(Adapted in part from live RP.)
"Diana, we have a problem."
Walking into the Manor, he pulls off the coat and tosses it over the back of a nearby armchair. Reaching into one of the pockets, he pulls out a small crystalline box, turning it in his hands for a moment, the stormy blue-grey eyes staring intently at it as if he can pick out is secrets by osmosis. Whatever secrets its holding, however, it doesn't seem inclined to give them up. Walking over to a low table near the front doors, he places it on the wooden surface before heading for the passage to the lower-level labs.
"Yes, sir. I have the events of the evening recorded for your review." The feminine voice speaks from hidden speakers in the walls, at perfect conversation level.
As he steps into the lower level, the lights flicker on automatically and the petite golden shape of the holographic AI pops up next to his desk in her usual businesslike pose.
Walking over and dropping into his seat, he blows out a breath, his head leaning back as his eyes fall closed. For a long moment, he simply sits there, thinking.
Wondering what's taken them this long.
He and Pont had started what they referred to as the Ranger project seven years ago. At first, it had been a game - two men playing at kid's fantasies, ideas gleaned from comic books and brought into the real world. Even the testing of the first prototypes had been more for fun than for something practical.
He had known it would work - he hadn't anticipated just how well.
The two of them - from the moment the project had been conceived - had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep it a secret. The designs and project data they kept secure, safe, separate from the rest of the company's works. Tests conducted in remote locations, precautions taken so that they wouldn't be monitored, even to the point of monitoring satellite activity in orbit.
It was nearly a year after the project began that things went beyond theories and testing.
Of course, he hadn't expected to be able to keep his involvement a total secret. In the whole of the world there might have been four defense contractors capable of producing the Ranger suit. None of them made the claim.
Of course, you can see something all you want, but until you have it for yourself, you're not going to know how it works.
He'd begun to suspect that others know...or at least suspect.
"Start playback at time index 00:25."
Sitting up straight and opening his eyes, he directs his attention to the monitor as a video stream starts. The perspective is a bit odd - looking up, into the face of a lovely girl, black hair a stark contrast to light features, focused on something not visible on the feed. A moment later he hears his own voice, talking to her. "Marketin', public relations...what else is it ya do, Ane?"
He watches as she settles back into her seat, his attention on the monitor. Even now, looking at it from a more objective standpoint, knowing what he's looking for, he has to admit she keeps a definite, very deep reserve. There is nothing more to be seen now than there was then. "Things I regret. Things that keep me alive and keep me off the streets."
"And are ya still doin' 'em? De t'ings ya regret, dat is." His own voice, softer than its usual playful, devil-may-care tone, but he's not interested in that at the moment.
He watches the look on her face - whether in reaction to what he's asking or something else, he's not sure. "Yeah."
He'd known the answer to that question before he asked it. He recognizes - all too easily - the look of someone with a burden of secrets and guilt.
"Den ya should fix dat, don't ya t'ink?"
She snorts, a twist of lips revealing cynicism hard as jade. "Sure, yeah. Just wipe it all clean and move right along like nothing ever happened. That's worked so well for me before." Her smile is dry, brittle. "Trust me, handsome, I'm on my own in this one."
"Yeah...heard dat one b'fore, too." There's a sharp sound as the audio picks up the sound of his glass making contact with the table. "O'course, Ah c'n tell ya dat as long as ya t'ink yer alone...well, ya are."
He winces to himself. That hadn't sounded cheesy or anything, not at all. For the first time in a while, he makes a mental note to keep the deep talk out of future conversations.
In public, anyway.
For a long moment she's quiet, simply looking at him with an odd expression...like maybe she hadn't really been seeing him before. "You're right." The quiet laugh, even heard on speakers, raises gooseflesh along his arms. "Isn't so easy to let anyone in when you figure it's only you that you have left to trust."
He hears the clink of glass in the background as he refills his own. "Dat's not de hard part, lettin' some'ne in. De hard part is knowin' who t'trust...an' how far ya c'n trust 'em."
Even as the words play to his hears he's cupping his eyes with his hand. WAY too deep, Ed.
"I's not hard t'tell ya got secrets, chere."
(Continued in next post.)
Business as (un)usual
Moderators: Edward Batten, Katt Batten
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Edward Batten
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Business as (un)usual
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
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Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
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Re: Business as (un)usual
Continued from previous post.
"I'm not the only one." She gestures out to the rest of the room. "All of them do. I don't hide that I have my secrets, but I hide what it is. Sounds familiar doesn't it?"
A shadow passes over the camera - his arm, moving as he leans forward slightly off camera. "Unless Ah'm much mistaken, one o'dose secrets has t'do wit' me."
He watches as an enigmatic smile shows on her lips, her eyes twinkling just slightly. "Good. I'm glad you live up to your reputation, then."
Watching the feed, he grins. Sniffing out corporate spies is one of his specialties - not that it's very difficult. Too often they make themselves glaringly obvious.
Not this one - it had been a stab in the dark, really, that she was here for him. But he hadn't guessed that she wasn't here of her own volition.
"Well...Ah do my best t'give de public what dey want." Theres a soft chuckle from him on the feed. "Yer secrets don't matter t'me...Ah have m'own, just like anyone. De difference 'tween me an'most is dat de secrets Ah keep have a purpose dat doesn't stop at me."
Total truth, that. True, he's protecting himself by keeping his secrets. But more than that, he's protecting a legacy, keeping a secret that - if it were to fall into the wrong hands - could be horribly twisted, perverted, and used for evil ends.
"Damn it." Her abrupt change in body language, the hushed exclamation, her shift in her seat all bring it home for him as he watches the feed.
Reviewing the evening in his head, the night before that he'd chanced upon her in a passing meeting that held hints of something underlying he couldn't put his finger on.
Now he sees it - her discomfort, her movements. That guarded, conflicted caste to her eyes. As if she's been struggling.
The feed continues as she moves, the camera following her, panning as she moves to curl up at his side, tossing her hair just so.
Even knowing what's coming next, he can't help but think that Ane should be working on the screen - she'd not only have been rich, but famous, desired, followed.
Part of him wonders just how much of it is acting.
The camera's sensitivity is excellent, but even so he has a hard time making out her whispers. "That is just it, Mr. Batten. It's your secret and it's the whole...wide spread potent promise of it that they are after."
As close as she is to him at this point he can see his own face on the screen now, can see the changes her words trigger in him: muscles tensing, the hardening of the jaw...his eyes, no longer absentmindedly watching but suddenly alert, sharp and focused. Gone, too, is the bayou-fed Cajun accent - only a hint of it remains as he murmurs back to her. "Your employers."
She's pulled back slightly, just enough that their gazes can meet, eyes locked. Anyone watching from a distance might have interpreted it as the much famed 'moment' between lovers. Her murmured response can be heard a little more easily this time. "Indeed. They have files, on all of you. Not enough, of course - there are gaps and holes in their files. Which...well. You can figure out the rest."
He nods to himself as he taps the monitor, freezing the playback. Right. Where you come in.
"You are aware, sir, that her informing you of her assignment may be a tactic to disarm you and earn your trust."
The feminine voice of the AI jolts him out of his thoughts - he'd nearly forgotten it was there. "Yeah. Y'might have a point dere, Di." Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair tiredly. "Still...who'ver dis is don't know anyt'in' fer sure. If dey did, dey wouldn' bot'er wit' dis silly li'l game."
The AI is silent, simply watching the man behind the desk as he leans back his head and closes his eyes again, breathing in deep before blowing out a sigh. It's a long moment before he speaks again, remaining in that pose. "Ah t'ink t'morrow Ah'm gonna head over to de main offices, talk wit' Pont. S'not de firs' time some'ne's tried t'pry, but Ah'm t'inkin' dis sit'ation needs t'be handled...diff'rently."
The AI nods. "Very good, sir. Shall I send this over to him for his review?"
Standing and stretching a moment, he stifles a yawn before he answers. "Yeah. Let him know Ah should be up t'his office 'bout nine or so."
"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"
He shakes his head as he heads for the passage to the floors above. "Not t'night, darlin."
The door closes behind him. A minute later the house sensors take note of the empty room and turn off the lights.
"I'm not the only one." She gestures out to the rest of the room. "All of them do. I don't hide that I have my secrets, but I hide what it is. Sounds familiar doesn't it?"
A shadow passes over the camera - his arm, moving as he leans forward slightly off camera. "Unless Ah'm much mistaken, one o'dose secrets has t'do wit' me."
He watches as an enigmatic smile shows on her lips, her eyes twinkling just slightly. "Good. I'm glad you live up to your reputation, then."
Watching the feed, he grins. Sniffing out corporate spies is one of his specialties - not that it's very difficult. Too often they make themselves glaringly obvious.
Not this one - it had been a stab in the dark, really, that she was here for him. But he hadn't guessed that she wasn't here of her own volition.
"Well...Ah do my best t'give de public what dey want." Theres a soft chuckle from him on the feed. "Yer secrets don't matter t'me...Ah have m'own, just like anyone. De difference 'tween me an'most is dat de secrets Ah keep have a purpose dat doesn't stop at me."
Total truth, that. True, he's protecting himself by keeping his secrets. But more than that, he's protecting a legacy, keeping a secret that - if it were to fall into the wrong hands - could be horribly twisted, perverted, and used for evil ends.
"Damn it." Her abrupt change in body language, the hushed exclamation, her shift in her seat all bring it home for him as he watches the feed.
Reviewing the evening in his head, the night before that he'd chanced upon her in a passing meeting that held hints of something underlying he couldn't put his finger on.
Now he sees it - her discomfort, her movements. That guarded, conflicted caste to her eyes. As if she's been struggling.
The feed continues as she moves, the camera following her, panning as she moves to curl up at his side, tossing her hair just so.
Even knowing what's coming next, he can't help but think that Ane should be working on the screen - she'd not only have been rich, but famous, desired, followed.
Part of him wonders just how much of it is acting.
The camera's sensitivity is excellent, but even so he has a hard time making out her whispers. "That is just it, Mr. Batten. It's your secret and it's the whole...wide spread potent promise of it that they are after."
