/ Wednesday, October 25th, 2006 /
“Another story to touch upon tonight regards a statement made by the Leader of North Korea, Kim Jong-Il” Grant explains, handing the ball off to Taylor to take the rest of the way. “Leader Kim warned of South Korea’s potential participation in United States-led sanctions against the current nuclear testing of North Korean missiles” Taylor continues, “Jong-Il stated to South Korean officials that such participation would be seen as a provocation to incite quote, a crisis of war.” Riding out the final minute before sending the broadcast off to the ten o’clock time slot, Aiden leans against the control setup and gives the signal for the anchors to wrap. His pen tapping twice against the desktop, Grant does as called to. “It’s a small threat coming from a man as small as Kim Jong-Il” Grant explains, offering his controversial conclusion, “but hey, at least we know that even the smallest men have bigger balls than President Bush.” Looking back to the monitor with wide eyes, Aiden throws his hands out as if a cheap shot had just been taken. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Aiden calls aloud, Grant ending the broadcast unconcerned with Aiden’s interruptions. Taking his shot the moment the ‘on-air’ light goes off, Aiden rushes out of the control room and makes a dash for the front desk, an unphased Grant confidently descending the steps from his elevated platform. “Who gave you a call over when to talk off the ‘prompter!?” Aiden exclaims, his arms still held out by his sides, “you think you can just take a jab at a president supported by half the country and get away with it?” With a shrug, Grant loosens his tie and writes the comment off as nothing more than a light-hearted strike. “A light-hearted strike?” Aiden asks, the tone of his voice expressing his confusion, “I don’t support the guy either, but half the people that watch our network do!” “I said what I said, let come whatever may!” Grant replies, the eyes on Aiden somehow widening further as Grant departs, leaving Taylor to step up by Aiden’s side. “When the fuck did he go reverse-Kronkite?” Aiden questions, Taylor watching the man walk off with equal confusion, eventually choosing to follow after him. “What’s going on with you?” Taylor asks as she walks into the man’s office, her knuckles not tapping against the glass once. Silently, Grant tosses his tie across the room and opens his drawer, letting a previously-opened letter drop onto his desk before Taylor’s eyes. “What’s this?” Taylor asks, cautiously approaching as Grant suggests she find out for herself. “I promise, there’s no Anthrax in it” Grant clarifies, the woman’s confidence not rising in the slightest. Slowly, Taylor reaches down toward the man’s desk, Grant lighting a cigarette in his mouth as Taylor pulls the envelope closer to her. Sliding a folded note from within, Taylor stares at the writings, her eyes reading one line after another, eyelids parting further with each line she reads. “This has to be a hoax” Taylor explains, “this is someone that knows nothing and got very close by luck… That’s it.” “It’s real” Grant replies, reaching into his drawer with the cigarette still pressed between his lips, retrieving a recorder with Howard’s confession on it, along with an unedited portion of the events prior. “That’s not our recorder” Taylor says, pointing out the differences in the devices used. The recorder from the confession had a light silver, small touches of grey lining the outer rim, whereas this recorder is a vibrant blue, silver accents on its exterior components. “Someone else must have been recording it” Grant explains, Taylor immediately throwing out the possibility of it having been Howard himself. “Maybe, but I don’t see why he’d leave for so long and just mysteriously pop up all of sudden with this when he could have used it months ago” Grant explains, “this is the work of someone else.” His finger raised, Grant reaches back into the drawer and retrieves another note, tossing into the hands of Taylor, telling her to inspect the handwriting. “Same guy” Grant remarks, the woman getting annoyed with Grant’s earlier statements in light of new information. “He’s doing this because you don’t like Republicans!?” Taylor says in astonishment, the exact reasoning for this display of blackmail being laid out shamelessly. “No, he’s doing this because I don’t like his kind of Republicans” Grant explains, “if I had a nickel for every person I met that couldn’t take in different opinions, Howard’s lawsuit would have never been a threat.” Tossing the notes and envelopes at Grant, Taylor stands before the man with her hands placed against her hips. “You’re being blackmailed by someone with information that could put you in jail, and you antagonize them?” Taylor asks, a stare toward the window coming from Grant. Pondering his moves, Grant nods to himself, reflecting on his actions before turning back to Taylor with confidence. “Yes, yes I am” Grant replies, “because anyone that thinks this kind of thing will keep my mouth shut is wrong.” Lunging forward, Taylor slams her hands against the man’s desk, her nose coming within inches from Grant’s own. “He packages one mic to a reporter and he’ll have your mouth shut with prison cock” Taylor replies, “what are you thinking!?” Leant back into his chair, Grant raises his voice a noticeable amount, prompting silence from the newsroom beyond their glass walls, all eyes directed toward Grant’s office. “I’m not letting people push me around!” Grant shouts, “if this son of a bitch thinks he can dictate what is and what isn’t said by playing god, I’ll play ball until the dirt turns to mud!” “You can’t play ball when you’re not behind a desk, which is exactly what will happen if you take a dive here” Taylor explains, “Vickers and I will go down with you, and with us, the reputation of LMC crumbles with the snap of a finger.” Without a meaningful retort, Grant sinks into his chair, eyes taking themselves away from the woman he insults more with every word. “What else am I going to do?” Grant asks, reminding the woman of his status as one of New York’s most ‘honest news anchors’. “Whatever I say, people trust me on it” Grant mutters, “if I let this guy tell me what to do, that one cockless bastard controls the narrative the entire country takes in and abides by.” Left without much to say on the matter, Taylor collapses into her chair as both she and Grant take in differing feelings of defeat. “Where do we go from here?” Grant asks, looking toward Taylor for guidance knowing he had no feasible answers on his own. “Well we let Vickers know about this first” Taylor explains, “not only does he deserve to know as one of the parties involved, but he might have the solution we’re looking for.” “Why the hell would you say it then!?” Vickers explodes, sitting in his office having been handed a plate with such a mess laid upon it by the two anchors he expects nothing but the best from. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved what you said and almost spit my Vodka over the television” Vickers explains, “but if it comes at this expense, keep your fucking mouth shut!” “I’ve noted that for next time, what do we do now” Grant exclaims, “and how long until we need to owe Josh Lane two favours?” His head shaking, Vickers retreats to his desk, telling the pair that Josh isn’t available for things such as this. “He does, let’s just say, hands-on work” Vickers replies, “when it comes to working in the dark, he has people, and those people aren’t exactly equipped for this.” “You gave me no information just then, spoke vaguely and I’m left here still asking what we’re going to do now” Grant explains, “you’re aware of that, right?” Brushing off the confusion, Vickers inquires about access to the building, suggesting they narrow down who had access to the apartment. “Just Josh, it’s his flat” Grant replies, a lightbulb flickering on his head, immediately dimming when Vickers shoots down the oncoming thought before Grant can even voice it. “No, Josh isn’t blackmailing you- he’s not even a Republican” Vickers explains, “the person we’re looking for keeps themselves quiet and makes themselves invisible… Hence the delivery of his message.” With a shrug, Grant admits that he’s run out of possibilities, Taylor not that far behind either. Defeated, Grant throws himself into a chair, the room filling with tense silence until Vickers explains that he’ll do his part in getting to the bottom of the situation. “Email me everything about how you got this letter so I have it in writing” Vickers explains, “I wanna know the date, the time, the address you got it at, the weather outside on that day… Everything!” Giving into suggestions, Grant promises to deliver what is asked of him, Taylor being told by Vickers to look into every segment they’ve run dating back to a month prior to the confrontation with Howard. “I want no corners left unchecked” Vickers explains, “this is my company, and I’ll defend it with my life, so give me what I need to do that.” With this declaration, Vickers ushers the anchors out of his room, insisting he needs to make a phone call in private. Fingers tapping along the machine, Vickers bites into his lip as the phone rings, patiently waiting for an answer as his anxiety builds, relieved when the greeting finally comes in. “Aiden, I’d like to meet with you in private if you can” Vickers explains, looking toward people he knows he can trust for assistance, “you free any time tomorrow morning before the newsroom fills?” = Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = / Thursday, October 26th, 2006 / “Why the fuck wouldn’t you say something about this sooner?” Bruce asks, enraged as Grant walks alongside him, a larger briefcase in tow in the event of needing to shield himself from gunshots. Hands held upwards, Grant refuses to take in questions from people in search of answers, inquiries about his comments on the president being thrown left and right, making for a combination that can only be described as a political haymaker. Turning the corner, the pair walk into the LMC building, leaving the curious bystanders at the doors, watching the subject of their interest fade further and further out of sight. “You’ve taken everything you’ve built up over the last few months and thrown it into the can” Bruce explains, propping up an edition of the daily newspaper in Grant’s face, the headline reading something rather unflattering for the LMC anchor. “Grant Haste: One Night Spent in Going from America’s Sweetheart to America’s Retard” Bruce reads the headline aloud, “and at this time yesterday, you were the most trustworthy news source in America.” Shrugging off the jab as something that can fade with time, Bruce brings up the more important point. “If you had done this of your own care, fine” the agent explains, “but to do it simply to spite the guy trying to blackmail you is an entirely new level of stupid.” “I get it, I made a bad move and I’m paying for it by being trapped in a corner” Grant explains, “your job isn’t to beat that fact into my head, it’s to help me figure out how to get into open space again.” With an eye roll, Bruce looks back to Grant, stopping in the middle of the hallway and staring the man in the eyes. “You can’t get out of the corner in chess if you’re already blocked in” Bruce explains, “in order to move out, you need to break free… You don’t have that option right now.” “What are you saying?” Grant inquires, watching the expression on Bruce’s face fall as quickly as his bulletproof briefcase. “I’m saying you’re trapped in a spot you can’t get out of until you pull something from your sleeve and leverage that” Bruce explains, “in other words… Check.” | His eyes rolling over one article in the paper after another, Aiden fails to notice Carly join him on his ascent in the lift as the doors close. “Hey” Aiden greets awkwardly, the stranger-like response being reciprocated by the woman, who stands equally uncomfortable by Aiden’s side. “How’s work been?” Carly asks, watching Aiden’s head take itself from the paper, eyes lifting toward her. “I’m being called in to have a meeting with Sam Vickers before the newsroom opens up” Aiden explains, “either something really bad is about to happen, or something really good will instead.” With a nod, Carly wishes the man the best of luck in preparation for either outcome, a gesture the man takes with appreciation. “Good luck with your day as well” Aiden replies, the doors sliding open to their shared floor. In stride, both Carly and Aiden leave the lift and head into differing directions, the conversation they barely manage to let take off, ending with a whimper. His feet carrying him to the end of the hall, Aiden knocks four times against a bland, unimportant looking door before being given the greenlight to enter. Pushing the metal structure in, Aiden finds Vickers sitting at a circular table, waiting for him, a smile on his face and a chair opposite the boss pulled out for his arrival. “I’m not about to be fired, am I?” Aiden jokingly asks, Vickers easing his worries about such concerns. “I wanted to ask for a favour from you, as a matter of fact” Vickers explains, “and since you were great in keeping the secrets I needed you to last time, I can say with confidence that success in this instance