News Special: An evening with Trask

[Trask]

Secretary Trask sat behind his desk and methodically worked his way through the stack of papers that had been waiting for him when he arrived. Reports, reviews and expenses. All of it relevant, all of it important. He paid particular attention to a report filed by the Baltimore Police Department concerning a girl who had apparently come back from the dead in the aftermath of the NovaTeX incident.

He set that one aside.

The rest were mostly detailed notes on the Sentinel performance, the state of the department finances and reviews of expenditure on the Chukchi Project.

Then the phone rang. The black one, not the red one.

"Trask," he said simply as he put the receiver to his ear.

"No Karen I haven't," his PA at the desk outside.

"I'll have a look," he picked up the little remote and flicked on the small, wall-mounted television.

" ... Kennedy going by the name of Guardian apparently saved the day from a bug-like mutant in the middle of the restaurant. We have so far been unable to get any comment from a Ms. Madelyne Pryor who apparently works for Mr. Kennedy but we will expand on this story as it develops."

The woman displayed on the screen bore a striking resemblance to the deceased Jean Grey, so much so that Trask had to double-take to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Then he frowned and clicked the screen off again. This was exactly what he had been afraid of.

"Thank you Karen," he rumbled into the phone, "could you get Simmons and the science team transport down to Baltimore, he'll have a copy of the relevant report faxed to him within an hour. He needs to liaise with the local police department regarding the aftermath of the NovaTeX incident."

In the office outside, the PA dutifully scribbled down the notes in shorthand. Working for Bolivar Trask tended to go in short but very intensive bursts.

"Yes sir," she replied as her boss finished rattling off his orders, "was there anything else sir?"

She listened, pen working furiously as further notes were scribbled down.

"Which reporter sir?"

"At Dr. Sidney's conference? That would be Trish Tilby sir, she works for WNBC."

"Yes sir, I'll arrange a meeting for you."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

In his office Trask hung up the phone. This needed to be nipped in the bud before it could get too out of hand. The reporter, Trish, had asked good questions at the conference, reasonable questions.

Questions he would have asked if he had been her.

Who better to give the word to the masses.

[trish]

"Paul, I'm supposed to be getting on a plane in..." He interrupted, insisting that she go back to the hotel and get cracking on this Kennedy story. Apparently it was all happening right now, and she wasn't there. Her regular cameraman wasn't with her, because he hadn't been needed at the White House, and Trish tried to use that as an excuse as well.

"I don't want you to set me up with one of the other... Oh, I've got another call, I'll ring you back."

And so it was that Trish Tilby was almost - almost - testy to the personal assistant of Bolivar Trask. Thankfully, she was well practiced enough that she didn't allow the tension to enter her voice, but her usual greeting was cut down to a short, "Trish Tilby."

Blinking at an entirely unexpected introduction, Trish pulled out her notebook. "Certainly. Yes. What time?" Taking down the information from Trask's PA, she murmured, "Thank you, yes, I'll see you there." Hanging up, Trish phoned her ex-husband.

"Send me the cameraman. I'm interviewing Bolivar Trask."

She actually thought that he might have exploded on the other end of the line.

*********************

Several hours later, Trish and the local cameraman for the network - his name was Jerry, which for some reason bothered her - turned up at the office of the Secretary of Homeland Defence.

Giving Jerry a look that plainly said, 'I hope you're ready for this,' Trish extended her hand to the personal assistant. "Patricia Tilby. I hope I'm not too early." They'd arrived quite early expecting security to go over the van thoroughly. They'd still managed to arrive at his office with five minutes to spare.

[Trask]

Karen had glanced at her watch as the reporter and cameraman made their entrance and allowed herself a tiny smile of satisfaction. She was on time, a good first impression as far as Mr. Trask was concerned. He had no time for people who couldn't keep to a schedule, particularly if it interfered with his.

Clearly Ms. Tilby had allowed herself plenty of time for the security issues. Nicely done.

"Good afternoon Ms. Tilby, Karen Harding," she shook the offered hand and re-seated herself.

"One moment."