As close as she is to him at this point he can see his own face on the screen now, can see the changes her words trigger in him: muscles tensing, the hardening of the jaw...his eyes, no longer absentmindedly watching but suddenly alert, sharp and focused. Gone, too, is the bayou-fed Cajun accent - only a hint of it remains as he murmurs back to her. "Your employers."
She's pulled back slightly, just enough that their gazes can meet, eyes locked. Anyone watching from a distance might have interpreted it as the much famed 'moment' between lovers. Her murmured response can be heard a little more easily this time. "Indeed. They have files, on all of you. Not enough, of course - there are gaps and holes in their files. Which...well. You can figure out the rest."
He nods to himself as he taps the monitor, freezing the playback. Right. Where you come in.
"You are aware, sir, that her informing you of her assignment may be a tactic to disarm you and earn your trust."
The feminine voice of the AI jolts him out of his thoughts - he'd nearly forgotten it was there. "Yeah. Y'might have a point dere, Di." Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair tiredly. "Still...who'ver dis is don't know anyt'in' fer sure. If dey did, dey wouldn' bot'er wit' dis silly li'l game."
The AI is silent, simply watching the man behind the desk as he leans back his head and closes his eyes again, breathing in deep before blowing out a sigh. It's a long moment before he speaks again, remaining in that pose. "Ah t'ink t'morrow Ah'm gonna head over to de main offices, talk wit' Pont. S'not de firs' time some'ne's tried t'pry, but Ah'm t'inkin' dis sit'ation needs t'be handled...diff'rently."
The AI nods. "Very good, sir. Shall I send this over to him for his review?"
Standing and stretching a moment, he stifles a yawn before he answers. "Yeah. Let him know Ah should be up t'his office 'bout nine or so."
"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"
He shakes his head as he heads for the passage to the floors above. "Not t'night, darlin."
The door closes behind him. A minute later the house sensors take note of the empty room and turn off the lights.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
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Edward Batten
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- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
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Re: Business as (un)usual
"Sir, Mr. Pontius is here."
Looking up from the station nearest to the bar in his basement, Ed regards the AI for a moment, pulling the welding goggles from his eyes before nodding. "Send 'im down."
Getting to his feet, he pulls off the thick gloves, shutting down the arc welding unit for the time being. He's pretty sure he knows what's coming, and it's not going to be a short conversation.
He's just stepping into the office portion of his basement when his chief of operations comes in, his dark features stony, a file folder in one hand. Walking over to his desk, he waves the bigger man over, indicating a chair opposite the one he drops into. "Take a load off, Pont."
The big man walks over, not sitting yet, just regarding his boss for a moment. "I have the results for you."
Ed looks up at Kyle Pontius, one eyebrow arching slightly. "Ah'm guessin' by yer expression de news ain't good."
Dropping the file on Ed's desk, the big man drops into the seat across from his boss, shaking his head. "No. It's not." Looking at the smaller man, Kyle arches an eyebrow of his own. "Listen, Ed...what the hell are you thinking? She came straight out and told you she was sent here by someone - God only knows who, since she conveniently hasn't told you that bit yet - to steal the secrets we've been working to keep. Then you go and shut down the Predator suit while she's watching...and now you want to help her?"
The smaller man sighs. "Yeah. Fer de same reasons we've been keepin' dese secrets, Kyle...b'sides, from what she told me, dey already know 'bout who's in de suit...Ah'm thinkin' dey don't care 's'much 'bout dat as dey do getting de designs." He tilts his chin in the direction of the folder. "Lay it on me."
The big man looks at his boss for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally he sits back, gesturing at the file with a sigh. "I'll tell you, Ed...we need to find these people and bring their whole operation down to ground level. What they did to this girl...the cellular analysis you got the other night shows that she's been genetically manipulated and altered on a radical and body wide level." Leaning over, Pontius snags the file from the desk and starts thumbing through it. "The genetic tampering that they've done shows abnormal development of basic kinesthesia, muscle tone, reflexes, synapse growth, and immune functions. The problem is that whatever they've done requires some kind of constant upkeep or it...well, basically it starts eating her."
He watches as his boss' expression grows darker while he reads off the information. Whoa. Is it possible that he actually...really likes this girl?
Ed's voice distracts him from that thought. "Is dere any way of...fixin' or reversin' it?"
The big man shrugs at that, sitting back again as he tosses the folder on the desk. "To be honest, I don't know...I've never seen anything like this. Neither has the Med division. I've tried running the anomalies we found in her through all the databases we have access to...nothing came up. It may or may not be possible, but we'd need to know exactly what the treatments are and how they work."
Ed's expression is thoughtful now, but anger simmers behind those eyes. Kyle knows that look - he's seen it on his boss' face before on a few occasions, though never quite like this. Despite being nearly twice Ed's size, he feels a slight shiver run up his spine. "What are you thinkin', boss?"
Ed looks up at his chief of operations in surprise, almost having forgotten he was there. "Ah'm t'inkin' we need more information, Pont. If Ah c'n get ya a...sample of whatever treatment dey have t'give her, ya think ya might be able t'find a workin' solution?"
The bigger man shrugs again, though he looks a bit more optimistic. "Even if we can't, we might at least be able to synthesize it. But how are you going to do that?"
Ed chuckles. "How d'ya t'ink Ah'm gonna get it? Ah'm gonna ask her."
Looking up from the station nearest to the bar in his basement, Ed regards the AI for a moment, pulling the welding goggles from his eyes before nodding. "Send 'im down."
Getting to his feet, he pulls off the thick gloves, shutting down the arc welding unit for the time being. He's pretty sure he knows what's coming, and it's not going to be a short conversation.
He's just stepping into the office portion of his basement when his chief of operations comes in, his dark features stony, a file folder in one hand. Walking over to his desk, he waves the bigger man over, indicating a chair opposite the one he drops into. "Take a load off, Pont."
The big man walks over, not sitting yet, just regarding his boss for a moment. "I have the results for you."
Ed looks up at Kyle Pontius, one eyebrow arching slightly. "Ah'm guessin' by yer expression de news ain't good."
Dropping the file on Ed's desk, the big man drops into the seat across from his boss, shaking his head. "No. It's not." Looking at the smaller man, Kyle arches an eyebrow of his own. "Listen, Ed...what the hell are you thinking? She came straight out and told you she was sent here by someone - God only knows who, since she conveniently hasn't told you that bit yet - to steal the secrets we've been working to keep. Then you go and shut down the Predator suit while she's watching...and now you want to help her?"
The smaller man sighs. "Yeah. Fer de same reasons we've been keepin' dese secrets, Kyle...b'sides, from what she told me, dey already know 'bout who's in de suit...Ah'm thinkin' dey don't care 's'much 'bout dat as dey do getting de designs." He tilts his chin in the direction of the folder. "Lay it on me."
The big man looks at his boss for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally he sits back, gesturing at the file with a sigh. "I'll tell you, Ed...we need to find these people and bring their whole operation down to ground level. What they did to this girl...the cellular analysis you got the other night shows that she's been genetically manipulated and altered on a radical and body wide level." Leaning over, Pontius snags the file from the desk and starts thumbing through it. "The genetic tampering that they've done shows abnormal development of basic kinesthesia, muscle tone, reflexes, synapse growth, and immune functions. The problem is that whatever they've done requires some kind of constant upkeep or it...well, basically it starts eating her."
He watches as his boss' expression grows darker while he reads off the information. Whoa. Is it possible that he actually...really likes this girl?
Ed's voice distracts him from that thought. "Is dere any way of...fixin' or reversin' it?"
The big man shrugs at that, sitting back again as he tosses the folder on the desk. "To be honest, I don't know...I've never seen anything like this. Neither has the Med division. I've tried running the anomalies we found in her through all the databases we have access to...nothing came up. It may or may not be possible, but we'd need to know exactly what the treatments are and how they work."
Ed's expression is thoughtful now, but anger simmers behind those eyes. Kyle knows that look - he's seen it on his boss' face before on a few occasions, though never quite like this. Despite being nearly twice Ed's size, he feels a slight shiver run up his spine. "What are you thinkin', boss?"
Ed looks up at his chief of operations in surprise, almost having forgotten he was there. "Ah'm t'inkin' we need more information, Pont. If Ah c'n get ya a...sample of whatever treatment dey have t'give her, ya think ya might be able t'find a workin' solution?"
The bigger man shrugs again, though he looks a bit more optimistic. "Even if we can't, we might at least be able to synthesize it. But how are you going to do that?"
Ed chuckles. "How d'ya t'ink Ah'm gonna get it? Ah'm gonna ask her."
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
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Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
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Re: Business as (un)usual
The triple-chime of the tablet wakes him.
For a moment, he's disoriented - this isn't his house, his room, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is. He moves slightly, feeling warm weight across his chest and legs.
The Inn. Ane's room.
Turning his head, he sees her next to him. Deep breaths, slow and steady, tell him of her sleeping state.
The triple-chime sounds again, softer this time, and very carefully he moves, slipping away. It'll probably wake her, but he needs to check.
Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he reaches down and snags the coat pooled at his feet, reaching into it and retrieving the slim electronic device. A tap on the matte surface brings it to life, scrolling displays littering its surface along with a golden holographic female face. "Di, i's four in de damn mornin'. Dis bett'r be somet'in' dat can't wait."
The AI is unapologetic. "My apologies, sir. This is important, but I will attempt to keep it brief. During the course of the evening I managed to record a conversation that you may want to review. I am sending the transcript to you now."
The face vanishes, replaced by a text file. Groaning to himself, he starts reading.
Ten minutes later he closes it, nodding thoughtfully, not looking nearly as disgruntled. "Yeah...Ah see what ya meant. So...they're talkin' 'bout our undead friend, yeah?"
The text file vanishes, replaced by the golden hologram once more. "So it would seem, sir. This Gage seems to be causing a significant amount of trouble for them...not to mention his assault on Miss Ane."
He chokes down the growl he feels building in his throat at that. There'd been a number of times since then that he'd wondered if maybe he shouldn't have broken the dude's neck rather than simply letting him go, and he reflects even now that it had been a strong temptation...one that he hadn't really contemplated before. And might not have even then, if it had been anyone but Ane.
He's no killer, though, not like that. Vampire or no, he's not going to be pulled down to that level except as a last resort.
"Yeah. Well...jus' somet'in' else fer me t'add to my to-do list."