will come with a nice reward for you.” Easing into his seat, Aiden prepares for an interesting conversation, the cloudy skies of New York City plaguing the view in the cramped window beside them, perhaps a sign of things to come in Aiden’s eyes. | Hand reaching out as Bruce continues to bark at him, Grant throws his office door open before being stricken with silence upon the sight he finds inside. “We’ve got a problem” Taylor explains, the woman stood in the middle of his office with a revolver in her hand, the eyes of both Grant and Bruce widening greatly upon the image. Slowly approaching the woman, Grant takes the gun from her shaky hand, the woman too caught up in a moment of fear to put it down herself. Clutched in her left hand, a note remains held within her fingers, a folded piece of paper Grant takes from the woman’s palm into his own. Opening the folded sheet of copy paper, Grant reads the contents to himself as Bruce does the same, having already noticed the recipient of this letter to be Taylor herself. Lip quivering, Grant forces himself to stop reading halfway in, discarding the letter by throwing it across the room and paying it no mind. “That’s not just fucked up, that’s evil” Bruce explains, having read almost to the point that Grant had been able to muster himself toward, watching his client pull Taylor into a hug. “What the hell is this guy trying to prove?” Bruce asks aloud, a response not coming from either of the parties in front of him, a moment of silence shared between a worried Grant and a distraught Taylor. “We can take it to the police now, right?” Bruce further inquires, offering himself suggestions where Grant and Taylor lack to do so, his initial thought panned by Grant the moment it leaves his lips. “What are they gonna say?” Grant replies, his head turned to the side so he can stare at Bruce out of the corner of his own eyes, chin still pressed to the top of Taylor’s head. “We can’t tell police anything” Grant explains, Bruce left to question why that happens to be the case. “You didn’t kill the man!” Bruce counters, the biggest reason not to fear legal action being addressed, “and at worst, they look at you for home invasion… With Nalty’s confession on the tape, you can work a deal out with them and take it from there!” “I don’t think you understand the gravity of all this, Bruce” Grant replies, “Nalty’s not the only threat anymore, and regardless of what we would show police, we don’t have the first clue who this is.” “And you’re gonna let that get in your way!?” Bruce asks aloud, the newsroom luckily empty enough for voices to rise without fear of the wrong words being left to flutter aimlessly. “Some sicko is trying to blackmail you, threatened to rape Taylor with a broomstick, and may have plotted an attempt on your life, either their first or second” Bruce explains, the laundry list seemingly growing every day, “when did we start playing vigilante? Because this doesn’t end without help.” “We don’t need help” Grant replies, finally pulling away from Taylor as the woman gathers herself, “we need to figure out who’s responsible for this!” Throwing his hefty briefcase into Grant’s desk, Bruce marches forward with a thud, getting closer to his client as tensions begin to mount. “We need help! Trying to solve things on our own hasn’t worked out in our favour if you hadn’t noticed!” Bruce exclaims, “shit’s about to hit the fan and we’re not equipped to handle it ourselves!” Before another word can be uttered, Vickers shoves the door in, Aiden tagging along behind the man as their collective employer shouts an order for everyone to calm down. “We’re not going to accomplish anything if we stand here arguing like children!” Vickers explains, “if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we’re gonna do it the right way.” His eyes taking to the ground, Vickers pulls the blackmailist’s note into his hand, reading the writings to himself, visibly disgusted with each word his eyes wander over. “This is sick and depraved” Vickers murmurs, his eyes running down the length of the note before narrowing, an obvious point of interest focused on by the man with the wisdomatically keen eye. “What’s wrong?” Grant inquires, Vickers hurrying over to the man’s desk and flipping on a light, an action captivating the tension-filled group. Pulling the glasses dangling by his neck toward his eyes, Vickers notices a stain on the note beneath the light, a barely noticeable spot at the very bottom of the paper. Careful to switch the light off as he goes, Vickers hurries for the door, marching across the newsroom in silence as the group follows after him, all with their own questions. Refusing to answer any of the questions thrown at him, Vickers calls out for the woman at the end of the room, her attention stolen immediately as the train of high-end figures comes barreling toward her. “Do you know where I can find a blacklight?” Vickers inquires, Carly caught off guard in a moment before suggesting the control room. With a nod, Vickers runs off, every member of the train nodding or shrugging toward Carly with equal amounts of confusion to her own. In a dash, Vickers throws the door to the electronic-filled room open and flips a set of switches until a bulbous blacklight at the area’s front switches on. “Turn off the lights!” Vickers calls out, Bruce, at the very end of the line, doing as instructed whilst Vickers pulls the glasses back up to his face. With a smile, the man holds the paper over the light and nods to himself, calling for the line of people to follow after him. “Aiden, stay back with Carly and put together tonight’s show… You’re taking it this evening” Vickers calls out, the duo agreeing to such an offer as the line of employees trails off into the the newsroom’s depths, the front door their only care at the moment. “Looks like it’s just you and I” Carly calls out, Aiden looking toward her with worry, his head hanging and eyelids closing. | Angrily tapping against the metal door of a rundown motel, Vickers stands with an army of equally-frustrated employees all waiting for the sight of the man on the other end. To the mob’s collective surprise, it is not a man that answers the knocking at the door, but it is instead a woman, a woman whose sight is a familiar one to Grant. The surprise of the rest acting as a shock to himself, Grant steps forward, his jaw dropped and eyes wide open. “Kelsi?” Grant asks, his former fling answering the tapping at the door with a smile, nodding behind her as a suggestion for those outside in the cold to make themselves at home. In a moment of hesitation, the group stands in place, Vickers leading the march that eventually brings them inside. “You’re the person blackmailing me?” Grant wonders aloud, his suspicion almost insulting the woman, who takes the uncertainty as a slight on her ability. “Don’t stand there acting so surprised” Kelsi replies, “with all of the reporters you liked hooking up with, I figured I’d be far from the first person to dig up some dirt on you.” “I don’t understand, that’s what I’m saying” Grant explains, “why are you doing all of this? What is the point of any of it?” Her eyes rolling, Kelsi reminds Grant of how everything played out after he left CSN. “You’re blackmailing me because I ended things without having sex with you?” Grant wonders aloud, still lost in the reasoning, his answers now just prompting the woman to sigh in disappointment. “I’m doing this because of how you ended things” Kelsi explains, “you didn’t just tell me that it was over between us, you flat out pretended I didn’t exist, met with me after three months of outright avoidance and told me I’d never be worth a dime in New York.” More lost than he was before he entered the motel room, Grant explains that he remembers none of that. “How much of that do you remember, then?” Kelsi asks aloud, “do you not recall how fucking off-the-rails you were after all that shit went down?” As if it were all a blurry memory, Grant admits that he remembers none of what the woman is accusing him of, a stance Kelsi only takes further annoyance in. “I’m serious when I say that I wish I could remember, but I just don’t!” Grant exclaims, the woman now taking a seat in a chair opposite him. “Well it all happened” Kelsi replies, removing a recorder from the pocket of her jeans and tossing it into the waiting hands of Grant. Pressing ‘play’ on the device, Grant listens into their conversation, noticing the slurring of his own words to be an indicator of his intoxication. “You’ll be to this city what you’re worth to my wallet, nothing more than ten cents!” Grant shouts in the recording, a response that is followed by silence. Across the room, Kelsi holds back her desire to let a vagrant tear fall from her eyelids, allowing Grant to listen to the remainder of the recording. “Why are you being like this?” Kelsi asks, a question followed by silence on the other end, memories coming back to Grant in real time. The fingernails of his free hand digging into his palm, Grant awaits the response that he can’t recall giving in the recording, awaiting the long, drawn out silence that precedes what follows. “I don’t know” Grant’s former self replies to Kelsi, “I guess I’m just broken now.” His thumb gently pressing down on the stop button, Grant halts the recording in its place and looks back to Kelsi, who bites at the tip of her thumb. “You can go ahead and delete that if it makes you feel better” Kelsi concludes, mustering the power to look back at Grant, who stares at her with a horrified expression. “It won’t do me any good, though” the woman continues, stumbling over her words as the emotions prove to be a barrier in doing so, “I’ve already heard it enough to memorise it… Word for word.” Opening his mouth, Grant says nothing, knowing the Howard cover-up to be an action he remembers doing wrong by, but scared of himself for having completely disregarded that conversation ever happening to begin with. “I don’t have the words” Grant says, the people behind him looking to him in confusion, their sights coming over him as if they had just been shown the collapsing of a wall they never knew existed. “I said that?” Grant whispers to himself, a question Kelsi takes as her own responsibility to answer. “Yeah, you did” Kelsi replies, keeping her composure intact enough to keep emotions from swelling. “And if you can’t find the words, then let me help you” Kelsi offers, “you’re a terrible person that took advantage of my hopes, just so you can turn them into a way to hurt me.” “I didn’t mean that” Grant replies, “I don’t remember saying that, but I know I wouldn’t have meant that.” Her head shaking, Kelsi tells the man that she doesn’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth anymore, and was fed up with his success once she noticed that the entire country felt the opposite way. “I know you all came here looking for answers, but I’m not giving you anything” Kelsi states, her eyes wandering back toward Grant, “ten cents isn’t worth enough.” “How do we know that’s Grant on the other end?” Vickers asks, challenging the woman’s stance, her eyes trailing back to her once acquaintance, who looks back to the recorder and presses play once more. After another few seconds of silence, Grant’s voice can be overheard again, clarifying his prior statement. “I covered up a rape and got paid to keep my mouth shut” Grant continues on from the earlier conversation, “what else can you expect from me, Kel?” Pressing stop again, Grant tosses the device back to the woman seated across the room, his eyes glancing up toward her as he asks what she’s going to do now. “I’m gonna do what you did to me” Kelsi replies, her eyes drying the tears and replacing them with a scorching sight. “I’m gonna take everything you built over these last few months, and I’m going to reduce it to nothing” Kelsi threatens, “and if you don’t do as I tell you, I’ll take it farther than that.” Swallowing his pride, Grant nods in acceptance at what his punishment is to be before turning around and leaving the motel, the rest of the group staring at him as he walks off into the cold, New York night. “Good luck” Kelsi calls out to the figures Grant leaves behind, “try not to let yourselves get caught up as collateral… Or in the crossfire.” With a huff, Vickers motions everyone away, Taylor staring at Kelsi with an intense look, speculative and critical, harsh and judgmental. As Vickers closes the door, Taylor watches the woman on the inside, her eyes never leaving Kelsi once. In a short moment, Taylor can watch Kelsi’s eyes go from fiery to blank, her suspicions only raised as the door closes the rest of the way, mechanisms locking behind Vickers as the barrier between the two parties is re-established. == Tonight at 9 ==
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/ Monday, April 24th, 2006 /
