3s and 7s (Oscar)

[Miriam Valentine]

"The Palace at Versailles." One year ago, the extravagant gold and white tower in the center of Endonia's "nightlife" district had been a spectacle for all of the wrong reasons. A palace in name and environment, its figurative crown had exploded; engulfed in flames and wrapped in a blizzard of debris, the crown had fallen on its head, silencing, for one full year, the duality of merriment that had been an ever-present, if expensive, escape for the denizens of Endonia. The media had reported it a "terrorist attack", though evidence of such was largely lacking. There had seemed no motive, no reason for such senseless destruction, and the "rumors" that it had been caused by "mutants" were whispered but deemed sensationalist by all but the most fantastical gossipers among the populace (and those who knew that such rumors could be potentially valid.) Details, no matter the rumors and coverage, were beyond scarce. All that was truly known was that the destruction had, indeed, happened and that the owner had left the country. The report was that she had suffered "life-threatening injuries" due to the "attack" but that, like every other rumor associated with the incident, was never directly confirmed. Eventually, the rumor mill fell as silent as the husk of the once great palace.

But tonight? Tonight was the rebirth; the rising of the phoenix from its own ashes, for The Palace had been rebuilt - more glamorous than ever - and Miss Miriam Valentine, owner and proprietor as inherited from her father, had returned home to once again grant expensive, extravagant solace from "everyday troubles" to the (more well-to-do) citizens of the trouble city. It was said that she was fearless, and this was said to be evident by the "transparency" of the all glass elevators that granted patrons access to the various floors of the half-casino, half-nightclub. Miri, herself, honestly couldn't figure out how the two related, but she hadn't bothered to correct those who had made the comments. She enjoyed the "objectivity of transparency" that was associated with it - as if to say to the city, "I have nothing to hide." This, of course, was far from the truth.

The ribbon cutting ceremony had happened at sundown. It had been quite the "red carpet" event, with celebrities major and minor showing up to have their faces seen and their pictures taken amidst the glitz, glamour, and fireworks accompanying the over-the-top show of financial force. Miriam had given a short welcoming speech, then deliberately retreated from the spotlight, allowing Endonia's mayor to deliver the keynote address. He droned on and on about how important recovery from tragedy was, and how Miri - as "one of Endonia's own" - was a wonderful example of why courage and tenacity in the face of unseen threats was so important. Try as he might, the speech was hardly rousing and easily the most boring aspect of the entire evening. The applause, when Miriam - dressed in a sleek, but conservative, black evening gown, with arm-length black gloves, black hose, and black heels - reappeared to, with some finality, actually cut the ribbon, was as excited for entering the "playhouse" as it was in appreciation for shutting the politician up. The cheer became louder when, as part of the ridiculousness of the pomp and circumstance of ceremony, she was "awarded" a large, black feather boa from the less-than-currently-popular politician. The accessory would, aside from the ornate rapier on her hip, become her "badge of honor" for the night.

Inside moved the masses, and the dark red-haired young woman went with them. The initial hours passed in flippant, cosmetic interactions with individuals "important" only by the "eye of popularity" of society. It was a necessary thing, of course, though not one Miriam particularly relished. As the clock approached eleven, however, Miriam retired to the seventh floor ("Seventh Heaven", naturally), where she took up what would become her "usual residence" when she decided to make herself available to the patrons of the place. The seventh floor was a casino floor, and she chose it for the spot of her "throne" based on that preference. The Palace's "nightclub" floors were there out of business necessity, but the Lady of the House had little personal interest in them. Observation was the name of her game in this place, and what she enjoyed was observing competition. Games of chance were far more entertaining than anything a dance floor had to offer, in her mind.

The "throne", as such, was more accurately described as a kind of stage and, in truth, each casino floor had its own version. Which floor she intended to frequent would be determined the morning of, and her "stage" was set by those sunrise decrees. The floors not chosen had their "stages" un-walled, and the platform was converted into the area associated with whatever game held the highest stakes for that evening and for that floor. The chosen "stage", in this case the seventh, kept its walls. Like an oyster turned open and on its side, those wishing to approach Miriam were forced to do so from only the front and only through a cadre of bodyguards. Hidden inside the walls, Miriam lounged either alone or only with specifically chosen guests, nursing a glass of red wine and watching the multitude of monitors that connected to the cameras watching every inch of her domain.

There, on the seventh floor, the woman in charge of the "Guardian network" waited. The grand reopening of the Palace truly meant the return to "business" - both the business society saw, and the business that pulled strings from behind the scenes. Tonight, she was truly her middle name; an agent of "Calypso" and the "VIP" that would be joining her was a General of the DNCS. After all, there was no sense in "taking it easy" on the first day "back at the office."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

A recently polished navy blue jeep screeched to a halt in the parking lot not far from the city’s extravagant center. Oscar, with his red mane of hair tamed into a low, long ponytail and dressed in one of his finest designer suits with golden cufflinks and a soft crimson tie, emerged from within, hawk-eyed and still somewhat brooding on the inside for having been assigned today’s task. The meeting place especially unsettled him. Over the years, Oscar had come to know that nothing good ever truly came from within nightclubs and the chances of decency and fairness severely diminished in casinos successively. Now this place, “The Palace at Versailles” looked to have been built on the wings of similar arrogance to the actual Versailles Palace commissioner. The luxury and extravagance was so great that only the monetary cream of Endonia’s society could hope to pass through the door and find something to do within. In short, it repulsed Oscar on a very fundamental level and he wanted nothing to do with it or with whatever went on inside.

Regardless of his feelings, however, he did pass through the doors that would have not admitted him in his youth and was politely and generously helped to navigate up to floor seven by people who wouldn’t have so much as met his gaze at that same age. Although he was used to select environments and had over the years learned to behave, walk and talk like he had been brought in a tower sewn together from hundred dollar bills to his mother’s arms after birth, Oscar had grown up in the opposite. A past of poverty wasn’t something to boast about and he was even sure that the more keen nosed moneyhounds inside the establishment could smell it in him, but it was effectively part of his character and that same character considered this place a joke. He had even heard that some pompous inauguration ceremony had been held after the restitution of the building from an incident that had blown up a part of the construction. Whoever lived here obviously didn’t prioritize towards making the world a better place and had arms open only for the greedy and corrupt.