One hand comes up to comb through his dark hair, bowing his head. Behind him, he feels Ane stir slightly. "Okay. Ah'll be home lat'r t'day, Di, wit'...a guest. Add her biometrics to de house registry - you'll find 'em in her file."
"Of course, sir. What level of access?"
He thinks for a second on that. "De usual."
"Very good, sir. I shall see you later today with your...guest."
He taps the tablet, blanking it and dropping it on top of the coat with a sigh as he lays back down.
For a moment, he's disoriented - this isn't his house, his room, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is. He moves slightly, feeling warm weight across his chest and legs.
The Inn. Ane's room.
Turning his head, he sees her next to him. Deep breaths, slow and steady, tell him of her sleeping state.
The triple-chime sounds again, softer this time, and very carefully he moves, slipping away. It'll probably wake her, but he needs to check.
Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he reaches down and snags the coat pooled at his feet, reaching into it and retrieving the slim electronic device. A tap on the matte surface brings it to life, scrolling displays littering its surface along with a golden holographic female face. "Di, i's four in de damn mornin'. Dis bett'r be somet'in' dat can't wait."
The AI is unapologetic. "My apologies, sir. This is important, but I will attempt to keep it brief. During the course of the evening I managed to record a conversation that you may want to review. I am sending the transcript to you now."
The face vanishes, replaced by a text file. Groaning to himself, he starts reading.
Ten minutes later he closes it, nodding thoughtfully, not looking nearly as disgruntled. "Yeah...Ah see what ya meant. So...they're talkin' 'bout our undead friend, yeah?"
The text file vanishes, replaced by the golden hologram once more. "So it would seem, sir. This Gage seems to be causing a significant amount of trouble for them...not to mention his assault on Miss Ane."
He chokes down the growl he feels building in his throat at that. There'd been a number of times since then that he'd wondered if maybe he shouldn't have broken the dude's neck rather than simply letting him go, and he reflects even now that it had been a strong temptation...one that he hadn't really contemplated before. And might not have even then, if it had been anyone but Ane.
He's no killer, though, not like that. Vampire or no, he's not going to be pulled down to that level except as a last resort.
"Yeah. Well...jus' somet'in' else fer me t'add to my to-do list."
One hand comes up to comb through his dark hair, bowing his head. Behind him, he feels Ane stir slightly. "Okay. Ah'll be home lat'r t'day, Di, wit'...a guest. Add her biometrics to de house registry - you'll find 'em in her file."
"Of course, sir. What level of access?"
He thinks for a second on that. "De usual."
"Very good, sir. I shall see you later today with your...guest."
He taps the tablet, blanking it and dropping it on top of the coat with a sigh as he lays back down.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
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Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
"Wake up, Di, Ah'm home."
Letting the front door shut behind him, he steps through the foyer and heads towards the south gallery, slipping out of the coat and hanging it on its rack along the way.
"You know very well that, as I am an electronic intelligence, I do not sleep, sir."
He rolls his eyes as he heads for the stairs to the lower level, shaking his head. "D'ya have t'be so lit'ral all de time, Di?"
"Of course, sir. If you don't like it, you can alter my programming."
Yes, he could. And keeps leaving it the way it is, because she's incredibly efficient - a thousand times more so than a human assistant would be. The door to the basement level slides open at his approach, the lights flickering on to reveal the hallway to the cavernous main work space. Without pausing at any of the stations he crosses it to the bar beyond, stepping behind the counter to pour some scotch and a couple cubes into a glass, speaking while he does.
"Di, Ah'm havin' de new chief o' secur'ty and our ot'er friend down here in a coupla days. While dey're here go 'head an' get deir biometrics and add 'em to de access list."
"Yes, sir. What level of access?"
"De usual, o'course." Putting the scotch back in its place, he heads out from behind the bar. "Ah need ya t'pull up de Barony of St. Aldwin and DeMuer files at m'desk, please."
"They're ready for you now, sir. I've added the recorded data I mentioned to you a few days previous, as well."
He nods as he moves behind the desk, settling into his chair and pulling up the files on the multi-touch surface of the desk, thumbing through the info.
Admittedly, it's not as in depth as a file would be on someone of this Baron's reputation would be back on the other side of the Gateway, but there is still a good measure of information. Rhy'din doesn't have Earth's online databases with their tremendous amount of information for him to slice into, so most of the information he has on individuals in Rhy'din has been compiled the old-fashioned way - listening.
It's funny, what people will say after a few drinks. You can get all sorts of information just sitting and listening carefully anyplace - and even more when you can record everything from multiple places and sift through the information later. And with an assistant like Diana, it only takes a few months before you can amass and organize a wealth of information...just by word of mouth.
When he really sits and thinks about it, it still impresses him.
The man owns a number of businesses, but that's not what has his attention.
Among other admirable things, it's the Barony and its laws that really gets his focus.
If the information here is accurate, one of the first things the Baron DeMuer did on taking over his realm was to put severe penalties on the slave trade - well, penalties would be the wrong word. It's death to anyone seeking to traffic in slavery in any form inside the boundaries of the Barony.
Harsh, perhaps. But it must have been a serious problem at some point. Add to that the laws granting asylum to any and all escaped slaves able to make their way to the Barony's borders...
"What we need is a railroad," he murmurs to himself.
"Sir?"
He waves away the AI, thinking. There's slavery in the world he comes from too, though it mostly happens in the less civilized places where such things are overlooked. In such places, he knows, there are often underground communities dedicated to helping slaves escape in secret, homes and way stations where those willing to help are able to.
He's heard of two such places now - one called Xavier's Lodge, north of Rhy'din, and now this St. Catherine's Abbey. "Di, dis Abbey...le's have one of our care packages sent to 'em on a reg'lar basis. De usual stuff, y'know - clothes, food, bedding, some cash in crowns. Say, once ev'ry three weeks or so."
"Very good, sir."
"An' Di? Ah'm thinkin' de Ranger ought t'have a hand in helpin' shut down de slave trade 'round here. Start compilin' any info we got so far from de monitors t'date, an' start listenin' out for anythin' new."
Letting the front door shut behind him, he steps through the foyer and heads towards the south gallery, slipping out of the coat and hanging it on its rack along the way.
"You know very well that, as I am an electronic intelligence, I do not sleep, sir."
He rolls his eyes as he heads for the stairs to the lower level, shaking his head. "D'ya have t'be so lit'ral all de time, Di?"
"Of course, sir. If you don't like it, you can alter my programming."
Yes, he could. And keeps leaving it the way it is, because she's incredibly efficient - a thousand times more so than a human assistant would be. The door to the basement level slides open at his approach, the lights flickering on to reveal the hallway to the cavernous main work space. Without pausing at any of the stations he crosses it to the bar beyond, stepping behind the counter to pour some scotch and a couple cubes into a glass, speaking while he does.
"Di, Ah'm havin' de new chief o' secur'ty and our ot'er friend down here in a coupla days. While dey're here go 'head an' get deir biometrics and add 'em to de access list."
"Yes, sir. What level of access?"
"De usual, o'course." Putting the scotch back in its place, he heads out from behind the bar. "Ah need ya t'pull up de Barony of St. Aldwin and DeMuer files at m'desk, please."
"They're ready for you now, sir. I've added the recorded data I mentioned to you a few days previous, as well."
He nods as he moves behind the desk, settling into his chair and pulling up the files on the multi-touch surface of the desk, thumbing through the info.
Admittedly, it's not as in depth as a file would be on someone of this Baron's reputation would be back on the other side of the Gateway, but there is still a good measure of information. Rhy'din doesn't have Earth's online databases with their tremendous amount of information for him to slice into, so most of the information he has on individuals in Rhy'din has been compiled the old-fashioned way - listening.
It's funny, what people will say after a few drinks. You can get all sorts of information just sitting and listening carefully anyplace - and even more when you can record everything from multiple places and sift through the information later. And with an assistant like Diana, it only takes a few months before you can amass and organize a wealth of information...just by word of mouth.
When he really sits and thinks about it, it still impresses him.
The man owns a number of businesses, but that's not what has his attention.
Among other admirable things, it's the Barony and its laws that really gets his focus.
If the information here is accurate, one of the first things the Baron DeMuer did on taking over his realm was to put severe penalties on the slave trade - well, penalties would be the wrong word. It's death to anyone seeking to traffic in slavery in any form inside the boundaries of the Barony.
Harsh, perhaps. But it must have been a serious problem at some point. Add to that the laws granting asylum to any and all escaped slaves able to make their way to the Barony's borders...
"What we need is a railroad," he murmurs to himself.
"Sir?"
He waves away the AI, thinking. There's slavery in the world he comes from too, though it mostly happens in the less civilized places where such things are overlooked. In such places, he knows, there are often underground communities dedicated to helping slaves escape in secret, homes and way stations where those willing to help are able to.
He's heard of two such places now - one called Xavier's Lodge, north of Rhy'din, and now this St. Catherine's Abbey. "Di, dis Abbey...le's have one of our care packages sent to 'em on a reg'lar basis. De usual stuff, y'know - clothes, food, bedding, some cash in crowns. Say, once ev'ry three weeks or so."
"Very good, sir."
"An' Di? Ah'm thinkin' de Ranger ought t'have a hand in helpin' shut down de slave trade 'round here. Start compilin' any info we got so far from de monitors t'date, an' start listenin' out for anythin' new."
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
"Last minute checks, Di. We good t'go?"
He's sitting at his desk, in his much more plush local corporate offices. He likes the basement level at the Manor for its convenience and privacy, but due to the nature of the work he does there, it's not long on comforts.
Well, except for the bar. He keeps a good stock there, more extensive than what he has here, though it's all the finest money can buy.
Call him spoiled, if you will...but what good is being rich and not using it to its fullest?
Getting up from his desk, he walks over to the mini-bar at the side of his office as the synthesized feminine voice speaks. "Indeed, sir. The unit has been set up in a discreet location near the site of the festivities, camouflaged and out of site. Another has been set up near the Great Hall. Both are keyed to yours and Mr. Heracleides' biosignatures to ensure there will be no accidental access."
Leo coming with him to the Beltane festivities had been at Kyle's insistence more than anything - it doesn't do, he'd pointed out, for someone in Ed's position to be going out without an armed escort.
Never mind that he's never without protection anyway.
