The Aristocracy

[Morpheaus]

Steam filled the private passenger cabin leaving every surface of the slightly-cramped room covered in a thin layer of water. An hour of standing beneath hot water may have been over-doing it, but Maddox felt clean again and that was all that mattered. An additional forty-five minutes had been spent on the finer details of personal grooming: cleaning unseen grime from fingernails, shaving the day’s stubble, and arranging each strand of hair. Only when each of these tasks had been attended to his satisfaction did he slip into the luxuriant Italian silks of his suit; he almost couldn’t help but sigh with ecstasy.

The late hours of the night were upon the European continent, below the glossy black-jet the lights of a thousand small towns and villages could be seen, occasionally giving way to the much brighter flowers of light off cities. If the handful of Aristocracy agents currently aboard were lucky, they would take notice of the startling mosaic of lights and shadows created by the architecture of Prague. It was a sight that many of them had likely seen before but one which could never be fully appreciated.

Striding forth from the cabin, Maddox adjusted the collar of his formal crème-colored coat with characteristic lack of self-awareness. He cleared his throat as he stepped into the seating cabin, throwing a speculative glance at Harper. The tension in the room hung so thick that Maddox swore even Nightingale’s calm visage betrayed the subtle threats of violence waiting to be unleashed.

Although he couldn’t say he was especially surprised, he didn’t like to think that he’d be operating in close quarters with a group already hanging on the ragged-edge. Reaching into an overhead compartment to withdraw two identical leather brief cases, he calmly rolled the tumblers of each case’s lock and opened the cases, revealing two equal stacks of marked folders, each bearing the small bronze crown of the Aristocracy.

“While I’m thankful that none of you killed each other while under my supervision, I regret to inform you, given the current and rather palpable tensions, that we will be working together for the foreseeable future. Now, I’m not completely sure as to the exact details of out next operation will be. However, I do know that it has to do with the Progeny and their strike against the Ten,” Maddox paused then, allowing the words to sink in.

He gave each person an appraising glance, attempting to weigh their reactions, assess their feelings for the Ten, and perhaps anticipate potential allies. He smiled then, his usual irreverent smile which had gained an infamy all its own throughout the Aristocracy. A few aboard were aware of the identities of the Progeny members, or at least had an idea, but not all of them. Even Maddox wasn’t sure who Edward and Harper had recruited into their little conspiracy; he simply hoped that they could be trusted to maintain their silence when and where necessary. There were also certain safeguards in place to protect Maddox—he counted himself as the most intelligent among the Aristocracy, and he couldn’t rightfully do so without ensuring his own security.

“Now then, you are all aware or have at least heard some rumor of the death of Wendell Pike, a member of the Ten, at the hands of the Progeny. Tonight’s missions were an unofficial display of the Ten’s power. A way of saying to the underworld ‘We are not vulnerable,. That, I am told, was the first phase of the Ten’s plan to address this situation. Phase two will be more complicated. Much more complicated. The Ten expect us to discover the identity of Wendell Pike’s killer,” he paused again, giving the room a feral grin.

“The list of suspects is quite extensive; nevertheless, the job falls to us. Harper has been nominally placed in charge of the investigation by the Ten, and I’ll be overseeing the briefing once we’ve returned to headquarters and taken a moment to powder our noses and scratch some itches. Make no mistake; this is a very delicate matter. Your lives...Our lives depend upon resolving the matter, quickly. You never know...The man or woman sitting beside you could be a member of the Progeny.”

Satisfied with the impromptu briefing, Maddox quickly passed out the small briefing folders to each member. Each folder contained information pertinent to that specific member’s specific role within the overall assignment, information that Maddox himself was not privy to. But he had a secret of his own. Within each folder was a small piece of chemically treated parchment: each piece would react to the acid produced by a person’s skin, revealing a short, succinct message, Meet at the training room. Tomorrow night, at this time. Tell no one. The message would appear for long enough to be read before permanently fading away due to exposure to the air.

[Rainfire]

Harper had been sitting silently beside Nicia while she argued with Jack. It was getting on his nerves, but only as background noise. His mind was focused on other details -- like the information on the memory stick that he was currently toying with in his hand. What was so important about this particular information? Did it really have any relevance, or was it just for show, as he was sure the missions tonight more than likely were. The Ten had a habit of doing that, particularly when they were scared. Scared. That brought a smile to Harper's face, but only briefly.