Displaying none of his thoughts as he walked into the toppled oyster after being cleared by the set of guards, he advanced to the throned female within. “Agent Calypso I assume? Good evening and thank you for receiving me on such short notice.” It was then that Oscar thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a small box that he slid across her desk, offering it. “The government is and has always been thankful for your invaluable assistance and would like to offer you a humble token of friendship.” Inside the little box, there was a fancy looking pocket watch, a "hunter's watch" someone had called it because the watchmaker who made this piece had made it for a lord in centuries past that was obsessed with the passage of time as much as he was with his armed excursions into the wilderness. (Face, Inside). Where in the world did they get the funding to make such gifts? Oscar straightened and brought his hands behind his back in a dignified manner, a sharpness in his eyes that was very businesslike coming to accompany the display. “My name is Oscar Leonheardt, as you already know, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, officially, in person.”

[Miriam Valentine]

Posture was a very important thing when it came to appearances, or, at least, that was the opinion of Miriam's etiquette instructor many years ago. She was expected to agree and, of course, she had and had taken it to heart for the rest of her life. Obviously, that had been the point in the instruction in the first place. As such, even her "lounging" posture was quite straight and proper, and her selection of chairs that had both high and hard backs helped ensure that she would always maintain the correct posture, even if she didn't particularly feel like it. Bored and "lounging" was precisely the situation that Oscar found her in when he approached the non-standard dias that was, for all intents and purposes, "headquarters" for "The Palace" that night.

The guards had parted when the red-haired man approached, in a way that went relatively unnoticed on "opening" night, but would later be identified as a rare occurrence. His presence had been expected and her guards had been instructed to allow him to pass without hindrance. Miriam was seated when Oscar climbed the handful of stairs leading to her position, and although her posture was straight, her head was turned to the side, her chin resting on the knuckles of her hand. The black glove covered elbow was resting against the arm of the chair, and her other arm was draped across her middle, as casually as she could make it. A half-full (or half-empty, depending on your perspective) glass of red wine was the only accessory visible on the table in front of her, its rim stained in one specific location by her dark red lipstick. The semi-circular wall surrounding her was lively, full of monitors showing various portions of the casino/nightclub, and it was on one of these monitors that Miriam's attention - if one could call it that - had been drawn. The monitor in question was showing the first casualty of the casino; that is, the first individual identified to be cheating and the action on the screen showed that he was none too happy about being forced to leave. Though she was watching, she did not appear concerned in the slightest.

Miriam waited until Oscar began speaking to alter her gaze, and when she did, she changed her position. She brought her hands carefully together and placed them in her lap, offering the general a very small, polite smile. The black feather boa that she had been gifted at the opening fluttered a bit from her movement. There was no indicated that the motion was intentional, but it was somewhat curious and coincidental that the movement managed to offer a glimpse of the rapier resting on the young woman's hip. She did not interrupt him as he spoke, offering only the polite inclining of her head in silent acceptance of the offered gift. When he finished, her eyes closed and she brought a hand up to her mouth, politely clearing her throat, before responding.

"Good evening, General Leonhardt. I've been expecting you," she began as her eyes fluttered back open and her hand returned to her lap. Her expression was quite neutral, acting as something of a dulling counterpart to the sharpness in Oscar's eyes. "I assure you that the gift is graciously received and I promise to give it proper attention momentarily. While the assistance the organization offers the DNCS may be invaluable, please know that it is our honor and privilege to provide whatever we can, whenever we are able, so that the important work you and yours provide society may be carried out as efficiently and effectively as possible. Ours is a small part; the heavy lifting, as goes the colloquial saying, is unfortunately your task alone. It is we that should beg friendship, so I am quite humbled to have it offered in reverse. Regrettably General, I must correct you on one small detail. On this night, I play the representative - the... agent, as you so correctly put it - but you needn't call me by the name of the organizational contact. Calypso I represent..." And, with a slight pause, she stood up and slid the chair back slightly. She then performed a perfect curtsy. "... but Miriam Valentine is who I am. As I am the one receiving you, I am compelled to say that it is my pleasure to make the acquaintance of one so distinguished. And I humbly welcome you to this establishment - my home, The Palace at Versailles."

With that, she straightened and moved around the table towards him. Her movements were liquid-fluid, and she carefully collected the gift box in the same motion that took her to and then past him. She stopped for a split second once she was behind him to speak again.

"Shall we retire to a place better suited to business? I believe a little more privacy... and quite a bit of quiet would be far more conducive and beneficial to our exchange than the cacophony offered by the casino, don't you?"

It did not really seem like a question, for she began walking before he could properly respond. As soon as her heels left the final lower step and touched the floor, the monitors within her on-floor retreat mysteriously went blank. Miriam moved at a purposefully slow pace, to ensure that Oscar would catch up to her immediately. Her path was towards one of the grand glass elevators and as she moved, bodyguards seemed to materialize out of thin air to usher guests to other parts of the casino floor.

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Her presentation was so poised and perfect that it looked rehearsed. Oscar bowed his own head to her curtsy and later acknowledged her name with a definite nod. “My apologies, then, Miss Valentine, for the error. Also, is there anything I could do to persuade you to call me Oscar? I fear overt formality has never been my strong suit, at least, not outside the field.” The sharpness in his eyes mellowed then and was replaced with a touch of friendly. Although the matters they were to discuss did pose a certain sense of urgency and inspired one to be serious, Oscar couldn’t help but grab at the chance to make it the interaction less cardboard to cardboard. If she protested, he could always adhere to her comfort, but if she didn’t, it would be a welcome start. Throughout his years in the military and his dealings with mutants, politicians and dogs of the army alike, he found that better things came out of instilling some sense of familiarity between people, no matter the business they were involved in. It made people tap into emotion, lower their guards, sometimes even without noticing, and thus made them stronger allies.