He nods, pouring himself a glass of scotch. No ice. "Good. And de Haven?"
"Ready for your guests, sir. The staff is prepared, as is your car and driver. Central server access has been cut for the three-day period that your guests will be there to prevent any accidental or wanton tapping into your private files."
Settling back into his chair, he swivels around to look out the huge window that dominates one whole wall of his office, looking out to the south. He can see the temple district, WestEnd and the docks from this vantage point. Not a bad view, really - just grand enough to be inspiring while still being humble in the same moment.
He takes a sip of his scotch, pushing away the rest of the world for the time being. The move from New Orleans to Rhy'din is almost finished - by this time next week he'll be officially based in Rhy'din, only keeping his shipping and warehouses open on the other side of the Gateway. Between that, Ane, the mysterious Order, and the very little training he'd been able to get in with Leo, it seems to him at times that there's too much going on, too many things to do and not enough time to do them in.
One t'ing at a time, Ed, one t'ing at a time.
It's time to relax. For now, and the next three days, it's party time.
He's sitting at his desk, in his much more plush local corporate offices. He likes the basement level at the Manor for its convenience and privacy, but due to the nature of the work he does there, it's not long on comforts.
Well, except for the bar. He keeps a good stock there, more extensive than what he has here, though it's all the finest money can buy.
Call him spoiled, if you will...but what good is being rich and not using it to its fullest?
Getting up from his desk, he walks over to the mini-bar at the side of his office as the synthesized feminine voice speaks. "Indeed, sir. The unit has been set up in a discreet location near the site of the festivities, camouflaged and out of site. Another has been set up near the Great Hall. Both are keyed to yours and Mr. Heracleides' biosignatures to ensure there will be no accidental access."
Leo coming with him to the Beltane festivities had been at Kyle's insistence more than anything - it doesn't do, he'd pointed out, for someone in Ed's position to be going out without an armed escort.
Never mind that he's never without protection anyway.
He nods, pouring himself a glass of scotch. No ice. "Good. And de Haven?"
"Ready for your guests, sir. The staff is prepared, as is your car and driver. Central server access has been cut for the three-day period that your guests will be there to prevent any accidental or wanton tapping into your private files."
Settling back into his chair, he swivels around to look out the huge window that dominates one whole wall of his office, looking out to the south. He can see the temple district, WestEnd and the docks from this vantage point. Not a bad view, really - just grand enough to be inspiring while still being humble in the same moment.
He takes a sip of his scotch, pushing away the rest of the world for the time being. The move from New Orleans to Rhy'din is almost finished - by this time next week he'll be officially based in Rhy'din, only keeping his shipping and warehouses open on the other side of the Gateway. Between that, Ane, the mysterious Order, and the very little training he'd been able to get in with Leo, it seems to him at times that there's too much going on, too many things to do and not enough time to do them in.
One t'ing at a time, Ed, one t'ing at a time.
It's time to relax. For now, and the next three days, it's party time.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
He doesn't say anything more at the Inn, not after reading the streaming text of the conversation relayed to him in real time from the tea shop by Diana, who'd been monitoring the feeds from the series of listening devices he has everywhere in this city that can be counted as a public place. Most of them are, of course, outdoors, though a few he has inside the Inn, the tea shop, and a few other public places he'd been able to access.
Her programming included watching for certain keywords, which were updated constantly by Ed himself as his whims or objectives changed. The monitoring devices were simplicity themselves, a series of weatherproof, shockproof and EMP-shielded nanomachines programmed to disperse into a room. Not much larger than a common housefly, in their passive state they are simply listening devices, relaying any and all audio to a localized transmitter, which in turn relays the information to the central processing computer - Diana - to be analyzed. All of this is done on a communications frequency range so high and at such a high rate of speed that any device can be selected and actively listened to in real-time, or else viewed as streaming text translated from audio by the computer's voice-recognition software. The majority of the audio gets stored and correlated - again by Diana - into files, organized by subject, which can be viewed by anyone with access into the system.
Of course, in order to do that you have to get into the basement, which is the only place the central serves can be accessed. The security for the sublevel of the manor is high enough to make breaking into a government's top-secret research facility look plausible by comparison. Call him paranoid, but he'd wanted to make absolutely sure he had one place that could not be monitored in any way, form or fashion, if only to keep his designs from falling into hands he had no desire to see them in.
Which is where he is now, sitting in his chair in his office, staring at the names displayed on the transparent monitor screen in front of him.
Alain DeMuer. Corlanthis Wystanstayr. Fionna al-Amat. Dhyark.
And - to top it all off - his own.
He's not really concerned about that one. If some assassin did decide to try taking a crack at him, he's certain at the least that they would find themselves disappointed. But even so, he knows that it may be time to change his habits just a bit.
Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Diana."
The golden hologram pops up at the corner of his desk, her hands poised at the small of her back, her usual businesslike pose. "Yes, Mr. Batten?"
"Ah'll be needin' de ultrasound transceivers in any listenin' d'vice wit'in a half mile o' mah person active at all times, an' mon'tored accordin' to de preset preferences Ah gave ya. Seems de game jus' got stepped up a bit. Also, pull everyt'in' de files have on dese names, all but de Demuer file." He has that one almost memorized. "Send a mess'ge t'Leo an'Pont, we're gonna be meetin' t'morrow t'discuss de new d'velopments."
The AI listens to all of this with her usual stoic silence, blinking only once by way of acknowledgement. "Yes, sir. By the way, you have a message waiting from Mr. Heracleides - I believe he's completed his modifications."
He grins at that, eying the AI. "'Zat so? Lemme take a gander at dat. Pull it up on de hol'graphic display fer me?"
She complies, blinking out as another hologram shows in its place. The armor design appears somewhat similar to the Punisher suit, but - it appears - with a few interesting modifications, and rather than the gunmetal-hued black with silver he prefers, this one is crimson in majority with gold in rather interesting places. The helmet in particular gets his attention, and as he looks at the name of the armor and looks over its capabilities, he can't help but be caught between being amused and impressed. "All right...go 'head, fabricate it, paint it, all dat. Attach to de message yer sendin' 'im dat we'll be startin' trainin' 'im after we have our li'l meetin'."
"As you wish, sir." The AI blinks out, and across the monitors on his desk the files he'd asked for begin to be displayed. Sitting up again in his seat, he starts looking through them.
Her programming included watching for certain keywords, which were updated constantly by Ed himself as his whims or objectives changed. The monitoring devices were simplicity themselves, a series of weatherproof, shockproof and EMP-shielded nanomachines programmed to disperse into a room. Not much larger than a common housefly, in their passive state they are simply listening devices, relaying any and all audio to a localized transmitter, which in turn relays the information to the central processing computer - Diana - to be analyzed. All of this is done on a communications frequency range so high and at such a high rate of speed that any device can be selected and actively listened to in real-time, or else viewed as streaming text translated from audio by the computer's voice-recognition software. The majority of the audio gets stored and correlated - again by Diana - into files, organized by subject, which can be viewed by anyone with access into the system.
Of course, in order to do that you have to get into the basement, which is the only place the central serves can be accessed. The security for the sublevel of the manor is high enough to make breaking into a government's top-secret research facility look plausible by comparison. Call him paranoid, but he'd wanted to make absolutely sure he had one place that could not be monitored in any way, form or fashion, if only to keep his designs from falling into hands he had no desire to see them in.
Which is where he is now, sitting in his chair in his office, staring at the names displayed on the transparent monitor screen in front of him.
Alain DeMuer. Corlanthis Wystanstayr. Fionna al-Amat. Dhyark.
And - to top it all off - his own.
He's not really concerned about that one. If some assassin did decide to try taking a crack at him, he's certain at the least that they would find themselves disappointed. But even so, he knows that it may be time to change his habits just a bit.
Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Diana."
The golden hologram pops up at the corner of his desk, her hands poised at the small of her back, her usual businesslike pose. "Yes, Mr. Batten?"
"Ah'll be needin' de ultrasound transceivers in any listenin' d'vice wit'in a half mile o' mah person active at all times, an' mon'tored accordin' to de preset preferences Ah gave ya. Seems de game jus' got stepped up a bit. Also, pull everyt'in' de files have on dese names, all but de Demuer file." He has that one almost memorized. "Send a mess'ge t'Leo an'Pont, we're gonna be meetin' t'morrow t'discuss de new d'velopments."
The AI listens to all of this with her usual stoic silence, blinking only once by way of acknowledgement. "Yes, sir. By the way, you have a message waiting from Mr. Heracleides - I believe he's completed his modifications."
He grins at that, eying the AI. "'Zat so? Lemme take a gander at dat. Pull it up on de hol'graphic display fer me?"
She complies, blinking out as another hologram shows in its place. The armor design appears somewhat similar to the Punisher suit, but - it appears - with a few interesting modifications, and rather than the gunmetal-hued black with silver he prefers, this one is crimson in majority with gold in rather interesting places. The helmet in particular gets his attention, and as he looks at the name of the armor and looks over its capabilities, he can't help but be caught between being amused and impressed. "All right...go 'head, fabricate it, paint it, all dat. Attach to de message yer sendin' 'im dat we'll be startin' trainin' 'im after we have our li'l meetin'."
"As you wish, sir." The AI blinks out, and across the monitors on his desk the files he'd asked for begin to be displayed. Sitting up again in his seat, he starts looking through them.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
He's at the office, for once. Occasionally it's nice to have a change of scenery - the basement facilities are great for privacy, but every once in a while it's nice to be reminded of things like sunshine, and the basement doesn't exactly come with a view.
He's sitting in his chair, sipping from a glass of orange juice, when the soft 'ahem' from his desk pulls his attention away from the view over the river into WestEnd and southern Rhy'din. Time to get back to work, he thinks to himself with a sigh as he swivels his chair around to see the golden shape of his AI standing on it, her hands held as always behind her back, posed like a glowing Barbie doll. "What d'ya got fer me, Di?"
If there's one reason he prefers the digital intelligence to an actual human assistant, it's that she gets right down to business, no pleasantries, no BS ass-kissing. "Sir, I've been monitoring the feeds from the listening devices and have come across several instances of odd inquiry being made about you, as well as patterns of traffic around you that indicate you are being surveilled."
