A Finger on 'The Pulse'

[Silverback]

Continued from The Prometheus Project

Sari left the meeting room, fully aware that the eyes of Two Crows had watched her leave and she'd been unable to resist swinging her hips a little more than absolutely necessary. She laughed quietly in amusement as she overheard T'Challa asking for his undivided attention. Returning her thoughts to the upcoming interview the young indian reporter returned to her quarters and changed into attire a little more appropriate and professional for a newshound.

With a light knock on the door Barker announced that transport had been arranged and that a dossier on the editor-in-chief and the publication 'The Pulse' had been prepared and waited on the hall table. Without waiting for a reply the gentleman returned to his everyday duties.

Almost skipping down the stairs in an adrenaline fuelled rush Bengaline couldn't help but feel nervous and excited all at the same time. To have the opportunity to work for such a renowned paper was every journalists dream. She wouldn't expect the others to understand her trepidation but reporting was almost a lifeblood to her.

Opening the mansion door she was surprised to find a New York cab sat on the drive. She'd half expected to see one of the organisations 'pool' cars with a chauffeur at the exit. As she climbed inside she was taken aback as she recognized a member of the mansions staff. "Don't 'cha worry miss. We have our own cab." He grinned around his cigar as he gunned the engine to life, "After all we want you to get to the Bugle alive!"

[Bengaline]

“…Alive…?” This word kept repeating itself over and over again in Sari´s mind as she was sitting in the back of the “cab”. Pictures started to come into her mind from way back when she was 18 and the whole attack on her bus happened… Those thieves hardly stood a chance, and from one fateful incident ‘Bengaline’- the hero- was born.

“Evidently,” she thought to herself, “The mansion’s staff is completely unaware of my… Abilities. T’Challa must not have told them that I am more than capable of taking care of myself!”<br>
Anyhow she knew she needed to get focused on her new task ahead – a job at “The Pulse”. It wasn’t “The Bugle” but the easiest way to get a step in the door according to T´Challa who was the one setting her up with that appointment just half an hour ago.

It was still early in the day, Sari was looking at the city, the people, all the cars driving by – was that rush hour?? – cars everywhere. And she got lost in thoughts. … . A ray of sunlight came in through the window drawing her attention back on her task. The light shone directly on the dossier that Barker had prepared for her. “Alright, Sari, let’s get back to business”.

She opened the folder and started to read the print-outs on “The Pulse’s” editor-in-chief Joseph Robertson. There was no picture with the portfolio and Sari liked to be able to put a face to a name, but soon enough, actually sooner than she thought, she would get to know him. Other important people at “The Pulse”- a former reporter name Ben Ulrich, and a woman called Jess Jones. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get to know the two of them, either.

Maybe, she wondered, she should just go with her intuition. The young woman, who usually liked to work with facts and know exactly what was going on, decided to rely on her intuition – a sense very important for her daily life as a journalist. It was about knowing where the stories where waiting and where to look. She took a deep breath and turned her attention to the one copy of “The Pulse”, which was included in the dossier. As she flipped through the pages, she started to commit to memory some of the other authors and journalists names from the publication- a couple were actually somewhat familiar. “I may already know someone there and not even know it…” she mused to herself

While continuing to flip thru the pages, her gut feeling told her that they would probably be arriving soon. A look in the drivers rear-view mirror was enough for her to know that her make-up and hair were still in perfect shape. She bent forward a little bit to address the driver: “Will we be arriving soon?”<br>

[Silverback]

"It's just ahead of us now lady." The driver replied in answer to his passengers query. Althought the view was limited through the cabs windshield Bengaline could make out most of the towering brownstone building that housed the citys premier rag. Down it's outer face ran the glowing neon sign that announced all to the world the residents of this structure its slightly tacky nature perfectly reflected the attitude of its editor J. Jonah Jameson.

"Here you go miss." The cab pulled across the oncoming traffic quickly as it performed a u-turn, the New York city traffic demonstrated its appreciation with a flurry of yelled curses and a fanfare of klaxons and horns, so that his passenger could disembark in safety.

Deposited outside the headquarters of Americas most notorious, rather than premiere, broadsheet the young heroine made her entrance through the mahogany doors, the bugle logo etched into the clear glass and embossed upon the brass fittings. A smiling receptionist greeted her. "Hello, can I help you?"

[Bengaline]

Bengaline went over to the reception desk. Smiling, she put down her purse and the folder on the counter and leaned towards the receptionist. "Yes, please. I have an appointment with Mr. J. Jonah Jameson. ..Oh sorry, Sari Kumar."