Standing beside the massive panel of glass at the back of her office, Taylor surveys the roadmap of the major metropolitan area, her cup of coffee raised to her lips as a knock comes from the other side of her door. “It’s open” Taylor calls out, welcoming the person on the other end in, Aiden helping himself to the handle, pulling it and entering. “You alright this morning?” Aiden asks, the woman looking back to him, confused as to what he means. “You don’t usually walk in silently” Aiden explains, “you usually make some sort of conversation and then move on until you get to your office.” Dawning a friendly face, Taylor brushes off Aiden’s suspicions, chalking them up to being behind schedule. “Behind schedule?” Aiden asks with further suspicion, “but enough time to sightsee over a cup of French Vanilla?” With a chuckle of light amusement, Taylor lifts the mug back to her lips and takes a final glance at the sights below, retreating to her desk and taking a seat. “Is there something you came in here needing?” Taylor asks, watching the man shrug off any such notion. “I just came in to check up on you, that’s all” Aiden replies, the woman voicing her appreciation for his concern. “I’m doing well” Taylor quips, seemingly putting an end to the original line of dialogue, leaving Aiden with very little left to say. “I’ll go on with my day too, then” Aiden remarks, stepping away from the desk and making his way to the door. Half of his body having returned to the newsroom, Aiden thinks better of such a decision and returns to the office. “You’re aware that you’re still in my office, right?” Taylor checks, the man leaving the humour without a response as he pulls himself a chair. “Are you and Grant an item now?” Aiden asks, the question catching Taylor by surprise, the tenured anchor sat at her desk, confused at how to reply. “I don’t mean to intrude into personal matters” Aiden explains, “but if there’s some sort of relationship dynamic, I just want to make sure it doesn’t spill into troubles that could hurt the show.” Looking around her room to gather a response, Taylor brushes off Aiden’s apology once the guilt for having brought up such a topic settles in, assuring him that it’s all fine. “Grant and I are just co-workers” Taylor replies, marking the relationship out as nothing more than a friendly work interaction, “we just have a lot in common, and that makes it easy to trust each other.” Head moving back, Aiden looks at the woman with surprise, unable to hold back a laugh as he wonders aloud what these ‘similarities’ are. “We’re both news anchors, we both want to publish fair journalism, and we both-” Taylor begins, her train of thought stopping the moment a set of rapid knocks come from the other side of the glass. “Come in” Taylor calls out, both she and Aiden stood in the room, their attention directed squarely upon the shoulders of Vickers, his newsroom visits growing more common. “I need everyone ready for air” Vickers exclaims, his words strong and commanding, immediately captivating both Taylor and Aiden, “it’s happened again.” = Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Someone help!” Grant cries out, propping a bloodied and unresponsive Bruce over his shoulders, “he’s been shot!” His shirt and blazer adorned with the blood of his agent, Grant hands the man over to doctors, who immediately place him upon a bed and hook him up to machines in an effort to save his life. “I’m gonna need to know what happened” the doctor calls out, Grant following along with the workers, dashing through the details. “We were stopped at a redlight and a car opened fire on us” Grant explains, “I saw it coming and ducked, but the shots hit Bruce.” Taking down other general information, the doctors inform Grant that they’ll have to take the man into surgery, leaving him in the hallway to watch as his friend is carted off into the depths of the building, alone. Stood there on his own for only a few seconds prior to a nurse attempting to lead him back toward the lobby, Grant finds himself with enough time for the anger to swell. Despite her best efforts and intentions, the nurse cannot help the enraged public figure, Grant letting out a burst of aggression by swinging around and burying his fist into the drywall just behind him. Not anywhere close to phased by the sight of his fist embedded within the wall, Grant stands in place huffing, the nurse calling in for security to assist her in escorting the man off the premises. Regaining his composure, Grant finally rips his hand from the wall, brushing off the powdery debris as the small security team approaches. Hands up, Grant assures security that he understands what he needs to do, and voluntarily leaves the mega complex. Returning to the vehicle he came to the hospital in, Grant takes a seat in the front and turns the key in the ignition, his eyes fixated on the odometer before slowly lifting up. In the distance, one structure remains towering over every other, the building resembling that of a lair the villain in a movie would call home. With a scowl, Grant pulls the gear shift into drive and moves on, taking the road that leads toward downtown, the structure the only thing the man can muster to think about. | “We’re out!” Aiden calls into the control room, his words running through the headset over Taylor’s ears, giving her the same clearance. As Taylor rushes out from behind the desk to grab her belongings, Aiden makes for his office, retreating to the back of the newsroom until Vickers calls out from afar. Surprised at being made the centre of attention, Aiden stands in place for a moment, at first believing he had done something wrong and was about to be scolded. Taking the calling of his name to be a request for his presence, Aiden marches forward, venturing through the newsroom before following after Vickers, the elder man of the pair noticing his awkwardness. “Is there something I can help with?” Aiden asks, Vickers brushing off the man’s question, switching the topic of conversation as he leads the executive producer down the halls of the building, the preferred targets being the newsroom’s least populated pockets. “Do you consider yourself a loser?” Vickers asks, finally catching a glimpse of an empty employee break room, eyes set as Aiden looks over his potential responses. “Um… Yeah, I guess I would” the young man replies, walking into the breakroom and turning to find Vickers closing the door behind them. “I’d consider you to be a nerd, which is very different” Vickers explains, “on one hand, you’d be nothing… On the other, you’d have a few weird quirks.” “I fail to see how any of this matters” Aiden replies immediately, “are you entering me in a chess competition or something?” Considering the options for a moment, Vickers admits that he’d have to consider it upon a last-ditch resort, but hopes not to need to. “I don’t care what you are… Nerd, loser, otherwise” Vickers explains, lowering his voice to a more hushed tone, “I just care to know whether or not I can trust you.” Surprised, Aiden assures his employer that he can, a response that pulls a nod out of Vickers, who stands there with a smile. “I’m going to let you in on a secret and I need you to do what you can to make sure everything goes according to plan” Vickers explains, Aiden immediately on board with whatever the plan happens to be, pulling a chair up for both men, insisting Vickers lay everything out to him. | Emerging from his vehicle, Grant slams the driver’s side door shut, his penny loafer shoes tapping along the concrete walkway as he approaches the entrance to New York’s downtown monolith. Pulling the handle of the door in, Grant enters the floor he’s become too familiar with in recent time, the soles of his shoes tapping along the marble walkway beneath his feet, eyes directed toward the lift at the back of the complex. “Sir, you need to check in first” the desk keeper explains, not paid enough to charge out from his perch to stop Grant, but not paid too little to let the man go without issue. “I’m visiting a friend” Grant says as he walks into the already-open elevator, allowing the doors to close just as the man enters view, his hands folded before his lap as the door keeper calls in to report the disturbance. “At least New York takes presumed threats seriously now” Grant mutters to himself, mocking the lack of progression in a post-9/11 world. Waiting time out, Grant listens to the elevator music fill the void of what would otherwise be silence, the cheery tune perhaps making him more angry than the fleeting quiet would. In an act of defiance, Grant stares at the speaker, noticing the floors he still has left to ascend and finds another outlet for his aggression. Removing the shoe from his left foot, Grant takes the tip to the piece of designer footwear and wields the article of clothing as a weapon, whacking the stereo speaker in the box with the reinforced heel of his dress shoe. Continuing to hit at the hole-laiden box, Grant wears out the material enough to rip the plastic coating from its place, a final strike with his shoe breaking the mechanisms within, only garbled and muffled jazz playing through what was once an operable system. The bell in the elevator dinging upon his intended destination, Grant watches with widened eyes as the doors slowly open. His feet instinctively taking him off the platform without concern, Grant makes himself at home in the foyer he ventures within. “Howard!” Grant calls out, his voice ringing through the cramped hallway, bouncing off the marble walls lining the entry tunnel before turning the corner to find the man he had just previously called out for. Standing in the middle of his living room draped in a velvet robe, Howard stands in surprise with a glass of wine in his hand, the man he once threatened now stood before him. His mouth becoming agape when he notices the splattered blood over the shoulders of Grant’s powerful suit, Howard becomes stricken with a fear that he is naturally unfamiliar with, the looming threat of unpredictability almost animalistic in a sense. “We have a few things to talk about” Grant says, his mind having taken him to a dark place as his eyes come over Howard, refusing to speak in any way that doesn’t demand attention or respect. Without the words to use, Howard steps aside, his hands held toward the couch, silently offering Grant a seat. With a heated smirk and a nod, Grant approaches the couch, taking a spot and commanding the lead of the conversation, his hand stretched toward the opposite sofa. Doing as told to ensure his own safety, Howard takes the seat Grant suggests, slowly making himself comfortable, his eyes never once leaving Grant. Reaching into his jacket, Grant pulls free a small recording device, pressing the power button and placing it upon the coffee table, not a word mentioned toward Howard during the effort. “Why are you showing me this?” Howard asks, his genuine curiosity becoming the only thing fueling any conversation. “Because it is Monday, the twenty-fourth of April, the year 2006” Grant explains, “and I want you to know that I am holding no secrets… I’m being completely and totally upfront, and honest.” Looking at the man as if to silently ask whether or not this is a joke, Howard is left speechless, allowing the lack of a retort work as a suggestion for Grant to continue his explanation. “Just ten minutes ago, I left the Mount Sinai Beth Israel hospital in New York, where I dropped off my agent at the emergency room” Grant continues, “he was shot multiple times, in a drive-by shooting that I was a potential victim of… For the second time in a month.” Clearing his throat, Howard musters the courage to skip ahead in the conversation, asking Grant what he’s trying to get at, the man opposite him only responding with an angry glare, silencing Howard. “I have my assumptions that Howard Nalty, my former co-worker, set up the attempt on my life in the attack one month prior” Grant continues, Howard’s finger raising to plead his case, which Grant ignores to finish his statement. “After that failed, I believe he set up a second attempt, which would play out today” Grant furthers, “so… I’m here to challenge him on that.” Leaning into his couch, Howard does what he can to maintain a distance between himself and Grant, caught off guard by the man’s sudden approach and quick judgments. “I had nothing to do with that” Howard says, “I’m suing you, why would I want you dead without a verdict on that?” With a smirk, Grant leans forward, his head tilted to the side, laying on the intimidation as thick as he can, using the appearance to further his stance. “I guess we’re going to figure that out very soon, aren’t we?” Grant asks, watching Howard swallow the spit forming in his mouth, the smirk on Grant’s face striking fear when put together with the blood-soaked clothing. | “What’s going on?” Carly asks, she and plenty others in the newsroom having noticed Aiden’s interaction with Vickers just moments prior. “He and Taylor were heading out and he wanted me to man the newsroom again” Aiden replies, continuing to trail toward his office, Carly following closely behind. “Should I be ready for the air just in case?” Carly inquires, following the man into his office. “Do whatever you want, I’ll let you know if we’re going on the air” Aiden replies, taking a seat at his desk, assuming the conversation to now be over. “Why do we get awkward around each other every time we have sex?” Carly asks aloud, Aiden immediately looking back towards her, his finger pressed against his lips. “Juno’s like a fucking ninja, never say that out loud unless we’re stuck in an elevator together” Aiden explains, “even then, check around you.” Apologising, Carly reiterates her question, prompting Aiden to sigh as his hands find the surface of his desk, his head