cutting_edgex23 | One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine infiltration. Or something

Cass feels no need to check her bun. It is tight and professional, held in place with a pair of stiff wooden chopsticks. Her own glasses were gold-rimmed and held in place with a light chain. The red business suit, skirt, and heels are incredibly expensive.

Not that she really knows about that sort of thing.

She is ready when X is!

X frowns at her reflection, tilting the glasses to a slightly more scattered angle and disarranging her shirt collar so that it does not quite lay flat.

There.

Now she's ready.

Her stride toward the door is purposeful, but she keeps her hands held tightly at her sides.

Someone, it seems, is stressed. And maybe a little harried.

"I thought our appointment was at 9:30. This is ridiculous. We'd better not need to reschedule."

Cass puts her usual smile away, replacing it with a subtle scowl of disapproval. Her body language took on an impatient stance. An executive whose underling is not being properly efficient for her liking.

Her eyes are narrow as her heels click-click-click against the floor a few feet behind X.

X huffs out a sharp breath, adjusting her angle of approach to swing close to the receptionist's desk as she mutters under her breath, typing away at her cell phone.

The receptionist looks up.

"A 9:30 -- are you with Vanguard Securities? Because Mr. Santos is running late, he won't be here before 10."

The receptionist gets a sharp, displeased look from Cass who then very, very blatantly ignores her.

Running late? Running late?

X clicks her tongue, half-way to being a tsk.

"Can we at least get our presentation set up in the conference room while we wait? Because I've got to get back by three, and it's not a short trip."

The receptionist, who now also looks harried, seems torn about whether or not to reach toward the buzzer to let them in.

She compromises.

"Shelly? There's two ladies from Vanguard here. Please take them to third-floor conference room? Thank you."

Cass harumphs. Don't ask where she learned to do that.

She's already striding toward the doors, her stride practically demanding that this 'Shelly' person catch up. And soon.

"Miss -- ma'am -- wait -- never mind."

The receptionist buzzes them through, X taking swift strides to bring her close to Cass.

They meet Shelly coming around the corner. She almost drops her coffee.

"Oh! Oh. I -- I'm sorry. Come right this way. I can send Andrew in to help you wire up your demonstration?"

X-23 just looks at her.

She blanches.

"Or. Er. Or not. Sorry. Yes. Here we are. Can I get you any coffee?"

Now she's getting the same look from Cass.

What Shelly can do is get them to their conference room.

And cease bothering them.

Shelly makes quick work of escorting them.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes, just in case you have any trouble. And Mr. Santos will be here in -- well. I'll give you his ETA once I know it. And now if there's nothing else -- "

X looks up from her perusal of the conference room layout, and shakes her head quickly.

"That will be all. Thank you."

Her smile is thin.

And, you know. Fake.

Why is Shelly still standing there?

In heels Cass is all of five-four, but somehow she looms over Shelly and scowls. They only need a second of that before Shelly is scampering out of the room, glancing worriedly over her shoulder to make sure that she's not be followed. Or, rather, chased.

Once Shelly is out of sight, Cass smiles ever so slightly at X. That was kind of fun!

X does not smile back, but the easy set of her shoulders suggests that, if she were someone else (and some place else), she would.

But now that Shelly is gone --

X sets down her computer bag, unzips it and pulls out a laptop. She opens it and sets it down on the far edge of the conference table, plugging it in and powering up the projector.

Then, once the computer synchs to the projector, she deliberately forgets to choose a screen setting.

She takes handful of flash drives -- and a security badge, complete with photo -- from the pocket of the bag, handing them all over to Cass.

She keeps a security badge and a series of file folders for herself, half-opening the top folder and focusing all her attention on it.

Then she starts for the conference room door.

Cass takes off her glasses, pocketing them. Then she reaches up to tug slightly at her bun, pulling a few strands loose to dangle down to her neck in a way that actually looks completely intentional. The badge is clipped to her jacket and her stance changes.

Less dominant, almost hesitant. Her eyes are wide and she falls in behind X.

X spares the time to mumble 'hello' as they pass by various desks, lifting her free hand in a perfunctory wave.

She takes a left by the water cooler, making her way toward the ladies room -- and the janitor's closet that is right across the hall.

Hopefully Cass will not mind being the lookout while X turns the restrooms near the stairs into ones that are out of order.

Of course not. Cass is good at being a lookout.

Her demeanor shifts again as she stands outside. Unobtrusive, but officious. The sort of person who is harmless, but who it's better not to bother.

It takes slightly under a minute for X to set up the signs and block off the doorways.

And now the stairwell door should be -- and remain -- comparatively free and clear while they do their jobs.

Without glancing around, X heads to said stairwell, pausing on the landing to trade a smile with someone from IT, then turns to make her way downstairs.

Their filing system is bound to be a mess, and someone has to clean it up before any external auditors get here. Which is to say, this evening.

Exactly! Which is why Cass clutches a briefcase that was left unattended at a desk in both hands and hunches her shoulders. Now she's a mousy assistant. Who clearly belongs to X.

Down in the filing room there are both computer databanks and, surprising for someone less prepared than X and Cass, paper files, as well.

Guess who gets to mess with which set?

X heads toward the filing cabinets, scanning over the labels for the first of the set that she wants. At the same time she taps one file folder against her mouth, looking like someone who is thinking very deeply about what exactly they came down here to do.

Everyone has moments like that.

Edited 2011-01-09 06:00 (UTC)

As the door swings closed behind them, Cass slides one of the computer chairs against it. It won't keep anyone from seeing what X and Cass are up to through the window, but it will slow down anyone who wants to get in.