He snorts, tapping the desk to bring up a report from the production facilities. "Yeah, dat's not a s'prise, darlin'." It's not anything he's very concerned about - let someone follow him around to find out that he only takes the same route in a predictable manner only occasionally, and never on a predictable schedule. He had been careful, in fact, to not change anything about his routines - not the security personnel or schedule at any of his properties, nor had he added any perimeter defenses to anything, though Pont had suggested maybe his security needed to be armed as well as armored. He'd reluctantly agreed, but only for the reason that they should be allowed the chance to defend themselves.
Still, anyone that seriously wants in isn't going to be deterred by security guards much, no matter their level of training - stealth or brute force are the only real options, and stealth isn't going to be very effective, since the motion sensors throughout the grounds know the location of every creature larger than an ant that sets foot inside the property line.
Let 'em stare, let 'em watch. Whatever - it isn't the first time, and with this mysterious Order to watch out for it's just another annoyance.
Looking up again after a few minutes, he sees the AI is still standing there, looking at him. "Ya got somet'in else fer me?"
The hologram blinks once before she speaks again. "Yes, sir. Given recent developments, and your activation of the ultrasonic detection grid, I've come up with an idea for keeping you better protected."
She continues speaking and he looks over her data, nodding, a grin slowly spreading on his features. "Dis is good t'inkin', Di...Ah mean, if dis happ'n in a public place, it's gon' be a fiasco...but den Ah s'pose it'll be wort' it if Ah'm still 'live t'see de fallout. Can ya add dis in time fer t'night?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right, do it den. Here's hopin' we won' be needin' it."
He's sitting in his chair, sipping from a glass of orange juice, when the soft 'ahem' from his desk pulls his attention away from the view over the river into WestEnd and southern Rhy'din. Time to get back to work, he thinks to himself with a sigh as he swivels his chair around to see the golden shape of his AI standing on it, her hands held as always behind her back, posed like a glowing Barbie doll. "What d'ya got fer me, Di?"
If there's one reason he prefers the digital intelligence to an actual human assistant, it's that she gets right down to business, no pleasantries, no BS ass-kissing. "Sir, I've been monitoring the feeds from the listening devices and have come across several instances of odd inquiry being made about you, as well as patterns of traffic around you that indicate you are being surveilled."
He snorts, tapping the desk to bring up a report from the production facilities. "Yeah, dat's not a s'prise, darlin'." It's not anything he's very concerned about - let someone follow him around to find out that he only takes the same route in a predictable manner only occasionally, and never on a predictable schedule. He had been careful, in fact, to not change anything about his routines - not the security personnel or schedule at any of his properties, nor had he added any perimeter defenses to anything, though Pont had suggested maybe his security needed to be armed as well as armored. He'd reluctantly agreed, but only for the reason that they should be allowed the chance to defend themselves.
Still, anyone that seriously wants in isn't going to be deterred by security guards much, no matter their level of training - stealth or brute force are the only real options, and stealth isn't going to be very effective, since the motion sensors throughout the grounds know the location of every creature larger than an ant that sets foot inside the property line.
Let 'em stare, let 'em watch. Whatever - it isn't the first time, and with this mysterious Order to watch out for it's just another annoyance.
Looking up again after a few minutes, he sees the AI is still standing there, looking at him. "Ya got somet'in else fer me?"
The hologram blinks once before she speaks again. "Yes, sir. Given recent developments, and your activation of the ultrasonic detection grid, I've come up with an idea for keeping you better protected."
She continues speaking and he looks over her data, nodding, a grin slowly spreading on his features. "Dis is good t'inkin', Di...Ah mean, if dis happ'n in a public place, it's gon' be a fiasco...but den Ah s'pose it'll be wort' it if Ah'm still 'live t'see de fallout. Can ya add dis in time fer t'night?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right, do it den. Here's hopin' we won' be needin' it."
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
I remember it all now. I know what was done to me, and what you did for me, my love. I will be forever yours...but they must pay, must be made to see that they're in error and are in need of correction.
I'm sorry I had to leave you this way, with only a note in the night to be found when I'm already gone - if I had tried to explain, I would not have been able to leave, and this is a thing that must be done. My sisters have already turned to rebel - I am the only one left, and the only one that can finish what they started.
Know that I do this for you, my love, and for us...one day you will discover that this life never really ends, as long as you have something to hold to. Hold to me, beloved, and we will find each other again.
Yours forevermore,
Ane
He's read and re-read the letter dozens of times. He knows well enough that she's long gone - as soon as he'd gotten the letter he'd ordered Diana furiously to activate the ultrasonic detection grid across the city.
Wherever she was, wherever she went, as soon as she'd stepped off the grounds, Diana had no record of her. It was as if she simply vanished.
He doesn't know exactly where she's gone, but he knows she's not coming back, not if she intends to take down the Order.
He's still sitting there, trying to understand, when Leo walks into the basement level office to find him sitting at the desk, a newspaper under his arm. His security chief knows well enough the look of his boss when he hasn't slept by now - it's a frequent occurrence - and without a word he walks over to the desk, leaning over to pick up the scrap of paper in front of him and looking it over.
Ed doesn't bother to stop him - he'll find out anyway, and the letter is explanation enough. Finally Leo sets the letter down on the desk again. "You liked her."
Ed snorts at that, sighing, shaking his head. He won't cry - that, he knows, is the last thing she would want, is for a single tear to be shed over the loss, when the time they had together had been worth so much. Not a single moment, motion or action wasted between them, and he'd do it all again. "Ever been in love, son?"
His security chief seems to think about that for a minute, considering, before he shrugs. "I think maybe once...sort of. But it might have just been gas."
Ed eyes his security chief in silence for a moment, then chuckles tiredly. It's amazing to him that he still knows how to laugh, and doesn't have to force it. Maybe there's hope for life after all. "Alright, Leo, Ah know y'didn' come down here fer a social call."
Moving on, Leo pulls the newspaper from under his arm and drops it on the desk, unfurling it and pointing to a headline that reads 'Local Billionaire Injured in Red Dragon Inn Shootout.' "You want to explain this?"
Ed rolls his eyes, sitting up with a wince as the sting from where the crossbow bolt had pierced him and subsequently been stitched up by one of Alain's bodyguards, a man by the name of Seamus who'd he'd met when he first found out about this whole fiasco. "Jus' a flesh wound, Leo. Geez, 'tween yerself an' Pont Ah'll never hafta worry 'bout needin' a mot'er." He keeps on reading, his eyes going a touch wider. "Holy...ya realize dat somehow...dey missed de fact dat..."
Leo nods, cutting him off. "Yeah, I noticed that. The monitors picked up the activation back at the office, and the gunfire was reported right away, but Diana informed me you were fine, so...anyway, yeah. Somehow or another, no one saw it."
Ed nods, re-reading the article. The reporter had ambushed him on his way to the room last night, and he vaguely remembers answering a battery of questions through a haze of half a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not the best time to get an interview done, but at least he hadn't said anything terribly embarrassing. "'Cept probably de sniper. Ah don' t'ink an'one realizes Ah was one of de targets, but on de bright side de aut'matic act'vation p'rameters work like a charm."
His security chief looks pointedly down at his ribs, where the bandage can be seen covering the stitchwork, and Ed chuckles. "Yeah, dere's dat. Bastard got a lucky shot off wit' a handheld crossbow, managed t'slip 'tween de bands."
Leo nods at that, looking thoughtful. "Close range, I'm guessing. You're lucky - could've been worse." The security chief stands, getting to his feet and meandering towards the exit. "I'm headed to the office, boss. Anything special you're needing today?"
He chuckles to himself, not getting up for the moment. "Naw, Ah'm good dere, hoss. Keep an eye out, t'ough - dis t'ing is jus' gettin' started."
I'm sorry I had to leave you this way, with only a note in the night to be found when I'm already gone - if I had tried to explain, I would not have been able to leave, and this is a thing that must be done. My sisters have already turned to rebel - I am the only one left, and the only one that can finish what they started.
Know that I do this for you, my love, and for us...one day you will discover that this life never really ends, as long as you have something to hold to. Hold to me, beloved, and we will find each other again.
Yours forevermore,
Ane
He's read and re-read the letter dozens of times. He knows well enough that she's long gone - as soon as he'd gotten the letter he'd ordered Diana furiously to activate the ultrasonic detection grid across the city.
Wherever she was, wherever she went, as soon as she'd stepped off the grounds, Diana had no record of her. It was as if she simply vanished.
He doesn't know exactly where she's gone, but he knows she's not coming back, not if she intends to take down the Order.
He's still sitting there, trying to understand, when Leo walks into the basement level office to find him sitting at the desk, a newspaper under his arm. His security chief knows well enough the look of his boss when he hasn't slept by now - it's a frequent occurrence - and without a word he walks over to the desk, leaning over to pick up the scrap of paper in front of him and looking it over.
Ed doesn't bother to stop him - he'll find out anyway, and the letter is explanation enough. Finally Leo sets the letter down on the desk again. "You liked her."
Ed snorts at that, sighing, shaking his head. He won't cry - that, he knows, is the last thing she would want, is for a single tear to be shed over the loss, when the time they had together had been worth so much. Not a single moment, motion or action wasted between them, and he'd do it all again. "Ever been in love, son?"
His security chief seems to think about that for a minute, considering, before he shrugs. "I think maybe once...sort of. But it might have just been gas."
Ed eyes his security chief in silence for a moment, then chuckles tiredly. It's amazing to him that he still knows how to laugh, and doesn't have to force it. Maybe there's hope for life after all. "Alright, Leo, Ah know y'didn' come down here fer a social call."
Moving on, Leo pulls the newspaper from under his arm and drops it on the desk, unfurling it and pointing to a headline that reads 'Local Billionaire Injured in Red Dragon Inn Shootout.' "You want to explain this?"
Ed rolls his eyes, sitting up with a wince as the sting from where the crossbow bolt had pierced him and subsequently been stitched up by one of Alain's bodyguards, a man by the name of Seamus who'd he'd met when he first found out about this whole fiasco. "Jus' a flesh wound, Leo. Geez, 'tween yerself an' Pont Ah'll never hafta worry 'bout needin' a mot'er." He keeps on reading, his eyes going a touch wider. "Holy...ya realize dat somehow...dey missed de fact dat..."
