S4, E5 | Putting Boots on the Ground

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 9:12 am est. - 6:12 am pst. /

“Yes, Nicole?” Vickers queries, looking over the cheaters that sit atop the bridge of his nose as he takes the woman knocking at his open door’s frame. “You have a visitor” the woman responds, leaning halfway into the room as the office’s occupant motions his hand toward himself and replies. “Send her in” the man quips, snatching the glasses off of his face and setting them down at the base of the computer’s monitor.

“It’s actually a he” Nicole corrects, catching her immediate superior by surprise, his face taking toward the empty chairs at the front of the room as he wonders who it could be. “Alright, then. Send him in” the company’s president doubles down, adjusting the jacket he wears over his person before turning in his chair to face the door his secretary now retreats from. For a few seconds, Vickers remains seated in his silence, awaiting the sight of a face that doesn’t take much longer in letting himself in.

“Do you have a second to talk briefly?” Joshua Lane queries, taking the older gentleman by surprise at his appearance, though not enough surprise to prevent him from presenting a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure, kid? I thought you’d be working remotely by now” Vickers remarks, stepping out of his seat to approach the younger man with an extended hand, “still climbing the corporate ladder from within, huh?”

“It’s not the city that I mind, it’s the people in it. Well, some of them” Josh replies, reciprocating the handshake as he remains standing, not wanting to sit down in the name of preventing himself from staying longer than necessary. “Listen, I’d really like to say that I came down here to have a friendly chat, but I can’t with a straight face” the young businessman explains, passing a quick glance around the room as he lowers his voice just a slight amount, “I’m actually here to give you a head’s up.”

“I’ve adjusted my finances over the last few months. Don’t worry, you won’t be the first person to tell me that the market’s about to crash” Vickers assures with a grin, only to fall into a modest confusion once more, seeing the refusal in the opposite man’s shake of the head. “No, it’s got nothing to do with the market. Besides, everyone knows it’s about to plummet. At least, they should” Josh corrects, wearing a visibly concerned expression on his face.

“I don’t like when young, smart people start speaking in vague tongues. Old people at least have the wherewithal to rip the bandage off” Vickers responds, sliding his hands into his pockets as he mentally prepares for unwelcome news. “I’m assuming that you haven’t read my email?” Josh wonders aloud, taking the lack of change in the company president’s face to insinuate just that, “I sent you one before the long weekend, but I didn’t get it off until late in the day.”

“I’ve only been in the office for about an hour now and haven’t even looked at a computer since Friday. What’s going on?” the older gentleman questions again, watching his younger acquaintance lower his head and nod. “Howard Nalty’s back in New York” Josh answers, metaphorically ripping off the bandage that he’d seemingly been wished to, “I’ve got a friend who snapped pictures and sent them my way, so I forwarded them to you. He got in Friday afternoon.”

“I don’t understand, why is he back here?” Vickers wonders, shaking his head as he’s unable to make sense of the change in scenery taken on by the besmirched anchor. “Listen, the only thing that I know is that he got in on Friday afternoon and- to my knowledge- he’s still here” Josh explains, watching as his acquaintance turns to the side and walks toward the back of his own office, trying to rationalise the renewed appearance in any way that he can.

“I was confident that whatever he was here for wasn’t something that could just be speedily-moved along, so I figured that I’d let you enjoy your weekend if you hadn’t already gotten the email” Josh explains, shrugging his shoulders without much more to offer. “You’re one of the few people in this city that I actively like and respect. As for Nalty, I can’t tolerate the guy’s presence” the young, corporate success-story explains, “I wanted to give you a head’s up.”

With his brows furrowed, Vickers approaches the window of his office and stares out at the city from above, one hand having slid out of his pocket in favour of settling upon his hip. Struggling to find sense in returning to the home one was exiled in, the president loses himself deep into thought for a few seconds before suddenly remembering the presence that remains behind him.

“Thank you, Josh. I’ll... Well, I don’t really know what I’ll do from here” the older man rejoinders, glancing over his shoulder to the office’s guest before watching the younger man nod and walk off. Returning to his seclusion, Vickers frees the hand opposite his hip-sitting limb and uses it to stroke his chin, genuinely bewildered as to the point of such an old foe making his presence felt once more.

