though she's focused, Syl can feel a pulse at the back of her head until THWAP! Bella hits him on the hand with a spoon, chastising him in Russian, "No. No more, little bear. Let her try this. You'll fry your brain, anyhow. And then what will I do with you?" Ah. So that's where Dmitri goes when he goes 'dark'. Off the grid. Shocker of all shockers, the man's drawn to his own kind.
Alexander is worming into Syl, and he's trying his best, but she's talking so much and he's torn between helping her and trying to get her off of his work. And so she distracts, and he's listening, and his hands are on hers, and they're both attempting to comfort and move her away. "You're...yeah, no. Okay, see what you have running? You're going to backlog me and you're sort of going to fuck it all up. Here. Here, let me...." And he takes her hands and peels her away, and then, again, like a piano teacher, tries to guide her. Stuck somewhere in his mind between trying to kick into high gear, and yet trying to fulfill this girl's every wish, to learn, to be Taught. To Show Off for Her. And so Alexander directs Syl, stupidly, towards an easier protocol. One less dangerous, but one that, foolishly, gives her some access codes to Interpol's internal servers. "...Try this, here. Break through the basics of that encryption first. White Hats are in high demand, I hear."
Syl would feel an edging at her mind, something poking, prodding. Dmitri is semi-telepathic, semi-psychic, but it was a trained skill. Nothing innate, and he's had to wield it like a scalpel in his time serving the needs of the Family. And yet he's always been overprotective of Syl. Always. Worried, even here and now, with this cute, scrawny little white hat Interpol analyst, that if she errs wrong, she'll get hurt. The files, while a great danger, are a secondary caution to him. Secondary, of course, to Syl's safety. Which is in direct violation of the Family's creed. Reputation above Pride.
But for all the years he's helped shepherd her, Syl IS Dmitri's Pride, and her wellbeing, AND her success, are his primary concern. He sees her pushing herself a bit on the edge, and it is only with Bella's firm thwap to his hand that he doesn't risk interceding. This is her Test. Not his. And it will be made known if he interferes with her time to prove herself.
Syl lies, "Smith. Syl Smith." To give him something else to think about rather than her name she says, "But you can call me Sylvie, if you like. Some of my friends call me that." None do, but it's a way to give something to him - even if it's something fake.
Syl has a casual, reminding air to her as she prods, "You mentioned food. We've been at this for a bit. Could you go grab it for us?"
Syl has every intention of taking advantage of what she knows while his back is turned and he is going away to get food, if he falls it. But mindful of his likely concern she switches tracks from the angle his mind will want to be on - protecting secrets. "I'll pull up the site for the Trove Barcade so you can check out the retro games they have there. I'm actually really really into games. Play them maybe too much. Are you good at them?"
lies, "Smith. Syl Smith." To give him something else to think about rather than her name she says, "But you can call me Sylvie, if you like. Some of my friends call me that." None do, but it's a way to give something to him - even if it's something fake.
"Sorry," Syl lies again. "I'll make sure to stay away from that. No need to worry." As she learns more and more she starts angling for a chance to take advantage of the things he is letting slip to her.
Syl has a casual, reminding air to her as she prods, "You mentioned food. We've been at this for a bit. Could you go grab it for us?"
Syl has every intention of taking advantage of what she knows while his back is turned and he is going away to get food, if he falls it. But mindful of his likely concern she switches tracks from the angle his mind will want to be on - protecting secrets. "I'll pull up the site for the Trove Barcade so you can check out the retro games they have there. I'm actually really really into games. Play them maybe too much. Are you good at them?"
Syl offers, "I bet you're good at them."
He's an analyst. He's good at data. Patterns. Information. People, not so much. Especially people like Syl. He's flustered, despite having a decade and more on her, in part because he knows, somewhere, that he's trapped. And so here's the cold, beautiful thing, all sharp edges and pretty eyes and he's not quite sure what to do with himself. So he listens. He acquiesces. "Smith. Uh..." That's odd. Doesn't fit. Not amongst Bella and Dmitri and 'Sylvie'. So Alexander buzzes, for a moment, struggling to process that one, till he's given the nickname, something to latch onto. "Sylvie. Yeah, sure. Alex, you can call me Alex. Easier that way."
Dmitri picks up on Syl's line of thinking, nods approvingly, his face briefly visible in the reflection on the computer screen, but he doesn't interfere. He won't. Not yet. When this is done, there'll be clean-up to do, and perhaps Syl should be a part of that, too, to see the 'other side' of the work the Family often needs to do. But for now, she's working, and working well. There'll be reports back, about how she's handled herself. But for now, right now, he watches her. Safeguarding. Paternalistic and protective. He gives a flicker of a nod as she finds an easy means to distract the Analyst.
"Uh...it's..." And then he's struck by it, and Bella, something akin to Alex in her way, says "Come, Alex. It is late. She is right. I have pelmini. Have you ever had it?" She's stunning, of course, and she's one of the Family's Faces, a distant relative of sorts to Syl, perhaps God-blooded, or Angelborn. And Alex is torn, between Syl's wishes and Bella's instructions, and both beckon up him and away from the terminal. "Y...Yeah, sure, no. I mean. I've had it, but, no, I haven't eaten it. I mean, here, tonight. That is." He nods, absent-mindedly, and lifts himself from the squished-into chair, pushing on Syl's shoulder to rise and go to the kitchen.
And join Bella.
And leave Syl alone. Unsupervised. "Oh...yeah. That'd be great, actually! I've got a few emulators installed on there. Run them when work's slow. You ever play the OLD Sonic games? Like, the platformers? I love those. Great hand-eye coordination there," and Bella's having him serve, turning him into her little Kitchen Helper. Syl has time, but not much.