He came out of his little stupor and the noise of argument was unbearable. Before anyone could make a motion, and without any kind of visible hint to the naked eye, two knives were sent flying through the air -- one landed next to Nicia and one next to Jack. Harper meanwhile, didn't even remotely resemble any kind of motion. Though the look he was giving them out of the corner of his eyes gave it away.

"If you two don't mind -- shut the Hell up. Nicia, I expect more out of you, for not ignoring him. Jack, she's not interested, get over it. Then again... with the way she responds, perhaps she is interested in you. I would just like to enjoy this plane ride though, if you don't mind." With that said he downed th rest of his martini and grabbed the rest of the bottle of Ketel One, just drinking straight from that now.

About that time, Maddox came into the room. He handed them envelopes and explained everything. Harper just kept the same blank impossible-to-tell poker face that said he knew nothing and was just mildly interested. He looked down at his envelope and opened it -- reading what was inside. He just barely paid attention to the secret message, knowing that Maddox would do something like that -- it was quite sad really. Maddox was vastly intelligent, yet so predictable.

He then took his papers and caught them on fire, so that what his papers said specifically would not be read by anyone else. He trashed the envelope, then continued drinking.

"So... the Ten are getting serious about this. About damn time I say." He said with probably the best faked enthusiasm ever. Of course he knew the truth and knew they were just scared, but the Ten more than likely had this plane bugged. He looked up at Maddox though, giving a slight twitch with his right eye, in the upper-right direction, to signal a question:

Is this plane bugged?

[Blackest Night]

I can't say I've ever enjoyed wearing formal clothing. it's not that it looks bad on me, for to be quite honest, nothing truthfully does. It is just that it hardly seems to be a sensible thing to wear. Ties make one sweat, and I dare say that dress pants are among the most constricting forms of leg wear it has ever been my great misfortune to encounter. I do like the jacket, however. One must never disregard the importance of a nice jacket, or even a good waistcoat. Every good Englishman knows the benfits of dress clothes, regardless of their affinity, or lack thereof, for such things. However, it is the wish of the Aristocracy, and I dare not go against the word.

Well, not yet. I stand here, staring at them, and I wonder to myself just how many ways there are to murder someone. I look at one of the women, and I see a bullet between the breasts, just low enough to avoid the neckline and remained concealed. One of the men, all I find myself able to picture is a small slit, angled upwards, leading right towards the heart. It would be hidden perfectly by the waistcoat of his, and the layers would prevent the blood from seeping through entirely. That fat guy? hell, I would just let it drain. I wonder if they know, if they realize that every night, before I rest, I dream of such things.

"Mr. Baker, are you prepared to meet them?"

Probably not. Unfortunately, I was pulled out of my lovely little reverie and proceeded to stare somewhat quizzically at the speaker. It was one of the women. God, she's a bitch. Definitely a bullet between the breasts. Maybe a slit in the mouth, just as an extra how-do-you-do.

"I do wish you would just call me Ed."

"Are you ready to meet them, Mr. Baker?"

"Naturally."

The woman smiled, and I died a little bit inside. I tried to keep myself from laughing at her, how simperingly sweet and kind she was to me, just like the rest of the Aristocracy. Thank god her son's a good lay, or else I would have just killed her by now. She doesn't know about that. Chances are, she won't live long enough to figure it out.

The remaining members of the Ten (The Nine, as far as I'm concerned) proceeded to smile as well/ They stewed in their own arrogance for a while, performing all the usual "Oh yes"'s and "quites" and "well of courses." Might as well have been blowing each other for all the lip service that was going on.

"Be prepared, Mr. Baker. Any one of them may be a member of the Progeny."

Ironic, yes? It is a peculiar thing, to be the Ten's golden boy while simultaneously plotting their demise. They loved me. They treated me like royalty. I wanted to kill them. All well and good in my eyes, really. I haven't started anything. They've been crumbling and disentegrating for God knows how low long. I'm merely... expediting the process.

"No need. Any word of dissent will be answered with a bullet."

Right between that bitch's breasts.

[Nebula Zero]

A car sped through the road, its' gleaming silver paint taking a shine as it passed through the street lights. A sleek leather hand extended to the stick, the leather foot speeding up his paces. The air was mildly stint; when you were moving at nearly 130 miles per hour, it was needless to say there was little time to breathe. A face turned to the center of the dashboard, where a blue screen stretched out from its' slot, a line appearing in the square. As the line rippled, a voice sounded from the speakers.