= Tonight at 9 is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onward =

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 11:34 am est. - 8:34 am pst. /

“No, we don’t need to put any kind of thoughts into their heads” Vickers explains, pacing around the room with a hand on his hip whilst his superior occupies his chair and his leading co-anchor’s agent sits in one of the simple ones opposite his desk. “I still have an obligation to make sure my client is well-informed” Bruce doubles down, leaning against the back of his seat with his non-dominant arm draped atop.

“No, you have an obligation to put your client in the best-possible position he can be in” Vickers corrects, pausing his stroll from one side of the room to the other with his finger pointing at the well-dressed professional, “making wild assumptions about why that dirty bastard is back in town is not the best-possible position for him.”

“Allowing Nalty to get the jump on him isn’t the best-possible position either” Bruce responds, forced to redirect his gaze to the same place in the office that the interjecting voice emanates from. “Nothing is preferable in this position, but Vickers’ point is much more concrete” Robin explains, extending her hand toward her subordinate’s figure, “Nalty could be here to tie up loose ends or close in on a real estate deal. Something not worth getting riled up over.”

“Okay. Do I need to remind the two of you what Nalty has done in the past?” Bruce questions aloud, placing the sides of both hands against his thighs, “do I really need to refresh your brains about the drive by shooting he likely orchestrated to kill Grant?” Showing his teeth as he winces, Vickers hangs his head and begins pacing once more, quickly accepting the fact that he holds little argument against such a recollection.

“Nalty is the reason that I still use a bulletproof briefcase. How the hell can we justify not telling Grant about him when it could literally be the difference between life and death?” Bruce doubles down, raising the question toward the woman occupying her president’s chair. “He’s got a really good point, Robin” Vickers confesses, admittedly coming around to the mindset that the man’s agent has brought upon them.

“I know he does, but there’s still the issue of not knowing why Nalty’s back in town” Robin assures, only for the non-employed party of the three to add emphasis. “And if Josh Lane found out about this four or five days ago, how long is it until the tabloids pick it up?” Bruce queries, watching reservation take shape in the chair woman's face, “what will Grant say if he has to hear about Nalty being here because page six prints it instead of it coming from us?”

“Alright, alright... I hear you” Robin concedes, holding the palms of her hands toward the agent’s face, staring defeatedly at the ground with her bottom lip pressed between her teeth. For a few seconds, she sits within the presence of a silent room as she contemplates how to approach the issue that appears to be on hand. Feeling like he’s made his point well enough to be confident in a preferable decision to be made by the CEO herself, Bruce sits back in his chair and lifts one leg over the other.

“We’ll tell Grant and Taylor- in private- and ask them to keep it under wraps” Robin decides, placing the tips of her non-dominant hand’s fingertips atop the solid desktop, “we’ll explain that we don’t know what he’s doing here, and all we know is that he landed at JFK sometime last Friday afternoon.”

“Should we tell them that we’re trying to find out what he’s doing here?” Vickers wonders from a few paces behind the seated agent, only to receive a shake of the chair woman’s head in return. “No, because that would be a lie. I don’t care why Nalty’s here, I just care that he is and it’s going to cause a problem with my premier anchors” Robin concludes, following Bruce’s lead in lifting one leg over the other.

“Nicole!” Vickers proclaims, calling out for the woman that leaves her secretary’s desk and reaches his doorway within seconds, “do me a favour and ring Grant Haste and Taylor English’s office for me, please? Let them know that I’d like to speak with them in my office urgently.” Nodding, the employee ventures off to do as instructed, leaving the three parties that remain to patiently await the anchors’ arrival.

Scratching his forehead as he begins traipsing toward his office’s windows, Vickers returns his gaze to the city below whilst Robin hangs her head, gently bouncing her elevated leg atop the smooth thigh of the one beneath it. Rounding out the trio, Bruce swipes at his recently-cut hair whilst continuing to lean against the seat, staring off at the corner of the room as the seconds pass before his eyelids inch closer together, a genuine wonderment carried through his visage.

“Hey, guys?” the man asks aloud, re-earning the attention of the company’s chair woman and her on-duty president as he continues staring into blank space, raising the subject of his puzzlement through the silence that the moment presents him with, “you don’t think Burt Russo has anything to do with this, do you?”

With the same expression that he’d carried toward Bruce, Vickers’ eyes direct themselves instantly to the woman at his desk, the lack of a shift in his visage not changing the fact that his eyes spell the look of someone genuinely curious as to the answer. Looking back to the man near the windows, Robin begins to glare with an angry scowl as the seconds pass, growing too discomforted with the thought to control it.

