PHD #405: Arrested Development
Arrested Development
Summary: Because Sawyer can't talk her way out of an arrest warrant when MPs have tasers.
Date: 07 April 2042
Related Logs: Any related to the Cylon Testing.
Sawyer Oren NPC 
MV Elpis
Some where between the hangar and Pete's
Post-Holocaust Day: #405

It was one of those epiphany moments when Sawyer woke up this morning, and so at the close of business she shut up shop aboard the Cerberus and caught a shuttle to the Elpis. There's a rattle of her wrist as she shakes her watch out from the cuff of her shirt so she can check the time, and then she hustles off the wing of the Raptor so she can get to Pete's before the evening crowd really picks up. She'll need to speak to Herak before he's really swamped.

Sawyer may or may not get the feeling she's being watched as she steps off the Raptor. In any case, she does not get far before a pair of men in MP garb seem to appear out of the crowd near her. "Sawyer Averies?" The question comes gruffly and tersely, and they move to subtly block her advance toward Pete's. They don't seem to doubt her identity, but one much check on such things.

Sawyer flicks up her ID badge and press credentials so that the men can easily and clearly read it. "So my clearances state. Something I can help you with, boys?" The words come out distractedly, in fact her eyes are focused on the corridor beyond their shoulders as intent as she is about her destination. She takes a half step this way to see if they'll move, and a half step the other before it becomes apparent that they aren't going to budge. With a little huff of air that fluffs wisps of blonde from her face, she settles back on her heels. Fine, she'll listen. Begrudgingly.

A third Marine moves out of the crowd as his men flank Sawyer. About sixty years of age, not tall but tautly-built and bald, and with a hard look about him. Also wearing an MP brassard, and rank insignia showing him as a Master Sergeant. He's also wielding an octagonal paper. "Miss Sawyer Averies. I'm Master Sergeant Thom Oren of the CEX Areion. You are hereby ordered to appear for questioning on the identity of Cylon agents within the Fleet, by order of Commander Kepner and Commander Laughlin. Drinks'll have to wait today, Ma'am." Despite the off-hand remark, his tone is stern and he makes no real pretense of friendliness.

Sawyer twists as a third MP joins the party, eyeing the man over her shoulder. As he turns out to be the one with the Important Paper, she makes the little half-circle so she can square off with him directly. Sawyer's brows start to furrow with his declaration of what the document contains, "Well, seeming how I'm not of the Colonial Military, and am in fact a member of QUODEL and a guest of Colonel Pewter aboard the Cerberus? Until that little fancy piece of paper is signed by him? I don't recognize your authority to wield it. Now if that's just a request for an interview, I'll happily pass it on to my legal counsel to have him review it. Should he find everything in order, he and I will appear aboard the Areion at my next earliest convenience." Her hand extends for the piece of paper, content that she has a right to view said papers before she goes anywhere.

Oren snorts. Amused, though not in any sort of jolly way. "I'm not sure you understand the situation, Ma'am. You're under arrest on suspicion of being a possible skinjob agent." He cuts right to the chase, since she's going to be all democratic about it. And eases a Taser out of his belt. The other two Marines move to flank her, and take her arms if they can. Oren does hold up the paper for her to read. It is indeed an arrest warrant, with the signatures of Kepner and Laughlin on it, albeit with Pewter's nowhere in sight. "Now you can either come along quietly, or you can make this hard on yourself. If you're human, there's nothing to be afraid of, and this'll be over in a day or two. If not…" He shrugs his broad shoulders. "…well, let's just hope that doesn't happen."

"Arrest warrant. That's more like it." As hands clamp down on her arms, Sawyer jerks them but can't do much against the men's grip. "Took you boys long enough. It was only a matter of time before the witch hunt started. Do you have merit for this warrant? Cause? Or did I just piss in someone's breakfast cereal?" Her body is tense, giving another testing little yank of their hold on her, because she's pissed. It's like it's against her DNA as a journalist to go quietly, "And days? You can only hold me for twenty four hours without pressing formal charges. And I'm invoking my right to counsel.""

"Cut the speeches, girlie, your rights are what we tell you they are," Oren says with a short nod to his men. At which point they do try to grab her, one on each shoulder, and steer her toward a waiting a Raptor. "And this isn't a witch hunt. There are skinjobs in this Fleet, and it's vital to the security of all men, women and children left alive to root them out." Her request for counsel is ignored. That's not a pretense of legality they're bothering with, it seems. "Let's go."

Sawyer half-stumbles forward at the sudden urging of the MP's, stepping partially out of her shoe for a moment and only barely saving herself from a twisted ankle by not putting her weight on that leg. Her high heel scrapes loudly on the decking before she gets it situated back on the cup of her foot and she has to do a little double-step to keep her feet beneath her instead of just being dragged bodily off by the men. "And who is going to protect them from you."

Oren doesn't bother to answer that one. He just strides off to his Raptor, men dragging Sawyer behind him. It awaits to take them to the Areion, and a detainment cell that awaits the reporter.

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