S4, E6 | Let's Make it a Mission to Stay Current

\ Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008 /
\ 1:37 pm est. - 10:37 am pst. /

Thrusting his hands forward, Aiden angrily throws the back entrance to the level in which the nine o’clock office is located outward, marching forward like a man on a mission with Carly following closely behind. “Where the hell is he!?” the eight o’clock producer shouts, rounding the corner from the rear of the newsroom in time for Shane to step in front of him, keeping an advancement toward Nalty from getting underway.

“I’ll handle this, Aiden” Grant calls out, stepping toward the transparent platform he hosts the show from, purposefully remaining a few feet ahead of his co-anchor as he does so. “Oh, you will?” the now-rival anchor questions back, humoured at the idea that his one-time ally has taken it upon himself to step up to the plate. “Look at how far you’ve come, Grant” Nalty quips aloud, his comment failing to phase his former ‘number two’ as the man continues forward.

“It feels like it wasn’t that long ago that you were the new guy in town not wanting to step on peoples’ toes” the besmirched anchor carries on, speaking from the stage in which his adversary proves his worth, “and now, you’ve gone on to conquer the national news.”

“What are you doing here?” Grant questions aloud, preventing his foe from continuing to wander down memory lane in the name of getting to the point of his arrival. Reacting with laughter at first, Nalty lets his eyes fall to the ground as the male anchor joins him upon the stage, watched on by the nine o’clock newsroom and the stars of the eight o’clock one.

“Relax, I didn’t come here to disrespect the sanctity of your turf” Nalty explains, holding his hands up in a show of surrender as his former friend stands before him, arms held at each side- but ready for a fight in the event that one were to come out of this interaction. “I only came here because I feel like there’s an apology that I should make for my actions” the man responsible for ending each of their time at CSN remarks, “now that I’m getting a second chance on television, I should make amends for my shortcomings from the first time.”

“Who the hell is letting you back on television?” Aiden questions from afar, having wanted to keep his nose clean now that Grant has the situation under control- something that hadn’t been true when Shane had phoned him about the uninvited guest minutes earlier. “The fat cunt at the Finley Network, who else do you think would take that kind of risk?” Taylor responds, answering on behalf of the man who she believes doesn’t deserve the respect of being able to answer it himself.

“They’re not giving you a second chance, they’re just using you to try and get at me” Grant corrects, refusing to carry his line of sight away from the eyes of the man he’d assumed had been put away for good less than a year prior. “True or not, I get the chance to make amends for my mistakes. Should I not?” Nalty queries, seeing little of an alternative, “I’ll be on television for two hours every night. Why should I not try to make amends for my wrong doings?”

“Because your sincerity isn't genuine” Grant answers, watching the masculine host-to-be of the rival broadcast roll his eyes and look away, his head slightly hanging as he takes in the response. “I had my career and reputation stolen from me. I’ve obviously seen the kind of thing that my actions have led to” Nalty remarks, unable to say much more than that before another voice interrupts him.

“You had nothing stolen from you” Taylor speaks out, re-earning Nalty’s attention whilst her fiance continues to stare daggers into the criminal’s eyes, “what you lost- you pissed it away.” Visibly displeased with the conclusion that’s been drawn, the former CSN anchor looks toward the ground before his former co-anchor adds onto the claim.

“And you know what you did was wrong. You made it a point the day after to make sure I wouldn’t squeal on you because you knew what you did was wrong” Grant tacks on, regaining the focus of the man that stands upon his home field, “if you weren’t sorry about it then, I’ve got no reason to believe that you’re sorry for any of it now.”

“If I don’t get to make good on my mistakes, why should you get to?” Nalty questions back, throwing defiance into the face of the nine o’clock anchor as he twists the metaphorical knife into his former partner-in-coverage’s past. “Why should I believe that you’re sorry for what you did? Why should anybody?” the new Finley newsman queries, his comments not sitting well within the man opposite him.

“Because I covered for you in a moment of weakness that I can never take back” Grant responds, earning a crossing of Nalty’s arms whilst he continues, “you raped a woman. After the fact, you ran around looking for people to cover it up, and when push came to shove- you married her so she wouldn’t testify against you if it came to that.”