hanging towards the mahogany surface. “Why do you make it awkward?” Aiden asks, turning the blame upon the woman’s shoulders, Carly left curious as to what he means. “I’m just an awkward person, you probably should start picking up on this right about now” Aiden explains, “I come to work to do my work, when I wanna fuck you, it won’t be during work hours.” With another deep sigh, Aiden adds in the presence of Juno being a constant factor in making him keep a pair of eyes in the back of his own head. “He walks into my office one night and threatens my life, then apologises the next time we see each other” Aiden explains, “that’s the guy you’re dating… Which means that’s the guy I’m having sex with the girlfriend of.” “Okay, fine… It’s more ‘open season of Aiden’ then we’d like” Carly replies, “but we don’t talk the way we used to anymore, which only makes it seem more suspicious.” Looking up in a moment of confidence, Aiden reminds the woman of the comparisons between them then and now. “Before all of this, we were co-workers that made your boyfriend jealous” Aiden explains, “now, we use each other to get off- We’re not exactly friendly with each other the way we used to be.” Accepting part of the blame to be her association with Juno, Carly regrets her end of the weird interactions, assuring the man behind the desk that things will become less awkward over time. “If you’re confident they’ll get easier the longer this goes on, why are you inquiring about its awkwardness now?” Aiden asks, “because you wouldn’t be looking for a solution if you truly believed the kinks would work out over time.” At a loss for any reasonable explanation, Carly shrugs toward the man, watching his head sink back into the slate of topics for the evening’s broadcast. Taking this to be the definitive end to the conversation, Carly turns to leave, Aiden suddenly propping his head back up to call out to the woman, his side of the efforts being voiced. “I think you’re trying to decide which of your relationships are more important” Aiden explains, “Juno as your boyfriend or me as your fling.” “What do you mean?” Carly responds, watching Aiden drop into his chair and run over the thoughts mulling in his head. “I think you don’t want to be with Juno anymore but aren’t confident that I’d be a good boyfriend” Aiden answers, “mostly because a pretty girl like you doesn’t tend to go around single for long.” Confused, Carly looks toward Aiden as if he were getting the wrong idea, making her statement known. “I love Juno” Carly explains, keeping the response brief and unnegotiable, a notion Aiden pokes holes in with ease. “If you loved Juno, you wouldn’t be fucking me behind his back” Aiden counters, “but furthermore, I don’t think you care that our conversations are awkward, I think you care that I’m awkward.” Even more lost than she was earlier in the conversation, Carly questions Aiden on what he means by that, the man essentially painting the picture out for the woman, one stroke of a brush after another. “I think you’d prefer to dump Juno and start dating me if you had the choice, but you don’t wanna be seen with a loser” Aiden clarifies, “I may not wear round glasses and tuck my shirt into my pants, but I’m somewhat attractive, great in bed and weird around people.” The longer the conversation ensues, the more Carly feels herself being lost, one turn of their words taking another until she’s left in a desolate area with no direction. Finally, Carly pieces together a broad assumption from what Aiden illustrates, voicing it in one, coherent question. “Are you under the assumption that I want to break up with Juno and start dating you” Carly begins, “but don’t know if you’re good enough to be my boyfriend because your weird?” “I’m completely under that assumption, yes” Aiden replies with a smile, Carly taken aback by the implication that she’d be so shallow. “I’m fucking you because we have chemistry, I don’t care if you’re weird” Carly explains, “but you and I aren’t an ‘item’ and we won’t be, you’re just a guy that I fuck- That’s it.” “Then I raise you another question” Aiden immediately says, rolling his chair out and standing to his feet, gradually walking closer to Carly until they’re only a few inches apart. “Why do you care about the nature of our relationship when all I am is a good fuck?” Aiden inquires, “what does it matter to you if I treat you like a B.F.F in the newsroom when all we are is each other’s fling?” Her face turning sad, Carly looks toward the ground, disappointed at the question asked, the answer requiring her to acknowledge what their relationship has done to their friendship. “Because I didn’t want to lose what we were” Carly replies, turning toward the door and concluding her statement before walking off, “and I guess we lost it a while ago.” With that, Carly leaves, Aiden now stands in the middle of his office with disappointment, the conversation not having turned in a direction in which desired. Not allowing it to sink into him, Aiden returns to his desk, eyes locked onto the sheets of paper beneath his face, a recap of the discussion from just a moment prior the only thing taking his attention, the words repeating verbatim in his head on a loop. | The bell sounding in the cramped box, both Vickers and Taylor emerge from the elevator and hurry through the corridor, rounding the corner to find Howard and Grant seated opposite each other. “Grant, this visit is a mistake” Vickers calls out, rushing up to the side of his employee, who leaps from the sofa and removes a gun from his jacket, taking aim at Vickers and telling him not to step any closer. “Grant, what the fuck are you doing!?” Howard shouts, Taylor pleading with the armed man to listen to reason, a gesture Grant refuses, demanding Howard remain seated, and his co-workers not move any closer than they already have. “This son of a bitch won’t listen to reason, and he’s clearly gotten somewhere in his threats” Grant explains, taking the microphone into his hand and launching it at the wall, the device shattering upon contact. “If I’m going to get anywhere with him, I have to go to a new level too!” Grant shouts, removing a second firearm from his jacket and holding it towards Howard, who sinks further into the couch as if that will help his chances of survival. “Grant, this is way too far!” Taylor belts out, watching her co-anchor’s eyes begin to twitch, Jessica stood at the back of the room, hidden behind drapes, refusing to draw attention toward herself. “This guy is either going to own up to what he did and face the consequences- or he’s gonna die today” Grant replies, his eyes tracing upon all three opposing faces as he declares this morning as Howard’s judgement day. Pleading her case, Taylor tells Grant to lower the guns and talk everything out like an adult, a gesture which Grant refuses, apologising to the woman for having escalated things to this degree. “This man has taken two attempts on my life, and he’ll take a third if I don’t stop him ahead of time” Grant explains, vowing to shoot Vickers if he moves any closer. “Howard, get up!” Grant demands, the fearful man struggling to make it to his feet, legs weak from the fear running through his every movement. “The patio, go there slowly” Grant demands, Howard pleading for his life as Grant remains adamant, refusing to give into his tormentor’s demands. “Your ‘wife’ pleaded for you to stop as well, and you didn’t” Grant explains, Howard slowly shuffling across the ground, agreeing with Grant’s every statement. “I know, and I’m sorry!” Howard replies, the heels of his feet dragging along the floor as his hands push him closer toward the backdoor. “If you didn’t stop for her, why should I stop for you?” Grant asks, one eye propped wide open while the other squints, the sunlight on Grant’s shoulders highlighting the blood splatters. “Because you have a choice!” Howard exclaims, “you have a life that I didn’t have! We’re different people and you’ve got more going for you!” With a laugh, Grant debunks Howard’s statement, reminding him of the lawsuit waged. “I’ve got nothing you impressionable bastard!” Grant exclaims, leaning forward as Howard backs against the sliding glass door, “if you’ve forgotten already, you’re suing me for everything I have!” Progression stopped, Grant lifts the gun from Howard and takes aim at the sliding door, firing a round forward and shattering the glass against Howard’s back. “Grant! You’re making a big mistake!” Taylor shouts, Howard continuing to back himself onto the patio, the heavy winds whipping through his hair as Grant continues following after him. In a momentary act of desperation, Taylor lunges at Grant, her hand grabbing onto his hand in an attempt to disarm him. Refusing to let up, Grant shoves Taylor away and strikes her across the face with the weapon, knocking her to the floor before firing at Vickers, bringing him to the ground as well. Nothing stopping him any longer, Grant takes aim at Howard, the man slumped against the glass railing in a final plea for his safety. “I’ll drop the lawsuit! I’ll drop it all and never talk to you again!” Howard shouts, his statements ignored by Grant, who simply demands he stand up. “I swear on my life!” Howard begs, “you can kill me if you ever see me in person again! I’ll leave television and move to another country, I swear!” Having had enough, Grant reaches down and pulls Howard to his feet before shoving him against the railing, the barrel of the gun placed against his head. “You’ve promised everything and given absolutely nothing!” Grant shouts, his hand wrapped around Howard’s throat, gradually pushing him further over the railing. Glancing back toward the gun before noticing the tears stream down Howard’s face, Grant thinks to himself, coming across a conclusion he deems more fitting. “Tell me the truth, because I know the answers, and I’ll let you live if you leave the country and never return” Grant explains, a moment of hope coming across Howard’s face, Grant demanding he calm himself and speak with uninterrupted cadence. “I want you to own up to your wrong doings the way you would if you were being interrogated by police” Grant explains, “say your name and what you’re guilty of.” Doing as told, Howard takes in deep breaths, elbows still pressed against the railing, confessing to his crimes calmly. “I sexually assaulted Jessica, that I did do!” Howard explains, “I had people hired to shoot, but not kill, you.” Finally, Howard finds no other way out of his situation, holding his hands up and losing grip on the railing, putting his safety in the strength within Grant’s hand. “But I did not hire anyone to kill your agent!” Howard says, the sound of a man speaking the truth resonating with Grant, “whoever did that has got problems with you that are different from anything involving the two of us!” Satisfied with the response he’s gotten, Grant nods to himself, returning the gun to his jacket and smiling toward Howard. “I appreciate your honesty” Grant replies, allowing Howard a momentary sigh of relief, “but I, too, am not a man of my word.” With this statement, Howard’s face shrivels, Grant gently pushing Howard the rest of the way over, allowing the man to vanish beneath the railing, falling through the stories below. With a laugh, Grant leans down and picks up the second gun, returning it to his jacket before stretching his hand out, helping Taylor to her feet and offering the same for Vickers. “Keep an eye on your husband for me” Grant calls out to Jessica, returning to the elevator with an unusual swagger, Taylor and Vickers joining by the man’s side as the elevator doors close. “Glad you could make it!” Josh exclaims, Howard pulled off a net stationed along the balcony of Josh’s apartment, the collar of his robe firmly in the grip of Josh’s hand. “You’re fucking sick!” Howard shouts, catching the breath that escaped his lungs in a fit of dire fear. “No, Howard… According to the audio recording… You are” Grant explains removing a second microphone from his jacket and replaying the audio, perfect quality coming from Howard’s confession. With the pressing of a few buttons, Grant edits the audio down to the most important part, the only words spoken being ones that a judge would only find as calm, and in no way said under duress. “There’s no fighting this in court, nor is there any fighting this when faced with jail time” Grant explains, “but the fighting there is- with this, at least- is whether or not I turn you in for it.” Crouching down, Grant looks Howard in the eyes, vowing to keep his word on the one guarantee he makes to his former mentor. “I’m not going to turn you in” Grant explains, “I’m going to let you live as a free man, though, one that knows that I will turn you in for this if I ever hear of you abusing your power in any way, ever again.” Explaining that Howard is now in Grant’s pocket, the ‘Tonight at Nine’ anchor lists Howard’s next moves with precise detail. “You’re going to marry Jessica, she won’t sign a prenup, and you’ll divorce one day later” Grant describes, “you’ll then leave television permanently, move off this continent and drop every lawsuit and charge you have against both myself and LMC Media.” With a nod, Howard agrees to the conditions, a response Grant takes appreciation for, patting the man on the side of the face and walking off. From off to the side, a wad of spit flies into Howard’s face, Bruce joining Grant's side, explaining that action to be taken on Grant’s behalf. One high-five between Grant and Bruce later, Taylor emerges from the group, staring Howard in the eyes with anger, the older man staring with worry as his hands are held behind his back by Josh. In an effort of revenge, Taylor runs the top of her head into Howard’s face, tearing the cartilage in Howard’s nose and watching it bleed. “That’s for being a cunt” Taylor mutters, turning around and rubbing the pain away with her hand. Escorted back to the elevator by Grant and Bruce, Taylor closes an open chapter in her story while Vickers stays behind for the moment, his eyes leaving Howard and turning back toward Josh. “Let me know if you ever need a favour” Vickers says, shaking the hand of Josh and thanking him for his assistance. “You look out for me, and I’ll look out for you” Josh replies, watching Vickers give him a nod of approval before walking away, ending the conflict once and for all before moving on, letting all parties involved move forward. == Tonight at 9 == / Tuesday, March 21st, 2006 /