Enjoying the ride, sir?

"As always, DEN."

We will be arriving at HQ in about 40 minutes.

"40 minutes is too long for me, DEN. How about if I increased the speed to 150 miles per hour?"

Arrival would be shortened to 30 minutes, sir.

"200?"

Suicide, sir. But if you do so insist, 20 minutes.

"Duly noted. I can always count on your coy demeanor to watch over me."

I do what I can, sir.

The car blazed along its' asphalt guide, hoping to find an end to its' travel, although the driver did not wish it so. He wanted to keep his foot on the pedal, and ride out the rest of his day, but he knew that it wasn't possible. He had things to do, things to take away. It was like breathing for him. Something that was wasn't his before, was now his. Just like that. With one heaving exhale, stealing was all he knew, and such, a part of him. The sun had nearly embraced the horizon, the sky a fading aspect of orange, deepening into a dark blue.

Brakes were released. The ride had ended. Shame, he thought to himself. He stared down a prestigious building, a castle. The door sealing him in had slowly swung open, a leather show, finely crafted, stepping out. The fine foot was connected to pinstripe slacks, eventually making a full suit. The man fixed his cufflings, taking out his Blackberry, which too had the DEN interface system as well. Pointing his tool to his car, he pressed the 'end call' button, the car door closing, heading to the nearest parking lot. He stepped inside, his tan appearance gracing everyone else's', or so he thought. He was greeted with respect, but at the same time with a slight disgust. Desmond could easily sense that slight bitter taste in their mouths when they said 'hello'.

He walked to the balcony, watching over. It was a shame that he was not able to tag along, they were the 'ragtag' team in their eyes; And thus, his favorite. He stood near the door connecting to the rest of the castle, looking out at the fading sun. He would be greeting the returning members soon, but for now he would enjoy this glass of wine which he swiped from the butler. He brought the bottle as well, for good measure.

"Just like breathing." he mumbled to himself, taking in more of that precious liquid.

[Ulti]

Nicia was rather proud of her reponse to the annoying one. She knew Harper was chuckling inside. He didn't have to throw a god damn knife at her ( which she gladly accepted as a gift ). Pouching the knife, Nicia drowned out Harper's intolerable racket. Thinking about this and that. Her own plans for her future. She hoped to drown everyone out with liquor, but Harper, like always, was a step ahead of her. Returning to her thoughts, Nicia was at peace.

Until a stack of papers landed directly infront of her. Nicia opened one eye to see the envelope. Finally. More work with these thieves? Not exactly what Nicia signed up for. But she took her agitation in silence. Rifling through the papers, Nicia concentrated on their contents. She only listened to a few things that bull headed Maddox was saying. Ten wanted Progeny dead. Want the killer of number Ten. Yada yada yada. So these missions merely were to have the Ten show off their power? Or rather, is it the Nine now?

Finishing her interesting read, Nicia tore up the papers. Better not let the others know what she was up to. She slowly sprinkled the shredded pieces in her wine. The paper would dissolve and become no more. Of course the wine would be ruined. Maybe she could switch her drink with Jack's. Nicia did notice the parchment that seemed out of place. Maddox's no less. She wondered if the others had similar notes. If they did, she was sure none of them accidently dropped the note on their friggen crotch. Taking the note, and faking the ever so old whizzing dance, Nicia slipped past Harper and into the aisle.

"Bathroom. Wine goes right through me."

Giving a small laugh as if this was some sort of a joke, Nicia slowly traveled to the back of the plane to the bathroom. Locking herself in, Nicia did the usual things to take a piss. You don't need to know anything else. Except reading Maddox's note. The words finally appeared after pressing so hard between her thumb and forefinger. She mumbled things about wine and bladders. Nicia was not sure if the Ten were paranoid enough to have the restoom bugged as well. Training room. Tomorrow night. Check. Pulling off some toliet paper off the roll, Nicia finished the job. As she washed up, the parchment dissolved in the warm water. Not necessary, but it would seem strange for her to pocket the note if no one saw her come in with it. Returning to her seat, Nicia gave a fake relieved sigh and helped herself to more wine.