“Well, I’ve allowed the two of us to amicably divorce since that happened. So, clearly I’ve made some sort of progress in coming to terms with what I did and accepting my faults” Nalty responds, swaying his head with no passing concern. “What is the point of you being here, Howard?” Grant questions aloud, tired of the constant circles that their conversation seems to be amidst making, “I know you’re not sorry, and I know you’re not here for any reason that I’d like. So why are you here?”

Looking off to the ceiling, Nalty lets the question sit in his head for a few seconds before the sound of another entrance catches his ear. “You have sixty seconds to get out of my building before I have security through you out through the windows” Robin calls out, storming through the front entrance and down the same centre of the aisles that her anchors had taken to the transparent stage.

“I don’t care what network you go to as long as the person that hires you knows that you stand no chance of making a dent into our market share” Robin continues, stepping past Taylor in an effort to climb the stage, “so go back to Russo and let him know that this ploy will not-” Kept from finishing her thought, the company’s chair woman falls silent as Grant calmly steps in front of her, gently resting his forearm against her side to prevent her from carrying on.

“Robin, please...” he speaks through placidity, locking eyes with the powerful woman as she remains quiet, allowing him to make his case, “...let me handle this?” Looking her male anchor in the eyes, Robin eventually redirects her sights toward the unwelcome visitor standing upon her stage, holding back her anger for him as she returns her focus toward Grant, who remains confident in his polite request.

Bowing her head in the form of an accepting nod, Robin takes a step back and frees the bureau’s focal point to be reclaimed by its male lead, respectfully bowing out of the business that isn’t hers to put to an end. “In all honesty, I was sent here by Russo. He told me how to sneak in and get up here without getting caught by security” Nalty confesses, taking on a more sincere tone than the semi-presentful one he’d entered the building with.

“I’m sure he wanted me to get in your head, but I don’t really care to” the disgraced newsman admits, letting his arms fall from their crossing against his chest, “I’m just a pawn in this war between the two of you- I’m just satisfied with getting a chance to be on television again.” Slightly narrowing his eyelids, Grant remains silent as he allows the man opposite himself to continue speaking, feeling like he’s finally found something worth hearing his adversary out over.

“I can’t stand here and say what you want to hear. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I got caught” Nalty continues, verbally cutting through thin skin and creating winces throughout the audience, but doing so with honesty at the least, “I lost my career and now I have to work at Finley. I get a chance to at least have some kind of career, so- I guess I’ll take it.”

“You shouldn’t even have that” Taylor mutters aloud, her comment heard by those currently occupying the stage, “I feel awful for the women that have to suffer with you in the workplace every day.” Deepening the shift in his mouth toward the corner of his face, Nalty takes the comment to heart before letting out a deep sigh, continuing along with the stance he’d intended to make.

“You’ve come into your own, Grant. Congratulations” Nalty concludes, shrugging his shoulders as he begins directing his body toward the steps that lead from the floor and to the stage, “I don’t care to do Burt Russo’s bidding for him. I figured that I might as well give you your credit while I’ve got the chance.”

Without anything further to add, Nalty’s imposing facade falls as he descends to the newsroom’s floor, keeping his hands to himself as he steps past Taylor, who holds an intense glare at him as he passes. Stepping into the presence of the security standing just beyond the bureau’s front entry, the newest member of the Finley Network departs without a peep, leaving those that call the premises home to stew with his presence in the wake of its absence.

= 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 =

\ Thursday, January 10th, 2008 /
\ 9:38 pm est. - 6:38 pm pst. /

“Richardson’s departure from the race comes on the same day one of his now-former opponents across the aisle nets a high-ranking endorsement” Grant carries on, reading from the teleprompter as canned footage of the most-recent Democratic nominee plays as an overlay. “Former Democratic nominee John Kerry- who lost to President Bush in the election of 2004- officially endorsed Senator Obama’s campaign for the presidency” the man explains whilst his executive producer offers direction to his colleague.

“Throw it to commercial and regroup as we get Brant Washington in via satellite” Shane remarks, watching the monitor that hosts the view of his hard camera as the female anchor taps her pen against the desk twice. “When we come back, we’ll be joined by Brant Washington to speak with us about the growing concerns that Americans have for the state of the economy” Grant explains, “in addition, we’ll continue our on-going coverage of the other network’s Republican debate.”

