GARGOYLES: Re-Awakening

Alliances: 1

The parking garage was damp and dimly lit. There was the occasional echo of a car door, followed by the slight screech of tires. This, Elisa thought to herself, is so cliché.

She was standing in the basement parking garage of the building that housed the New York Telegraph, possibly the city's most notorious tabloid. She'd been there about twenty minutes when the door to the stairs finally opened and the person she was waiting for walked through. As he arrived at the trunk of his car, Elisa approached.

"Mr. Reed, may I have a word?"

"Geez!" He jumped an inch back, startled by her sudden appearance. He looked her up and down, with a look of fear and incredulity mixed around his eyes. "You're sneaking up on journalists in parking garages now, Detective? What, is this your next round of intimidation and press silencing?"

Elisa responded with an eye-roll. "Get over yourself, Reed. We both do what we do, I get it. You scored your points on that armored car story and I hope it got you whatever praise you're hoping for at this rag you work at. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to offer you something bigger."

Reed raised an eyebrow, looking her once more up and down with a skeptical face. "Oh really? And just why would you want to help me?" he asked, not really asking but rather accusing.

Elisa knew his game, and she could play it. "I'm not interested in helping you. I want something in return, obviously. The question is, are you smart enough to take it?" She was looking at him hard, putting him on the spot.

"I'm listening," he said finally.

"You got your cheap story about terrorism and the cops trying to keep it quiet. There won't be anything more for you on that story because as I told you before, this wasn't done by terrorists," Elisa said.

"Ya, so you claimed before," Reed responded. "You come down here to feed me more of that?"

"No," Elisa responded. "I came down here to give you a crack at having the exclusive on what was in that truck, who stole it, and what it could mean not just for the security of the city, but maybe, just maybe, for the security of the nation." She waited a moment to let that sink in. "It's a big story Reed," she continued. "I don't know how far it goes but I'm getting the sense that if we're both lucky, it could be a career maker—for both of us."

Elisa didn't care about career boosts, but she knew he would. Reporters were always looking for a way to break through, to be noticed. If a reporter could make a name for himself, he could stop showing up at police crime scenes trying to sneak photos for hack pieces in the local tabloids. She knew it, and that's why she had decided roughly an hour ago that this play just might work. Reed finally broke the silence.

"Assume for a moment I decided to believe that," he said. "What exactly are you proposing?"

Elisa took a step forward. She knew he'd taken the bait. "I know what was in the van. I know why it was important and I have a prime suspect. We're talking about a story that involves Cyberbiotics, one of the nation's most prestigious and secretive corporations, that involves a piece of tech with implications that are global, and that involves one of the most visible personalities in the country. You could be writing the story. You."

Reed shifted onto one foot. He may have been writing stories for tabloids, but he was actually not a bad reporter. He had a sense when people were telling him the full story and when they weren't. His instinct told him Elisa was being straight with him.

"I'm still waiting to hear what you're proposing," he said.

Elisa was glad he wasn't making it too easy. She needed to know that he was for real, meaning that he would do some actual diligence.

"I need you to agree that you'll follow through on this story and not go off half-cocked with some trash piece for the Telegraph. Can you do that?"

"I'm a real reporter detective. We all do the things we need to get paid, but I'm always looking for the real story. You may not like what I wrote the other day, but the fact is, I relayed the situation you gave me with one-hundred percent accuracy. You want to correct the record, I'm all ears."

Elisa thought about it for a moment, then decided he was worth the risk.

"What was taken from that van was an advanced piece of A.I.," she said.

"A.I." Reed repeated. "As in, artificial intelligence?"

"Yes," Elisa responded. "And you know what people worry about when it comes to A.I."

"Sure," Reed said, in a tone that revealed he was not yet the least bit impressed. "People worry it's going to come alive and go all Terminator on us. So what?"

"Back it up a step," Elisa replied. "The living A.I. robot monster stuff is for you teenage boys. The real concern in the serious circles is that A.I. would make it dramatically easier for humans to kill other humans. Like, push of a button easy. It could turn systematic slaughter into an automated system."

"I still don't see where you're..." Reed started but was cut off.

"Xanatos stole it," Elisa said.

There was a silence in the parking lot. Elisa thought she could hear the drip of a leaky pipe, but she knew that might just be her imagination going along with the cliché.

"Think about it," she continued. "A weapon of terrifying potential, developed by Cyberbiotics, now in the hands of their chief rival who just so happens to be the world's most charming sociopath. You get where this is going yet, Reed?"

"You have proof of this?" He asked.

"That's where you come in," was her answer.

Reed set his bag on the trunk of the car. "Ok, so let me see if I'm understanding this. You think there is some kind of terrible weapon which has now fallen into the hands of a private company, which, if I read you correctly, you are saying would be a national security risk. But, since you have no proof, you want what? Me to write about Cyberbiotics in the press, see if they'll panic or something?"

"No," Elisa said. "I want you to help me find proof."

"How exactly do you envision that?" Reed asked.

"You said you're a real reporter. Do you have contacts inside Xanatos Enterprises?"

"Sure," Reed said. "But none who would have the kind of position that would make them privy to this kind of scheme."

"That's why I'm the detective," Elisa said. "We don't need direct proof yet. We just need some indirect proof that might allow me to get a warrant. For that, we really just need a little inside information about the business. You do know someone who could help us with that, don't you?"

Reed squinted, considering her offer. Then he nodded. Well, Elisa thought to herself, you've finally partnered up with a reporter.

How cliché.