And while Alex helps Bella in the kitchen, it's all before Syl. He'd been slowly parsing out the files passed across his desk, working remotely and on-site, as agents often do. He probably has a central, on-site HQ nearer here, perhaps in Boston, but he's out near Haven because Haven is where it all converges. Even the deeper branches of Interpol know that. So they sent Alexander, thinking he'd be fine. And the Family intercepted him, because amongst and amidst all the data he'd collected, there were some things tying them to the Hand, to the Temple, and to a variety of underground supernatural organizations and dealings of trafficking humans and angelborn, of pushing Vee and other drugs, and things that would be high crimes in the Venetian Courts. And it's all there for Syl. Either to be bundled up and away, thus leaving Alex with nothing to work on, or to be deleted, or crashed and burned. Some pathways would take longer than others, but all of them are there. To Solve the Problem, as the Head had told her on the phone.
Syl was playing a part in a way with 'Alex' being there. A girl learning, someone to tutor. As he pulls away and gives her space, she stops with the act and starts using the computer like she normally would. It isn't a slow and plodding way, using a trackpad to navigate. She's a gamer and reflexes and speed are important there. There's more to that than just moving quickly physically. There is an aspect to it which is about how something is done. So when she switches back toward the things that Alexander didn't want her checking out, she does it with a quick alt-tabbing and tabs to blur through the navigation, using keyboards shortcuts rather than a mouse.
Syl leaves behind the Trove website as she gets to work stopping the file decryption, finding the file itself and seeing it deleted, and using the access he had granted her to find the backup of that file on the Interpol computers so that it will be deleted there as well. She figures the copy there is what her family was really struggling to get at more than the one here. They had mentioned servers after all and it seemed the sort of thing that an Interpol agent might have been prepared to defend in a general way.
Syl hasn't actually played retro-Sega games. She's not from that generation. But she at least knows a little about the game. Enough to bullshit. "You mean the one with Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails? Yeah! That one's so good."
Syl smiles as she works.
Syl if she manages to finish - or think she does - would whine, "Oh no, I think I messed something up. You can fix it right?"
Syl would also, if she thought she had gotten things cleaned, wish..
Syl says "Please tell me you can?"
Bella keeps him busy for most of it, aware, at least, that Syl is working and working hard, even if neither she nor Dmitri know, exactly, WHAT it is Syl is doing. That's why she had been called in. The Family HAS hackers, but this lone, on-site terminal had to be accessed directly. And while Syl wasn't, perhaps, the most outright proficient member of the organization in that regard, she was capable, and she was close, and this was a Test. Of a lot of things. Her ability to seduce, to dissuade, to charm and put targets at ease. And to obfuscate, all while Getting the Job Done. Periodically, Alex looks back over his shoulder at Syl, curious, worried, but each time, she's fast, and each time, Bella catches him to bring him back with subtle, soothing tones to guide him to help her in the Kitchen.
And Dmitri has risen from his seat at the counter to stand as something of a bulwark and body guard, blocking Syl's work from easy view. He rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezes twice, and then thrice again, and otherwise says nothing. "Oh, ye-yeah, or, well, no. The original was just Sonic, but they introduced Tails later, in the second o-" And there's a gentle, teasing 'thwap' at his wrist, as Bella intones "No distractions. -Stir-. You do not want them to stick together," and he flushes, and nods, and looks back at what she has him cooking. And then... Syl purges it. And its backlog.
And then there's a warning chime on the computer, an alert, simply to indicate that something that was there, is now gone, and is that, truly, the action that the User wanted to do? A confirmation ping? And that seems to set Alex off. "W...what, wait? Wait, wait, wait stop!" And he bolts away from the kitchen to get to the computer cove with the terminal. He eyes Dmitri, realizes he can't barrel Syl off of his chair, and then tries to worm his way atop her, panicking outright. He's slamming at keys, all up in her personal space, panting and muttering to himself in German "..What...what did you...I told you to try running back the protocol. Why did ... how did you even get into...what's...." And then he's fully freaking out.
And that's when Dmitri lunges forward, puts Alex into a subduing chokehold, face utterly non-plussed as he slowly chokes the air out of the man's lungs. "Zolotse," he says, another pet name in a line full of them, "Is it done, da? Empty, cleared?"
Syl would definitely hit yes on the prompt to clear so that when Dmitri asks if it is done she can report, "Yeah."
Syl drawls, "File gone. It was important too wasn't it?" She makes a face at him, like she is sympathizing, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "You weren't supposed to lose it were you? But you're just so bad at things sometimes."
Syl offers, "You're such a loser. I didn't have to ask to know you were single. I knew." It might not be the most professional thing to say to a man being choked out, but she hurries to get it all out before the blackness claims him. When that void swallows him, she doesn't want him to have an ounce of hope in him. There is no softness to her gaze, no kindness to it. Just icy, hateful little pits, eager to see him hurt.
Syl has an eager, tense energy to her, excited and happy. Its in the way she leans forward even if it isn't the cold glare.
Syl looks up to Dmitri, who has been with her so often, as if seeking approval.
It all cascades downwards from there, because Alex absolutely doesn't have the strength to fight Dmitri. He goes to protest, and he goes to try to push back. "...I...I-" Dmitri has him by a chokehold, so he's losing air, and losing it fast. But he sees it in Syl's eyes. It's important to her. And so he loosens, a little. Just a little. And Alex -breaks-. Freaking out, loudly panicking, flailing at Syl and his terminal and saying "...Yes! Yes it was important, how the hell could you do that, you stupid, stupid idiot! You're not getting into Brown! They'll fail you out, you can't even manage a simple deco-" And Dmitri holds him tighter till he goes 'GRK!' with the effort.
He eyes her, then, his brow raised, silently. As tears form in Alex's eyes, out of desperation. Fear. He doesn't want to die. He also doesn't want to get fired. Or worse. He's let these people into his safehouse and they've ruined EVERYTHING. And though he can barely breathe, he's weeping, in silence, shaking in Dmitri's very, very strong arms. And Dmitri turns the man to face Syl and says, simply, "...It is yours, princessa. Make the choice. There is not, necessarily, a wrong one."
Syl forces herself to take a deep breath and fight the urge to make the man's night worse.
Syl forces herself to take another breath.
Syl says, "They didn't have it decrypted yet. He'd probably be most useful to the Family if we helped him hide what happened here. Gave him something to give to his bosses and say he got from the file. I want to kill him, but that would be my pride talking. Fucker touched me. Family would be better off with another Asset."
