[center][color=black][b][sub][h1]Contingencies[/h1][/sub][/b][/color][/center]
8:30 a.m.
All Across the City of Brooklyn
October 30th, 2020
[hr]
A citrus sun rose above the city’s skyline. On this day in particular, there were an odd number of public transit vehicles parading the already dense streets of New York. Buses, trains, taxicabs, all of which had apparently divulged from their normal routes on this special occasion. Today, the kids of Brooklyn would be taking a city wide field trip, sponsored by an anonymous backer.

[u]Brooklyn Arts and Sciences Elementary School[/u]

“And that is how you do PEMDAS!” Miss Huckle chimed to her brimming class of third graders as some valiantly scribed the chalked math equation which sprawled the spacious green board at the front of the classroom while others threw paperballs at one another and passed notes demeaning their fellow classmates in secret. A man clad in long trench and matching slack swung open the door, creme fedora brim pushed back slightly to reveal his thinning hairline. It was detective David Ramsey, FBI. He’d come with a special message for Miss Huckle and her band of third graders,

“Miss Tabitha Huckle! David Ramsey,” he whipped the badge, federal bureau insignia etched on its face , “FBI, please escort yourself and your students to the playground.”

“B--” expectant of defiance, Ramsey sliced her speech before she could knit it,
“This is for the safety of you and your students, Miss Huckle, please do as I ask.” ever stern was 6’1 Ramsey.
“But, but you can’t take them now! I’m trying to teach! What is going on?!” Tabitha shot back, not one to be silenced swift,

David only glared. A cold quiet cleansed the room, stained only by the rising giddy of twenty four 3rd grade children deciphering the situation before them. Too lofty for their capacity of sense, half the class looked on with excitement--if it meant they got to leave class early instead of partake in another dreadful math problem, they would. The other half spurred disappointment; a correct answer on a math problem in Miss Huckle’s class meant candy for everyone! Stupid crises, they always ruined a good thing.

Scenes such as these played similar across the city as the afternoon waned. Principals sat dilapidated in their offices as disgruntled single mothers, fathers, and purveyors of classic nuclear families flooded the meager protection the principal’s office doors provided from such an encroaching threat. No matter how many times public and private school principals and deans hoped to assuage the ire of the parent body, there was no rest. Schools graced with less funding than the more prestigious Brooklyn Arts and Sciences Elementary who still used LAN line phones could not escape the seemingly endless ringing of the phone’s hook as it sat on their desks.

Around the city, kids of all age brackets were summarily stripped from classrooms and hauled onto the public transit system.  And visiting every classroom, knocking on every door, pulling out every strand of greying hair he had left, was Mr. Ramsey, FBI detective extraordinaire. He was not extraordinary today, though; no, today he was just annoyed. Annoyed at that goddamned Tiger.

[hr]

[b][u]October 30th, 2:02 PM
Kasimir Castle, Gotham City[/u][/b]

It had been a surprisingly good few days for Zoey Kasimir, especially considering her hate for early November months. Aside from unpleasant memories at this time of year, the entire city turned into a shit show of teenagers trying to be [i]edgy[/i] and too tough for their britches simultaneously. That wasn’t including the occasional lunatic off their meds who thought actual zombies were rising up - which, to be fair, you know this time he was actually right.

Plus, that certain chill that filled the air was creeping in. Zoey hated the cold.

However, none of that was on the billionaire’s mind currently. At the moment she was on the phone with Nicole, her personal assistant, checking and double checking that her little plan had gone off without a hitch. Well, as much as covering every grave in Gotham in concrete could. Charity work sure had changed since she was a kid.

[color=IndianRed]“Alright, so only the Rosier Cemetery is left… and it should be done by five, correct? Excellent. Has there been any reports of any undead rising?”[/color] She wasn’t expecting any, considering Jaina had sent her a quick text informing her of how quiet the last two nights had been. The first day, the 28th, had been laying down a mess of concrete over every grave - function over form. The past two days were cleaning everything up to be respectful to the dead, pouring more concrete and shaping it to create tasteful slabs.

[color=IndianRed]”Great, so make sure that I’m informed if - what was that?”[/color] A sudden honk, faint but still surprisingly close considering she was in the Castle, was Zoey’s first alert that something was wrong. The second was one of the servants hurrying to her, whispering to her that a bus was outside.

[i]What?[/i]

And the third, and final part, was her intercom coming to life. Zoey flicked her phone to the custom app to accept the intercom call after informing Nicole she’d call her back, staring at the video feed of a well dressed man.

“FBI.”

David better not have done something stupid at school today.

[hr]

Gotham’s cold was no better than Brooklyn’s at this time of year; Ramsey’s stylish trenchcoat no match for nearing winter winds. He buried wrinkling hands into his coat pockets before speaking into the intercom,

“This is the ___ residence, yes?” Marvin had given Ramsey strict orders not to use Zoey’s real name, for her own protection and for his.