“Would you be willing to put your name on the story?” Aiden inquires, standing before the desk in place of Grant and Taylor, his eyes and finger aimed toward Bruce at the opposite end of the table. “Yes, I would be willing” Bruce replies, adamant that he stands by his claims with certainty, “I know what I saw, and it was exactly as I saw it.” Strolling into the writer’s room, Vickers asks for an explanation of the early-morning rundown, Aiden holding nothing back. “We were asking Bruce if he could come on air and make the claims he made to us last night” Aiden replies, earning a swift turn of Vickers’ head, eyes held on Grant’s agent. “Are you?” Vickers asks, leaving no room for error, Bruce remaining steady in his guarantee. “No, I don’t want a simple ‘yes’ out of you” Vickers explains, taking the seat Aiden now abruptly relinquishes to his superior, “this is your name, your face, your reputation on the line.” Hands held firmly, fingers extended and pressed together, Vickers keeps them steady upon the table, making every outcome of this decision clear to the still-unknown man. “Everyone in New York will want your story” Vickers explains, “once you do this, you’re no longer Grant’s invisible agent.” Firm in his stance, Bruce leans forward, still sporting his iron-pressed suit coat whilst resting his arm upon the long, mahogany table. “I know what I saw, and what happened to Grant happened exactly as I said it did” Bruce replies, leaning just a slight amount further as he concludes, remaining poignant, “I will go on air. Name, face, the whole works.” With an enthused smile, Vickers stands from behind the table, extending his arm out to Bruce, who climbs to his feet and returns the man’s gesture. “I don’t like many agents, Mr. Langston” Vickers explains, citing most as cold and sleazy dirtbags, “but you aren’t as bad as the rest I keep finding.” “Thank you, sir” Bruce replies, his age nearly half that of Vickers’, though his reputation remains one of honesty and genuinity, those qualities having caught Grant’s eye before pen was put to paper on his contract. “Now, just to make sure the media doesn’t drag us through the mud for only carrying this story…” Vickers explains, his hand already pressed on the door with the expectation of departing, “find a few other stories to run that don’t involve our dearly wounded friend.” Turning his head toward the door, Vickers returns his eyes to Aiden upon the man’s response, a look of surprise coming over his face. “Already have” Aiden replies, almost immediately, “Alexander Lukashenko won a likely rigged re-election bid in Belarus, the UNHCR has been ordered to leave Uzbekistan within the next month, and Vladimir Putin visited China on Russia’s behalf to attempt arranged energy deal discussions that’ll probably lead somewhere important.” With a chuckle, Vickers drops his hand from the handle, lifting it through the air to pat Aiden on the shoulder, a welcomed response that puts a smile on his face. “Well done, Mr. Redwood!” Vickers replies, addressing Aiden as if he were an associate, the level of respect in the addressed title going unspoken, Vickers quick to depart in the same breath. “It looks like that will be all!” Aiden exclaims with a smile, his confidence shooting into the sky before plummeting back into the ground, his eyes tailing Carly through the glass walls encasing the writers. In a moment, the man glances away from the woman, his connection with her having never been stronger, though the dangers of thinking about said connection having never been higher. Swallowing the pride he’s been sent back to earth with, Aiden departs the room, water bottle in one hand and folder of notes and articles in the other, eyes directly toward his office. Feet taking him across the room, Aiden does what he can to avoid looking at Carly, hurrying at a quicker pace in his walk than usual, eyes only settling upon the door to his office. “You good, Aiden?” Shane asks aloud, crossing paths with the man, who quickly dashes back toward his office, nearly blowing his friend off completely. “Yup, just a last minute thing!” Aiden can only mutter, his mind elsewhere, too caught in a daze to make up an excuse. Finally reaching his destination, Aiden pulls the door open and dashes inside, his back pressing against the wooden entrance as if he’d just escaped the wrath of a school bully. Eyes aimed toward the ceiling, Aiden regains his composure, his nerves getting the best of him until he overhears the voice before his person. Caught by surprise, Aiden drops his belongings on the ground, the cap on his water bottle falling off as it, too, crashes into the ground. Looking forward, Aiden finds his problems to not be over just yet, discovering Juno sat in the chair in front of his desk. “I already told you, Juno!” Aiden exclaims, clearing the air before it can get stuffy despite Juno’s urge for him not to say anything, “there is nothing going on between Carly and I!” Hands waving through the air as a whistle blows through his lips, Juno keeps the atmosphere calm, assuring Aiden that he didn’t come down to make another point. “I just came here to apologize” Juno explains, Aiden’s eyes narrowing as the man’s opening statement outweighs his initial greeting. “I get a bit jealous from time to time, it just happens” Juno continues, leaving the chair and approaching Aiden, “Carly’s a beautiful girl and, I know I should trust her, but it’s just really hard to.” Lips parting randomly, Aiden tries to find the words to use, only to come up empty, allowing Juno to persist as he moves closer. “I’ve got problems with jealousy, that I will never deny” Juno explains, “but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or gotten ahead of myself last night.” No longer minding the open water bottle pooling onto his carpet, Aiden just stares at the man, tensing up slightly the closer he grows, but not feeling a need to have fear. “I just wanted to come here, formally, and say ‘I’m sorry’...” Juno continues, “...And maybe, just ask politely of you, not to mention last night to anybody.” Stumbling over his words, Aiden allows the much bigger man to close in on him, not able to find the proper response for the request until Juno’s progression stops, the larger man now standing directly in front of him. “Yeah, sure… Not an issue, man” Aiden answers, piecing together what he thinks is a reply worthy enough to speak, merely judging its value off the reaction of the man in front of him. “That sounds great, Aiden” Juno replies, patting Aiden on the chest with his hand, the open palm of which feels more like being hit with a mallet, “I’m glad we could talk this out.” With that final statement, Juno moves on, walking through the glass door to Aiden’s office, venturing into whichever pocket of the newsroom he wishes to next. Aiden remains backed against the wall, still frozen for reasons unknown to him, staring blindly at the cluttered desk on the opposite side of the room. Concerned, Shane pops his head in through the door, asking his friend if he’s alright before noticing the properties he once held in his hand now being soaked in water. “Yeah, I’m fine!” Aiden replies, a fake smile on his face, a signal to Shane that he’s better off leaving now than progressing the conversation further. Breaking away from this spell, Aiden drops to his knees and collects what he’s left on the floor, returning to his desk to move on with his day accordingly. = Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = / Tuesday, April 11th, 2006 / “Where are we with the protests?” Taylor asks through the mic, the chair beside her left empty, Aiden too preoccupied in the control room to give anything other than information already known. “Cat got your tongue?” Taylor jokes through the headset, Aiden scrambling around the panels, staring into different screens and eying different feeds. “No, we just keep getting pop news… Some rapper just got shot outside a nightclub in Detroit, I’m sure the networks gonna want it on air” Aiden replies, continuing about his work. “Just make sure I’m not broadcasting a news show-and-a-half, please” Aiden clarifies, Taylor giving him the all-clear on the other end of the signal. Like a knight in shining armor, a fully-suited Grant climbs behind the desk and takes his rightful seat, Taylor keeping a smile hidden as the familiar sight returns to her. “Ready?” Grant whispers, his eyes looking toward Taylor, the woman peering back with a face full of excitement as Aiden counts down from afar. Now on-air, Aiden settles into the next hour of production, door to the control room swinging open behind him. “Got a second?” Carly asks aloud, Aiden turning towards her, his eyes catching the only glimpse he needed before his head can turn anymore than an inch. Without a word, Aiden holds his hand towards the wall of monitors as he taps the headset draped over his skull, the woman acknowledging his current predicament. “I need you to come find me after the commercial” Carly explains, the man suggesting she wait until after the broadcast’s conclusion. “You told me to do that last week and then never came looking for me” Carly replies, the cold shoulder still being delivered towards her, a gesture she takes more anger toward not understanding rather than being given to start with. “I had a light lunch, I wanted dinner” Aiden replies, the woman warning him to stop beating around the bush. Aggravated, Aiden turns around, his hand removing the headset from his skull and tossing it onto the table behind him. “This is not the time, nor is this the place to be discussing whatever it is you don’t seem to be able to let go” Aiden explains, “so do us both a favour, whatever it is you want to say… Don’t.” His position made clear, Aiden turns back towards the monitor, Carly beginning to speak before the news alert pops up in the corner of the room. “Get back to your seat!” Aiden demands the operator originally intending to survey the alert, “I’ll take care of it.” Knowing his actions are purposefully intended to avoid her, Carly takes the hint and leaves the box, strutting into the newsroom and leaving Aiden to his work. Writing down the updates being given, Aiden takes in a couple of deep breaths, unaware of Juno glancing in at him from the other side of the glass door, a nod coming from him, acknowledging the truth behind Aiden’s statement. Charging back toward his set up, Aiden pulls the headset on and calls out to his anchors, his eyes locked on the screen. “The rapper, Proof, he’s a part of Eminem’s rap group- no idea if you know him- he was shot in a nightclub in Detroit” Aiden clarifies, glancing at Carly through another monitor along the wall, “he was rushed to the hospitals, early reports according to CSN and Fairweather say he’s dead.” Watching the tapping of Taylor’s pen, Aiden’s eyes track back onto the live feed of the newsroom, eyes locked on Carly, who sits at a desk in the centre of the room, arms crossed, eyes peering toward him through the glass walls. With a sigh, Aiden tucks his hands into his pockets and returns his stare toward the news desk, blocking her image out entirely in an effort of maintaining his ground. | “How was the first show back?” Taylor asks, entering Grant’s office without feeling the need to knock, a gesture that puts a smile along his face. “It felt great, obviously!” Grant replies with enthusiasm, “I know I wasn’t out for long, but it was long enough for tonight to have made me remember why I love this so much.” Almost as if the mention of loving the business were a beacon calling his name, Vickers taps his fist against the glass door, Grant telling the man to make himself feel at home. “I see the co-anchor’s getting comfortable enough to make herself at home on her own time” Vickers jokes, assuring the pair that he wishes to uphold the privacy on his own behalf. “Need anything?” Grant asks aloud, the rare sight of Vickers in the newsroom suggesting the need to address something of relative value. His teeth clenched, Vickers replies in kind, admitting his latest news delivery to not be one of particular joy. Locking the deadbolt on the office door, Vickers walks further into the office, pulling a seat