"Good." It is all Dmitri says, slowly choking Alex out till the man goes unconscious. He lays him onto the couch, then and looks to Bella, saying "You handle that part. She has made a good decision. Now it is time I take her home." Bella nods, eying the unconscious man on the couch, before rolling her eyes and beginning to finish up in the kitchen. Dmitri reaches for Syl's hand, then, and says "Fantastic work, businka. Come. Let's get you home. It is very late, and it is a long, long drive."
Opting for tactical pragmatism over personal vindication, Syl decides against eliminating Alex, recognizing the long-term benefits of turning him into an asset for her organization. The choice reflects her deep understanding of the stakes involve and her capability to prioritize the Family's interests above personal grievance or immediate satisfaction. Dmitri's approval of her decision underscores Syl's successful navigation through the tense operation, affirming her role and value within the intricate power dynamics at play. The resolution solidifies Syl's position, showcasing not only her professional skills and strategic outlook but also her potential for leadership and intricate problem-solving within the shadowy world she navigates.
(Syl's odd encounter(SRWinston):SRWinston)
[Sat Sep 14 2024]
In Entrance Hall
This grand entrance hall that exudes an air of elegance and sophistication,
with high, arched ceilings of aged hardwood. A magnificent chandelier hangs
from the center, its crystal droplets casting a warm, inviting glow
throughout the space. The walls are paneled with rich, dark wood, creating a
sense of warmth and depth. The floor is covered in polished marble tiles,
arranged in a geometric pattern that adds to the overall grandeur of the
room. To the north and south, wide hallways lead off to the respective wings
of the house, their entrances framed by ornate archways. A grand staircase,
with intricately carved wooden banisters, sweeps down to the lower level,
its steps covered in plush carpeting that muffles the sound of footsteps.
To the west, the entrance hall opens up to the dining room, separated by a
set of impressive double doors. The doors are made of the same rich, dark
wood as the wall paneling, with brass handles that gleam in the light of
the chandelier.
It is night, about 70F(21C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with extracting a piece of information from a member of an opposing faction or subfaction but they cannot break the understanding to do so.
)
Autumn is rolling around the corner, and summer is waning. There is, beneath and beyond the heat, a flicker of something cold. Of the rotting, decomposing and the dying. The discoloring of leaves and the crashing of rain and cold, ready to claw its way across the sky and out beyond the horizon. Summer's ending. Fall is on its way. And with the turning of the seasons comes more trouble. Time churning onwards and Change heralding Change. And that is where this very late evening comes to break Syl's peace. In the entrance hall of a grand and beautiful home, in a place of serenity and domesticity and grace. There comes a rattling, pounding at the door and shattering the glorious quiet.
At the exact same time, the phone starts buzzing, and ringing, texts pounding at Syl's attention, faint voices outside the door rising in their needy panic, her attention is necessary. Her skills. Her talents. Her -presence-. So much for peace and quiet.
Syl was at her new home away from home - far from Las Vegas in Haven. Harriet's manor was a big place and she had been walking from her room in the northern tower down to the living room where the Switch she often played on was when the call came. Her techwear clothing had whispered softly as she walked, shshsing with her motions and her gait had been a confident one. Yet the ringing and texts stopped her cold near the door as she hurriedly extracted the phone from one of her too many pockets. Answering the phone Syl drawls, "Syl here. What's up?" She glances around the entrance hall to make sure no one is around to listen.
All at once, all the voices and needs and demands come crashing down into Syl, the moment the call is answered. Whatever echoes beyond the door goes to a still, and the Voice lifts itself up to pour into Syl's ear with a thick, Slavic accent. Ah, home. However far one runs, it will find you. With a slither and a cough, ancient and ragged, the voice beyond the phone says "Syl, darling. Dmitri is at your door. You are needed. Unfortunately," Oh, dear.
"Your free time is about to become a lot less 'free'. There is a mess. It requires your attention. We are simply too far to come and clean it up, and you are the closest we have at hand. We have sent Dmitri by Pathway, but he is, of course, unfamiliar with the landscape. You have been there long enough to help guide him. He will point you to the mess. YOU-" There is a sucking of teeth, and then, a faint groan in the background, before that other voice is gently shushed back into silent mewling, "You will be the one to clean it up. Do you understand me?"
Syl absorbs the words, but it takes her a full second for the reality of them to crash through her. Her hand tightens minutely on her phone. "Understood," Syl agrees, voice dull and numb with the weight of the moment. She collects herself quickly. When she speaks a moment later her voice is more composed and her often-light slavic accent is a bit thicker. "I will take care of it. Dmitri will point me to it."
Syl keeps the phone to her ear as she moves to the door to open it for the large Russian man.
"Good girl," utters the voice on the other end of the phone. "Remember, be clean. Behave. Play nice. Our reputation is far, far more important than individual pride." It is a lesson that Syl has, perhaps, had to hear over and over again, spoken by family members young and old, by lines and ancestors, and woven into her blood. Reputation over Pride. It is what built their empire into something that may, one day, rival the Big Three of Haven. That has embedded their claws into Vegas and most of Northern Russia and Scandinavia. And beyond that, still. "Interpol Agent. Demigod. Proud. I believe he is somewhere in this town. Dimtry has the details. This one is running his mouth. And yet is suprisingly tight-lipped when it comes to the necessary information." The door is opened, and there, of course, is the man as promised.
A hulking thing of pure, Slavic might and well-groomed aesthete, Dimitry is simply -there-. At the door, as if appearing from nothing, waiting patiently for Syl. He looks at her with a simple lift of his brow, and then to the phone at her ear. He gnaws at a toothpick, cricks his right shoulder, and waits.
"This is diplomatic work, lisichka. Play nice. No weapons. Only your words. Your fingers. Your mind, if necessary. You can do this, da?" The voice on the other line waits, in silence, for Syl's supplication. Her confirmation. And Dmitry waits at the door, the headlights of a running car waiting just beyond the frontage.
Syl tilts her chin up at Dmitri in greeting, eyes questioning. She would shut the door behind her after leaving the house.