The PA picked up the phone and punched a couple of buttons. It only rang twice before it was answered.

"Sir? Ms. Tilby from WNBC has arrived, shall I buzz her in?"

"Yes sir, right away sir."

She hung the phone up and pressed a concealed button beneath the desk. There was an audible click from the door.

"Go on in Ms. Tilby, I'll have some refreshments brought up for you," she gave her a bright smile, "and no, you're not too early, Mr. Trask likes punctuality."

[trish]

"Thank you." Not entirely sure what to expect, Trish smoothed her skirts to get rid of an imagined piece of fluff and entered the room. She was well presented, as always - a black skirt and blazer over a white shirt, simple and always classy - but she was unprepared, and indeed felt underdressed, for the appearance of Bolivar Trask.

She should have realised. Every time the man appeared in public he was wearing his full uniform, and this was no exception. He wears it to work? Her features remained smooth.

"Patricia Tilby. I must say, this is an unexpected honour."

Stop butt-kissing.

Nothing wrong with a bit of butt-kissing when the guy could have your whole family thrown in jail.

Her face showed no sign of her internal squabble.

She hoped that Jerry had the sense to start setting up. Trish got the feeling that Secretary Trask wasn't the type to take kindly to delays. Why did I have to leave Mike in New York?

[Trask]

Trask favoured her with a smile and eased his heavy frame from behind the desk in order to shake her hand. At his full height Bolivar Trask towered over the reporter and at almost double her weight he seemed to dwarf her with his presence. It was something he used to his advantage when he wanted to assert his authority.

Now however was not one of those times. He had no intention of intimidating a reporter.

"Likewise Ms. Tilby, though not so unexpected on my part, please, take a seat," he gestured to the leather armchair by his desk and returned to the comfort of his own position.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the cameraman setting up his equipment with practised efficiency. Good, very good.

"I must say I was impressed with the way you handled yourself at Dr. Sidney's conference," he complimented, "you struck to the heart of the important issues without getting bogged down in the more mundane dross that some of the tabloids seem to enjoy focusing on."

The sentiment was not so much hot air to set her at ease, it was genuine feeling. Too much of the news these days focused on the petty and the trivial; celebrity marriages, boy band drug overdoses and soap opera drama.

[trish]

"Thank you." She sat down, allowing herself a moment to admire the furniture and note that Jerry was doing his job. Good.

"I report the news, Secretary Trask, and I don't consider the relationship status of new appointments to be news when there are more important things going on in the country."

Unfortunately, in Trish's mind, that had been what most of the reporters had been concentrating on - the sort of drivel that should be reserved for the gossip column, not a White House press conference.

"And there certainly is a lot going on lately, isn't there?" From the big things like Baltimore to the little things like this local hero in Caldecott County. There was more and more mutant news every day, to the extent where Trish would be surprised if they didn't start getting mutant-only news programs. It seemed like every day there was something else that she needed to check into - she even had a message on her phone to call a source in Baltimore, who wanted to speak to her about a survivor from the NovaTeX incident. A zombie survivor. Which was, in a way, a contradiction in terms.

She noted that Jerry was all set up and wondered if Trask would get straight down to business or if they'd continue exchanging pleasantries for a time. She had a feeling that it would be the former.

[Trask]

"More and more Ms. Tilby, which is why it's so important that news abouts mutant issues is accurately reported don't you think?" There was no threat or hidden menace in the rhetorical question. It was a simple statement of fact.

He glanced up at the cameraman who gave a small smile and a thumbs-up.

Trask took that as his cue that the interview could begin.

"I thought it would be good to shed a little more light on the Baltimore incident, perhaps dispel some of the rumours and solidify some of the facts. I will also do my best to answer any further questions you might have about current affairs, though I do not pretend to have all the answers."

He smiled and settled back into the chair.

"Where would you like to start?"

[trish]

"That sounds fantastic. I agree, it is important that the American people get an accurate representation of the facts." She paused for a moment. Should she ask it? It was very tempting - Trish wondered just how Trask felt about the new Secretary of Mutant Affairs.