[Silverback]

Quickly tapping on her keyboard the receptionist pulled up the editors schedule for the day. Finding no scheduled appointments she turned to face the eager candidate. "I'm terribly sorry but I don't have you down for an appointment with Mister Jameson and he won't see anyone without one."

Sari quickly pulled out the manilla folder she'd taken from the mansion table. "Look . . . I've got an apointment with . . ." She blushed slightly as she realised her mistake. "Sorry, it's with Joseph Robertson. I've an interview with him for The Pulse magazine."

Half-smiling in understanding the young woman behind the counter quickly switched to Robertsons electronic diary. "Ah yes. Here we are. Your appointment is scheduled for nine-thirty. If you'd like to take a seat Mister Robertson will send someone for you shortly." With her duty discharged the receptionists attention was distracted by an incoming fax. The machine ground to a halt as it beeped a paper-out indicator.

"Damn!" She looked up in embarassment at cursing out loud and laughed sheepishly at her slip in decorum. Rising from the chair the young woman strode her away from her position, obviously in order to restock the faxs paper supply.

From the corner of her eye Sari quickly noted the subject line of the communication, 'Kidnap Exchange Announced'. From her current position it was impossible to tell what the remainder of the document stated.

[Bengaline]

Sari felt tempted... too tempted to withstand the curiousity. The receptionist woman was out of sight so she quietly got up from her chair, and sneaked back to the reception desk. Placing her open folder in front of her, to look busy reading just in case she would come back, Sari peeked over to the fax machine and was able to read the rest of the incoming fax.

The information she had just read was definitely important but how was she supposed to forward that Info to her teammates? Then Sari noticed that that wasn´t an ordinary fax machine - no, it was one of these machines that copied too. She deliberately pushed her folder over the edge, so that half her informations contained within fell onto the reception desk and half of them on the floor by the receptionists chair. While attempting to recover her papers, she fitted one of her papers into the fax´s paperslot, took the one fax page which had just arrived and put it thru the fax and hit "copy". Then she took her papers of the reception desk and packed them together on the fax machine. With a swoop she had pulled the one copy of the fax into the pile. Then she kneeled down to recover the rest of her papers off the floor. When she had them, she put all her papers together and was reaching towards the folder, when she heard familiar footsteps coming closer.

[Silverback]

"Ahem . . ." The voice coughed loudly, startling Sari. "I assume I'm addressing the ass of Miss Kumar? It's a pleasure to meet it but I'd much prefer to talk to your face." The mans voice was barely able to suppress its amusement at the embarassing situation the young reporter found herself in.

Feeling her face growing hot at his comments she quickly regained her feet and turned to face her audience of one. Sari found herself looking into the deep-brown eyes of an aged man of obvious African-American descent. Clipped to his jacket pocket hung a press pass identifying its bearer as an employee of the Daily Bugle, across its base, in big bold letters, ran the name J. Robertson. She'd nearly been caught by the deputy-editor himself!

"Nerves, eh?" He questioned rhetorically. "Come to my office and you can tell me a little about yourself on the way. Bengaline was grateful the man had not chosen to question her 'actions' any further as they passed through the calm reception area into the noisy, hectic world of the press office.

[Bengaline]

Sari was glad that everything had worked out and that Mr Robertson decided not to question her on the paper issue. Walking through the office, passing by various small offices and desks and trying to keep up with him, Sari explained how she had worked as a journalist back in India and how she came to be in Manhattan. "Anyways, it would be such an honor to be able to work for the daily bugle - to be "on the pulse" - you know!?" Sari´s eyes sparkled and she was sure that not even a Mr Robertson editor-in-chief would be able to resist her charm combined with a nice ass, of course.
" As you can see from some of my articles here in my folder, I am sure you can tell that I am quite good in this field. Just tell me what you need, and I´ll get you a story ". With that Sari stopped looking at Mr Robertson.

[Silverback]

"Although quite a detailed portfolio I'm afraid there are no staff positions available for full-time journalists on either the Bugle or Pulse staff at this moment." At this point he cracked something of a smile. "Which I'm sure you would find of benefit considering your . . . 'associates'."

His office was effused with the smell of coffee and adorning his walls were many photos and press clippings giving a snapshot of this mans history.

"So you've a choice between freelancing, which is of course non-salaried, or join as a part-time member of our staff, which is almost non-salaried." And burst out laughing at his own joke.

"Whichever route you decided to follow your first assignment is to gain an exclusive interview with that native american fellow from Tribal who appeared on the news yesterday evening." Giving Sari a crooked smile he continued. "Apparently some of our female readership have taken quite a shine to him and have asked us to run an article on him."