"Da," Syl agrees. "Dmitri is here." Her professionalism breaks down a bit as she adds, in a tone that reflects her relative youth and nerves, "Thank you for trusting me with this. I won't let the family down. I promise!" She moves to leave the manor, heading for the car.
And then the call ends, and there is Dmitri. At the door, his brow still raised. "Yagatka," he says with a small, affectionate smile. "It is fine. You are local expert now, da?" Ah, Dmitri. Good, old Dmitri. He holds a hand out for Syl, calming, expert, readied. There's no need for Syl to go anywhere armed. Whatever trouble they may find themselves in, Dmitri will handle it for them. But he is blunt, and they need something sharp. And knowledgeable. This is where Syl comes in.
One they are in the car, he turns to look at her, and says "You look good. Very good. This town, it is treating you well?"
Syl lifts her hand in a so-so gesture. "Only been here a few weeks, but that's what I'm hearing," Syl smiles at Dmitri. She reaches out a hand - dainty tiny hand in comparison to Dmitri's, letting him take her hand in his. Meanwhile, her other hand is moving down to one of her pockets. Wearing ACRONYM clothing, she has a tactical look to her in the poser sort of way that isn't actually tactical, but it has the practical impact of meaning she has more pouches and pockets on her than she would ever really need. The phone is secreted away into one of them.
Syl grimaces.
Syl says "Caught a lucky break getting holed up in this place. It's a got a nice spa, great food, a stable! What did you think I'd go off on my own away from family and start struggling?"
Syl makes a pffting sound.
Syl rubs her neck idly, glad that her makeup covers the evidence of an all but healed cut to it.
"Stable?" This, of course, interests him. If only because, well, why would there need to be horses? The car, beautiful, sleek, and simple, drives out and away, down the road, as he squeezes Syl's hand affectionately. "That is interesting. Horses? They have horses, here?" Of course they do, by the Gates, usually, but not -here-. And certainly not at a giant manor house. "Ah, no, yagatka, no, you wouldn't struggle. Always a fighter, you. And this?" He gestures, now, slipping his hand free of Syl's as they wind around the edge of town and get onto the highway, pushing out a bit, towards the outskirts, and to the edges, of the Township itself, rounding the Forests without going into them. "It is...soft. You will make it bend to you. Of this, I am confident."
"So. He told you we have a job. Is..." He glances, sideways, for a moment, at Syl, his expression hardening. He reaches out, takes Syl by the shoulder, and squeezes, gently, before cupping her cheek. "Ah...well. So, is an Interpol Agent. Demigod, yes, but is also...hrm. How to put this?"
And so, absent the right words, he switches to Russian, and tells Syl the problem as they come back around to the edges of the Township of Haven, somewhere deep, deep out from the Bay, near a more 'rural' area, approaching a small, squat home. "He's Greek, or Macedonian. Something in that region. Probably Latent, but he's got some files on the Family that we needed to get back. Problem is, he's a bit...resistant, to the normal practices. If we can't find the servers, then we can't get the data, and the Reputation will be tarnished. So..." he sniffs, faintly, and looks to Syl, "Can you help soften him?"
"Da," Syl agrees. She can speak Russian, but its not her first language. She was born and raised in Las Vegas. It shows in how she has to pause and the relative lack of sophistication in her questions when working in the other language. "He likes girl? Be complimented, because pride?" Her tone doesn't judge the idea, but is searching, trying to understand exactly what angle it is her family is expecting her to take. "Or simply, you not know how to trace his connections, need someone with skill?"
There's a gnawing of teeth as they come a stop in front of the house, several people in a variety of inconspicuous and non-descript clothing standing outside the door. It's a small ranch, on a lone county road, JUST far outside of Haven enough that it's a little murky as to whether or not HSD would have jurisdiction here. The car stops and Dmitri looks to Syl, a faint smile of pride blooming on his face. "Ah, well. See, look at you. Already making the connections." He pats her cheek, adoringly and, yet, a bit patronizingly, infantilizing in its affection. "I think, da, he likes women. But do not lay on charm so thick. We want information. We want location, and encryption. Is good, perhaps, to make of him an asset, but this is...secondary goal."
"He is being..." He tuts, pulling the car to a stop and opening the door, unlocking Syl's with the keys, "Stubborn. And we are not wanting to make a mess with this one." A few figures at the front door give a dip of their chins in recognition. Several words of greeting are exchanged in Russian, before Dmitri opens the door to the country-road ranch house, and gently guides Syl inside, a hand at the middle of her back, as one might a child.
And once inside, there is...nothing. Nothing overt, at least. There's a man, maybe in his mid-30s, early-40s at the latest. There's a woman with long, cascading blonde hair and sharp, Slavic features, in the kitchen, brewing tea and making pelmini. There's a TV playing, and it's got some sort of play-by-play of an earlier game on ESPN. Everything seems almost...domestic. Strange. "Alexander!" Dmitri says, closing the door and walking over to the man on the couch. "It is good to see you. Bella, she is treating you good, yes?" The man looks up at Dmitri, at first, non-plussed, and then...
Syl takes in the domestic air. No one has been worked over. Things are comfortable.
Syl adopts the same blaise casual air as everyone else as she gives a pleasant smile.
Syl runs her eyes up and down Alexander as if checking him out and liking what she sees, though she keeps it subtle, and in a demure way, she looks away right after - using the opportunity to check over the room to see if there any computers present.
The man looks up at Syl, when he is studied, but he's busy greeting Dmitri and he offers the man a firm handshake, and a nod. "Yes, thank you for your hospitality. I'll be glad to get back to work, but, well, it's nice to have a vacation, at least, for a brief while." His voice is dazy. He's handsome, a bit rugged. Probably overworked. And when he speaks, it sound almost robotic. And the woman in the kitchen looks over at Dmitri and Alexander, and speaks in that firm coo that Russian women seem to naturally develop over the course of their lives, saying "You needed the rest, of course. When you're ready, you'll get back to work. You've been working so hard on cracking those files." SOMETHING is present in that voice, something familiar enough to Syl, but not so clear as to land explicitly.