[Obliviongirl13]

ooc: I'm sorry, I was busy the last two days. ;;;

As Amaia watched the crowd of people mingle with themselves, she acknowledged Maddox, and just turned her attention to the window that was the key to the outside world. She wondered what normal people were doing in their daily routines, wondering if their lives truly mattered, or were they just doing something because its all they can do, or all they know how. Her mind swam with the curiosity that she never felt before. As she continued to think, she lifted herself from her seat and wandered over towards the bar. She made herself a glass of gin and tonic as she continued to listen to the conversations that went on.

As she sat back down she noticed that Maddox had appeared behind her and had whispered in her ear. The Italian accent was weak but it still carried some flavor of the knowledge of the ethnicity, but he wouldn't be able to pass as a real Italian.

Amaia had just finished her drink as the plane stopped. She had been playing with the side of the glass and the accumulated water sweat that had lingered outside of the Venetian glass. She stood up and took her long black fur coat and put it on. All of the others left the plane and Amaia followed. When they all arrived in the limo, Amaia once again kept to herself, and just watched the others around her.

About an hour later, they arrived at the large home that most of them knew. As she stepped in the grand hallway, she moved towards the staircase that led up to her room. She left her favorite black dress here, and hoped that no one took it. Knowing that all of the members would get called down later for a wonderful heart warming meeting.

[Morpheaus]

The landing and ensuing drive through the snow covered mountains surrounding Prague were awkwardly quiet, with not a single well-dressed man or woman making the slightest effort to speak. Maddox wondered what the exact source of such uncharacteristic silence was: collective disdain for one another, a shared unease about returning home, or an equally prevalent pensiveness regarding the new assignment. The proper answer probably lay somewhere between all three. Despite the general tension in the air, Maddox didn’t sense any focused anger from any member of the team—well, except for the disgust Nicia directed at him whenever they’re eyes met.

He looked up from his reverie at the back of the limousine finding the small, Greek beauty between Harper and Jack. A smile blossomed at the sight, a reaction that would probably only deepen the resentment that young thief felt towards Maddox. He couldn’t help that, not at the moment. His reactions were all motivated by the need to convey a sense of frustration and resentment at his impotence in regards to authority. The groom’s men at the hangar, the driver of the limousine, and probably several of the operatives and servants at headquarters were all keeping tabs on Maddox on some level. It was important to maintain an image that kept the Ten confident in his lack of power. The effort was at times taxing and he often chafed under his own dramatic-exertions, but the purpose of it all kept him focused and resolute.

Turning a sidelong gaze on Nightingale, who currently sat against his right side, his thoughts drifted to the beautiful assassin’s motivations; not for the first time, he asked himself how open she would be to the Progeny’s agenda. Having access to the psychological profiles of the operatives provided him with valuable insight, yet there was only so much one could learn about a person based on the information in a folder.

“I often feel like a bird in a cage. Do you ever think how different this life would be if we weren’t just the pawns in these games? ”

The whispered-question had been phrased in Italian as Maddox leaned close to Nightingale’s ear, being sure to maintain his playful smile, and relying on Nicia’s own insecurities to create the impression that of a joke at her expense.

He’d chosen a rather inopportune time however, the limousine had just pulled through the gatehouse of the wall surrounding the Aristocracy castle, driving smoothly up the curving roads of the grounds. In moments the vehicle had pulled into the underground motor-pool and discharged its occupants. Ten minutes later, each team member wound find themselves quietly wandering through the cavernously large castle, off to find their own distractions until the night’s dinner and briefing.

Maddox made for his own quarters with the deliberate strides of a man seeking some solitude and daring anyone to challenge him.

[Blackest Night]

I could not begin to explain that relaxation that came over me once I left that horrible room and those ridiculous Nine. My shoulders slumped, my tie was loosened, and the very first thing I set myself to the lighting of a cigarette. Marlboro Menthol. Normal size, of course. Can't stand the 120's. Christ, it's like smoking a pencil. I stared at the sky for a bit, wondered to myself what was so damn impressive about it to inspire poets, and allowed the curls of smoke to wrap themselves around me. If Lede were there, she'd have been scowling. She hated the smell of cigarettes. Celia, on the other hand, would be staring daggers at me until I gave her one.

I can't recall a stranger pair than those two. Celia and Lede, quite possibly the best team of spotters a sniper could have. I've never seen the two of them apart for long, and I'm fairly certain that some rift in the universe would open if they were ever permanently separated. I found them a few years back, climbing the Mediterranean food chain of assassins. Lede herself had given up on her Norwegian homeland. Too cold, she said. She'd travelled south and ran smack dab into Celia. A little of this, a little of that, and here we are today. It's quite a touching tale, I'm sure.

