6/4 - Will
- Will Drake has been cleared.
6/4/2009
Logfile from Emma.
=XF= Room - Administration - Chemekata Military Base
The room that has been taken over for Emma's scanning is still plusher than norm, though the snacks have been cut back, and there are sigs that the visit is winding down. Pillows are slowly drifting back to their original rooms, and a table holds more evidence of business oversight than mental oversight. But the blonde business tycoon is ready and waiting for her next appointment, dressed in a wrap dress that clings to the curve of waist and hip.
Will knocks on the door and then enters. It closes with a short click behind him while he steps in and looks at the room. At the moment he's wearing his standard jeans, overshirt, and undershit. His shoes are a little nicer, though, and he doesn't smell like sulfer from the shooting range. "Afternoon," he says easily.
Emma appreciates not smelling like sulfer. Really, she does. "Come in," she replies, almost absentmindedly in the face of preparations for the scan. Her smile is habitual and certainly looks sincere as she glances at him and waves him toward a seat. "Drake, isn't it?" She shifts, moving her hair off her shoulder.
"Yes. Most everyone calls me Will," he replies by way of introduction. After walking to the seat he sits down and crosses one leg over the other. He rests his chin against his knuckles and adds, "We met once before, a good while ago, in an office in NYC."
Emma stops in her progress toward the other chair near his and looks back at him, eyes narrowed and curious. Curious, at least, until recognition dawns and both irritation and long-since reconciled resignation come to the fore. "Oh. Yes. Of course. You'll forgive me for not remembering earlier. I was rather preoccupied at the time." She finishes the path to the chair and makes a little show of sitting and folding one leg over the other.
Will nods briefly and pauses. His attention doesn't drift below her chin. "Those were eventful days. So. Tell me what I should do during the procedure," he replies.
'Just sit back, relax, and let me take you for a ride?' -- In his dreams. Emma's lips twitch and she folds her hands on her knee, then says "Just relax and think back to your time on the ranch. I'll handle the rest." She lowers her shields and settles back.
"I'll do my best," Will replies. He leans back a little and watches her calmly. -- Will's surface thoughts are filled with an image of a dusty cave, surrounded by sand. A voice says, 'Step slowly, turn, fire twice, retreat.' The image begins to fade, though, into the more familiar Colorado setting. The voice remains, if just faintly.
Emma's powers settle into his mind swiftly and efficiently, slipping past surface thoughts into the deeper reaches where control over what is found is harder to maintain. She pauses at the voice, examining it for its mental signature, but ultimately leaves it as she progresses on.
Will taps his cheek while he watches the woman. Who knows what she's doing in there!? -- There are lots of distant howls in Will's memories. Distant screams of terror, foreign tongues yelling, gunshots echoing in darkness... But the voice seems to drown most of it out. It's a concentration, a focus. And, of course, it's Will's. Supposing she passes over most things, eventually an image of a terryfing man, standing outside of The Mine, appears. Will stares at him through a scoped rifle as darkness begins to cling around him. The memory is particularly strong: echoing voices of terror and a sense of dread fill Will's thoughts. Dread and fear are not emotions he experiences often, and he seems about ready to lose it in the memory. Somehow, though, he regains his cool, or all the cool he can muster, to shoot the fiend in the gut.
Emma stutters in her search as his control falters, and she diverts enough of her power to help reinforce it. << Very masculine, >> she notes of the image, then slides away, searching further, leaving an impression of something light and slightly burning, like menthol in his brain.
Will closes his eyes and then blinks them repeatedly after the burn. He wipes his brow and inhales slowly. -- The memory swiftly shifts to inside The Mine. In front of Will, who runs down an old corridor, is Sal. Rocks fly down toward her after a barrage of blasts from a shotgun, held by a man on the mine's floor. Will keeps the rocks from showering Sal and runs forward to watch the owner of the shotgun get blasted by a ray of light from Alex. The result is a burned face, screams, and shouts. To Will, the disfigured face is quite like the terryfing visage of the man seen earlier.
Emma backpeddles swiftly from the mental image, sharing a sense of both disgust and callous disregard for the life. The memories show no taint of lingering telepathic control, so she has no desire to see them, or compassion to care.
<< That's all that come to mind >>. Will lets his mind drift blankly. Images pop up here and there of the ranch, but nothing significant. There's the burned and crushed image of Jeff being hosed off by Will, of course, and Kitty beating the crap out of Percy and Pete, but not much else that, for Will at least, is exciting.
Emma dips down even further, momentarily, to ensure there was nothing hidden at the level of Kelsey's compulsion, then pulls out swiftly. She looks tired and pale, but composed as she opens her eyes and tells him "You're clean."
"Thank you," Will replies. He pauses for awhile and watches her carefully. He taps his knee for a moment, then adds, "Do you need to rest?"
Emma lifts her head and gives him a cool, direct look that breaks into a bemused smile. "Why? Do you have more you want to show me?" she asks, tone laced with dangerous invitation that may or may not be anywhere near sincere.
Will smirks and laughs softly for just a moment. "I don't think there's much in there you'd find entertaining. No. I actually want to ask you a question. When I shot at that man, the man with the terrifying face, I thought he was this identified Forouk man who inhabited Garringer's body, the powerful telepath we encountered. I shot him in the stomach. However, a day later, I discovered I had actually shot Jeff, his partner. My question is: do you think it is possible Forouk made me think he was actually Jeff so that I would not fire on him? Is it at least possible?"
Emma's face stills and turns serious as he explains the event and questions the Shadow King's abilities. "Anything is possible with this particular entity," she answers softly, her attention and focus turned inward, momentarily exposing the vulnerability of self-doubt and regret. She glances over at him and adds, "He is very old, and very cunning, and his overriding goal has always been survival."
Will listens and nods slowly. "I admit: he's one tough son of a bitch." Will sighs and stands, then steps to the side. "Once again, thank you," he says with a short nod. Afterward, he turns to depart.
Emma's brows twitch, and the amusement leaks into her expression, but she says nothing to forestall him.
Will's brain is very masculine.