The way she melds, a bit, into the background, makes noticing her hard for a moment. He's focused on the voices, until there are blue eyes and a pretty face looking at him. Jarring. Sharp. Different. And Alexander pushes himself off of the couch, and Dmitri walks over with him, eying Syl with a lift of his brows, and a look at the back of Alexander's head. "Oh, hi there," he says, smiling limply, the warmth not yet reaching his dulled eyes. "Dmitri here said that you'd be coming. Or, well, he said he had a friend coming over, and that- Well," he shakes himself, and steps closer into Syl, reaching to touch her wrist. "Agent Alex Kleinhausen," And there's the lift, the lilt, the trained accent slipping to reveal something a touch Germanic. Mixed parentage, perhaps? His English is impeccable, but not without it's lilting flaws. "I didn't think the friend would be so stunning. Come here. Bella's said that she's almost ready. You're hungry?" It's not really a question.
He's trying to pull her with him. To the kitchen. Where, opposite it, is a small, temporary home office, with a terminal, and a bricked-up hard drive that absolutely isn't being cracked so easily.
Syl allows herself to be pulled along. "My pleasure to meet you Alex," Syl offers, giving him a smile as she allows him to take her arm and drag her toward the kitchenette. She isn't sure exactly what just happened, but she has guesses.
Syl says "Dmitri may have undersold you a bit too. Did you say you were an agent? That sounds like really fancy work. Do you catch criminals and so on?"
Syl beams.
Like a needle into the back of Syl's had, Dmitri's voice blossoms, telepathic and present.
"Bella's here for damage control. When he was caught, since we've had a tail on him for days, we tried the usual. Interrogation. Torture. Even coercion, psychically. Hypnosis. None of it works. SOMEONE has already worked on his head. We need help disentangling it. We have psychics. But we need someone grounded. Bella'll keep you safe, and I'll kill him if I need to. But you, Syl, kukolka...are ground. Earth. Bring him out, so we can get the information we need. Use whatever you need to. Charm. Coercion. Kindness. Penetrate through the conditioning."
And then Dmitri goes to sit down at the counter, because the effort of pushing himself out like that has always taken a toll on him. Bella turns to ladle Pelmini into a bowl for Dmitri, pushing it close to him with a few, endearing words in Russian. And Alex is happily in and amongst Syl's attention, and her space. "No, really. It's my pleasure. Dmitri said that he knew someone in town, but he never mentioned someone so...striking. It's a great sense of style you have there. Syl. Yes?" The ranch is small, and the house doesn't allow for a lot in the way of privacy, or room. The terminal is -right- there. Syl could access it, if only Alex wasn't blatantly trying to get into her personal space. Distractions to allow her to get to it are on the table, but distractions are messy. Reputation above Pride.
"Oh, yes. Well. Sort of. I'm an analyst for Interpol. Mostly I do a lot of data analysis and tracing and combing of databases. My work helps field agents catch criminals." More than happy to oblige, insofar as he's cognizant of it, Alex gushes. "Oh, Dmitri speaks of you incredibly highly. Pretty. Smart. Pugnacious. He's undersold you by half, and then some." Boldly, as is often the case with all Demigod-blooded people, especially the men, Alex takes hold of Syl's upper arms and holds her out at arm's length, assessing her, blatantly. "I mean, look at you. Stunning, really. So, what do you do? Are you a local? I've not had the chance to really get -into- the town, but I've heard there's quite a lot of nightlife. Dancing. Drugs. Party scene. Makes sense for a college town. Are you a student?"
It's -right- there.
Syl says "Is your work like SQL queries then? I've worked with that a bit in some of my courses. Just small datasets though."
"Seriously," Syl asks, in the tone of one caught up in the excitement of the moment. She isn't particularly good at vapid looks, usually her default is a cold stare, but she tries to appear interested as she gazes at the man who is holding her arms. "That's so cool. I'm actually visiting the area, because I wanted to get to know it before I start at Brown. I'm planning to major in Information Security there. I've been checking out some of the local sights. Succubus Cafe and Trove Arcade were pretty cool. Rosie's Diner, not so much."
Syl says "Is your work like SQL queries then? I've worked with that a bit in some of my courses. Just small datasets though."
Easy. She's pretty, he's a bit lonely, because, of course, he's far from his home, and he's stuck in this little house, and all Alexander wants to do is to get home. He's no field agent. And Syl's closer to him in age, and aspect, than any of the sharp-featured members of the Family stationed inside the house and out of it. The only reason he's not panicking and bolting is because he knows, somewhere, deep down, that that is a Bad Idea. "Oh! Yeah, that's fantastic. Congratulations," he effuses, squeezing gently before pulling away from Syl. "Brown's a fantastic school, or, well, so I've heard. I studied at Frankfurt, before I was recruited. Civil Service, first, and then, well. Interpol. There's a lot that goes into it, really," and he wheels away to the terminal, at which Dmitri and Bella stiffen. Anticipation. Fear. Dmitri shoots Syl a look.
"Get to it, Syl, before he gets to it. We're not sure if he has a deactivation code in his brain. Get his hands off of it. Have him direct you, have him show you, do NOT let him wipe his hard drive."
Again, the mental toll it takes on Dmitri to do that weakens him, and Bella steps around the counter to pat at his back, beginning to feed the big man to help re-bolster his strength. Alexander, however, is listening to Syl, and when she mentions the Arcade, he piques, immediately. "Oh...Oh! Oh, wait, really? There's an Arcade? I've mostly been housebound, coordinating with regional Headquarters, but I've been dying to get out. I LOVE retro games. But..." And then she asks, and he nods, excitedly, moving to get into contact with his keyboard, rattling away "Something like that, yeah. Parsing large data packets, often encrypted files and video files. Usually through database scraping and then compiling and reframing for the larger network. Analysis is complex work, and it's as much programming as it is pattern-awareness. That's really the heart of it. See?" And he tries to go for the touchpad, to show Syl something.
Syl has always tended to be quicker and with faster reflexes than others. It's one of the reasons she excels at games. So as Alexander is moving, she is too. And she moves quickly. "Wow! That's so impressive! I've love to see." She moves to grab Alexander's arm, pressing her body up against him as she does and spinning a bit; it's a playful flirting motion, meant to ensure she's the one getting to the computer first and leaving him flustered as she does it.