out for Taylor and himself before motioning for Grant to do the same. Rolling his sleeves up, Vickers gets down to business, the casual look enough to warn Grant and Taylor of the weight to such impending topics. “Howard Nalty is suing Grant and LMC media as a whole for character defamation” Vickers explains, the ‘Tonight at Nine’ anchors staring at the man in partial disbelief, taking the statement as a joke at first. “You must be kidding” Taylor replies, Vickers looking toward her with his head shaking, Grant remaining silent, having seen this coming. “He’s arguing that, accusing him of domestic abuse against his fiancee, has no legal basis and therefor, is the same as slander in the court of law” Vickers explains, widening Taylor’s eyes further. “His fiancee?” Taylor repeats, Grant still silent, this time sporting a smirk, almost laughing to himself, having seen all of this coming with accuracy. “Of course she is” Grant replies, “because why wouldn’t he make the argument?” “He’s going through on what he said, that’s exactly why he’d make the statement” Vickers replies, “he wants to end your life and career. He probably tried on one front, and now he’s trying on the other.” In disbelief, Taylor goes quiet, Grant’s head lifting towards the man ahead of him, a look of exhaustion upon Grant’s face as he voices the question. “How much is he suing for?” Grant asks, Taylor looking at Vickers in defeat before gradually becoming more concerned the longer silence lasts. “Sam, how much is Nalty suing for?” Taylor repeats, her eyes staring a hole through her superior’s head, the displeased expression upon Vickers’ face telling the whole story. With a cold stare, Vickers looks back toward Grant, the man lifting his hand and pulling his fingers in his own direction, motioning for Vickers to get it over with. “An accumulative five-hundred million dollars” Vickers replies, the shock in Taylor’s eyes doing all the talking she needs, Grant’s head hanging in shame. “He wants to bankrupt you and put LMC out of business” Vickers explains, “or, at the very least, force LMC to fold the news division of it’s company.” Little other to speak toward, Taylor asks Vickers if Howard has a solid case to make, only wanting to know of her boss’ personal opinion. “She never did a rape kit, never filed a police report or made a report to CSN” Vickers says, “if he wanted to put us all out of work, he could do so with the snap of a finger.” Eyes taken to the floor, Grant does not respond, allowing the information to sink into his chest like an unending pit of nothingness. In that moment, Grant stares back toward Vickers, his look one of apologetic emptiness, eyes filling with the realization that his former co-anchor is now doing as he warned Grant he would. | Peering back into the empty newsroom, Aiden pulls a bag over his shoulders, making sure he leaves the building followed by no one. Once deeming the coast to be clear, Aiden makes his move, quickly sifting down the hallway and toward the elevator, rapidly tapping at the panel of buttons in an empty attempt to convince the machine to hurry quickly. With the cheerful ding of a bell, Aiden feels the relief waft over his body, dashing through the doors and pressing the bottom button of the interior panel before breathing a sigh of relief. Dinging again, the elevator alerts the man inside that the doors will now close, Aiden watching the space between the two large hunks of metal slide with a smile before another figure dashes inside in the nick of time. Suddenly sharing the space, Aiden looks on with his eyes pressed together while Carly pushes the big, red button, stopping the elevator after it descends half a level. “What is wrong with you?” Carly asks, cutting straight to the point as Aiden’s eyes roll, looking around the cramped space as if there were a third party amongst their presence. “I’d rather we didn’t ride down in the same elevator, so would you mind?” Aiden asks, pressing the red button to continue his descent. “I very much do mind” Carly replies, pressing the button again, the elevator now having climbed down one full level, “we’ll continue to take twenty minutes to get to the bottom if it takes that long to talk about this.” Taking his bag off, Aiden drops the sack to the corner of the space, politely asking the woman to leave it alone. “As you said, we had sex and we only had sex” Aiden explains, “I’m not your boyfriend, I’m not your roommate, we don’t need to talk about anything.” Reaching out for the button once more, Aiden feels his hand swatted away by the woman’s palm, her efforts stubborn, refusing to allow the lift to climb down any further than the brief amount it already has. “We may not be lovers or roommates, but we are co-workers, and we have the responsibility to work together” Carly explains, “considering we can’t even be in the same elevator as each other, I’d argue this arrangement of yours is harming our professional relationship.” “I think me thrusting my penis in your vagina ruined our professional relationship more” Aiden replies, shoving the red button again. As Carly ceases the room’s motion once more, Aiden’s voice begins to raise, his patience slipping. “We had sex once, almost twice, that’s it” Aiden explains, “you have a boyfriend, I’m a nerd, and we shouldn’t be in the position to have this conversation to begin with.” Pressing the button for a fourth time, Aiden finds his efforts successful for a brief few seconds before a less-enthusiastic Carly taps the button again, stopping another four levels of progress. “Is it Juno?” Carly asks, her voice soft and saddened, the initial statement prompting Aiden to glance toward her, ultimately forcing him into a double take, noticing the disappointment on her face. “Did he threaten you?” Carly asks, leaving the man sharing the space with him confused as to why she was able to put that together with such ease. “Has he done that to other people before?” Aiden queries, watching the woman’s mood change, her words refusing to give the man an answer. As he looks on, Aiden finds Carly stretching her hand out and pressing the red button again, this time allowing the elevator to descend further. The roles now reversed, Aiden finds himself commanding the stop, pressing the red button to halt the progression once more, keeping the pair entrapped within the metal box. “I want an answer to that question” Aiden explains, watching Carly turn back toward him before he repeats the question for a second time, the woman’s face flushed with defeat. “He’s not someone that likes me talking with any guys I could find even remotely attractive” Carly explains, “he tries to make a statement before anyone can think about trying to flirt with ‘his girl’.” With a sigh, Aiden is left shaking his head, asking the woman for the reason she stays with him, though Carly is unable to give him any response better than “because.” “I’m not saying he’s perfect, and I’m not arguing in favour of his flaws” Carly clarifies, “but there’s something about him that keeps me there- with him.” Head held down, Aiden twirls his fingers around each other, looking toward the woman through the corner of his eye. “Clearly it’s not enough to keep you around him at all times” Aiden interjects, the woman looking at him in confusion at first, her expression slowly changing into a smile. “There are qualities he lacks that some others make up for” the woman says with a smile, turning towards Aiden fully as the man does the same, the high-tension having faded into a moment of sincerity, which now shifts to a moment of lust-filled cravings for the other. Clothes flying off in the heat of the moment, the pair get down to business, their efforts made behind the privacy of sealed elevator doors. | / Friday, April 21st, 2006 / “Was there a dinosaur attack on the highway?” Grant asks, answering the clustered knocking on the other side of his rural home’s front door, allowing entry to Bruce, Vickers and Taylor. “Might I remind you that living outside of New York City, much like you happen to, is not great for time constraints?” Vickers replies, “I oughta buy you a flat downtown just out of pity!” Four glasses of liquor poured out on the coffee table in preparation, Grant takes a seat while he waits to be accompanied by his sudden guests. “We have a friend running a little late, same problems as us” Bruce explains, tossing his coat upon the hanger beside Grant’s front door, the second to take a seat, ahead of Vickers and after Taylor. “Why have you left the city to speak with me?” Grant inquires, curious as to the visit, “we could have done any of this over the phone… Or at the office earlier this morning.” With a devilish smile, Vickers suggests otherwise, “we couldn’t introduce you to our friend earlier today.” “And why is that?” Grant asks, watching Vickers as the third party finally takes his seat, his question answered by an amused Taylor, one leg draped over the other. “Because our friend will help you with Nalty” Taylor replies, immediately watching Grant repeat his original question, seeing no reason for it to change. “Because the help he offers isn’t exactly legal” Bruce replies, “but it certainly is effective!” Mouth agape, Grant asks Bruce to repeat himself, the already stated being recited verbatim by Taylor instead, the woman adamant that the only way to fight Nalty is to get on the same level. “He was right, as much as it pains me to say it” Taylor explains, “he can make an attempt on your life and do the same to your career because he believes that the only way to win is to cheat.” Making his voice heard, Vickers finishes the statement on Taylor’s behalf. “And when Nalty says ‘cheat’, he really means ‘break the law’” Vickers furthers, “so if he breaks the law to wage war, we’re gonna have to break the law to end it.” Head shaking, Grant refuses, leaving his seat and returning to his kitchen with the glass of vodka still in hand, vehemently refusing to sink to the same level as the man he holds such great disdain for. “If I thought the only way to win was to sink to Nalty’s levels, I would’ve let the rape he committed slide under the rug” Grant explains, “I came here to do the news, not create it.” “I don’t think you understand the full picture, Grant” Vickers replies, “as much as you love the news, you’ll never do it another day in your life if he bankrupts us at the knees.” Arms stretched out, Grant continues to refuse, unable to bring himself to the level Howard currently resides. Taking it upon herself to switch the direction the conversation is headed toward, Taylor springs from her seat and walks after Grant, her hands finding room on the man’s broad shoulders. “I understand why you don’t want to do this, but there’s not much of an option left… And that’s not your fault” Taylor remarks, “Nalty brought this upon himself, so doing this is not responsibility that falls upon your shoulders… This is self-defense at the least, and justice at most.” With a deep breath, Taylor clears her mind, speaking to the issue that weighs on her the most in an effort to align her views with the man before her. “We both know Jessica doesn’t want to be involved with Nalty any more than she already is” Taylor explains, “I know what’s going through her mind, and she can’t save herself… She’s hoping someone comes along and saves her in the way she can’t. We need to be that for her.” “I thought she was just as bad as Howard?” Grant questions, the woman admitting that she was wrong to repeatedly say such a thing. “I thought making her feel worse would get her to change her mind… And I was definitely wrong” Taylor admits, “but just because I was wrong then, does not mean that I’m wrong now.” Gazing around the room, Grant thinks to himself in silence, Taylor still standing in front of him as his doorbell rings, prompting Vickers to shoot to his feet with a smile. Looking back down at Taylor, Grant feels his mind racing with as many thoughts as his heart has beats, the ideas running through his head all clouded as he looks into Taylor’s eyes, feeling himself become weak in the knees as Vickers rounds the corner with their guest. “Grant, I want you to meet Josh Lane” Vickers explains, Taylor backing away from Grant as he approaches the new guest with an extended hand. “Josh was just promoted to the highest chair at VeroSoft, so he knows a thing or two about the spotlight” Vickers explains, “if you’re looking for powerful people in powerful places, Josh is your guy.” “I wouldn’t stop reciting my reputation there, Sam” Josh replies, “I’m also known for being tactical in how I approach things… Kind of helps add leverage in my corner for a later date.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lane” Grant greets, turning back toward Vickers with curiosity in his mind. “I’m not sure I understand completely” Grant quips, “how is this supposed to help me play Howard’s game at his own level?” With a smirk, Vickers downs the rest of the liquor in his glass, assuring Grant that it doesn’t. “This is how we get even” Vickers replies, “cut the dead weight and get back to square one… Compete from there rather than from behind.” Walking up to Grant’s side, Taylor looks the man in the eyes, tacking onto Vickers’ prior statement. “Furthermore, it’s also how we bring Nalty back up to our level” the woman explains, “his strength comes from playing below the surface… So bringing him to street level makes him relatively powerless.” Taking his sights away from Taylor, Grant peers toward Vickers, his boss asking the man to make his decision, the greenlight or the redlight being placed in the control of Grant’s own hands. With a final look toward Josh, Grant takes a final read of the room before parting his lips, offering his answer to whom are now his closest confidants. == Tonight at 9 == / Monday, March 20th, 2006 /