“Son of a bitch” Robin whispers, slamming her hands against the swivel chair’s armrests before ascending to her feet, “you two let the pair know what’s going on... I have somewhere to go.”

|

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 12:13 pm est. - 9:13 am pst. /

“Well, it’s certainly not welcomed news” Grant responds in a breath-heavy sigh, hunched forward with his elbows digging into his thighs as he sits opposite Vickers’ desk. “I know, and I’m sorry” the older man explains, finally getting to occupy his own chair whilst staring at the disheartened and perturbed anchors before him, “it’s not the news that any of us want, but we’re all going to have to hope for a good outcome.”

“There’s never a good outcome with Nalty” Taylor responds, seated beside her fiance as he stares at the ground, the palm of her hand resting atop the man’s right arm. “And neither of you know what he’s doing here?” Grant questions aloud, looking up from the carpeted floor in favour of the men that stand across from him, “you just know he flew in, got off the plane on Friday and hasn’t left yet?”

“What we know for certain is what you now know for certain” Bruce assures, standing to the president’s right with his knuckles pressing against the desktop, “anything else is just wild speculation. All of it would be baseless and the kind of shit reserved for assholes printing in gossip columns.”

“What’s the speculation?” Taylor queries, narrowing her eyelids just slightly as the quandary is met with silence at first, the lack of an immediate answer prompting her fiance to look up at the pair. Shrugging his shoulders with slightly-parted lips, Bruce shakes his head without certainty whilst Vickers looks at the ground, leaning against the left side of his seat as the question still goes unanswered.

“Are either of you going to respond?” Grant questions aloud, watching his agent look toward the man beside him, who still continues to look at the ground up to the point in which his second anchor calls their hush into focus. “He could be here for anything” Vickers responds, shaking his head without any clear conclusion to reply with, “this could be a real estate deal. Or he could be meeting with a financier about what to do when the market plummets.”

“Or he may not have permanent residency in Italy and has to come back for a short period of time in order to not overstay his welcome with their government” Bruce adds on, finding his line of thought to be amongst the more reasonable suggestions. “Or he could be what Burt was talking about when he said he’d make us pay for snatching the shares off of him” Taylor tacks in, re-earning his fiance’s attention as his face takes toward her.

Looking at the side of the woman’s face as she continues to stare at the men opposite them, Grant eventually follows her line of sight to find a pair of disappointed and glum faces. “He did say he wasn’t afraid to tarnish Finley’s reputation if it meant getting back at us, didn’t he?” Taylor calls into question, only stoking the fire that brings her fiance’s concerns to light, “with how far their reputation is in the toilet already, how would he squander it any further than by hiring a rapist?”

“The concern crossed our minds and I have a feeling Robin just went out to get answers herself” Bruce retorts, defying the dialogue he and the company president had agreed on in light of the female anchor’s discovery. “So that’s why they decided to change their format over there...” Grant mutters beneath his breath, though loud enough for the rest of the room to hear as he nods his head and looks away, “...to paint the hour before and during our show with a ghost from my past.”

“I’d wish them luck in trying to find an anchor willing to sit beside him for two hours each night if that’s the case, but I’m sure some random whore would snap at the opportunity to get on T.V no matter the cost” Vickers responds, giving into the shift of the narrative they’d attempted to keep from ‘doomsday think’ and running along with the new course.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Nalty’s an excellent anchor” Grant confesses, wearing a frown on his face as the rest of those in the room turn their focus to him. “If you think that I’m any good, it’s because- for better or worse- I learned from him” the male nine o’clock showrunner quips, “he’s a disgusting human being, but he’s very good at what he does. Even if the public sees him as a rapist, there will still be a good amount of people that will give in and watch his show because of how much they liked his on-air work.”

“If he wants to get anywhere with any of that, he’ll have to go through an hour of the most attractive eight o’clock anchor out there and a second one of the greatest duo on the airwaves” Vickers defiantly refutes, stepping out of his chair with command as he adjusts his suit jacket, “Nalty doesn’t stand a chance in this war.”