“We’ll be right back- don’t go anywhere” Taylor finishes off with a smile, watching as the solid, red glow of the light over her specific camera cuts off, signalling the broadcast’s break. “Two and a half until return” Shane calmly remarks, stepping away from the wall of monitors before venturing toward the direction of his office.

Seated at the desk of the eight o’clock time slot, Aiden watches the broadcast that succeeds his own from the chair that his anchor would normally occupy, having begun the process of fixing the levels beneath the nine o’clock offices with televisions just as he had years prior on his other show. To the left of LMC’s broadcast resides the one hosted by CSN, where the Republican candidates fighting to succeed Bush as the party’s nominee for president duke it out from behind podiums.

Called to answer the device ringing in his pocket, Aiden keeps his eyes glued to the screen not amidst a commercial break and presses his thumb upon the green-coloured button. “Aiden Redwood, executive producer of eight o’clock” he greets, only to hear the ruffling of papers precede his friend’s voice.

“Are you coming back to the apartment tonight or should I assume you’ve fully patched things up with Carly?” the nine o’clock producer inquires, still seated at his desk with a passing glance at the television in his office’s corner, watching the same debates as the man downstairs. “Things are going smoothly for the moment. You’ve got the place to yourself tonight” Aiden replies, satisfying the acquaintance that hurries to end the call he’d interrupted his job to make.

“Sounds good, have fun” Shane retorts, hanging up the phone just as quickly as he’d dialled his pal’s number, allowing the eight o’clock showrunner to do the same. “Have you finally moved back in with Carly?” Doug wonders aloud, asking from the desk that he occupies away from the corner in which Aiden resides, joined alongside his fellow producers as they collectively oversee the CSN debates.

“We’re not putting a label on anything yet” the executive producer answers, sliding his cell phone back into the pocket of his slacks, “for now, all I’m doing is ‘staying the night’ until further notice.” Nodding in agreement, Doug leans back in his seat with one foot kicked atop an empty seat he uses as a stool to rest his limb upon, eyes falling back upon the monitor as the few remaining employees still hanging around the office take toward minding their business.

“Hey, what are gonna do about Finley’s show crossing into our time slot?” Colin questions aloud, growing tired of hearing the repetitive cycles that the Republican candidates allow their talking points to create. “Why would we do anything?” Aiden asks back, preventing his eyes from pulling away from the screen as he addresses the question.

“Because they’re taking their primetime show against us?” Colin replies, answering the question as asked as if it were warranting a reply. “And that doesn’t scare me one bit” Aiden reassures, one foot resting atop Carly’s workspace whilst the other sits on the ground, his anchor’s seat having been reclined a slight amount for more comfortable viewing, “Finley’s audience is a bunch of older people who find it a necessity to stock up on tin foil. Our audience is old and young, but we’re growing in the latter.”

“So, we’re not going to counter-program?” Colin questions back, earning a chuckle and a squint from the executive producer. “The moves that Finley’s making are just petty acts of retaliation against the guys upstairs for stuff behind-the-scenes. His move has nothing to do with us” Aiden clarifies, shaking his head as he reaches for the half-drunk bottle of beer within arm’s reach of him, “he’s just trying to send a message to them. He’ll fail like anyone else that makes business decisions out of spite does.”

“I get your point, but that still doesn’t explain why we wouldn’t counter-program” Joey tacks on, only for their immediate superior to answer on Aiden’s behalf. “The Finley Network’s extension of nine o’clock won’t affect us even the slightest amount. They’re trying to send a message and we’re not scared of them” Doug points out, breaking their motivation down into bullet points, “counter-programming is a way of insinuating that we feel their presence against us is worrying. It’s not.”

“But our audience is pretty old in some spots too. I mean, we do have three percent more viewers in the ‘49+’ range than their eight o’clock does” Colin corrects, looking at his superior whilst doing so, “we’re making headway into the younger demographic, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we can afford to lose the older audience we already have.”