She curved around the table and, were he not so used to standing his ground, he would have moved from her path to allow her passage. As it were, his thoughts were unnecessary and soon he found her behind him, to which he turned in no rush. If he had seen her rapier or if he felt in any way threatened by her strong character and obvious command and presidium over the entire building, Oscar didn’t show it. He maintained an air of polite friendliness without appearing subservient in the process.

Miriam suggested they relocate without actually seeming to care for his opinion, if her immediate stride away was anything to go by, but he had nothing to protest – more quiet sounded quite good. “Indeed,” he acquiesced to keep up the pretense of having a choice and walked in pursuit of her. As he trailed a few steps behind, Oscar had to notice her demeanor – regal, proud, the walk of someone used to power and who knew how to exert it without drawing hate in an instant. There was also a certain pretentiousness in that and for it, he couldn’t say he liked this first appearance of Miriam, or appreciated following in her tracks to the glitzy glass elevator.

“Do you ever plan on expanding your reach with The Palace at Versailles?” Oscar watched the guards scurrying around. “I imagine it brings you quite a profit so you could chain into neighboring cities, or across the sea into a fresh new country.” It was a lame attempt at conversation and he really didn’t care about her business plans. When they got into the elevator, he recovered himself some, and decided to ask something more fitting of his character. “Does it ever tire you, Miriam?” He wouldn’t give a care to being too familiar at the moment. “To live here where you always need to be so tall and proud and in charge?” Yeah he was being too direct, but it was too late to stave his curiosity away now. “It must be lonely at the top.”

He added that last bit in a queerly quiet tone as he stared through the see-through elevator at various aspects of the floors they passed. Suddenly, he coughed into his fist. “Please excuse me and feel urged to ignore my questions.” But he wouldn’t excuse himself for them by inventing some affliction that caused him to speak out of line. There was just too much artificiality in his job and Oscar was in a phase where he was recognizing the uselessness in it. He didn’t want any more of his days to pass in perfect robotic conversations when he could attempt to squeeze in some genuine human interaction between lines.

[Miriam Valentine]

As was her habit, Miriam was like ice as she made her way towards the glass elevator. It was an aura produced by practice, by instruction, and by necessity, and the effect it had on those in her path was severe. Naturally, the guests were far less conditioned and were distracted by their forced exodus, but the guards? Even if their eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses, it was clear that they made absolutely no attempt to catch Miriam's gaze or match her eye to eye. If they looked in her direction, their eyes were focused on her heels and nothing else.

At Oscar's initial questioning, Miriam turned just enough towards him so that he could see her face. A gloved finger moved up to her lips, as if shushing him, but this gesture was not quite as severe as it might have seemed at first. She wore a small smille and spoke:

"In a place that craves and caters to only the solitude and solace of a reward of coin," And by "coin", she meant anything - including information - that could be converted into some form of monetary value. "Silence is golden... ... ...Oscar."

When they arrived in the elevator and Oscar asked his follow up question, she once again offered him a small smile. She did not speak again until the doors slid shut. Then her smile faded, and the neutral expression she wore before returned. There was a small caveat to this; she seemed slightly more thoughtful than before.

"I appreciate the courage you have so far exhibited, Oscar. Not often does it happen, in this place at least, that one would be so forward in their approach. It is a rare and unusual occurrence for someone to actually view me as a... person." She paused then, inclining her head towards him. Her smile returned. "In that, I offer you my thanks. And as a reward, I shall indulge your questions as we ascend."

From a hidden pocket, Miriam produced a small brass key. The key was carefully inserted into the keyhole next to the button display, and as soon as she turned it, the elevator began to move. She withdrew from the console and returned her attention to Oscar.

"If I may be direct, I must say that loneliness is a disposition that I am rarely at liberty to consider. If I am... "lonely"... then I have forgotten my schedule and forgotten my place. Such is the role I must play for accepting the gift of position from my father." Her words were largely cold, but she paused when she finished, and managed a small laugh, covering her mouth as dictated by her manners. "I regret that that makes it sound more severe than it actually is. You must understand that the "owner and proprietor of The Palace at Versailles" is but one facet of my existence. Would you disagree if I said... "the shoes that we wear are the ones that we must?" Role, and the prestige and protocol, or lack thereof, associated with that role creates the... persona... we exhibit. We are bound by that contract, because we have accepted that role. I would think your status as General, despite the details, is not so different from my own, in the general sense."

She turned from him then, stepping closer to the elevator doors, and sent her gaze searching out over the passing floors of the casino/nightclub.

"As for being at... "the top", that is highly subjective. We - this place - is what it is, not because of anything I have done, but because of what the clientele and the environment has dictated. We shall be at the top if society deems us better than our competitors. If they do not, then "best" we shall not be. With expansion, I must disagree and say that such a move would be self-destructive. Uniqueness - being "the only one" - is a commodity more potentially lucrative than becoming one of the... what is it called? "Fast food" variety? Besides..." She turned back towards him, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her head slightly. Her smile was a touch larger than it had been before. "Was it not easier for you to locate, being the only one? I would imagine having a selection of potential locations for conducting business would only increase the potential of error and poor relations. I am allowed only certain simplicities; this is one I intend to keep."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Oscar was presented a careful shush and the moment paused in his eyes, lips slightly parted in unconscious defiance, but he did not speak again until they were within the privacy of the elevator. He was catching glimpses of the activity on each floor, fingers of his left hand pressed lightly on the see-through surface, when she started delivering her reactions to his questions and comments. Politely, he angled towards her, arm returned to his side. His expression had arranged into polite neutrality but the beginning of her discourse added a glimmer of resonance to his eye. Some years ago, when he was newer in his station and wildly more focused on being a task machine, he had been treated much the same by everyone surrounding him. It had been what he wanted – to be left alone, a statue of unquestioned leadership with no faults, no needs and no emotion to appeal to. What had to be done was done and there was no way his judgement or presence could be deemed unreliable, not with that attitude up.

It was plain on his face that he could relate to what she told him, but the pause in her discourse made him glance to the side with unspoken thoughts. Oscar didn’t quite see the situation the same anymore and since returning to central, he was gaining an attitude that may well border on unprofessional at times.