“I can’t believe it either! A stunt like that would only open the flood gates from both sides!” a man proclaims, his words fluttering through the air as he walks beside an unamused Grant, “but you’re getting praise universally!” Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Grant nods to the man, who immediately notices the lack of care coming over Grant’s face. “What’s the matter with you?” the man asks, looking at with a smirk as he speaks, “you’re America’s sweetheart!” “I don’t care to be America’s sweetheart!” Grant replies, arms stretched out like he’s just conquered the world, “I just wanna do the news and finish what I started here.” With a nod, the man beside Grant understands what his client is getting at. “You still want Nalty to pay for his wrong-doings, I get it” the man explains, “but he and CSN have lost thirty-eight percent of their audience in the last two months… And they’ve all been coming to you.” His head hung, Grant looks toward the man in displeasure, the cup of coffee in his hands wafting through the air in his ever-moving palm. “I get how important the numbers are to your job, Bruce” Grant replies, “but I’m only going to care about the numbers I bring in when I can put Nalty to justice… Actual justice.” “Okay, fine… Don’t look at the numbers as numbers… Look at them as power!” Bruce explains, contorting the conversation in real time, “America latches onto whatever you say, use your words as a weapon!” Stopping on the sidewalk, Grant turns toward Bruce with the direction of his whole body, watching the man wave his hands in the air to visualize his point. Living in his own home outside the boundaries of the cluttered New York City, Grant takes in the sights whilst he’s downtown, never able to appreciate them the way they’re intended as Howard’s apartment complex dominates the skyline. “If you tell the world Al-Qaeda was behind JFK’s assassination, people would demand Lee Harvey Oswald be declared a saint as reparations!” Bruce explains, “take him, and all others you don’t like, down with what comes from your mouth.” Staring the man up, Grant considers his option in the moment, his eyes glancing at the towering monolith a number of miles away as he does so. “Where do I even start?” Grant asks, “whatever I say will be taken by them and used as anything from slander to character defamation.” Tilting his head to the side, Bruce continues walking, Grant following after the suit-dressed man as his suede shoes tap against the concrete ground. “Come off genuine, and compassionate” Bruce explains, “they can’t sue you for anything if you have solid proof to back up your statements… Then they’ll just be pieces of informative media.” Nodding his head around, not at all fully convinced, Grant beckons for the man to give off additional statements. “If you’re pitching this to me, pitch it to me like you’d put your life on the line for it” Grant explains, “I’m not settling for anything unless you’ve trapped me fully.” Their walk reaching the end of the street, Bruce presses his finger to the button as they await their turn to cross the street. “Ratings change and perception gets skewed” Grant recalls, Bruce looking toward the taller man, “a guy like Howard won’t sit back and let his audience dwindle for lo-” Without warning, tires screech in the middle of the road, a passenger’s window already opened wide as the traffic comes to a complete stop. In moments, multiple gunshots ring out, both Grant and Bruce forced to duck for cover, doing all they can to avoid being hit until the tires screech again, the car disappearing into the crowded city. “Who the fuck does a drive by in the middle of the day!?” Bruce calls out, turning back toward Grant with his hands extended, his intentions being to make sure the man is unharmed, only to find his top-tier anchor in a pool of blood on the side of the street. In horror, Bruce staggers for a moment until he hears Grant’s breath, the wounded man gasping for air until by his manager’s side. “Call an ambulance NOW!” Bruce exclaims, his words commanding the crowd as countless civilians already hold their phones to their ears. Hurrying up to the scene, officers in the area tend to the man’s wounds as sirens blare out, a crowd of confused and shocked passers-by watching on. = Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = “Just ease up on the traditions after the last chant and it’ll be good” Aiden explains, walking away from the desk of one of his co-workers whilst Carly approaches. “A word in private?” the woman requests, walking at the same speed before, during, and after her whispered-request is aimed for Aiden’s ear. Doing as told in the moment in which the favour is made, Aiden breaks away from the clump of desks, following after Carly. “You needed me?” Aiden asks aloud, the woman looking through the rows of different office spaces, stumbling upon Grant’s still-empty room. “Grant isn’t here yet?” Aiden asks aloud, Carly not paying any attention to the man’s original question, instead getting directly to the point. “I don’t wanna mince my words, so I’ll be as upfront on this as I can manage to be” Carly explains, “what we did on Saturday can’t be shared with anyone.” Hands in his pockets with his eyebrows lifted, Aiden asks the woman for further clarification. “What did we do on Saturday?” the man replies, Carly’s recollection offered for the seconds it takes her to catch onto the joke. “Okay, I’m glad we’re on the same page” Carly replies, attempting to leave the space before Grant has the chance to walk in, only for Aiden to grab onto her arm before she can. “You don’t regret it, do you?” Aiden asks, stared at in confusion, “like, you don’t wish you hadn’t, right?” Taking in a deep breath, Carly voices the opposite, “I regret it because it shouldn’t have happened” she explains, “but not because you were bad or anything.” His head hung, Aiden swallows his pride and nods, stating that he understands, though Carly is unconvinced. “Okay, we had sex, we moved on, that was it” Carly replies, “I’m still with Juno, and for that reason, it shouldn’t have happened. We all caught up now?” With a nod, Aiden stays silent, allowing his posture to do the talking for him as the woman stares him up and down. “I’m not disagreeing, I totally understand!” Aiden exclaims, taking his hands from his pockets and holding them in the air, giving the woman the gesture of surrender. Her bottom lip in between her teeth, the woman runs her hand down the ruffles of his shirt, her finger tapping every button on her way further down. Leaning in forward, Carly breaks away in a split moment, both she and Aiden caught by surprise at the typical ruckus of the newsroom outside grows eerily silent in the blink of an eye. “Why does the news have to ruin every good thing in my life?” Aiden mutters to himself, the first to break away from the other as he moves for the door, a piece of paper folded in his hand to make it appear as though he were simply talking with Carly. “What the-” Aiden mutters beneath his breath, both he and Carly in awe as Vickers storms through the newsroom, his legs taking him directly to Taylor’s office. Noticing the pair strolling casually from Grant’s office, Vickers puts on a fake smile and nods, quickly disappearing into Taylor’s office as the star-crossed lovers return to their respective places in the studio. “What the fuck is going on?” Aiden whispers toward Shane, the man sat back in his chair, all hope of getting any work done disappearing upon Vickers’ arrival. The newsroom deathly-silent, Vickers’ rare appearance on their floor brings all work to a halt, his mere presence an oddity to many. “I don’t know, just keep an eye out” Shane explains, Aiden breaking away in the heat of the moment to return to his desk, only at a slow pace. After half a minute, the newsroom goes from muffled whispers to silence once again, Vickers leading Taylor from the comfort of her lavish office, the young blonde carrying her coat in her arms with her jaw dropped. “Ms. Carpenter!” Vickers shouts, Carly’s attention stolen towards the man in the same moment it’s called for, “get dressed for the air!” Hurrying off to do as instructed, Carly moves for her office, Vickers continuing to keep the newsroom silent as he calls for another name. “Mr. Redwood!” Vickers calls out, Aiden stopped in his tracks within an instant, “Go to your computer, cut the televisions off and direct the newsroom accordingly!” Watching his friend from the comfort of his desk, Shane’s eyes perform the same action as the remainder of the room, following Aiden’s every move until he gets behind his desk. Slumped forward, Aiden takes a few strokes across the screen with his mouse, directing the curser towards his email icon before his eyes widen in shock. “Oh-” Aiden whispers beneath his breath, the newsroom awaiting his every word. At the moment, his hands get sweaty, mouth becoming dry as he reads the first two sentences. Every monitor along the walls powering off around him, the newsroom from the ground floor to the ring surrounding those above, fed from his hand. “Alright everyone” Aiden calls out, his heart racing as he realizes that he’s now assumed full control of the show, “I need you all to listen very carefully.” | “This wasn’t just by accident” Taylor explains, her emotions running in drastically different directions, all taking her back to the same conclusion. “This was Nalty!” Taylor frantically exclaims, “somehow, some way, this was him.” Finger pressed to his lips, Vickers has very little to respond with, holding back the few words he can comfortably offer for a time when Taylor is less emotionally-driven. “I… Why didn’t we… I don’t-” Taylor begins again, fumbling over her words until Vickers stifles her, understanding that the statements she wishes to make are not ones she can make with ease. “We couldn’t be his bodyguards, he’s a grown man that can navigate the city on his own” Vickers explains, “if this was Nalty, we’ll find out and he’ll pay… Either with prison time, or with two hours locked in a cage with me.” Despite being on the older side of sixty, Vickers remains well-trained, the strength of a man half his age rendered obsolete compared to the tactics Vickers employs. Despite this obvious threat, Vickers holds hope to fall back on, noting Grant’s physical shape and healthy habits as a reason to believe in good outcomes. His hopes high, Vickers remains unable to do anything outright for the man, now awaiting their presence in the hospital. “If it makes you feel any better…” Vickers continues, a now-silent Taylor turning back to the man with tears forming in her eyes, “...I wish I would have done something different, too.” The news having just broken across all networks minutes prior, the pair’s car fights through the blockage of one news vehicle after another, all trying to get information they don’t already have. Stepping out of their vehicle, Vickers and Taylor make for the emergency room lobby, the woman’s hand being held up toward every camera and microphone shoved in front of her face. “I have no comments” Taylor exclaims, Vicker’s hand pressing against her back to lead her through the horde safely, the only backdrop to their efforts being the mashed voices calling out for their statements. “Taylor English, Sam Vickers, LMC News” the blonde news anchor calls out to the nurse stationed behind the front desk, “we’re friends of Grant Haste.” The conversation stops before it can begin, the nurse continues to press the phone against his ear, listening into the conversation being had over the line as Taylor looks on with displeasure. “Just be patient, we’ll see him” Vickers reassures the woman, who looks to him with eager eyes, her worry beginning to consume her. Despite the lobby being crowded with the sick and injured, Vickers makes out the sounds of a news report emanating from across the room, CSN broadcasting a live feed of the hospital Vickers and Taylor await word of Grant’s condition from. With a quick glance, Vickers finds the remote laid upon a wooden end table off to the side of the room, his finger gliding over the buttons to bring up the feed of his own network. Waiting patiently for the monitor to switch channels, Vickers stares on as the phone in the nurse’s hands falls back to the receiver, the feed finally returning to LMC’s regular, Monday morning broadcast. “We’re asking for Grant Haste, he’s our co-worker” Taylor exclaims, adding an apology for interrupting the man during his work whilst Vickers returns to her side. “Mr. Haste is in surgery right now, I’m going to need to see your credentials” the nurse replies, watching the pair before him ruffle through their belongings. Finally retrieving their identification, Taylor and Vickers hand the proof to the man, who takes one quick glance before trying his hand at contacting one of the surgeons. “Thank