“We won’t” Carly interjects, stepping out of her office with her dark locks of hair tied into a messy bun, approaching the desk whilst wearing a casual t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. “Aside from not necessarily being a bunch of conspiracy hacks, the older group doesn’t just watch me for my journalistic integrity” the anchor clarifies, putting a classy spin on the effect of her appearance’s appeal on the older generation as she steps toward the corner of the office.

“We’re not counter-programming their eight o’clock hour because we don’t need to” Aiden explains, leaning further in the anchor’s chair to make room for his girlfriend to take a seat upon his lap. “I appreciate your concern for the work we’ve done thus far, but Colin... you don’t need to worry” the E.P assures, providing the man with a nod of confident reassurance, “Finley’s not going to get anywhere with us.”

“I’m not worried” Colin clarifies, the certain tone that he takes in his declaration proving to convince his immediate superiors just the slightest amount. “I’m, or- what I was trying to...” the man explains, only to let his head fall and shake with refusal, “nevermind.” With a curious squint, the eight o’clock producer and the anchor upon his lap bypass the face of Brant Washington as it pops up on the broadcast fed to the nation from a few levels above their heads in favour of their colleague’s own.

“No, no... tell us” Aiden assures, offering the man enough of a floor to convince Doug to turn his focus toward the subordinates as well, “we’re all open here. If you’ve got something to say, it’s better said than kept to yourself.”

“He thinks that- if he has an idea that sounds stupid or doesn’t work- you’d think he wasn’t good at coming up with new ideas” Joey explains, taking over for the man who fails to find a voice for himself. “Colin and I were brainstorming new ways to connect with the audience we’ve gotten online other than just posting to message boards and replying to them” the associate producer carries on.

Staying silent, Aiden joins alongside his girlfriend in carrying their sights toward the subject in question, intrigued by the idea that’s presented. “People throw shit at the wall that doesn’t stick all the time. That doesn’t mean they never get the chance to see what does, Colin” Carly says, resting the back of her head against her lover’s chest, “unless you get a reputation of throwing things at the wall that never stick, we’re not going to take your ideas with a grain of salt.”

“Conspiracy theorists or not, we can’t really afford to lose the older audience just yet. We do either have to find a way to keep them around, or to hurry up our in-roads with the younger one” Colin rebuttals, explaining himself as coherently as his social awkwardness will allow him. “I’m not saying we directly counter-program Finley’s show, but we are the only primetime show doing something different with the time slot we’ve got” he carries forward, “why not work outside our parameters while we’re at it?”

Hearing the man’s point, Aiden focuses his sight upon the associate producer for a few seconds in silence before glancing toward his immediate subordinate. With a momentary look of intrigue, Doug takes his pupils from the carpeted floor and toward the man and woman on the stage a short distance away, shrugging with a semi-interest in what’s presented.

“Alright, Colin...” Aiden responds, reaching toward the remote that had rested beside the beer bottle his girlfriend now takes for herself, muting the Republican debates to bring a substantial quiet upon the bureau, “...what do you propose?”

|

\ Monday, January 14th, 2008 /
\ 11:31 am est. - 8:31 am pst. /

“All that I’m saying is that there’s no point in covering the debates any further” Grant explains, seated opposite Shane with a coffee in hand. “We know who the two front-runners are on the left and which guy the establishment wants on the right. We’re wasting our time with this coverage” the man continues, looking toward each side of the conference table that his colleagues line across, “I’d rather devote more time to focusing on the ones that could be our next commander in chief and dissect their talking points and historical stances.”

“That’d pretty much be firing Clinton so far out of the race for the nomination that she’d be rocketed into space” Marcus points out, watching the male anchor’s nodding head react to him as he sips at his coffee. “With the kind of skeletons she has in her war chest? Good” Grant replies, setting his cup back upon the table as he continues, “McCain’s not going to win the presidency anyway with how the nation perceives the last eight years of Bush. We might as well tell them exactly who their next president is.”

“Obama’s been in the senate for a single term. Clinton’s got so much baggage in this thing that even her husband’s little adventures get lost in them” Olivia points out, resting against her seat with one leg kicked over the other, “like Marcus said- you’d practically be handing Obama the nomination.”