When she was done explaining her reasons to avoid expansion he drew his own hands behind his back and met her smile with a little one of his own. “Well, as easy as it was to locate due to its uniqueness, I don’t believe a similar establishment in a different country would have encouraged error. I also doubt you would have many clients who came from very far. People look for services in their back yard, so to speak, at least if they rely on them on regular basis.” Oscar sought her eyes then. “Though I do understand the appeal of uniqueness.” The smile on his face did not reach his eyes. “As for the roles we must play, I politely have to disagree. In the past, I was as strict to appearance as any man trained to embody a certain image, but over the years…” He looked to the passing floors. “I’ve come to realize that you can give character to any role. People don’t need you to be a perfectly neutral slab of stone, unless you’re in politics, and they won’t feel loyal to you until they see there’s a person inside.”

It was a fine line to walk, the one between remaining true to your role and showing that you’re just as human as everyone else. Oscar looked back to her. “Do you think your employees would see you as any less if they learned you had a sense of humor? Would you imagine your guards would protect you any less if hints of your personality slipped into your tone?” The General shrugged and looked to the doors, anticipating they were close to opening and allowing them to exit the private glass prison. “So, no, Miriam. I don’t know why I’ve spent my life trying so hard to be so little of myself in my career.”

He gestured to the opening doors. “After you.”

[Miriam Valentine]

"Mmm, the irony in the effect the past has had on each of us, then," she managed, her smile fading a little. She would return to the topic in a moment, but the opening of the elevator doors to the "bottom floor" of the penthouse section - a misnomer, since it consisted of a handful of floors at the top of the tower - caused a distraction of necessity. Miriam inclined her head towards him. "Thank you, sir." And slipped into their new surroundings.

The first two floors of the "penthouse" were the areas of her "home" dedicated to the private entertainment of guests. Any manner of business that required "away from prying eyes and ears" status took place here, although the layout of each implied that they could easily have been used for leisurely entertaining, as well. Of course, that was astonishingly rare, for the young lady did not currently have anyone that she could call "friend."

She'd chosen to entertain the general on the first floor of the "penthouse" because it was what she affectionately liked to call the "war room." The floor consisted of one extremely large room, designed like a wing of a museum. The floor was polished black marble, touched by only the faintest wispy hint of silver. The trim along the walls, at the floor and at the ceiling, was intricately spiraled bronze. The walls themselves were also paneled with marble, of a deep emerald green, and the various displays lining the walls and "free standing" in various parts of the floor were also of marble, though these were of a deep purple coloration. The "walking paths" within the room were indicated by the dark red ribbon of carpeting, flanked by small bronze poles connected by silver rope. The center of the room was more depressed, elevation wise, than the rest of the space. It was encircled by the bronze poles and silver rope allowing for four different entry points that were, ironically, placed to be at the in-between points of the cardinal directions - i.e, northwest, northeast, southeast, and southwest. The central point of interest was a large, circular silver table, surrounded by silver chairs. If one bothered to look beneath the table, the central rug was the design of an elaborate compass. At the far end of the room - which was where Miriam was headed - was a fully stocked bar made of the same black marble that decorated the floor. None of the liquor decorating the back of the bar appeared to have been opened. Crystal goblets and silver glasses (and shot glasses) made up the menagerie of drinking containers. The "main attraction", of course, were the aforementioned "museum displays." Contained within was a portion of Miriam's expansive collection of medieval combat, fully-functional "art" - swords, knives, spears, axes, shields, pieces of armor... one large display in the far left corner even held a hand-crafted roman chariot. There was a distinct lack of bodyguard presence in the room.

"If I seem particularly... harsh, by aura and demeanor, towards those under my employ, it is because recent events have... required that strictness and complete discipline be particularly stressed. My personality is known well-enough to the majority, for they were employees of my father, first, and were privy to the tasks and instruction that crafted that personality. Inheritance they are, as am I - that is, we have inherited each other, mutually. Those newly hired, however, must be instructed in "the way", for the goal, now, is to return to how we were. 'Tis unfortunate, really. What you have suggested, sir, lead, in part, to the incident that nearly brought this ivory tower down in the first place."

She explained all of this as she casually (rather, as casually as she could be) made her way forward into the room. As she reached the silver table, she removed the black feather boa she had been wearing and, with a slight wrinkle of her nose, draped it over the back of one of the silver chairs. With the boa out of the way, her rapier and its intricate hand guard were in full view.

"Please do not misunderstand my words," she said, turning and offering him a rather apologetic look. "I do not intend my explanation as a "lecture." I certainly appreciate your sentiments, and acknowledge, fully, that there must be veracity in such an opinion, since it comes from experience that is, likely, beyond me. Perhaps a time will come when I may be privileged to do more than simply consider your words, but for now, what you have seen is how it must be."

Miriam turned again, then, and reached up behind her neck, flipping her hair back. There was a natural waviness to her hair, and with the feathers out of the way this was much more apparent. She resumed her walk, maneuvering fluidly around the table and towards the bar.

"Shall we continue? 'Tis not a demand, I promise. The night is still quite young and here, we move and act on our own time and as we please. So, if you would like to tarry and peruse the various decorations, please do not hesitate to do so. Could I, perhaps, interest you in a glass of wine? Ah - I apologize, where are my manners? Wine is my preference, but I am sure I can appease whatever pleases your palate. Simply state your desire, and I shall facilitate it as best as I am able."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he walked into the penthouse’s luxury. The dark marble floor seemed ominous under his shoes. There was something very savage about the décor, but in a contained, refined way. The chariot added an element of arrogance. Following her fully into the room and pausing by one of the silver chairs, Oscar listened to her words with new neutrality. Quickly, he was growing to realize, that it wasn’t his place to suggest anything or share opinions. He was here to get information and get out. The whole atmosphere felt oppressive and reminded him too much of how some swam in riches and others were left with the trampled scarps from their table. Not that the state of the world was any of her fault, but Oscar couldn’t help the negative feeling spreading through him.