“Of course he doesn’t. But neither does Burt Russo” Grant sighs, pushing himself out of his seat whilst his fiance follows suit. “If this whole thing is a ploy to get back at us for costing him a spot in the company, he’s going after the wrong person. I don’t give a damn what Nalty does” the male anchor remarks, shaking his head with a lack of concern in his expression, “Nalty is old news to me. Sure, he’ll be some stiff competition professionally. But seeing his face on television won’t do a damn thing to me.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just the Grant that wants to put on a strong facade speaking?” Bruce questions aloud whilst the company’s president joins the rest in climbing to his feet, “it’s alright if you’re not okay with this... You shouldn’t be.”

“You were there when I confronted him, Bruce. There wasn’t a damn thing left for me to do with that asshole once I’d left” Grant replies, not an ounce of hesitancy within his voice, “I mean it. He wanted me to hit him and I didn’t. The only one in control that day was me, and until the day that I die... I’m going to remain in control.”

“If this is what’s happening, you’re really okay with it?” Vickers asks for the sake of clarity, looking at the man with both uncertainty and a striking amount of belief in what’s being said. “Well, I’m not going to like it. But as far as losing my mind over it, I’m not letting that filthy prick get in my head” Grant responds, unwavering in his defiance to the assumed ploy of their rival network, “the only person I’ve had nights staying awake over is Kelsi, and that’s for an entirely different reason. Nalty is nothing but a sour memory I no longer care to think about or feel like I have to walk around eggshells over.”

“And you’re sure about that?” Bruce asks for the sake of absolute certainty, truly believing the claims that his client makes. “I’m not stuttering, Bruce. I couldn’t care less about what he does now- I just hope it doesn’t involve hurting other people” Grant declares, firm in his stance and genuine in the belief, “as far as I’m concerned, there are some people that he can still hurt... but I’m not one of them.”

|

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 12:40 pm est. - 9:40 am pst. /

“You’re signing Howard Nalty to broadcast your evening show, aren’t you?” Robin questions aloud, storming into the office of the Finley operator to the reaction of a giddy smile, “I knew you’d stoop to that kind of low, you obese faggot. How the hell do you think this is going to work out for you?”

“If you’re asking me that question, I’ll take it that you haven’t heard about my newest appointee to the board of directors here, have you?” Burt replies from behind his desk, sitting before the backdrop of a massive window stretching from one side of the room to the other, reaching from the floor to the ceiling.

“You mean Reece Rocha? Am I supposed to be phased by that bellcow bottom?” Robin questions back with hands firmly pressing into her hips, an eyebrow raised over her right eye, “he’s the kind of skinny fat that’d get cut due to budget constraints even if he were the CEO himself. He’s worth nothing anywhere.”

“If you think I assigned him to the board because he’s the key to toppling your empire over at Leicester, you’ve got the wrong impression of my motivations” Burt rejoinders whilst staring at the screen of his computer, “and that’s on you, because I’ve gone out of my way to tell you exactly what I plan on doing.”

“Making our lives a living hell? Do you think Reece Rocha and Howard Nalty- or the panty-wearer and the panty-sniffer, as I like to call them- is going to get that done?” Robin questions back with a chuckle. “It’s clearly got you worked up enough to storm down to my building, climb the seventy floors to my office, and wager every kind of insult you and that big head of yours can think of on the fly” Burt rebukes.

“I came up with a few new ones in the car, don’t you worry- my big head has plenty of storage to remember them all” Robin snipes back, earning a slight chuckle out of the overweight company figurehead. “You’re sacrificing your flagship broadcast in the name of trying to take potshots at- and get in the heads of- my employees” she doubles down, calling the man’s motivations into question.

“Yes, Robin. Because that’s what war is” Russo rejoinders as the visiting executive’s eyes begin to roll, “do you think I’m oblivious as to what kind of audience watches my network?” Crossing her arms as she remains standing at the man’s desk, Robin keeps her lips pressed together in the name of earning insight out of the obese man seated opposite her.

“I could put a Nazi on my airwaves, and as long as he takes shots at Democrats for twenty minutes each night and calls them devil worshippers- my audience will watch” Burt replies, turning his focus away from the computer monitor and toward his uninvited guest. “I’m not sacrificing my premier broadcast so much as I am evolving it” the Finley Network operator corrects, “unlike you and your misguided idea of where this industry is going, I’m preparing for the real future.”

“What’s the title of your nine o’clock show, again?” Robin wonders aloud, immediately receiving her answer of, “News Tonight, but it’ll be rebranded to National News Tonight when it starts the two hour format.”