you” Vickers replies, Taylor too sick to get the words off properly. Knowing the distress they both share a part in, Vickers pulls a chair up for the woman, taking her off her feet for the moment, his eyes trailing back to the monitor as LMC’s programming is interrupted. Stationed behind the ‘Tonight at Nine’ desk, Carly sits with her hand against its reflective surface, the graphic at the bottom of the screen breaking the ice before she can utter a word. | “We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news” Carly introduces, Aiden watching from afar, hand pressed against the glass, unable to bring himself to watch through the monitors. “Grant Haste, one of two anchors on this channel’s primetime news broadcast, has been shot in downtown New York City, just a number of minutes ago” Carly persists, the newsroom fallen silent, every television in the building tuned to their own live feed. “We understand the importance of unbiased reporting at this network, so we’ll put forth our best effort to bring you an impartial look at today’s events” Carly concludes, “offering you more as the information comes into us.” With a sigh of relief, Aiden steps away from the window, nodding to his crew before stepping out of the control center. “Abby, Keith!” Aiden shouts, capturing the attention of two producers, “get a bag ready and head out to the police department A.S.A.P!” “You want us to question the police?” Keith asks aloud, both he and the woman he hurries toward only left more confused by the orders that follow. “Nope, I need you to pick up Bruce Langston!” Aiden replies, “he’s Grant’s agent and he’s giving his statement to the police right now… You’ll get more from him than whatever you’re gonna get from the cops.” With a nod, the pair ventures off, doing as instructed while Carly watches, a smile hidden behind her lips as her boyfriend walks into view. “Hey” Carly mutters, her arms wrapping around Juno’s neck, eyes still watching Aiden glance back to his office, the de facto leader of the newsroom doing a quick glance toward her before walking off at Juno’s sight. “I’m so sorry to hear about all of this, I wish you’d have told me” Juno explains, Carly wishing she could have done the same thing. “They told me to get dressed and get on air, I had no time for anything else” Carly excuses, Juno buying in hook, line and sinker. “We’ve got him in surgery!” Aiden calls out, just having gotten off a quick phone call from Vickers, “he’s still alive as of three seconds ago!” With a sigh, Carly shrugs towards Juno, a disingenuous “that’s my cue” serving as her parting words. Hurrying to Aiden’s office, the woman quickly takes a sticky note from the man’s hand and races back to the desk, Juno watching each step tentatively, his eyes immediately trailing back to Aiden the moment he leaves his office for the control panel. | Refusing to be moved anywhere other than the hospital lobby, Vickers and Taylor wait out the day for more information. Every doctor or nurse that walks through the doors getting the same treatment, daggers shot toward them in hopes of more information, the life in their desperate eyes fading the longer time passes with no new insight. Paying no attention to the entrance, Taylor and Vickers keep their eyes glued to the one spot they need answers to originate from, completely disregarding the question the entrance would offer. “What a surprise” a deep, monotone voice calls out, Vickers and Taylor groggily staring back to the source before jumping into action, entangled in rage the moment they find Howard walking in with a bouquet of flowers. Beneath the man’s arm, an unamused Jessica walks alongside her abuser, Nalty’s hands held high, coming on grounds other than those he’s waged with Grant. “Don’t think you can walk in and try to fool us, you know we’re suspicious of you” Vickers says, cutting to the chase, much to Howard’s chagrin. “I’m just here to offer my condolences” Howard replies, “the guy doesn’t have much of a spine, so I don’t expect much of a fight from him.” Nostrils flaring, Vickers stares at the man intently, the blood vessels in his eyes almost bursting with the fury he wishes to unleash upon the cocky anchor. Ripping the flowers from Howard’s hand, Vickers tosses the plastic-wrapped decoration across the room, staring down Howard, who reminds Vickers of the legal power he obtains. “I don’t care what you can do to me in the courts” Vickers replies, “it’ll all be worth it for just two minutes with you right here.” “I wouldn’t count your blessings on that, old man” Howard replies, watching Taylor shove Vickers away, demanding he regain his composure as the lobby looks on in wonder. “We’re in a public place, we’ll hash this out later” Taylor explains, Vickers backing away from the woman and adjusting his suit, “right now, we need to keep ourselves from getting thrown out of this hospital.” Taking in one deep breath after another, Vickers keeps himself cool again, Taylor angrily staring back toward Howard and Jessica, a sudden confidence falling over her. “You’re an evil bastard” Taylor whispers, slowly and intimidatingly approaching Howard, who’s look of confidence gradually falls into one of concentration. “You know what you did… I know what you did... Everyone you and I know is aware of what you did” Taylor explains, “and you won’t get away with it.” Clearing her throat, Taylor takes the flower pedal, having fallen from the rose as the bouquet was ripped from Howard’s hands, and presses it into her palm. “You may think you have every way to get yourself out of trouble, but you don’t” Taylor concludes, turning toward Jessica, who looks at her with worry. “As for you, you’re no victim” Taylor explains, “you’re just another cog in the machine that lets this happen… You’re just as bad as him.” Her hand held in the air, Taylor waves her fingers toward the way the pair came, implying they need to leave while they still can. “Take money-honey by your side back the way you came” Taylor demands of Howard, “and if you come back again, I’ll make sure they arrest me on the spot for your murder.” With a groan, Howard turns around, pulling Jessica with him and retreating for the door, both Taylor and Vickers watching on as the events unfold. Her huffed breaths noticeable, Taylor stands in place, staring down the pair as they walk off, Vickers’ hand finding the soft spot of the woman’s shoulder. “You did great” Vickers says aloud, his phone being placed to his ear to make a call as a nurse finally retreats from the back with the answers they’re looking for. “Mr. Vickers and Ms. English?” the nurse calls out, grabbing the attention of the duo in an instant, “please follow me.” | “I’ll have her hit the air with it” Aiden explains, his pen scribbling across the note against the surface of his desk. “Yup, I’ve got replacements and all ready” Aiden continues, the door to his office opening, unbeknownst to him, “we’ll run with Taylor’s rough run down, go over it a little and work from there.” With a smile, Aiden thanks the figure on the other end a final time as his door closes, hanging up the phone and preparing the final touches to the note. His pen returning to the cup on his desk, Aiden turns with the paper in hand to leave his space, colliding with the massive chest of Juno the moment he does, falling back into his desk. “Sorry, man” Aiden calls out, the surprise of the moment prompting him to forget how awkward bumping into Juno in his own office actually is. “You need help with any-” Aiden begins, his words disappearing the moment Juno lays both of his hefty, meaty hands against his chest, forcing him back onto his desk like a bully. “Dude, are you-” Aiden begins, caught by surprise once more when the behemoth grabs him by the collar and throws him against the wall, the breath that leaves his mouth cascading across Aiden’s face. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Aiden calls out, his surprise dissipating the moment he comes to understand the true nature of their interaction. Reminding the smaller man of his physical stature, Juno keeps Aiden pinned against the wall, telling him to quiet down before he alerts anyone else in the office. The worry beginning to settle in, Aiden does as instructed, not willing to play games with his well-being on the line. “I know there’s something going on between you and Carly” Juno explains, holding off on getting any more physical than he already has, “I may be jealous, but I’m not an idiot.” Raising his hands from his sides as a signal of surrender, Aiden stretches his fingers as far out as he can manage as he pleads innocence. “Carly and I work together, and that is it” Aiden replies, “there’s nothing more going on between us… Just two co-workers tasked with putting a broadcast together, okay? That’s it!” His teeth pressing together, Juno stares Aiden down in blistering anger, telling him to listen closely for his own sake. “I don’t buy what you’re saying for a second” Juno explains, “but if I ever, and I mean, if I ever catch you and Carly as being anything more than co-workers, it won’t end well for you.” “I understand!” Aiden replies, his eyes tearing up as the buttons on his dress shirt press against his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. Feeling satisfied with his point made, Juno lets the man fall to the ground, stepping away from the executive producer and leaving the office, letting Aiden gasp for his breath amidst a coughing fit on his own. | Watching the broadcast from the hospital room, Taylor rests her head against the chair as Vickers’ phone begins to ring. Listening to Carly’s broadcast, Taylor watches the images flash upon the screen of Howard Nalty, his visit to check in on his former co-anchor having been leaked to the media. “Thank you” Vickers concludes, returning his phone to the pocket on his side and standing from his seat. “LMC wants me to make a statement on behalf of the news division” Vickers explains, “they’ll send out a car for you when you’re ready to go home.” Thanking her boss for his help, Taylor watches Vickers smile to her with a thumbs up, his eyes glancing over the unconscious Grant with concern and relief. “I don’t have any guarantees, just like anyone else” Vickers explains, “but I’ve got high hopes that he’ll be alright.” With a nod, Taylor watches Vickers walk off, her eyes drifting back to the monitor as her hand reaches for the remote, switching to CSN, who run their broadcast according to the news LMC puts forward. After a few minutes, the scene stays the same, the woman watching the competition as if she were surveying the land, a muffled voice calling out to her surprise midway-through, a passing jab at his former workplace widening her eyes. “They’ve always been nothing more than a copy of the better show” Grant mutters from his bed, prompting the woman sitting beside him to pop to her feet with a smile. A breath of relief escaping her lungs, Taylor hangs her head at the sight of Grant’s smile, hands squeezing the bars on the sides of his hospital bed. “You seem happy to see me” Grant whispers, finger tracing the outline of the vein in the woman’s arm, “who would’ve thought that two months ago?” With a weak laugh, Grant recalls to himself how much the time between then and now has changed, Taylor allowing the man to put it into perspective. “I’m glad you came around” Grant mutters, both he and Taylor laughing with whatever power they have left, “I knew you would, but I’m still glad you did.” Confused, Taylor asks the man to explain further, which Grant does with ease. “You’re not predictable in any way, but there’s one thing I noticed about you the moment we had our first conversation” Grant explains, “you’re used to your first impressions being right, so it sticks with you when you’re proven wrong.” “You noticed that all the way back then?” Taylor asks, amused as the man reminds her that he’s grown to study people easily. “I knew I was going to clear the air that night before I even accepted Vickers’ contract” Grant explains, “I was the opposite guy you first thought I was before I even walked into your office for the first time.” “That’s why I’ve taken to you so quickly…” Taylor admits, finally having discovered the reason behind her quick turnaround toward Grant, who lays there with a smile. “I know there’s plenty about you that I don’t know yet” Grant explains, “but I really look forward to learning more.” With a smile, the woman stares at the man, a phone ringing in her pocket, hand reaching in before pulling away, a surprised look coming over the man. “You don’t wanna tell them I’m alive?” Grant jokes, the woman staring back at the moment as she switches the television back to LMC, a smile on her face, “let them sing your praises a little longer.” With a nod, Grant shuffles to one side of the hospital bed, making a space for the woman, who looks at him with lifted eyebrows. Hands in the air, Grant eyes the woman with a reciprocated smile, “I promise to keep this strictly professional.” Flattered, Taylor climbs onto the thin mattress and lays by Grant’s side, hands folded in her lap as the pair look to the monitor, Taylor’s head resting against Grant’s shoulder as the broadcast continues. == Tonight at 9 == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
March 2023
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