“I see,” was all he could offer to her explanation, noting the apology in her eyes and the dazzling rapier by her side. “And forgive me for offering opinions where they’re unnecessary. It’s very clear that you’re running the Palace with every success.” His gaze lingered on her rapier a moment longer before he sought her eyes and offered a minimal smile. She turned from him and he remained where he was, quietly watching her back and the shine in her hair.

Oscar made quite an inward point of having no interest in the decorations. The idea of drinking didn’t appeal to him overly much either, but it would be direly impolite to refuse his host. “Wine would suit me splendidly. I fancy the red variety, as it is.” He did not move to sit until she joined him. Realizing that he didn’t quite know how to “tarry” so the night could be “old” enough to allow for business, Oscar decided to make use of the decorations after all. “I see you have a love of weaponry,” he observed, casting a sweeping gaze around, straight of posture but with a hand on the back of one silver chair. “Are they antiques?” It wouldn’t surprise him if they were. The woman seemed to exude the aura of possessing a private museum.

Oscar’s hand gestured to her rapier. “I imagine that's for more than just decoration.” Something within his eye sparkled when his gaze rose to meet hers again. Oscar had never so much as touched a sword before, much less learned how to use one. Who used swords in this day and age anyway? Then again, she seemed distinctly transported here from some other era. “And pardon me if I seem overeager, Miriam, but I’m quite interested to hear about the danger level involving your information. If the mutants you have discovered pose an immediate threat to civilians, I would be glad if you shared it with haste.” His smile was terse. “I imagine you understand the need.” Oscar was here on business first and foremost. The sharing of pleasantries had overstretched its reach without setting his worries at ease.

[Miriam Valentine]

"Oh, my..."

Her return, with crystal goblets filled with blood red liquid, was in time with the end of Oscar's observations and questions. Miriam had not replied, at all, to any of the statements and inquiries in her quest to supply the drinks - there was a very purposeful sense in her movements, as if the "serving girl" persona of "guest entertainment" had completely taken over, in place of the "royal hostess", while she made true on her attempts to bring forth refreshment. She extended Oscar's goblet precisely - directly in the median of space between them - and then made a small gesture indicating that he should sit. She paused a moment, deftly sliding her own chair out and slipping into it like an eel in oil, but as fluidly as her movements were, something seemed amiss... and her exclamation confirmed it.

"Have I... have I made you uncomfortable, Oscar? I... cannot help but detect that... something is... not as it should be. I shall certainly... answer you in a moment and, as it were... ah... "get on with it", but I'm afraid I am a little lost. My intentions were to make this... more smooth? To remove distraction, and facilitate the proper environment for a one-on-one exchange, of equals, at ease and assured of friendship and similar interests therein. It seems... that I have unquestionably failed in this endeavor..." And for a moment, a flash of uneasiness cross her face, as she looked to the side. Then, the usual ice returned and she looked once again at Oscar, offering as much of a bow as her seated posture could allow. "And for that, I apologize. If there is anything I can do to alleviate your distress, please inform me, and I shall act as quickly as I am able. I had... thought, this may be a suitable arena... but perhaps I have taken the idea of "General" a bit too... literally."

She sighed then, carefully crossing her legs, and secured her free hand between her knees. If Oscar's eyes were quick, they would have caught a glimpse of... something... in between her fingers in the motion. Still, she allowed her distress to play a few moments longer and then acknowledged his inquiries involving their surroundings.

"You are... correct, with your observations, though," she started, delaying a response to her apologies. "I have a "love", as you say, of weaponry, to an extent. The irony of elegance and wretchedness combined in these pieces is quite astounding, though it is only a small portion of my full collection. Some are antiques - I must ashamedly boast to supposedly having a fragment of the Lance of Longinus in my collection - but many are modern day re-creations, as Time is the most powerful adversary of all, living or not. All are hand-crafted, however, because there is much stock that one can put into the idea that the soul of the blacksmith is, indeed, as important as the quality of the materials used in such a creation. An antique, and yet, an example of such a powerful soul lies there, to your definitive left - that... that is a Nodachi of Muramasa forging - a blood sword, if you believe some of the myths. It, however, is starving... never having been used... but it is... so very powerful. ...To look at, at least." She managed another sigh, swirling her wine in her glass and, deftly, taking a sip - almost, as if, to show Oscar that the vintage was not poison. "I've no skill with such a blade. But, you mention my rapier, and I shall acknowledge a touch of skill with the elegant, fair blades of Europe, at least. As you've noticed my companion, I shall say that I wear it because it will defend me better than any bodyguard I could employ. I shan't boast on my ability, though you may find some reports of it, if you are interested... somewhat unfortunately, perhaps. In any case, suffice it to say, that if you are interested in a duel, I shall most assuredly comply. A friendly one, of course. I've the proper armor handy, if you are so inclined. I should be most intrigued to test myself against a General..."

And she trailed off then, returning momentarily to her wine and then, abruptly, producing the item from between her knees. It was an optical disc; an "antique" given the current day, but that was precisely why she chose it instead of a flash drive. She offered it to Oscar... daintily, almost as if it would pain her if he were to take it. But Miriam continued her speech without a flicker of fear in her voice.

"But... seeing as how I have, so far, been such an inadequate hostess, I shall give you that which you seek. The disc, of course, contains all of the details your employer requires, and I shall, as habit dictates, offer you a summary. Three is the number of the personalities contained within, and three is the number of heads your Hydra must have, in order to contain them. As an agent of Calypso, I have no way of knowing just how far your necks may stretch, but interest and intent must be relayed regardless of proximity. A metal... interest, the first, and bloody - but remote, some twenty-five hundred miles to the west, for principal report's sake. A porcupine, his talent's manifest, but of Vlad the Impaler, his reckoning established. The spines, once impaled, release, and stay the victim on the spot that they have perished. Wide-spread, the threat may not be so worrisome, but that death count is already in the forties, however remote his travels, and it is most certainly something the DNCS should be aware of... because his charted progress directs him here. Perhaps a pre-emptive strike?"