Then she plugs in one of the USB sticks to the nearest terminal, tilting the screen away from the door and sitting down.

Not to type anything, but because it's the closest she can get to looking unobtrusive.

X, meanwhile, pulls open the first of eleven file drawers, opening up the top file folder in her hand and quickly replacing several pertinent documents with her copies.

Several of these doctored files are added in a neat, precise kind of order. Several of the others are replaced more haphazardly.

Kind of like someone doing a rush job.

Cass can read enough of X's body language to be appreciative of the art of what she's doing. Even if she doesn't recognize the art itself.

Paper trails aren't really her thing.

Which is why she's got one eye on the door. She's seated in just the right spot to see out the window and down the hall. She can give warning if anyone's coming that way.

With three filing cabinets dealt with, X makes her way back to Cass's computer station.

She lays down three file folders, one red, one blue, and one a very cheerful yellow.

These get to be left on a certain gentleman's desk. They should make him sweat -- but too late to do anything about it. Why?

Because he is out sick today. And tomorrow it will be too late.

Then she goes back to the finish the last few files.

The colored folders get placed in Cass' stolen briefcase. She glances out the window again to spot someone just coming down the stairs. She raps lightly on the computer table to alert X.

She's going to go distract the guy.

She stands up, slides the chair away from the door, and ducks out.

X slips the recently-moved chair down by one of the filing cabinets -- the last one she has to go.

Then she settles at the computer, opening the USB file folder and downloading several files.

Then she runs an .exe command.

Authentic H.A.M.M.E.R. passwords and insider programming details -- particularly a recently developed series of worm programs -- from Agent Morales are a godsend.

Or they would be, if X believed in gods. Her friends are much more reliable.

She keeps a weather eye (and ear) on the hallway. It is better to be prepared.

As she slips out the door, Cass' demeanor shifts again. Her movements become sinuous, her hips sway. She's not exactly good at this sort of thing, but she's watched enough other people do it to have a good idea of how it works.

The man in the suit who's just entered the hallways gives her a once-over. And she smiles. So he gives her a second look.

When she stops in front of him, he makes no attempt to get around her.

"Hey there, sweetheart," X hears the man say, as she continues typing.

She turns her chair very slightly, giving her a faster egress toward the last filing cabinet.

Then she swaps USB drives.

Electronic records to back up the physical files can only help. Someone. Somewhere.

Or draw more suspicion.

X can accept that. It's part of the plan.

Cass, predictably, doesn't answer, but she does tilt her head downward and looks up through her eyelashes at the guy. She's aiming for shy, and she actually manages a decent rendition of it. Enough for the guy to smirk.

"Don't think I've seen you around before," he says.

While the contents of the second drive are uploading, X slips back across the room and works on adding the last of the paperwork to the final cabinet.

Quick is one thing.

Thorough is another.

And today, thorough is much more important.

Fortunately Cass has things well in hand. Or, more precisely, she's targeted someone who's sure enough of himself to carry the conversation himself.

"You must be new. You work in Childs' department?"

Cass ducks her head again and shakes her head ever so slightly.

X pockets both USB drives, then pulls a pile of file folders from the top of a nearby shelf.

After doing a quick search of the names, she climbs up on the chair near the farthest filing cabinet, precariously stacking the old files on the top left corner.

Then she waits for her cue.

Cass glances over her shoulder toward the door.

"Oh, you want to get out of the way, do you?" Someone sounds smug. "Well, no one's ever in the records room... Come on."

Once he's not looking, Cass rolls her eyes.

The door opening coincides with X taking a header off the chair, pulling the old files down with her.

"Goddammit."

Cass jumps, as if surprised, and ducks behind the guy in the hall. Who swears since he just lost his chance to score.

Still, he's not really that bad a guy. He takes a few steps forward to poke his head into the room. "Everything okay in here?" he asks.

Cass peaks out from behind him and raises an eyebrow.

Should she take him?

"It's fine," X says, face red and head bent down as she starts gathering up the papers.

"Except for the mess, it's all fine. Really."

She looks up, a half-smile on her face that looks like a grimace. And the way she inclines her head when she reaches up to tuck a fallen strand of hair out of her face --

That could be taken for a nod.

Which is to say, 'yes'.

Cass doesn't need to plan her attack any more than most people spend much time considering word choice. She stomps her foot down on the back of the man's knee. His eyes shoot wide in surprise and he begins to fall over backwards.

Which puts him in the perfect position to catch Cass' palm-strike to the base of the skull. Just hard enough to knock him out, not quite hard enough to give him a concussion.

X, meanwhile, flips open the briefcase and extracts a -- you guessed it -- HAMMER-issue taser.

She also pulls out a few clear plastic slides. Fingerprint transfers. And after wiping down the keyboard and replacing her own fingerprint with that of someone Agent Morales really doesn't like --

After that she may or may not use the taser.

For versimilitude.

Taser burns are very distinctive, it is true. Cass steps back to give X room.

Versimilitude is important, after all.

It only takes a few seconds.

Then X detaches the leads, tucks the taser back into the briefcase, closes it, and stands.

Is Cass ready to go?

Cass nods. She puts her glasses back on and reaches up to twist her hair back into the severe bun she'd entered the building with.

Ready.

X squares her shoulders, picks up the briefcase, and walks out of the room like she and Cass have every right to be there.

Because they do.

And anyone who says otherwise will regret it.

One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine infiltration. Or something

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