Ramsey continued, “I have--” the rustling of paper, what sounded like a small and single notecard fold blossoming into one large sheet, “I have a ‘gift’ for you from a ‘distant friend’ in five. . .” the sound of more wheels stopping, “or more parts. Yes, one-two-th… yes, yes. I was told this is where I should drop off this ‘donation’.” David began to wonder whether or not this was a drug deal merely disguised as hero work. Marvin was not the finest coder of language, written or verbal. Given recent events, Marvin wanted to keep everything secret, even the way he spoke to others--in this case, one Zoey Kasimir, the only person Marvin believed he could trust.

A screech, the doors to the several buses opened; some children dressed in coats, some not--all of whom stood in Gotham’s blistering cold, huddled together. At the head of the amassing pack of presschoolers and middle schoolers was their patron saint, Ramsey. He hoped there was some ounce of grace in this ‘dog’ person Marvin told him about; why exactly Marvin referred to her as a dog Ramsey was unaware, nor did he care. All he wanted was for these kids to find safety and warmth; he hoped he could find some for himself as well.

Behind him, Ramsey heard the chattering of teeth, the cries of kindergarteners and ushered some of the chaperones to escort the smallest children and those without jackets onto the bus.

For a long moment Zoey could only stare at the video feed being streamed onto her smartphone, at the well-dressed man, the bus behind him with a multitude of children, at the [i]utter catastrophe unfolding in front of her gate[/i]. Finally, with a lifetime of grace and well-bred manners, the billionaire responded in the most appropriate way.

[color=IndianRed]”What the [i]fuck[/i]?”[/color] There was so, [i]so[/i] much wrong with this scenario. For a moment Zoey was even tempted to turn them away, but … trap or not, she couldn’t just [i]leave[/i] the children in this person’s care without knowing his intention. For all she knew the whole bus was loaded with bombs and this was Anarkee’s next big ploy. Something about the ‘FBI Agent’, or more specifically the message he was delivering, bothered her. The thought of it just pecked at the back of her brain, urging her to read into the situation more closely.

Finally the billionaire huffed, irritation coursing through her veins. A quick flick of a button in the bottom right corner of her phone had the gates unlocking, before swinging open with a flourish to provide access to her Castle’s magnificent lawn. It was a stupid idea just letting him in, but to be honest Zoey would never allow him to be turned away with a bus load of children either.

[color=IndianRed]”Approach, we’ll talk at the front.”[/color] With that Zoey cut off the intercom and rose, pacing quickly to the front. A quick text to Nicole to take care of the graves was sent off, followed by one to her chef letting him know to prepare… a very large amount of snacks.

This better not be more magic bullshit.

Ramsey waited for the gates leading to the mansion’s front doors to open. Once they did, he lead the procession of confused, tired, restless children to the entrance of their resting place. He waited for Zoey to approach before he spoke,

“Mrs. Dog, one of our… mutual” he spat the word with disgust, “friends is having a bit of a problem. Under no other circumstances would something like this occur, I assure you. Inside, if you will? The little ones are beginning to annoy me.” Ramsey was not a man with tremendous patience for one with his line of work, but for the sake of the children, today he would ring the last bit of patience from himself to assure the safety of those in his charge. The children stood a long shadow cast from Ramsey’s back, eyes wide gazing up and across the wide architecture of the castle’s front.

“In, in, shall we? The little ones are cold.” As was Ramsey himself, but now he could only wait.

[i]Dog[/i].

Zoey’s eyebrow twitched, her teeth gritting together as all at once she was filled with a wave of irritation. She knew [i]exactly[/i] who sent this gaggle of children now. While the part of her that was coiled and waiting for a trap relaxed, her shoulders had tensed now knowing the sender of her ‘gift’, as the FBI Agent had put it. One of the most brilliant men she knew, and the one who had the ability to step all over her nerves so easily.

He still hadn’t apologized for the window!

[color=IndianRed]“Inside, then,”[/color] With a short nod of her head Zoey turned on her heel to retreat back up the short set of steps and passed the double doors. As soon as she was inside Dan was looking to her curiously, and her nod to him was much stiffer. [color=IndianRed]”Guests. Henry is making snacks for them - get them set up … somewhere. Wherever you need to make them comfortable. Call in the other staff if you need more hands.”[/color] The billionaire took a few paces before stopping, glancing over her shoulder.

[color=IndianRed]”When David comes home from school let him know I don’t know yet, either.”[/color] The last part was stated in a very flat tone before Zoey moved ahead, gesturing the Agent to follow her. She honestly couldn’t remember his name, despite having gotten it less than ten minutes ago. She never had a head for names.