Syl continues in a cooing drawl, "Everyone I've talked to says that people make so much more in industry that the best teachers aren't in academia for computer science. I bet you could teach better than the Brown teachers if they could afford you."
Syl says "You've got actual on the job experience, you know?"
Syl playfully steps back to the terminal to steal the seat and driving position, if able.
It's a whirlwind, of course, and Alexander is taken up by it. In part because Syl is beautiful and in part because he's not all there in the head. Something kicks in to tell him that he really shouldn't be letting anyone else touch his terminal, but then Syl's touching HIM and he's trying to touch her back and then she's...in his chair. At his seat. By the terminal. He's flushed, his head spinning, and he tries to right himself by grabbing the back of the computer desk chair, one hand white-knuckling it while the other wipes at his brow, and then scratches at his hair, before planting that palm on Syl's shoulder to lean over her. "...Y...Yeah, yeah, sure. Thank you! Yeah. Okay, so..." And he leans over her, touching his chest ot the back of her head to try to guide her, mostly away from anything sensitive, almost all of which is guard-locked behind truly SO many passwords.
Bella and Dmitri watch, very carefully. This wasn't their forte. It's why Syl was brought in. Both to charm, and to code-crack. She's doing both rather handily, and Dmitri looks on at her with a deep sense of pride behind his mask of anticipation and bored, exhausted caution. He speaks to her, lowly, in Russian, while she seeks to charm Alexander and keep herself between the Interpol Agent and his terminal.
"Princess, be careful. He's physically harmless, yes, but if you push too hard -" He pauses, as Syl turns on the charm, and he waits, cutting himself off. Once she's finished, he nods, faintly and says "Yes, yes. But -gentle-. It's caution, really. We think something's in there, some sort of detonation code in his brain. Push -gently-, Princess, so as to not make him snap. You are doing well and-"
And Alex cuts off the conversation, looking back and forth between Dmitri and Syl, somewhat flustered by the sudden onset of praise and flirtation. And so he leans over Syl, body close to hers, to point out a few of the access ports and a few entry sub-processes. "You and he aren't...dating, are you? He's old enough to be your dad," he asks of Syl, all while guiding her towards an access protocol. "...So, a lot of it is basics. Fundamentals. And, yeah. It was a lot of self-teaching, and even on the job, we're thrown a lot of incomprehensible stuff. Like, I got into a data packet recently, that was mostly just scrambled code and a few embedded video and audio files-" And this, of course, has to be what the Family is after. "Seemed like nonsense to me, but HQ said it was important to parse out and so I've begun trying to filter it through... There! See?" He says, pointing to a background protocol, that's trying to unzip and decompile what looks to be nearly hundreds of gigs of information. However he got there, Alexander had stumbled onto a sizable chunk of the Family's records - dealings, contracts, contacts and ledgers. All things best left secret and OUT of Interpol's hands. It's not even clear if Alexander knows what it is. Just that his job has told him to parse it out.
And praise works WONDERS on him, because he sort of worms his way to try to sit down beside Syl, as if he were teaching her a piano lesson, and he says "...So. Basic decryption, right? Have they taught you that yet? And..." A flush, bright and deep, blooms at his cheeks. "...Oh, no. I couldn't do that. Not Brown. I'm not all that great in front of ... students. Teenagers. Stuff like that."
Syl shakes her head. "Dmitri and I aren't dating. No. Actually..." She doesn't bother to bat her eyes, though the tone is right for it. She's at the computer now with him behind her. There is no need to put on a false charm that he won't even be able to see. It's cold hard eyes that are staring at the screen, trying to take in every detail she can. "I'm single." Then, keeping things casual she continues, "What about you?"
"I see the file," she announces, as much for the person leaning on her as the others in the room when she's shown which file is being unzipped and processed.
"Yeah, I've been learning all about encryption. It seems so silly to me that they started with basic ciphers like ROT16. Like anyone would ever use that."
She lets him worm against her as she tries to figure out if she has all she needs to ensure the file is dealt with.
Syl says "I've been learning to use this program called Wireshark. I probably sound so new to all this, huh? I don't even know how you would get something like this. Brown's going to be so hard. I need all the help I can get. "
What about him? Well, whatever he is, wherever he's come from, and whatever his deal is, Syl has managed through the most mundane, and ultimately, most effective of means, to leash Alexander to her in the most fundamental of ways. He looks back and forth between her and Dmitri, as she explains that the two of them aren't dating. And then he offers Dmitri a sheepish, and yet knowing smile. "Yeah," He says, distracted, "Didn't think so. Sorry! Dmitri, you've been great, but, really, you're, like....-way- older than...Syl, was it? Right? Syl what?" Because it finally occurs to him that he hasn't asked her her name, properly, given that he's introduced himself properly. The question throws him off guard, a bit, because, well, he doesn't know how to answer it. "...Oh, yeah. No. I guess I'm single? I've never really thought about it much, because I'm usually so busy with work and...hey, hey, whoa! Not there!"
And he reaches for Syl's hands, to try to redirect her from the protocol she's poking at, shaking his head. "Yeah, no, I know, but, like, basic encryption ciphers aren't what I deal in, and if you fuck with it, you run the risk of spitting up something nasty and undoing all of my work. Here," and he's trying, so, so hard, to get her to back off, because she's getting quite close and it's too dangerous. He's panicking, just a bit. More than a bit.
And Dmitri leans forwards, his head throbbing from the telepathic effort, and he reaches towards Syl, though he's too far. His eyes tighten, and even though she's focused, Syl can feel a pulse at the back of her head until THWAP! Bella hits him on the hand with a spoon, chastising him in Russian, "No. No more, little bear. Let her try this. You'll fry your brain, anyhow. And then what will I do with you?" Ah. So that's where Dmitri goes when he goes 'dark'. Off the grid. Shocker of all shockers, the man's drawn to his own kind.