"I've been to Baltimore, and seen the destruction. I don't suppose you could confirm the presence of the X-Men?" She looked almost hopeful before shaking her head and continuing.

"It seems obvious that the problem posed by the Brotherhood of Mutants," she carefully omitted the word 'evil' that so many of the tabloids like to plug in there, "has become too much for local police departments to handle. Could you elaborate on the Sentinel program? Dr. Sidney implied that there were ... glitches."

[Trask]

Trask nodded his head, "indeed, there were some unexpected occurrences during the incident but we have since been able to carry out a full diagnostic and thorough examination the video footage. I'm pleased to say that all of the Sentinel frames operated both within their mandate and exceeded our expectations in the field."

He pulled a file from beneath his desk and flipped it open.

"The pilots had very specific orders to pacify and detain only those mutants that were actively aggressive or resisted the efforts of the local security forces."

He flipped through another few pages.

[trish]

"Eyewitness reports have told us that it wasn't only the Brotherhood who were being targeted." She didn't press the issue, not wanting to hear the same excuses.

"Could you elaborate on the video footage taken from the Sentinel frames? We have yet to be shown any proof that John Allerdyce was even present at NovaTeX Baltimore, and I believe his alleged leadership of the Brotherhood of Mutants is the reason for his position at the head of the FBI's most wanted list?" She'd left her notebook and pen in the car, and it took a supreme effort of willpower not to start fidgeting. Trish hadn't started out in front of the camera, she'd started out writing for the prompters, and old habits die hard. She felt strange without her usual tools.

[Trask]

"That's true, the Sentinel's do not exist simply to counter the threat of the Brotherhood, they exist to protect mankind, human and mutant, from those mutants that would take the law into their own hands."

He had an idea of the the woman was driving at and he admired her for not forcing a confrontation. The government stand-point was quite clear; they would not acknowledge the existence of the X-Men as mutant group. To do so would lend weight to the idea of mutant vigilantism.

"With regard to St. John Allerdyce," he flipped another page in the file and drew out a picture lifted directly from the Alpha Seven video feed.

"I think this should both confirm the presence of the young man who calls himself Pyro and justify his position at the top of the most wanted."

The shot was obviously of the burning interior of the NovaTeX warehouse and showed a heavily soot stained Pyro amidst the wreckage. There was also a second figure present in the photograph and though his face was clearly visible, the black leather suit Trask knew he was wearing was well obscured by the flames and debris. He had picked this shot for exactly that reason.

[trish]

For once in her life, Trish Tilby was speechless.

Yes, actually speechless.

Her eyebrows were raised at the picture he was holding up to her, her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but no sound would come out.

Robert 'Bobby' Drake. The Iceman.

Trish was extremely familiar was the identity of every X-Man that they had pictures of, which was basically her job. She was the mutant news guru at WNBC, and she got all sorts of crackpot call and tips and tapes forwarded to her, but sometimes she hit gold. Apparently, this kid was actually doing an interview with Teen People magazine or the like. Perhaps not.

The shot could be taken a few ways, but it didn't seem like Iceman was making any attempts at stopping Pyro.

"Yes." She finally managed to get a word out, her voice sounding somewhat scratchy, and she cleared her throat delicately. "Yes, I believe that does the trick."

Should I?

Maybe when the camera is off.

"I'm told that one of the Sentinel operators - a Captain Greg Moramos - perished in the Warehouse behind NovaTeX. My sympathies to his wife and child." It was an opportunity for a public tribute, if he wished to take it.

[Trask]

Trask nodded sadly.

"It is the sad truth that Captain Moramos was killed in the line of duty during the Baltimore conflict. Our hearts go out to his family and they have our deepest sympathies. He was a good man and a good soldier who died defending his nation against the threat of terrorism."

He bowed his head solemnly.

"Though it is small consolation for those he has left behind, the President himself has posthumously awarded Captain Moramos the Purple Heart for his courage."

[trish]

Nodding, Trish made a mental note to get a picture of Captain Moramos. Preferrably in full military dress.