She was... coldly casual... and almost poetic in her dissertation. How much experience with these kind of individuals did she actually have? Did she not seem... too young for such calmness associated with it?

"The second lies to our north and, in all actuality, I've no idea how your employers have not already found her. An earth-shaker, is she, in exactly the meaning I imply, for she quakes and splits the earth as if she is directly connected with the tectonic plates beneath our feat. Distressed and distraught, is she, for a rival organization to yours already attempted to detain her. 'Twas a very sloppy mission, so my intelligence tells me - they eradicated her entire town... while she was not there. Now we, the citizens of Endonia, suffer the potentiality of her wrath, because they have failed in their unprofessional endeavors. If not tomorrow, she will break Mt. Lateshia and it's great dam in the northeast on the morrow or within the week, and our sister city, Lorith, shall suffer the tidal wave of response. Halt, dear General, in your worry here - Calypso has, by our friendship, already engaged certain resources and agents to delay her. We cannot contain her ourselves, but we should buy you four days, at the very least. She is... regrettably, but a child - nineteen only the year past - and easily distracted by superfluous things." She shook her head, rather sadly. "But we cannot simply let her lie. The danger of such a ferocious inclination could threaten the stability of the entire world, not just our own city. I had hoped... I had hoped she could be reasoned with, but the damage done was too much. She... is lost."

Miriam paused again, her gaze moving to looking into the crimson depths of her wine. There seemed an aspect of regret in her, reporting these things, and it was true - though it was, not for Oscar's knowledge, an astoundingly new found feeling. The pause was somewhat elongated, but, finally, she reacted, draining her glass and turning to fix Oscar with the most serious expression she had managed thus far.

"The third in my trilogy is the true piece of interest, though you may not be aware of it, Oscar. I shall do my best to explain it plainly, and to the best of my knowledge, because my information is unquestionably from the outside and without any insight into DNCS purpose. This third piece is why they sent you to me, with the other two added merely to make appreciations on the price of acquisition. Three days from now, a ship of DNCS designation will make its way to port here in Endonia. Three days. And, to be as clear as possible, I shall tell you that day one begins tomorrow at, precisely, 8:42am local time. Barring any storms, the ship will come into port three days from that time. Her name is "Rosalind", and she is carrying a distinctively dangerous payload. I shall... report... that she is on auto-pilot."

Miriam paused again, her gaze flitting to her empty glass somewhat regrettably. As if to distract herself, Miri made a point of fingering the glass around its base, turning it sideways... and then, abruptly, turning it on its head. She placed it, lip down, on the silver table.

"It was a mistake. A mistake that has made necessary an action prior to docking. The individual contained on the "Rosalind" is a... highly charismatic individual, by the name of Josiah Caffery. He is a manipulator of the element of fire unlike any we, as Calypso, have ever seen... and a simple charming speech, regrettably, allowed him release from the containment fields on-board the ship. He has taken it over... though, I imagine my demeanor and words told you that already. My reports, made strictly from helicopter based reconnaissance, imply that he has completely taken over the ship. His arrival in the port... must... not... be... allowed to occur. Such a scenario will be catastrophe, no matter the preparedness of the welcoming party. My role, in this, to you... is to confirm what was already expected. You may report to your superiors that the answers are "yes" and "indeed." It is the worst case scenario, primarily because the "Rosalind" is already embedded in a fishing fleet prone to dock at the suggested time. Aerial or submarine pre-emptive strikes, by nature of missiles or torpedos, are only an option if civilian casualties are deemed... acceptable, by your superiors."

With the final bit, Miriam's force got the better of her, crushing the head of her goblet into crystal slivers as she pressed down on it. For a split second she looked surprised, then there was a moment of embarrassment... and finally, this transcended into a look of quiet determination.

"If I may speak plainly, the final piece is the result of a terrible miscalculation. It is full miscalculation, and a giving of the benefit of the doubt to one unworthy of such a reward. As such, I shall also extend myself as an offer of existence in remedying the third, General Leonhardt, as a token of proper friendship towards the DNCS. I have other information, not requested by your superiors, that suggests that something in my... personal arsenal... may be very useful in subduing and eliminating the threat. However, my hands are tied when it comes to action, because it is out of my jurisdiction. Should you review the information provided, and think it proper to request my assistance... I shall accompany you, or whatever team judged properly capable, to prevent this threat from reaching the ports of Endonia. You need only say the word."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Oscar accepted the goblet. “Thank you.” And sat as per invitation. He took a very small sip of the liquid and resisted the urge to spit it back out when she pointed out his discomfort. Was he being that obvious? The hint of unease in her features inspired his smile to be a touch apologetic. Oscar raised a hand. “Ah, no. It’s not your fault.” Not directly. “Rest assured, you’ve been a most gracious host.” He paused, considering. After releasing a short sigh, he lowered his hand to the table and glanced to the side. “It’s not so critical as you make it sound. If I feel any discomfort, it’s of my own fault and you needn’t worry for it.” Another smile, this time only half and more genuine, with the return of his gaze to her. “You’re right in your last observation, though. My spirit is far less militaristic than one could, with all right, assume.” The smile disappeared to another sip of wine.

The moment she started thoroughly indulging his ill-inspired pop of curiosity, Oscar listened to her with as much interest as one would have while watching the grass grow, but he put on a good show of hiding it, turning to his left to observe the “Nodachi of Muramasa forging blood sword...” The myth sounded impressive enough to give some authenticity to his interest. The way she chose to give life to the antique and accuse it of hunger made him swallow and he didn’t even have the excuse of having tasted more of his drink. At her interest in a duel he offered a rueful smile – he seemed to be handing out a lot of those lately. “My apologies, but I’ve no skill with the blade. I fear my approach is more hands on or bullet from the distance.” He leant back in his chair, taking the glass with him.