Leo nods, cutting him off. "Yeah, I noticed that. The monitors picked up the activation back at the office, and the gunfire was reported right away, but Diana informed me you were fine, so...anyway, yeah. Somehow or another, no one saw it."
Ed nods, re-reading the article. The reporter had ambushed him on his way to the room last night, and he vaguely remembers answering a battery of questions through a haze of half a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not the best time to get an interview done, but at least he hadn't said anything terribly embarrassing. "'Cept probably de sniper. Ah don' t'ink an'one realizes Ah was one of de targets, but on de bright side de aut'matic act'vation p'rameters work like a charm."
His security chief looks pointedly down at his ribs, where the bandage can be seen covering the stitchwork, and Ed chuckles. "Yeah, dere's dat. Bastard got a lucky shot off wit' a handheld crossbow, managed t'slip 'tween de bands."
Leo nods at that, looking thoughtful. "Close range, I'm guessing. You're lucky - could've been worse." The security chief stands, getting to his feet and meandering towards the exit. "I'm headed to the office, boss. Anything special you're needing today?"
He chuckles to himself, not getting up for the moment. "Naw, Ah'm good dere, hoss. Keep an eye out, t'ough - dis t'ing is jus' gettin' started."
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
She's looking up at him, her expression equal parts sorrow and accusation.
"If I don't kill one of you, more will come! I have to save them!"
The guns come up under her chin, twin G18 automatic pistols. He's reaching for her, mired in soupy time and muddy vision. He can see every fine detail - wisps of hair hanging in her face, blood trickling from one corner of her mouth, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.
He makes it to her, his hands coming up to pulls the guns away from her chin, and as he does, her eyes meet his, deep blue surrounded by black, and in her little girl's voice, she whispers.
"Please forgive us. I didn't want to kill anyone."
An instant later she explodes in his arms, a mass of flames and gore...
He can still hear the dying echoes of his own voice as he sits up alone in the huge California King, sweat streaming in rivulets down his face, along his chest.
Just a dream...
This time, anyway. It's a credit to years of practice playing his part that he can walk around like nothing had even happened, when only days before a little girl - surely not older than eleven - had blown herself up all over him.
The suit, of course, had stood up tremendously. Not only had it stood up to the weapons fire, it had taken an explosion that had done nothing more than leave him with a huge cleaning chore, some dents, and one hell of a body ache.
Well, the bullet that had torn through his bicep, and the one that had grazed his shoulder. Flesh wounds. Painful, but pain can be managed, willed away.
The nightmares - that look on her face - that'll stay longer.
Pulling his head from his hands, he looks towards the window at the daylight streaming through.
Maybe he should roll his ass out of bed now.
"If I don't kill one of you, more will come! I have to save them!"
The guns come up under her chin, twin G18 automatic pistols. He's reaching for her, mired in soupy time and muddy vision. He can see every fine detail - wisps of hair hanging in her face, blood trickling from one corner of her mouth, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.
He makes it to her, his hands coming up to pulls the guns away from her chin, and as he does, her eyes meet his, deep blue surrounded by black, and in her little girl's voice, she whispers.
"Please forgive us. I didn't want to kill anyone."
An instant later she explodes in his arms, a mass of flames and gore...
He can still hear the dying echoes of his own voice as he sits up alone in the huge California King, sweat streaming in rivulets down his face, along his chest.
Just a dream...
This time, anyway. It's a credit to years of practice playing his part that he can walk around like nothing had even happened, when only days before a little girl - surely not older than eleven - had blown herself up all over him.
The suit, of course, had stood up tremendously. Not only had it stood up to the weapons fire, it had taken an explosion that had done nothing more than leave him with a huge cleaning chore, some dents, and one hell of a body ache.
Well, the bullet that had torn through his bicep, and the one that had grazed his shoulder. Flesh wounds. Painful, but pain can be managed, willed away.
The nightmares - that look on her face - that'll stay longer.
Pulling his head from his hands, he looks towards the window at the daylight streaming through.
Maybe he should roll his ass out of bed now.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
The gym under the Manor is equipped with an array of exercise equipment that might make the manager of any fitness center envious. Weightlifting equipment (both free weights and resistance), treadmills, exercise bikes, gravity boots, a boxing ring, punching and speed bag, a large open area for calisthenics routines.
Three times a week he can be found down there, pushing his body to its extremes, his mind mostly empty of thought, save for counting repetitions.
But not tonight.
Tonight he's making his way across the townscape of the Temple district, sans his suit. The discipline is called parkour, which he'd learned in Europe - a method of traversing terrain using nothing more than one's body.
Or to put it simply, he'd made the Temple district his personal obstacle course.
"I wanted this to happen, Edward. We're both intrigued by the other, and thus, I thought, perhaps it was time to allow you to see a fleshed face, to even the field of play. After all, I cannot allow a handicap. It would be unfair."
A leap carries him over an empty expanse of space from one rooftop to another, rolling as he lands and coming up to his feet to continue on his way. Letting his body do the work while his mind goes its own way.
That face, those eyes. Those strange eyes, like lava fields, that one would think most people would recoil at, but he only found all the more intriguing.
Another abyss opens in front of him as he reaches the edge of the roof, wider than the last, but he doesn't slow in the least, leaping out into empty space.
The world becomes crystal clear, time becoming a thickened mire in which everything moves slower as he falls through space. His leap can't carry him across the distance, but then, he wasn't counting on making it all the way.
"If I wanted your brain, don't you think the moment I touched your lips my finger, I would have taken it?"
It's true, he had thought of that. Diana's analysis of the nanomachinery virus had been fascinating - some odd bio-technological hybrid that had tried to crawl into his suit, and beneath that, the man himself.
She had tried twice - unsuccessfully - to get whatever that is into him. Whether to learn his secrets, or perhaps to kill him, he can't tell - when Diana had shut down the nanites, she had also destroyed whatever programming they had.
Leaving another puzzle for him to solve.
He turns a flip in the air, using the inertia to propel him just the little bit farther horizontally that he needs, putting himself feet-first to the swiftly approaching wall in front of him. As he meets it he bends his legs smoothly, naturally, absorbing the force of impact and rebounding into a back flip, coming to a smooth landing in the middle of the street with a grace that would be the envy of any Olympic gymnast.
And without hesitating he's off again, from landing to forward motion without pause. Cool night air rushes past him as he dashes into an alleyway. Leaping at the wall at the end, he pushes upwards with a foot and just manages to get the fingertips of one hand over the edge.
"I know a powerful man when I see one. And I know an emotionless bastard when I can sniff him out... We're not too different, you and I. Tell me, playboy. Tell me, Batten. Just what are you running from? Just what is it you that scares you so much to lock yourself in a shell against the reality outside of your own?"
There was truth in those words, of a kind. The two of them are not so very different...and yet, worlds apart at the same time.
Hanging there by his fingertips, Ed smiles, thinking. If the world knew what existed beyond the mask, beyond even the Playboy, into the mind that's constantly working beneath the facade, he has the distinct feeling that he might not be nearly so popular.
Some are driven by honor, others by greed. Some by vice, some by avarice, some by righteousness or duty.
A million reasons, each as distinct as the individual, and none of them his.
To him, it's all a game, a grand experiment. One may grant that he works on the side of the 'good guys,' but for the most part this is a matter of convenience rather than necessity or belief - he likes to think he sees the bigger picture, the overall design...or at least his little part of it.
Good and evil mean little to him - it's all objective, subjective, and completely pointless, except to give a world a story, a meaning to life for those so concerned with such things.
This is what he's discovered, in the years that have led him here - that the meaning of life depends entirely on the person asking the question, and anything outside of that should be left for those beings with the capacity to understand it.
Pulling himself up with the one hand, he brings the other up to reach over the wall as he climbs, bringing himself to the top and curling his legs under him to crouch there at the top of the wall, a lean, long figure dressed in a dark grey, lightweight single piece body suit, looking down at the path ahead of him.
Obstacles aplenty. Things to surmount and overcome, to rise above, by nothing more than his own wits, mind and body working as one.
And even as one part of his mind is plotting the course ahead, another is remembering the touch of lips, soft and tender before becoming hungry and wanton, the feel of a slender, hard body pressed against his.
"Ya might be right," he says softly to himself, echoing his response to her question. It's not fear that keeps him locked away, but necessity. Everyone has their role to play, and he understands the need for that perhaps better than most anyone. Evil, like darkness, has to exist. Without it, there would be nothing to overcome, nothing to fight against
The world would become boring, and life would become meaningless - day in and day out, the same pointless, droning existence.
Jumping down and landing in a smooth forward roll, he continues on his way, turning for home. There will be more encounters to ponder over, of that he is certain, in the future.
For now it's time to exercise, and he drives the thoughts from his mind as he leaps up to scale another wall.
Three times a week he can be found down there, pushing his body to its extremes, his mind mostly empty of thought, save for counting repetitions.
But not tonight.
Tonight he's making his way across the townscape of the Temple district, sans his suit. The discipline is called parkour, which he'd learned in Europe - a method of traversing terrain using nothing more than one's body.
Or to put it simply, he'd made the Temple district his personal obstacle course.
"I wanted this to happen, Edward. We're both intrigued by the other, and thus, I thought, perhaps it was time to allow you to see a fleshed face, to even the field of play. After all, I cannot allow a handicap. It would be unfair."
A leap carries him over an empty expanse of space from one rooftop to another, rolling as he lands and coming up to his feet to continue on his way. Letting his body do the work while his mind goes its own way.
That face, those eyes. Those strange eyes, like lava fields, that one would think most people would recoil at, but he only found all the more intriguing.
Another abyss opens in front of him as he reaches the edge of the roof, wider than the last, but he doesn't slow in the least, leaping out into empty space.
The world becomes crystal clear, time becoming a thickened mire in which everything moves slower as he falls through space. His leap can't carry him across the distance, but then, he wasn't counting on making it all the way.
"If I wanted your brain, don't you think the moment I touched your lips my finger, I would have taken it?"
It's true, he had thought of that. Diana's analysis of the nanomachinery virus had been fascinating - some odd bio-technological hybrid that had tried to crawl into his suit, and beneath that, the man himself.