Having the feeling this wasn’t for prying ears of small children Zoey led the Agent to a small office on the bottom floor, obviously one not regularly used considering how spartan it was, but clean and secure. Shutting the door behind him Zoey none the less took a moment to sweep over the room, paranoid as she was, before turning back to him expectantly.

Ramsey’s steps were hurried, though there was yet no apparent danger. Once inside the small office, Ramsey did away with his long trenchcoat, hanging it atop the headrest of a nearby chair. Now donning a tan dress shirt and brown suspenders, Ramsey resembled a classic 40s noir detective. Never one to disrespect etiquette, Ramsey removed his hat and let it rest upon the table positioned in front of the chair where his coat hung. An admirant of scenery, Ramsey surveyed the room; his eyes reflecting interest and fatigue. He had been in so many board rooms, offices, and meetings in the last four days and they were all beginning to look the same.

If Ramsey stood idle in one spot for too long, he may have toppled over. Sleep escaped him, nights joined together as a chain; the worry for the safety of the children outside these gothic doors of this castle intensified the gradual incline of dismay he was beginning to feel for his own son. To keep busy before he spoke, Ramsey latched his shirt’s wrist cuffs undone and peeled them to his elbow and then began,

“Kids are disappearing. Three abductions this week. Ten this month. We still don’t know who or what the hell is behind any of this. Our friend has asked me to reach out to you and inform you to keep these kids safe while he--we, while we investigate the matter.” Ramsey, for the sake of remaining awake, began to pace about.

“Coffee? You got any?” he finished.

For a moment, Zoey could only stare at the Agent opposite her. Brows furrowed, the corners of her lips downturned, eyes narrowed. He was being serious. He was being [i]serious.[/i]

[color=IndianRed]“So the solution to kids disappearing was to pack up a couple dozen - no, there had to have been at least a few [i]hundred[/i] kids there, and send them to me?!”[/color] The billionaire raised her hands, rubbing at her face. Now was not a good time for these… these shenanigans! The Agent’s words had the redhead glancing up, examining the man before her with a cold gaze. He seemed exhausted, a man running on his last legs. Ten children disappearing in a month - it was no wonder, even if she thought this was ridiculous.

[color=IndianRed]“... Yeah, sure.”[/color] Retrieving her phone once more Zoey’s slender fingers tapped out a quick text message to her chef, followed by swapping to disable the more dangerous defenses set up deep in her home. Children had the tendency to get into things they weren’t supposed to. With that done she deposited the phone in her pocket once more, her painted nails soon playing at the cuff of her white button up.

[color=IndianRed]“I [i]can[/i] house the children, if you both consider this the safest method.”[/color] Zoey finally admitted. Her jaw rolled as she considered her words. [color=IndianRed]“My home is fortified and monitored. I can have the staff assist. What of their parents?”[/color] A knock at the door, typical of her swift order, had Zoey turning. Her muscles coiled as she put her back to the Agent, but she none the less unlocked the door and took the offered tray with a short nod.

The door closed once more the billionaire set the tray of coffee, two cups, cream and sugar on the desk and gestured him to it, before once more resuming her position of standing back to a corner of the room.

[color=IndianRed]“Blue mountain, strong. You look like you need it. I don’t suppose this can count as a tax write off, huh?”[/color] The last part was stated dryly, as Zoey relented to the absolutely [i]insane[/i] idea. At least it wasn’t as bad as breaking her windows.

It didn’t take him any time to engulf the entirety of the Blue mountain coffee. Dead eyes strum awake; the change in chemical balance was so rapid that his hairs would have stood up on his body from excitement if they could. But he was a hairless man. Awakened, the dull drag of his tone changed to one more involved--a glimpse of what he was when well rested,

“I might be able to work something out!” a smile,
“Back on topic, Davey, back on topic, back on topic! Uh,” he rustled a hand through his brown hair,
“Yeah, right! Our mutual friend doesn’t know how long these kids are going to have to remain here. Their parents will be here shortly. Whatever this threat is, it has no interest in the parents. We aren’t sure how aggressive this kidnapper is, so they may come here once they figure out the ruse. I advise you to be ready, but something tells me I don’t need to advise you of that at all.” David finished.

David finally took a seat.

“If there is anything you need, our mutual friend advises you to let him know. He says he is willing to repay you in equal parts for this favor.”

[color=IndianRed]”I’ll be ready,”[/color] Was the immediate, dangerous response. Zoey lifted her head, crimson bangs falling into her face as she gazed back at the Agent. [color=IndianRed]”Of that you and our … friend, can be assured. I will protect them as though they were my own two sons. Nothing will be a threat to these children while they’re within these walls.”[/color]

A crash came from beyond the walls, followed by a child’s yelling protests.

[color=IndianRed]”... Except each other.”[/color]