Alexander is worming into Syl, and he's trying his best, but she's talking so much and he's torn between helping her and trying to get her off of his work. And so she distracts, and he's listening, and his hands are on hers, and they're both attempting to comfort and move her away. "You're...yeah, no. Okay, see what you have running? You're going to backlog me and you're sort of going to fuck it all up. Here. Here, let me...." And he takes her hands and peels her away, and then, again, like a piano teacher, tries to guide her. Stuck somewhere in his mind between trying to kick into high gear, and yet trying to fulfill this girl's every wish, to learn, to be Taught. To Show Off for Her. And so Alexander directs Syl, stupidly, towards an easier protocol. One less dangerous, but one that, foolishly, gives her some access codes to Interpol's internal servers. "...Try this, here. Break through the basics of that encryption first. White Hats are in high demand, I hear."
Syl would feel an edging at her mind, something poking, prodding. Dmitri is semi-telepathic, semi-psychic, but it was a trained skill. Nothing innate, and he's had to wield it like a scalpel in his time serving the needs of the Family. And yet he's always been overprotective of Syl. Always. Worried, even here and now, with this cute, scrawny little white hat Interpol analyst, that if she errs wrong, she'll get hurt. The files, while a great danger, are a secondary caution to him. Secondary, of course, to Syl's safety. Which is in direct violation of the Family's creed. Reputation above Pride.
But for all the years he's helped shepherd her, Syl IS Dmitri's Pride, and her wellbeing, AND her success, are his primary concern. He sees her pushing herself a bit on the edge, and it is only with Bella's firm thwap to his hand that he doesn't risk interceding. This is her Test. Not his. And it will be made known if he interferes with her time to prove herself.
Syl lies, "Smith. Syl Smith." To give him something else to think about rather than her name she says, "But you can call me Sylvie, if you like. Some of my friends call me that." None do, but it's a way to give something to him - even if it's something fake.
Syl has a casual, reminding air to her as she prods, "You mentioned food. We've been at this for a bit. Could you go grab it for us?"
Syl has every intention of taking advantage of what she knows while his back is turned and he is going away to get food, if he falls it. But mindful of his likely concern she switches tracks from the angle his mind will want to be on - protecting secrets. "I'll pull up the site for the Trove Barcade so you can check out the retro games they have there. I'm actually really really into games. Play them maybe too much. Are you good at them?"
lies, "Smith. Syl Smith." To give him something else to think about rather than her name she says, "But you can call me Sylvie, if you like. Some of my friends call me that." None do, but it's a way to give something to him - even if it's something fake.
"Sorry," Syl lies again. "I'll make sure to stay away from that. No need to worry." As she learns more and more she starts angling for a chance to take advantage of the things he is letting slip to her.
Syl has a casual, reminding air to her as she prods, "You mentioned food. We've been at this for a bit. Could you go grab it for us?"
Syl has every intention of taking advantage of what she knows while his back is turned and he is going away to get food, if he falls it. But mindful of his likely concern she switches tracks from the angle his mind will want to be on - protecting secrets. "I'll pull up the site for the Trove Barcade so you can check out the retro games they have there. I'm actually really really into games. Play them maybe too much. Are you good at them?"
Syl offers, "I bet you're good at them."
He's an analyst. He's good at data. Patterns. Information. People, not so much. Especially people like Syl. He's flustered, despite having a decade and more on her, in part because he knows, somewhere, that he's trapped. And so here's the cold, beautiful thing, all sharp edges and pretty eyes and he's not quite sure what to do with himself. So he listens. He acquiesces. "Smith. Uh..." That's odd. Doesn't fit. Not amongst Bella and Dmitri and 'Sylvie'. So Alexander buzzes, for a moment, struggling to process that one, till he's given the nickname, something to latch onto. "Sylvie. Yeah, sure. Alex, you can call me Alex. Easier that way."
Dmitri picks up on Syl's line of thinking, nods approvingly, his face briefly visible in the reflection on the computer screen, but he doesn't interfere. He won't. Not yet. When this is done, there'll be clean-up to do, and perhaps Syl should be a part of that, too, to see the 'other side' of the work the Family often needs to do. But for now, she's working, and working well. There'll be reports back, about how she's handled herself. But for now, right now, he watches her. Safeguarding. Paternalistic and protective. He gives a flicker of a nod as she finds an easy means to distract the Analyst.
"Uh...it's..." And then he's struck by it, and Bella, something akin to Alex in her way, says "Come, Alex. It is late. She is right. I have pelmini. Have you ever had it?" She's stunning, of course, and she's one of the Family's Faces, a distant relative of sorts to Syl, perhaps God-blooded, or Angelborn. And Alex is torn, between Syl's wishes and Bella's instructions, and both beckon up him and away from the terminal. "Y...Yeah, sure, no. I mean. I've had it, but, no, I haven't eaten it. I mean, here, tonight. That is." He nods, absent-mindedly, and lifts himself from the squished-into chair, pushing on Syl's shoulder to rise and go to the kitchen.
And join Bella.
And leave Syl alone. Unsupervised. "Oh...yeah. That'd be great, actually! I've got a few emulators installed on there. Run them when work's slow. You ever play the OLD Sonic games? Like, the platformers? I love those. Great hand-eye coordination there," and Bella's having him serve, turning him into her little Kitchen Helper. Syl has time, but not much.
And while Alex helps Bella in the kitchen, it's all before Syl. He'd been slowly parsing out the files passed across his desk, working remotely and on-site, as agents often do. He probably has a central, on-site HQ nearer here, perhaps in Boston, but he's out near Haven because Haven is where it all converges. Even the deeper branches of Interpol know that. So they sent Alexander, thinking he'd be fine. And the Family intercepted him, because amongst and amidst all the data he'd collected, there were some things tying them to the Hand, to the Temple, and to a variety of underground supernatural organizations and dealings of trafficking humans and angelborn, of pushing Vee and other drugs, and things that would be high crimes in the Venetian Courts. And it's all there for Syl. Either to be bundled up and away, thus leaving Alex with nothing to work on, or to be deleted, or crashed and burned. Some pathways would take longer than others, but all of them are there. To Solve the Problem, as the Head had told her on the phone.