They always seem to know when I'm thinking of them. The moment I ran over our first meeting in my head, my cell phone rang. Of course, it was Lede. Her voice was quiet, and as always, her message was concise.

"They're here. Celia spotted them. He's headed towards his quarters."

"I'm just in the middle of a cigarette you know."

"We know. We see you."

"You always do."

Her answer was a very curt click as the connection ended. Ah, Maddox. It had been awhile, but I'm sure he remembered Celia and Lede's excellent powers of observation. I flicked the cigarette away and began my slow, languid trek towards him. He and I had business to discuss.

I must have beaten him there. Surprising, considering my general distaste of punctuality. It's rude to lurk in doorways, of course, so I took it upon myself to enter and search every nook and cranny for that nectar of the gods: alcohol. I hardly use doors anymore, though I'm sure that Maddox is well aware of such things by now. He knows everything.

Almost.

[Ulti]

Nicia was almost relieved at the sight of the castle. For some reason, she felt more at home here than anywhere else. Well, besides her own home, of course. She ignored Maddox's tries to get her to squirm beneath his gaze. She was used to this banter by now. Or should be. She did not care what he said to Amaia. She did not care what he said. She did not care. She did care. Nicia found herself bounding out of the car as soon as the door cracked open. She wanted to be away from the loathsome Maddox. Far away.

Nicia traveled to the very back of the castle's yard. Between the massive trees and brick wall was a small garden. It was Nicia's special little spot, reserved for her and her alone. In fact, she suspected no one even knew of her little trove. She told no one. No one ever caught her. Nicia was always alone back here. And she was glad, but sort of wanted someone to find her. Only the trees could allow that. Only Nicia was small enough to fit through the gap that allowed her entrance to her garden.

The garden was a special garden to Nicia. It was like Nicia; Greek. For many months she ordered different plants to be sent to the castle. She kept them all in her secret garden, caring for them like she did back home. She only cared for them for one reason. For the scents they give off. The blended smells reminded her of home for Nicia had an illness. The illness was called homesick.

"You have no idea how much I've waited to come here, my little flowers. Rough day at work. I'm thinking of poisoning Maddox's breakfast. Not the dangerous kind of course. Just one that will numb that god damn mouth of his. But then again, he'd know it was me. Hah! To see that idiot blubber with a numb mouth is worth the punishment.."

Nicia thought of getting a pet. But no one would probably allow it. But if she kept these plants a secret, how hard could it be to keep an animal?

[Rainfire]

Harper said nothing for the rest of the trip "home". He was going over possible details and ideas that he or any of the Ten might have on one another. In all honesty, he wasn't perfectly sure how they felt about him but it must have been comfortable, because they always kept special interest in him. Perhaps it was that they knew what had happened and wanted to keep him content so that he didn't try and "investigate" on his own. Well, it was too late for that. He had murdered Wendell, and enjoyed every moment of it. He could remember the taste of the iron/salt liquid on his tongue after it splattered from cutting his throat open. The look in his eyes as they dilated in fear and adrenaline. He smiled, but only for a moment.

Once they were back at the castle, he watched nonchalantly as everyone went off to their own business. He wondered if his and Maddox's partner was here -- more than likely he was. He'd probably go speak to Maddox first, if anything. Harper in the meantime, felt it was time that he relaxed for a few moments.

He climbed the vast, maze-like structure that was the castle. He knew his way around here better than the Ten did, and it was very well rumored that he had knowledge of secret passages that no one else had found yet. He slowly climbed the several staircases, taking in the damp smell of moisture that gradually grew as he got higher, away from the warmth of the fires. He eventually climbed out and onto one of the ramparts at the top. The cold air greeted him with a kiss like that of a lover he had not seen for some time.

He walked around the ramparts of the castle, looking into the courtyard here, or out into the wilderness beyond the castle there. He had his hands behind his back, in the at ease position constantly, contemplating what they were to do tonight. He stopped for a moment, to look down upon Nicia and her "secret" garden. He knew about it, after trailing her one day for fun, but didn't really care. Everyone needed something to preoccupy themselves... he included.