“Is your idea of the industry’s future ‘National News Tonight with Dr. Feels Good’ and whatever dumb, blonde slut you’re gonna send out there with her tits pushed up to her chin?” Robin queries to her adversary’s genuine amusement, “I think my prediction of this industry’s future is a lot more viable than yours.”

“Haha. ‘Dumb, blonde, slut’. Yeah, that’s who we’re putting beside him” Burt laughs to himself in a subdued manner, “I’ll give you this, Robin... You’re very funny.”

“Thanks, I learned by watching the clowns I’d eventually usurp to snatch my company away from their pie-covered hands” Robin quips, continuing to wear a grin as the man opposite her carries on. “The future of the industry is just bumping up our individual biases to eleven. Democrats rag on goofy Republicans by calling them fascists, and Republicans rag on uptight Democrats by calling them psychopaths” Russo predicts, “morals are a dying breed around our line of work.”

“Yeah, and you stabbed it in the chest to begin its extinction in the first place” Robin assures, watching the man opposite her extend his arms in a show of triumph. “I’m a trendsetter, what can I say?” Burt responds, taking the insult on his chin and changing it to be taken as a compliment.

“This isn’t going to end well for you. This will be a P.R nightmare that you’ll never recover from” the LMC chair woman explains, getting no effect out of her claims, however. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a business move, this is a personal move. I’m not out to beat you at doing better business, I’m out to beat you at war” Burt explains, climbing out of his seat and walking around his desk to stand directly opposite his visitor, “the only reason that I’m manning the troops is because you fired the first shot.”

“If you’re firing from this tower of yours, I think you’re sorely mistaken if you’re of the belief that you’ll be able to even land a shot on mine” Robin defiantly remarks, watching the arrogant grin spread across the puffy cheeks of the Finley Network chairman.

“I find it funny that you’re talking about landing shots on each other as if the point of war weren’t to put boots on the ground” Burt replies, deepening his smile as he and Robin maintain eye contact, the woman’s lids narrowing closer together as the man speaks, “because if we’re talking about putting boots on the ground in the other’s building... Who’s to say I don’t already have them there right now?”

Her curious glare dropping into a straight face with rooted anger buried within, Robin stares at the overweight man’s face as she takes his comments into thought. For a few seconds, she remains standing opposite her adversary before retreating, turning her back to the man’s frame and making for the direction in which she’d entered whilst Burt chuckles to himself, returning to the work at his desk.

|

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 1:35 pm est. - 10:35 am pst. /

Exiting the lift at their desired floor, Grant and Taylor calmly make their way back to the newsroom, their hands coupled together as they venture through the corridor and toward the bureau. “I believe you” the female anchor remarks, not needing to clarify what she’d meant by the claim in order for her fiance to know what she’s alluding to. “I know you do” the man replies, looking at her with a smile before leaning in for a kiss, their lips’ embrace ending as they step through the panopticon’s entrance.

To the collective sound of chairs turning amidst a silence that’s impossible to miss, the nine o’clock anchors arrive back to the level they’d departed a few hours prior with every producer centring their eyes upon them. Not taking long to notice this reaction, the stars of the primetime broadcast look out to the crowd of desks to see a plethora of wide eyes and uneasy expressions, some carrying the weight of anger whilst others just appear incredibly uncomfortable.

“I heard you got engaged!” a man’s voice proclaims from behind the desk atop the newsroom’s transparent stage, climbing out of Grant’s seat to the left of the hard camera to stand upright. Immediately recognising the voice, the broadcast’s male anchor looks past his colleagues and to the visitor that had awaited his return from the comfort of his seat.

“That’s wonderful news! As long as it endures, marriage is a beautifully-symbolic representation of the undying love that two people have for each other” Howard remarks, dressed in casual wear and with a grin from ear to ear whilst locking eyes with Grant, “even if it doesn’t manage to stay the course, the contractual obligations that come with marriage make it impossible to escape each other.”

Though staring with a great displeasure carried through his visage, Grant’s expression doesn’t seem to be all that phased by the unexpected appearance of his past. “Everyone give it up for the happy couple!” Howard commands, putting his hands together for the lovers whilst the rest of the newsroom remains audibly still, watching on as spectators to whatever interaction is about to unfold, incapable of ignoring the words that Nalty utters, “what we have here is really meant to last!”

== Tonight at 9 ==