When the disc was presented to him, he was forced to revert the gesture and lean forward to take it, for the moment abandoning the beverage on the table. With interest and holding the fragile-looking disk gingerly in his fingers, he listened to the brief. It wasn’t until the second case that he almost bolted to leave, obviously to inform of the threat, but she anticipated his worry and made him pause. Oscar removed the tension from his shoulders and continued listening to her explanation. He was reminded how their efforts to deal with mutants were far from perfect and how invaluable Calypso was as an ally. Oscar was partially ashamed, partially grateful. Who had been sent on that mission? Why had the entire town been affected? Gods. Sometimes their failures were so extensive.

The last piece of evidence was the sort that made Oscar grimace on the inside. It seemed the DNCS was swimming in incompetence. The shattering of the glass made him recede from the table, surprised. He looked to the ruined glass, then to her and continued listening. An offer of assistance was not what he expected. Oscar cleared his throat and brought his hands together on the table after slipping the disc into the hidden folds of his coat.

“A kind offer, one I will consider after evaluating our resources.” His gaze matched hers in gravity. “If we have no means of disabling the mutant, I may well require your generosity.” The fire in his eyes would not allow for civilian sacrifices. He sighed, releasing the irritation he felt over DNCS misconduct. “You once more prove to be a valuable asset to the DNCS, and for that, you have our appreciation.” Oscar removed a sizeable envelope from his coat and passed it along to her. It contained required payment for the service of information, in cash, to add to the day’s stray from tradition. “You also have my apologies, for my... apprehension. I once more assure you it’s entirely due to bad association.” And they weren’t close enough for him to share the truth of it.

“Now,” Oscar produced another envelope from his coat, this time a slim, short slip of paper, already opened. “If I may offer a tidbit of information in exchange – something I believe you should know.” He pushed the paper within paper towards her and retracted his hand. He kept his gaze on it. “That, is a letter we received, surprisingly, during our lapse in communication. The sender proclaimed to be “your sister” and wished to meet urgently with us for reasons withheld from the paper due to “safety reasons.” “ Oscar scooped up the wine glass and watched the liquid swirl to his hand’s play. “We weren’t sure what to think of it so no contact was established. It arrived a few days prior to our renewed communication.”

Oscar quirked a brow. “Do you have a sister?” The letter had been treated with suspicion back at HQ. Oscar’s thoughts changed and he looked to the side. For a brief moment, he appeared embarrassed, then turned his gaze back on Miriam. “There’s another matter... of a German Shepherd. The dog was delivered to us in a wooden box, barely living, and it had a collar around its neck with an inscription that said “Calypso brings death.” Oscar’s brows furrowed. “I’m unsure if the two are related, or what they were trying to convey, but it’s quite apparent the latter is no friend of yours... unless the name “Calypso” was a coincidence.” Oscar dropped his gaze to the wine. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

[Miriam Valentine]

"Truly? Then I shall quiet my reservations, per your request, though a hostess must always be concerned for the comforts of her guests. Thus, I shall endeavor to entreat you to the second floor when next we are privileged a chance to rendezvous." This was Miriam's quick response to Oscar's assurance that she was not at fault for his discomfort and his explanation that he was not so "militaristic." At his admittance that blades were not his tools of choice, she inclined her head, politely dismissing her notion of a duel. "Ah, I see. I suppose my... old-fashioned sensibilities get the better of me at times. 'Tis called the "modern" military for a reason, is it not?"

Following her summary, Oscar followed the protocol that she expected, though she was certainly thankful that he had not brought into question her momentary showing of emotion through the shattering of her glass. Her offer of assistance was acknowledged, but was neither accepted nor declined. Instead, it was giving "consideration by condition", which was actually better than she had hoped for. It was, on her part, something of a gamble, in hopes of gaining some measure of direct access and observations to "DNCS technology in the field" as much as it was to directly intervene in the containment of the mutant she had described. She had honestly expected it to be immediately denied. The payment envelope was accepted and placed lightly on the table next to her ruined glass. Miriam had not opened it - a gesture meant to be interpreted as a sign of trust. At Oscar's repeat apology, she once again inclined her head, accepting it plainly, and without retort. But then, quite suddenly, the game was changed on her.

Miri might have fractured her icy mask with the little incident of the goblet, but Oscar's production of the open letter brought a true expression of concern, with a matching touch of suspicion, to her features. She accepted the letter, looking at it with some measure of apprehension, and she simply held it. Her mind was rolling over the possibilities, and because of that, she physically delayed from opening the letter. Her eyes jumped from the paper to Oscar as soon as his question was asked, but she did not have a chance to reply until after the information regarding the German Shepard was relayed. In a way, it was lucky for her that Oscar had turned his back; it offered her a chance to compose herself and return to "how she should be."

"How... disconcerting," she began, her voice actually teasing a hint of amusement. And, in truth, there was some small measure of ironic amusement playing inside her head. After all, it was the first day back. Why shouldn't there be unexpected, potentially "earth-shaking" complications? It reminded her of her already established inadequacies, in terms of being able to handle the entire Network on her own. "Though, I must say, that I - that we - are most appreciative of your instincts and the suspicion shown towards... whatever this is. Sabotage, I'd imagine? Subterfuge, at the very least. I shall certainly have this... investigated, and for your question, I am most assuredly an only child. Whoever is claiming to be my "sister", knows not the wrath she shall incite by such a frivolous, dangerous claim." She managed a little bit of a sigh, reclining slightly and uncrossing, then recrossing her legs. Still holding the letter in one hand, Miri used her other to prop up her chin. "Coincidences... are true, for unimportant things. This matter of the mongrel, though... why, 'tis a blatant political statement of sorts, is it not? No doubt, many have been impacted in a personally negative way by the actions of the Network, and by the DNCS in the same vein. An unfortunate side effect, perhaps, that our actions, for the greater good, have no choice but to inflict tragedy of circumstance on certain individuals. And 'tis an understandingly difficult thing to process, for those individuals, that their tragedy, however painful, is for the benefit of the many. As such, what can I say? 'Tis not a lie that Calypso... brings... death, save, perhaps, that by doing so, we also prevent it."

((Wah. xD What plots are you hatching here, Norbex? I didn't have her open the letter, cuz I'm not sure of the details mentioned in it. xD And this dog thing sounds dangerous. Haha.))