His distractions though, consisted of thoughts of revenge. That was one of the only things he really cared about anymore in this life. The constant thoughts of his sister, of the life he once had, even if it wasn't a life worth living. How was that supposed to compare to this one though? Was this a "life worth living"? He really thought not. Sure, he had done several things -- it wasn't as if he concentrated entirely on revenge. No, if he had completely done that, he would have went insane and snapped. He had had women, money, power, and everything else to try and find some sort of happiness. None of it compared though, to things like sharpening his knives.

Soon, after a few hours of walking around in deep though, a quick nap and a change of clothes with a wash, he found himself headed to dinner. He was dressed in a nice black Victorian-style suit -- even complete with the lacy cuffs. He slowly came around the corner, to the Grand Dining Hall.

It was an expansive place -- one littered with candles here-and-there, and three large tables, the center one being offset slightly to one end of the room so that it signaled to the lowers that this was where the more important people sat. He took his place near the one end, but kept room for Maddox and a few others, and the Nine of course. That is, assuming they found their way to dinner. He slowly sat down, staring into the candle nearest his position, which was really only a seat over. A few others had arrived, but he didn't see anyone he knew or cared to know, at the moment. He just smiled and sat there, going over the speech in his head.

Tonight he would give a speech, because the Ten would want it so -- even though they gave no indication. They would want to hear confidence in his voice -- confidence about how he was to capture the "Progeny". He sighed and laughed to himself -- the first time in quite a while. He tapped his champagne glass, waiting on everyone else to arrive.

When everyone had arrived, he waited for the Ten to acknowledge him. He nodded to them, and stood up, pinging his crystal glass for attention. He looked to what could be called his "friends" for a few moments before he took a breath, and started.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Aristocracy. As you all know, the Ten wish for this tragedy that has befallen us to come to an end quite rapidly. In going towards this goal, they have elected me as lead on this investigation. To this fact, I feel honored and obliged. I will pursue with the tenacity of my acts in the field the same to this investigation. To those who will work with me, do not expect me to be lazy -- we will be working. This is not a game, and these... Progeny, must be brought forth to face our justice -- that of an unmerciful death. So... for those of you listening, who may be of this said group, you cannot hide from me. I am the best at what I do, and that is getting the truth -- getting answers. So, let this dinner be to commemorate the start of this pursuit of an end, and at the same time, a memoriam for our lost one. Cheers"

He raised his glass and nodded his head briefly before drinking from it, and sitting down, to some applause. He didn't really care about getting attention -- he preferred his solitary existence. He slowly started to eat, relaxing some as the alcohol he had been drinking since they returned finally started to affect him some.

[Morpheaus]

“There isn’t much to suit your particular tastes in this room, Edward,” Maddox said, entering his quarters and shutting the door with an audible clack. “Most people don’t notice it, but I suffer very few vices. Alcohol is not one of them.”

He tossed his coat onto the bed and strode through the room, only deigning to give his guest a quick, dismissive glance before producing a heretofore undetected Heckler and Koch 9mm semi-automatic from somewhere on his person. Maddox seldom handled weapons of any kind outside of training, especially before the eyes of his colleagues. This was a rare exception. One prompted by Edward’s presence, which Maddox assumed was meant as a show of the other man’s foresight. Edward knew who was moving within headquarters and he wanted Maddox to know that.

“Celia and Lede are skulking around, I suspect. Why don’t you ever send one of them for one of these little conspiratorial interludes?”

He spoke in light and familiar tones, taking a seat at his desk and calmly disassembling the weapon with a practiced sort of ease. “I’d especially like to see more of Lede. I don’t normally favor northern women, but there’s something about that one,” he let the words hang, emphasizing them with a leer dripping with unspoken intent. “But, I guess you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about would you?”

“Say, now that the pendulum has swung left, how’s that boy you’ve been canoodling with?” Maddox banter was taking a dangerous candor, but he was enjoying himself. And anyway, Edward was, without a doubt, here to present Maddox with bad news. No reason not to take what enjoyment given the circumstances.

“At first, I suspected you were playing with him to get to the mother, but after all this time, I’m beginning to get the impression you have some sort of attachment to him. Oh well, just be sure not to play with him too much at the dinner table. Speaking of which, we’d better mosey on down to the hall. Harper will probably be delivering one of his speeches, and I’m sure you’ll be anxious to embarrass me in front of the entire establishment.”

Some time later, Maddox found himself starring blithely at the Ten and various other groupings of his peers from an isolated table in a far corner of the hall. Harper’s speech had all the necessary promises and threats of impending retribution and violence needed to satisfy the Aristocracy, and more importantly, the Ten. He’d heard such things before, every operative had, and many of them had probably spent time rehearsing similar speeches in anticipation of the day when they would be called upon to lead one of the Ten’s crusades.