She had tried twice - unsuccessfully - to get whatever that is into him. Whether to learn his secrets, or perhaps to kill him, he can't tell - when Diana had shut down the nanites, she had also destroyed whatever programming they had.
Leaving another puzzle for him to solve.
He turns a flip in the air, using the inertia to propel him just the little bit farther horizontally that he needs, putting himself feet-first to the swiftly approaching wall in front of him. As he meets it he bends his legs smoothly, naturally, absorbing the force of impact and rebounding into a back flip, coming to a smooth landing in the middle of the street with a grace that would be the envy of any Olympic gymnast.
And without hesitating he's off again, from landing to forward motion without pause. Cool night air rushes past him as he dashes into an alleyway. Leaping at the wall at the end, he pushes upwards with a foot and just manages to get the fingertips of one hand over the edge.
"I know a powerful man when I see one. And I know an emotionless bastard when I can sniff him out... We're not too different, you and I. Tell me, playboy. Tell me, Batten. Just what are you running from? Just what is it you that scares you so much to lock yourself in a shell against the reality outside of your own?"
There was truth in those words, of a kind. The two of them are not so very different...and yet, worlds apart at the same time.
Hanging there by his fingertips, Ed smiles, thinking. If the world knew what existed beyond the mask, beyond even the Playboy, into the mind that's constantly working beneath the facade, he has the distinct feeling that he might not be nearly so popular.
Some are driven by honor, others by greed. Some by vice, some by avarice, some by righteousness or duty.
A million reasons, each as distinct as the individual, and none of them his.
To him, it's all a game, a grand experiment. One may grant that he works on the side of the 'good guys,' but for the most part this is a matter of convenience rather than necessity or belief - he likes to think he sees the bigger picture, the overall design...or at least his little part of it.
Good and evil mean little to him - it's all objective, subjective, and completely pointless, except to give a world a story, a meaning to life for those so concerned with such things.
This is what he's discovered, in the years that have led him here - that the meaning of life depends entirely on the person asking the question, and anything outside of that should be left for those beings with the capacity to understand it.
Pulling himself up with the one hand, he brings the other up to reach over the wall as he climbs, bringing himself to the top and curling his legs under him to crouch there at the top of the wall, a lean, long figure dressed in a dark grey, lightweight single piece body suit, looking down at the path ahead of him.
Obstacles aplenty. Things to surmount and overcome, to rise above, by nothing more than his own wits, mind and body working as one.
And even as one part of his mind is plotting the course ahead, another is remembering the touch of lips, soft and tender before becoming hungry and wanton, the feel of a slender, hard body pressed against his.
"Ya might be right," he says softly to himself, echoing his response to her question. It's not fear that keeps him locked away, but necessity. Everyone has their role to play, and he understands the need for that perhaps better than most anyone. Evil, like darkness, has to exist. Without it, there would be nothing to overcome, nothing to fight against
The world would become boring, and life would become meaningless - day in and day out, the same pointless, droning existence.
Jumping down and landing in a smooth forward roll, he continues on his way, turning for home. There will be more encounters to ponder over, of that he is certain, in the future.
For now it's time to exercise, and he drives the thoughts from his mind as he leaps up to scale another wall.
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
Batten Industries Corporate Offices, Rhy'din
The soft sound of his AI clearing her holographic throat comes as she popped up on his desk, her golden form held erect with her hands behind her back, glowing cerulean eyes trained upon the Playboy as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes drooping little by little as the day went on. The past few weeks he'd been out of the city, taking care of his other branches back home and making certain preparations. Despite the money he'd earned from so many years of doing business on a world with no extra-planar connections, and the success he'd had there, he'd found himself regarding the more rustic town of Rhy'din to be a more comfortable home than just about any place he'd been before.
Enough so that he'd been considering making this his main corporate holding, rather than a secondary.
The stormy blue-grey eyes opened as he regarded the holographic image of the petite figure on his desk. "Yeah, Di, whatcha got fer me?"
As usual she didn't pause for more than an eyeblink before speaking. "Mr. Pontius and Mr. Heracleides are here to see you, sir, with several things to discuss that require your attention."
That didn't come as a surprise, really. being out of town will have undoubtedly left quite a few matters that needed to be attended to, or at least brought to his attention. With a wave of his hand, he sighed. "All right, let 'em in."
There's a pause of mere seconds before the door to his office opens and the pair enter. They couldn't be more opposite - Kyle tall, broad as a linebacker and dressed in an intimidating, charcoal-grey three-piece suit, the light gleaming mellowly off of his clean-shaven head. Leo, much shorter in stature, more compact of build but powerful nonetheless, fair-skinned with his dark, close-cut hair, dressed casually in a brown leather jacket, jeans, boots and a t-shirt.
He gestured to the chairs across the desk from his as he leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head casually as he regarded the pair. "All right, fellas, what've ya got fer me?"
Kyle spoke up first, tossing his file folder on the desk. "The past week has seen an outbreak of what the local health authorities are calling 'Rhy'din Benghu Fever,' a rather nasty virus that has is highly infectious and has an almost devastatingly high mortality rate. The details are in the folder."
Ed nodded as he picked up the folder, opening it and thumbing through as he nodded for Kyle to continue. "All right. What've we got goin' on dis, Pont?"
The head of operations proceeded as his boss read through the file. "While you were out of town, we bought four buildings around the town and modified them with the OmniPower system, in the process making them easily reconfigurable for whatever purpose we might need them for. As soon as we got wind of this," he motioned toward the file, "we started getting them set up as free vaccination clinics, one for each major district of Rhy'din."
As Kyle was speaking, Ed was reading through the file, noting the severity of the virus and the threat it posed to the general population. He made a mental note to get himself a shot from their in-house medical staff as soon as the meeting was done and looked up to the pair of them. "We got our own pers'nnel here'n Rhy'din vacc'nated?"
Both men nodded silently, all the answer he needed. "Good. Next?"
Leo sat up next, reaching into his own folder and pulling out a single sheet with a picture of a familiar blue dragon on it, as well as a declaration that she was missing and a request for any information printed on it, and passed it over to the Playboy silently. Ed took the sheet and turned it around so he could read it over, the businesslike expression turning to one of serious concern. Finally he looked back up to his security chief and spoke two words. "How long?"
There was a shrug as the smaller man sat back, his own expression grave. "Since shortly after you went out of town, it seems. Knowing how you and she are acquainted, I've had Tatopolous looking into it. He came up with some leads to look into, but so far, no dice on her location. A bit more checking revealed that her mate, Aurthur, has gone missing as well. No one has seen even a hint of them in a few weeks."
Ed looked back down to the sheet, frowning slightly. "What kinda leads ya got?"
Leo held up the file for him, and he reached over and took it, setting it on his desk for later review, as the security chief continued. "The Shimmerscale family doesn't have a lot of enemies, but the ones they've had have been significant. Three names came up repeatedly in our investigation: Travanix, Oziendis, and a figure that everyone refers to as Renna the Betrayer. Travanix hasn't been seen in over a year, and this Renna was reported to be dead before that."
Ed nodded again, catching the implication. "What've we got on dis Oziendis character?"
Leo shrugged again. "As far as we've been able to determine, this...um...being has had an obsession over the Shimmerscales, and Icer in particular, ever since her arrival in Rhy'din. From what I've gathered he's been reported dead numerous times, but somehow or another he keeps coming back after her and her family, each time in a different form, almost always with the same pattern: he - or it, I think might be a more appropriate term - manages to make itself a friend to the family, usually by making itself appear harmless or helpless to gain their sympathy. It keeps this up just long enough to earn their trust and confidence before revealing itself as this Oziendis and trying to kidnap Icer and kill the rest of the family."
Ed nodded as he listened to this, processing the information that Leo's gathered rather diligently in his absence. It's not hard to see that he made the right choice in hiring the right man for this job. "So he - or it, rat'er - is de mos' likely suspect."
Leo nodded again. "It would seem so, yes."
With a frown he thought about that for a moment, his gaze unfocused as he stared into space, processing all of that. It was bizarre, yes, but in this town it was entirely possible. He'd heard of stranger things. "Alright. Got anyt'in' else fer me, fellas?"
Leo shook his head as Kyle spoke up again. "No. Other than that it's been relatively quiet. Nothing from our Japanese friends, not since their attempt at sabotage, nor any indications of a meeting being sought by them. The movie production at 21twelve, near as I can tell, is going smoothly. Business as usual, pretty much, with everything else."
Turning his chair, the Playboy looked out the picture window overlooking the town to the south as he thought all of it over, steepling his fingers in front of him. He'd missed this town, and...certain figures within it that had each left their own impressions. There were times he hated the necessity of being the big boss, but if not him, then who else?
Finally he turned back to the pair. "All right, den. Kyle, I want ya t'oversee dis vaccination t'ing, make sure everyt'in's runnin' smoot'ly. Leo, you take de Shimmerscale sit'ation, use all de resources ya deem necessary. Ah'm sure her fam'ly's workin' it from deir end, she's got a lot o' dem. Ah'd rec'mend ya get in contact wit' 'em, offer yer assistance in whatever capacity dey're needin'."
He waited just long enough to see their nods of assent and murmurs of acknowledgement before turning away towards the window dismissively, letting them see themselves out of his office.
Once he heard the door close behind him he relaxed slightly, his mind wandering again, to a vision of burning red eyes and a thick fall of hair much the same shade...
The soft sound of his AI clearing her holographic throat comes as she popped up on his desk, her golden form held erect with her hands behind her back, glowing cerulean eyes trained upon the Playboy as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes drooping little by little as the day went on. The past few weeks he'd been out of the city, taking care of his other branches back home and making certain preparations. Despite the money he'd earned from so many years of doing business on a world with no extra-planar connections, and the success he'd had there, he'd found himself regarding the more rustic town of Rhy'din to be a more comfortable home than just about any place he'd been before.
Enough so that he'd been considering making this his main corporate holding, rather than a secondary.
The stormy blue-grey eyes opened as he regarded the holographic image of the petite figure on his desk. "Yeah, Di, whatcha got fer me?"
As usual she didn't pause for more than an eyeblink before speaking. "Mr. Pontius and Mr. Heracleides are here to see you, sir, with several things to discuss that require your attention."