Syl was playing a part in a way with 'Alex' being there. A girl learning, someone to tutor. As he pulls away and gives her space, she stops with the act and starts using the computer like she normally would. It isn't a slow and plodding way, using a trackpad to navigate. She's a gamer and reflexes and speed are important there. There's more to that than just moving quickly physically. There is an aspect to it which is about how something is done. So when she switches back toward the things that Alexander didn't want her checking out, she does it with a quick alt-tabbing and tabs to blur through the navigation, using keyboards shortcuts rather than a mouse.
Syl leaves behind the Trove website as she gets to work stopping the file decryption, finding the file itself and seeing it deleted, and using the access he had granted her to find the backup of that file on the Interpol computers so that it will be deleted there as well. She figures the copy there is what her family was really struggling to get at more than the one here. They had mentioned servers after all and it seemed the sort of thing that an Interpol agent might have been prepared to defend in a general way.
Syl hasn't actually played retro-Sega games. She's not from that generation. But she at least knows a little about the game. Enough to bullshit. "You mean the one with Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails? Yeah! That one's so good."
Syl smiles as she works.
Syl if she manages to finish - or think she does - would whine, "Oh no, I think I messed something up. You can fix it right?"
Syl would also, if she thought she had gotten things cleaned, wish..
Syl says "Please tell me you can?"
Bella keeps him busy for most of it, aware, at least, that Syl is working and working hard, even if neither she nor Dmitri know, exactly, WHAT it is Syl is doing. That's why she had been called in. The Family HAS hackers, but this lone, on-site terminal had to be accessed directly. And while Syl wasn't, perhaps, the most outright proficient member of the organization in that regard, she was capable, and she was close, and this was a Test. Of a lot of things. Her ability to seduce, to dissuade, to charm and put targets at ease. And to obfuscate, all while Getting the Job Done. Periodically, Alex looks back over his shoulder at Syl, curious, worried, but each time, she's fast, and each time, Bella catches him to bring him back with subtle, soothing tones to guide him to help her in the Kitchen.
And Dmitri has risen from his seat at the counter to stand as something of a bulwark and body guard, blocking Syl's work from easy view. He rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezes twice, and then thrice again, and otherwise says nothing. "Oh, ye-yeah, or, well, no. The original was just Sonic, but they introduced Tails later, in the second o-" And there's a gentle, teasing 'thwap' at his wrist, as Bella intones "No distractions. -Stir-. You do not want them to stick together," and he flushes, and nods, and looks back at what she has him cooking. And then... Syl purges it. And its backlog.
And then there's a warning chime on the computer, an alert, simply to indicate that something that was there, is now gone, and is that, truly, the action that the User wanted to do? A confirmation ping? And that seems to set Alex off. "W...what, wait? Wait, wait, wait stop!" And he bolts away from the kitchen to get to the computer cove with the terminal. He eyes Dmitri, realizes he can't barrel Syl off of his chair, and then tries to worm his way atop her, panicking outright. He's slamming at keys, all up in her personal space, panting and muttering to himself in German "..What...what did you...I told you to try running back the protocol. Why did ... how did you even get into...what's...." And then he's fully freaking out.
And that's when Dmitri lunges forward, puts Alex into a subduing chokehold, face utterly non-plussed as he slowly chokes the air out of the man's lungs. "Zolotse," he says, another pet name in a line full of them, "Is it done, da? Empty, cleared?"
Syl would definitely hit yes on the prompt to clear so that when Dmitri asks if it is done she can report, "Yeah."
Syl drawls, "File gone. It was important too wasn't it?" She makes a face at him, like she is sympathizing, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "You weren't supposed to lose it were you? But you're just so bad at things sometimes."
Syl offers, "You're such a loser. I didn't have to ask to know you were single. I knew." It might not be the most professional thing to say to a man being choked out, but she hurries to get it all out before the blackness claims him. When that void swallows him, she doesn't want him to have an ounce of hope in him. There is no softness to her gaze, no kindness to it. Just icy, hateful little pits, eager to see him hurt.
Syl has an eager, tense energy to her, excited and happy. Its in the way she leans forward even if it isn't the cold glare.
Syl looks up to Dmitri, who has been with her so often, as if seeking approval.
It all cascades downwards from there, because Alex absolutely doesn't have the strength to fight Dmitri. He goes to protest, and he goes to try to push back. "...I...I-" Dmitri has him by a chokehold, so he's losing air, and losing it fast. But he sees it in Syl's eyes. It's important to her. And so he loosens, a little. Just a little. And Alex -breaks-. Freaking out, loudly panicking, flailing at Syl and his terminal and saying "...Yes! Yes it was important, how the hell could you do that, you stupid, stupid idiot! You're not getting into Brown! They'll fail you out, you can't even manage a simple deco-" And Dmitri holds him tighter till he goes 'GRK!' with the effort.
He eyes her, then, his brow raised, silently. As tears form in Alex's eyes, out of desperation. Fear. He doesn't want to die. He also doesn't want to get fired. Or worse. He's let these people into his safehouse and they've ruined EVERYTHING. And though he can barely breathe, he's weeping, in silence, shaking in Dmitri's very, very strong arms. And Dmitri turns the man to face Syl and says, simply, "...It is yours, princessa. Make the choice. There is not, necessarily, a wrong one."
Syl forces herself to take a deep breath and fight the urge to make the man's night worse.
Syl forces herself to take another breath.
Syl says, "They didn't have it decrypted yet. He'd probably be most useful to the Family if we helped him hide what happened here. Gave him something to give to his bosses and say he got from the file. I want to kill him, but that would be my pride talking. Fucker touched me. Family would be better off with another Asset."
"Good." It is all Dmitri says, slowly choking Alex out till the man goes unconscious. He lays him onto the couch, then and looks to Bella, saying "You handle that part. She has made a good decision. Now it is time I take her home." Bella nods, eying the unconscious man on the couch, before rolling her eyes and beginning to finish up in the kitchen. Dmitri reaches for Syl's hand, then, and says "Fantastic work, businka. Come. Let's get you home. It is very late, and it is a long, long drive."