[Oscar Leonhardt]

If Oscar took any emotional notice of Miriam’s sudden expressivity, he didn’t show it. This whole meeting had become all business the moment she had brought him here and explained how being strict was a necessity for her establishment. While he wasn’t comfortable because of the express luxury and general activities that happened in her “Palace,” he wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. Balancing on a nice middle-ground, he listened to her reactions to the news he had to bring.

Inside the envelope, the note was short and simple. The sender seemed to have no bother over introductory address.

“I write to you on behalf of Miriam Valentine, my sister, and your loyal associate. While you have not received any news of Calypso in quite some time, there is good reason for it. My sister does not know, but I am ever watchful, and this time I am forced to watch less and act more. What happened first was only the beginning. I cannot say much in this letter. While appealing to you was not in my initial plan, I have no choice. As such, I would hope you will excuse this letter’s vagueness but understand there are matters of severe importance I must discuss with you or yours, concerning both sides. If you are amenable to a meeting, leave a note that says simply “I accept.” In the trash bin at the airport, the one next to the main entrance.

B.”

Oscar leant back in his seat. “I cannot say what it is and if you’ll read it, I’ll say – we left no such note. Days later we were contacted by you directly and that was when this meeting was scheduled.” He motioned between him and her. “If you’d like to investigate this matter yourself, it would be your right. It’s clearly an attempt at... something, but I’m uncertain who the target is.” Oscar glanced up briefly. “I don’t know if we should ignore it or not, so I’ve left the decision up to you.” Taking another sip of his wine, Oscar was becoming fidgety on the inside. Standing too long in this place, full of things that sparkled of fanciness, polish or perfect condition made him almost nauseous. Maybe he was allergic to obvious wealth?

“As for the dog, that’s what we decided to think of it as, but, what if it’s...” Oscar paused, bit his lip, “more?” He looked back to Miriam, then sighed. “The years of service have left me quite paranoid.” He downed the rest of his wine and returned the goblet to the table. Feeling like he couldn’t persist in the oppressive environment one moment longer, he got up and bowed his head, one of his hands behind his back and the other touching lightly upon his chest. “Alas, I must depart. I will let you know if your assistance will be required during the intervention that will take place and if there’s anything else I could do to serve, do not hesitate to let me know.”

With that, and perhaps adding a measure of rudeness to his name, Oscar was waiting to be “allowed” to go.


((He’s making a run for itttt. >_> Sorry, lol. Lemme know if Miri goes to investigate the matter of her "sister" and how and I'll PM you stuff.))

[Miriam Valentine]

"I... see. If you must depart, then, again, I apologize for the unintentional... lack... of hospitality. I have learned from our exchange, however, and assure you that the... environment will be... less disconcerting when next you visit." And at this, Miriam stood up, placing the "sister" letter on the table next to the DNCS payment envelope. She had recovered her composure completely and extended her hand - not in the manner of accepting a handshake, but palm down, as expected of a lady. "I certainly look forward to our future correspondence, whatever your decision on my offer of assistance. I would ask, sir, that you offer updates on the situation involving the... dog and, in compensation, I shall promise to pass along what information I uncover with regards to the individual masquerading as my family. I assure you - this problem will be handled as swiftly and decisively as possible."

After Oscar's response to her extended hand, Miriam would walk him to the elevator and, once again, used her key to activate it.

"Despite my inadequacies of environment, I do hope that we have provided some form, however small, of enjoyment for you this evening, Oscar. Allow me to say that it has been my pleasure to entertain you, and I hope that you shall call on me again, even if it is not related to business. Please give my regards to the DNCS as a whole. After all, your success is my success. As you have offered, I shall reciprocate - if there is anything that you might require, at any time in the future, simply ask, and I shall do my best to facilitate." She did not enter the elevator with him. Instead, she offered him her most practiced curtsy. "I regret that I cannot accompany you below. I hope that you understand that there is... much to do, given this new information. As such, I shall bid you goodnight and safe travels."

((>_> Doubly short for Miri today... oh well. Anyway, damn right she's gonna investigate. As for how... Probably starting with a placing of an acceptance letter in the mentioned bin, with cameras in place to observe the individual that comes to pick it up. Possibly having a tracking device planted in it? And then... following/chasing? I dunno for sure... maybe we'll get to see Miri cosplay a soldier? =o ))

[Oscar Leonhardt]

“You’ll surely be updated. A decision will probably be reached by the end of the day, if I’m not too presumptuous of our organization protocols. If not, perhaps tomorrow.” Swift action was the essence of any organization like DNCS and Oscar liked to think they were efficient. He would disregard the blow to their collective ego given by Miriam’s information. They would certainly do better next time. He would see to it personally. With a decorative smile, Oscar took Miriam’s hand and gave it a firm shake. If it was a little too domineering and brusque, it was a testament to his military service and position within that context. The gestures were a part of his behavior much more than they were true to his character.

“I’ll look forward to your discoveries and should something new come up with relation to the dog, I’ll give you a call.” It was the least he could do and it wouldn’t be difficult. He walked beside her to the elevator.

“You have my thanks for receiving me and I’m sure we’ll meet again.” The smile he gave her was a touch more friendly than before. Whatever his impression of The Palace at Versailles or however much gloom he had collected by walking on a dark floor and being surrounded by weaponry, none of Miriam’s personal presentation reflected negatively to him. The instincts he had about her were slightly undecided, but the subtleties they had picked up were favoring a good impression. Despite it, he felt relief when she said she wouldn’t walk him all the way out and he couldn’t especially decide why.

“I understand and think nothing of it, I assure you.” He dipped his head briefly and stepped into the elevator. “Goodnight and may we meet again with good health and condition as our allies.” Getting wounded was a reality that plagued the military and anyone who dealt with dangerous situations. Hospitalization prevented new meetings more than anything in Oscar’s experience.

When the doors of the elevator closed and it started descending to lead him out of the luxurious building, the sensation of relief intensified.


((I'm too distracted at the moment for that possible plot, so rain check! If you want to invent something yourself and use it with others involved, be my guest though.))