Bobby Drake. Her mind was still reeling from the picture that he'd shown her, and she stayed silent for a moment in respect for the dead. It was hard to add to that kind of memorial.

When an appropriate amount of time had passed, Trish cast her mind to something other than Bobby Drake to ask Trask about.

"I know that it is extremely recent news, but do you know anything about Kyle Kennedy?" She wondered what kind of angle Trask would have on the story. Kennedy could be seen as a hero or a vigilante depending on the viewpoint, and she had a feeling that his behaviour in relation to the media would determine how most of the country saw him. Apparently, from what she'd been able to gather while preparing for this interview, he was an ad executive, so it was likely that he'd know how to generate the right spin.

[Trask]

"The news of Mr. Kennedy's daring rescue only recently reached my desk and so I shall reserve judgment until such time as all the details have come to light."

He paused, knowing that was an appalling answer. Hedging, he would have called it if he had been on the other side of the table. He pondered his position for a moment.

"If it is simply a case of a have-a-go hero then his actions are to be applauded, if a little extreme. I would be curious to know if there was any way the 'Bug-man'," he used the term with a slightly quirked eyebrow, "could have been brought in without killing him, but I'm sure the FBI have that side of the case well in hand."

He paused a moment and considered carefully.

"If Mr. Kennedy intends to make a career out of his new found 'super-hero' status then we may have to take further steps. This administration cannot and will not condone vigilante action on anybodies part, human or mutant."

He added one final thought to his assessment.

"I don't like to think that this was some sort of publicity stunt. A man died. If it turns out that this was some sort of television set-up, the consequences will be severe for all of those involved."

[trish]

One eyebrow raised slightly, the barest quirk of a muscle, at Trask's first answer. Obviously he'd realised what it sounded like, because he decided to elaborate. Which was a good thing - Trish was not going to try browbeating the Secretary of Defence into giving her a proper answer. Not that she liked browbeating anyone, if she could avoid it. But people responded to different tactics.

"Of course, and I'm sure the FBI will examine the situation very carefully." She crossed her legs and thought of another question.

"So in light of this no-tolerance policy for vigilantes of any kind, are the Sentinels going to be enough protection for the American people? Transporting them in is all well and good in a large scale situation like Baltimore, but what about your general everyday situations?"

[Trask]

Trask steepled his fingers and smiled.

"After the Baltimore incident I had cause to ask exactly that question Ms. Tilby and while I can't answer you directly at this time I can advise you that it might be worth your while staying in Washington, at least until tomorrow morning, you might miss something important otherwise."

His expression revealed nothing.

"See if you can get a hotel close to the White House."

The announcement was due in time to make the morning news and Bolivar Trask had decided that he liked Ms. Tilby. She asked the right questions, didn't force an issue and cut through the crap most reporters seemed to dwell upon.

[trish]

That was an odd kind of tip to get, especially on camera. She nodded mutely and stood, offering her hand to Trask.

"Thank you very much for your time, Secretary Trask." They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries again before Jerry flipped the switch on the camera.

"That's a wrap." Yep, that was why she hadn't liked him.

"I'm sorry to ask this Jerry, but you could possibly pack up outside?"

She waited for him to leave before making a vague motion in the direction of the picture.

"You are aware of the identity...?" She wondered if Jerry had gotten a good shot of the picture. She hoped he'd been concentrating on that rather than on her dumbfounded facial expression.

[Trask]

Trask waited until the door was closed and heard the magnetic lock clicked firmly closed. "Yes Ms. Tilby we are well aware of the identity of that young man and I assure you his involvement in the Baltimore incident is being investigated most thoroughly."

He glanced down at the picture again.

"Rest assured that any further developments down this avenue of inquiry will be released in due time."

[trish]

"I see." She nodded thoughtfully.

"And you do realise... If we got a shot of that, my editor is going to run it." She shook her head ever so slightly. Of course he realised. You didn't get into Trask's position by being a fool.

"Thank you very much for your time. I'll be sure to stay close by." She smiled, and then she was out of his office and out of his life in a waft of rose oil perfume. For at least one day, anyway.