“I’d rather take the things I don’t know about Obama than the things that I do know about Clinton” Taylor interjects, standing in the corner of the room with her arms crossed, “I’m pretty sure I’m not in the minority of the American opinion in saying that, too.”

“And that’s the point. Americans aren’t stupid enough to blindly vote someone in because they’re a woman. They want a thorough vetting of each candidate and a comfort in knowing that they’re aware of who they’re casting their ballots for” Grant explains, snapping his fingers before pointing toward Shane at the opposite end of the table, “if there’s anything that differentiates us from the pricks over at Finley, it’s that.”

“The fact that we’re not going after Democrats for stoking flames of terrorism or whatever the hell they target them for at Finley also helps. Our criticisms are fair” Shane corrects, leaning forward in his seat to take another look at the script sitting in front of him. “With that said, Romney isn’t that far behind from historical precedent and Edwards did still finish second in Iowa- he’s the Democrat’s golden child, after all” the executive producer explains.

“I wouldn’t imagine they’d put their chips in his corner after how bad Kerry lost in ‘04, and I doubt they’re investing anything into him now that his affair surfaced” Taylor argues, stepping up to the table to reclaim the coffee cup she’d left beside her fiance’s own, “It’s a race between Obama and Clinton, and since Edwards still finished ahead of Clinton in Iowa- I’m inclined to believe it’s Obama’s for the taking.”

“And a good chunk of America is following suit, which is why it’s important to properly vet these candidates” Grant explains, extending his arm toward the monitor with a feed of his former employer, “I don’t agree with their corporate practices, but at least CSN is getting with the same program. They’re ditching Edwards, Romney, and Giuliani in favour of focusing on the main three.”

“Alright, alright... fine” Shane concedes, liting one hand to the anchors that fight for the shift in their coverage of the race before extending a finger toward them, “but if this blows up in our faces- it’s on you two.”

“This isn’t a hill for us to die on, it’s a speed bump... we’ll take our chances there” Taylor assures, patting the table with the top halves of her fingers with satisfaction, “alright- meeting’s dismissed. Marcus, I want you at the red desk. Everyone else just stays the course.” As instructed, the crew spill out of the transparent box one after another, returning to their duties as the show rolls on, their responsibilities made clear.

Being left as the final two to occupy the space, the engaged anchors take seats beside each other without uttering a word at first, simply taking in the sounds of feet storming around beyond their compartment in the name of getting to work. “Are you really not phased by Nalty heading back to T.V?” Taylor questions aloud, lifting the inquiry through the lack of disruption that had unfolded around them.

“Why would I be? He’s a ghost of my past that I’ve already put to bed” Grant responds, resting one arm upon his lap whilst the other holds his coffee cup beneath his chin, “what Finley decides to let into their building isn’t up for me to control, so I’m not going to let something beyond my power get the best of me.”

With a warming smile, Taylor rests her dominant arm against the table and looks into her fiance’s eyes, feeling the seconds pass as they could physically touch her before guiding her free hand to the man’s face. “I’m really proud of you” she confesses, earning a pleased smile from her lover, their faces being brought together for a kiss to show the male anchor’s appreciation for her remarks.

“The fact that you can stomach looking me in the eyes after how we first met tells me all that I need to know that you’re telling me the truth” Grant retorts, following suit resting his hand against the side of his fiance’s face, “I love you so goddamn much.” Taking in another kiss, the anchors continue to remain about their business whilst Aiden watches on, having just entered the nine o’clock newsroom through the front before looking on with a smile.

Not wanting to interrupt the anchors’ moment, their former showrunner returns the way he’d arrived and makes for the lift to the eight o’clock floor once more. Entering his newsroom, the eight o’clock producer takes a glance toward Carly’s office with a smile, seeing her silhouette through the frost glass before turning his focus to the two associate producers who’d taken his interest prior to the weekend.

“Alright, Joey, Colin, and Doug...” Aiden proclaims, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone, sending a text message to his significant other that had been typed along the journey of his return. Watching the eyes of the three men he’d called out for take toward his direction, the eight o’clock producer dips his cell phone back into his pocket before watching his girlfriend’s figure step out from her desk, approaching the exit to her office upon receiving his message, “...let’s make our pitch.”

== Tonight at 9 ==