That didn't come as a surprise, really. being out of town will have undoubtedly left quite a few matters that needed to be attended to, or at least brought to his attention. With a wave of his hand, he sighed. "All right, let 'em in."
There's a pause of mere seconds before the door to his office opens and the pair enter. They couldn't be more opposite - Kyle tall, broad as a linebacker and dressed in an intimidating, charcoal-grey three-piece suit, the light gleaming mellowly off of his clean-shaven head. Leo, much shorter in stature, more compact of build but powerful nonetheless, fair-skinned with his dark, close-cut hair, dressed casually in a brown leather jacket, jeans, boots and a t-shirt.
He gestured to the chairs across the desk from his as he leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head casually as he regarded the pair. "All right, fellas, what've ya got fer me?"
Kyle spoke up first, tossing his file folder on the desk. "The past week has seen an outbreak of what the local health authorities are calling 'Rhy'din Benghu Fever,' a rather nasty virus that has is highly infectious and has an almost devastatingly high mortality rate. The details are in the folder."
Ed nodded as he picked up the folder, opening it and thumbing through as he nodded for Kyle to continue. "All right. What've we got goin' on dis, Pont?"
The head of operations proceeded as his boss read through the file. "While you were out of town, we bought four buildings around the town and modified them with the OmniPower system, in the process making them easily reconfigurable for whatever purpose we might need them for. As soon as we got wind of this," he motioned toward the file, "we started getting them set up as free vaccination clinics, one for each major district of Rhy'din."
As Kyle was speaking, Ed was reading through the file, noting the severity of the virus and the threat it posed to the general population. He made a mental note to get himself a shot from their in-house medical staff as soon as the meeting was done and looked up to the pair of them. "We got our own pers'nnel here'n Rhy'din vacc'nated?"
Both men nodded silently, all the answer he needed. "Good. Next?"
Leo sat up next, reaching into his own folder and pulling out a single sheet with a picture of a familiar blue dragon on it, as well as a declaration that she was missing and a request for any information printed on it, and passed it over to the Playboy silently. Ed took the sheet and turned it around so he could read it over, the businesslike expression turning to one of serious concern. Finally he looked back up to his security chief and spoke two words. "How long?"
There was a shrug as the smaller man sat back, his own expression grave. "Since shortly after you went out of town, it seems. Knowing how you and she are acquainted, I've had Tatopolous looking into it. He came up with some leads to look into, but so far, no dice on her location. A bit more checking revealed that her mate, Aurthur, has gone missing as well. No one has seen even a hint of them in a few weeks."
Ed looked back down to the sheet, frowning slightly. "What kinda leads ya got?"
Leo held up the file for him, and he reached over and took it, setting it on his desk for later review, as the security chief continued. "The Shimmerscale family doesn't have a lot of enemies, but the ones they've had have been significant. Three names came up repeatedly in our investigation: Travanix, Oziendis, and a figure that everyone refers to as Renna the Betrayer. Travanix hasn't been seen in over a year, and this Renna was reported to be dead before that."
Ed nodded again, catching the implication. "What've we got on dis Oziendis character?"
Leo shrugged again. "As far as we've been able to determine, this...um...being has had an obsession over the Shimmerscales, and Icer in particular, ever since her arrival in Rhy'din. From what I've gathered he's been reported dead numerous times, but somehow or another he keeps coming back after her and her family, each time in a different form, almost always with the same pattern: he - or it, I think might be a more appropriate term - manages to make itself a friend to the family, usually by making itself appear harmless or helpless to gain their sympathy. It keeps this up just long enough to earn their trust and confidence before revealing itself as this Oziendis and trying to kidnap Icer and kill the rest of the family."
Ed nodded as he listened to this, processing the information that Leo's gathered rather diligently in his absence. It's not hard to see that he made the right choice in hiring the right man for this job. "So he - or it, rat'er - is de mos' likely suspect."
Leo nodded again. "It would seem so, yes."
With a frown he thought about that for a moment, his gaze unfocused as he stared into space, processing all of that. It was bizarre, yes, but in this town it was entirely possible. He'd heard of stranger things. "Alright. Got anyt'in' else fer me, fellas?"
Leo shook his head as Kyle spoke up again. "No. Other than that it's been relatively quiet. Nothing from our Japanese friends, not since their attempt at sabotage, nor any indications of a meeting being sought by them. The movie production at 21twelve, near as I can tell, is going smoothly. Business as usual, pretty much, with everything else."
Turning his chair, the Playboy looked out the picture window overlooking the town to the south as he thought all of it over, steepling his fingers in front of him. He'd missed this town, and...certain figures within it that had each left their own impressions. There were times he hated the necessity of being the big boss, but if not him, then who else?
Finally he turned back to the pair. "All right, den. Kyle, I want ya t'oversee dis vaccination t'ing, make sure everyt'in's runnin' smoot'ly. Leo, you take de Shimmerscale sit'ation, use all de resources ya deem necessary. Ah'm sure her fam'ly's workin' it from deir end, she's got a lot o' dem. Ah'd rec'mend ya get in contact wit' 'em, offer yer assistance in whatever capacity dey're needin'."
He waited just long enough to see their nods of assent and murmurs of acknowledgement before turning away towards the window dismissively, letting them see themselves out of his office.
Once he heard the door close behind him he relaxed slightly, his mind wandering again, to a vision of burning red eyes and a thick fall of hair much the same shade...
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
-
Edward Batten
- Adventurer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: Wed Jun 20, 2012 2:55 pm
- Location: Oh, you know...around...
- Contact:
Re: Business as (un)usual
The Playboy descended into the basement from the floor above, stepping into the office space to find Leo already there, looking over the camera feeds. "All right, Chief, lay it on me."
The Chief (as Ed was coming to think of him, more and more) simply nodded and looked up slightly. "Diana, begin playback at time index 1059."
The holographic display screens blanked, then came back up displaying several angles around the Governor's offices. For a moment there was only the usual traffic - innocuous-looking people in civilian clothes, coming and going or walking past the video feeds. The usual assortment of human and otherwise, going about their business. And then...
The Playboy spoke as four men appeared on the screens, their manner entirely too disciplined and straightforward to be anything but military. "Freeze it, Di."
The screens immediately froze obediently as he and Leo looked the men over from all the available angles. Leo spoke first, stepping up to the displays and pointing to the men's uniforms. "There's a few aesthetic differences, but the coloration, the cut and style...all resembling that of authoritarian nations in Europe around, oh, say the 1930s to 1940s. I don't know where they're from, it's not our world...but there's a lot of similarities in uniform style and military training that I can see in there."
Ed gave a sidelong look to his head of security, arching an eyebrow. "Ya mean like Nazis."
Leo frowned slightly and shrugged. "Maybe not literally, though if one were gotten hold of and interrogated, I wouldn't be surprised if they held some of the same principle beliefs."
Ed nodded again, turning back to the displays. "So...what was dis? Fio go an' piss some'ne else off now? Ain't a secret dat she has more'n her fair share of enemies."
Leo frown a bit further, then shook his head. "This...I don't think this was personal. You don't send a fireteam in military uniform into the Governor's offices for a personal vendetta...that's what hitmen or mercs are for. You put a bomb in her car or her house, or you arrange for a sniper. You go for her when she's vulnerable, not where she's protected. This was an attempt at her life, but whoever was behind it showed a lot of arrogance and not much forethought, if they were on serious business."
Ed nodded agreement, his hand coming up to rub at his chin as he stared thoughtfully at the displays. "You're t'inkin' dey made a mistake. T'ought dey were dealin' wit' a buncha backwater hicks." He snorted, shaking his head. "Coonasses. Whichever moron set dis up is gonna be shocked when dey find out dey jus' poked de proverbial sleepin' dragon."
It was Leo's turn now to look at his boss. "And what about the party tonight? You want to postpone?"
The Playboy smirked, looking back at his head of security. "Nah. We might wanna put up a bit more security, but ot'er dan dat, we're goin' ahead wit' it as planned."
The Chief (as Ed was coming to think of him, more and more) simply nodded and looked up slightly. "Diana, begin playback at time index 1059."
The holographic display screens blanked, then came back up displaying several angles around the Governor's offices. For a moment there was only the usual traffic - innocuous-looking people in civilian clothes, coming and going or walking past the video feeds. The usual assortment of human and otherwise, going about their business. And then...
The Playboy spoke as four men appeared on the screens, their manner entirely too disciplined and straightforward to be anything but military. "Freeze it, Di."
The screens immediately froze obediently as he and Leo looked the men over from all the available angles. Leo spoke first, stepping up to the displays and pointing to the men's uniforms. "There's a few aesthetic differences, but the coloration, the cut and style...all resembling that of authoritarian nations in Europe around, oh, say the 1930s to 1940s. I don't know where they're from, it's not our world...but there's a lot of similarities in uniform style and military training that I can see in there."
Ed gave a sidelong look to his head of security, arching an eyebrow. "Ya mean like Nazis."
Leo frowned slightly and shrugged. "Maybe not literally, though if one were gotten hold of and interrogated, I wouldn't be surprised if they held some of the same principle beliefs."
Ed nodded again, turning back to the displays. "So...what was dis? Fio go an' piss some'ne else off now? Ain't a secret dat she has more'n her fair share of enemies."
Leo frown a bit further, then shook his head. "This...I don't think this was personal. You don't send a fireteam in military uniform into the Governor's offices for a personal vendetta...that's what hitmen or mercs are for. You put a bomb in her car or her house, or you arrange for a sniper. You go for her when she's vulnerable, not where she's protected. This was an attempt at her life, but whoever was behind it showed a lot of arrogance and not much forethought, if they were on serious business."
Ed nodded agreement, his hand coming up to rub at his chin as he stared thoughtfully at the displays. "You're t'inkin' dey made a mistake. T'ought dey were dealin' wit' a buncha backwater hicks." He snorted, shaking his head. "Coonasses. Whichever moron set dis up is gonna be shocked when dey find out dey jus' poked de proverbial sleepin' dragon."
It was Leo's turn now to look at his boss. "And what about the party tonight? You want to postpone?"
The Playboy smirked, looking back at his head of security. "Nah. We might wanna put up a bit more security, but ot'er dan dat, we're goin' ahead wit' it as planned."
The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.
- Friedrich Nietzche
- Friedrich Nietzche
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