Snorting with derision, he prodded at the mostly untouched food sitting before him and decided that he wasn’t that hungry after all. It was too much to hope for a beautiful woman to spend the evening with, so he settled for hoping the briefing would start soon.

[Blackest Night]

"Every now and then. Maddy, I like to have this silly little thing called hope."

I had been facing away from dear old Maddox when the old bird entered the room. I'm quite aware he's not much older than I, thank you, but sometimes the man acts like he's 50. The very moment I heard the rustling of clothing, I withdrew a small pistol from one of my suits many pockets, pointing it around my side at Maddox. By this time, he had produced his own weapon. All very commonplace, really. He sat behind his desk, disassembled his weapon and our usual how-do-you-do's were thus concluded.

"“Celia and Lede are skulking around, I suspect. Why don’t you ever send one of them for one of these little conspiratorial interludes?”"

"They don't so much skulk as stalk, Maddy, you know that. I prefer to have them be the eyes rather than the mouth. You never quite know where words are going to land you."

We had entered Part Two of our usual conversations: The Act. Neither one of us said a single whole truth, and both of us were well aware of it. Every word was measured, entire series of events fleshed out in our heads. It adds a bit of fun to it, I think. I don't care to have people tell me truthful facts about their lives. I enjoy finding them out on my own.

“Say, now that the pendulum has swung left, how’s that boy you’ve been canoodling with?”

"Well if you really must know, we had ourselves quite the romp the other day right on the lovely lady's desk. If you're quite so interested, I'll be sure to take pictures next time. It has been quite a while, hasn't it Maddy?"

I heard the humor in his accent, and I've no doubt he heard it in mine. Of course, I would never allow myself to be denied the gift of the last word.

"I wouldn't dream of missing such an opprotunity. I know you'll appreciate what I've done for us tonight, Maddy."

I would so very much hate to ruin the surprise, but I believe it needs to be said that there are advantages to being stuck around the Aristorcracy. If one can tolerate their presence...well, nevermind.

I accepted dear Maddy's polite translation of "get out" and left, actually utilizing the door as I did so. My phone rang, and when I answered, Celia's voice, slightly annoyed and more than a little eager, filled my ear.

"Is it dinner time yet, Edward?"

"Yes. Are you dressed?"

"Not yet."

Few words were shared after this. I waited until I knew I was well out of earshot of Maddox. A smile came across my lips.

"Ask Lede to wear something nice, if you will."

"Dress to impress?"

"Of course."

A short nap and three scotches later, I was gazing with very convincing interest at Harper, himself just finishing a speech against the wicked and inconsolable Progeny, who should be destroyed with fire, flame, and the utmost prejudice. I find it amazing how the Aristocracy falls for all of this nonsense. Celia and Lede sat to me left and right, respectively, each wearing a little black dress. I have been told that every woman should have a little black dress, and due to my inexperience in the matter, I do not dare disagree. Lede had been instructed, by yours truly, to put her wonderful acting talents to work. She would look out of the corner of her eye at Maddox, ever so slightly, yet just enugh to be noticed. Every now and then, after the glance, she would look to Celia, and the two would giggle. I would look annoyed, and we would see just how hard Maddy would bite.

I couldn't help but be excited. Dear old Maddy was in for a night.

[Ulti]

As the sun set the quiet little trove, Nicia decided that dinner was being or about to be served. Despite not wanting to be near certain people, she had not eaten all day. Better the bad company than starvation. Picking up a few leaves from her plants, Nicia headed back to the castle. She went to her designated room and prepared herself for dinner.

Nicia decided to wear one of her fancier dresses. She felt like spoiling herself for a job well done. The dress came all the way from her homeland. Mostly aqua blue, the dress was covered with dark brown leaf designs with each leaf outlined in gold. To accompany the dress was a collarlike necklace. It was constructed of emeralds embedded in blue stones spotted with dark blue specs. Simple with an elegant twist. But of course she pocketed a few needles within her dress. One would never know what the Ten could do. The impossible, the improbable, the unbelieveable.

"Damn. Running low on a few poisons. I'll pick up some from old Maury. Dumbass hasn't caught my midnight runs yet."

Nicia had one more stop to make. She walked over to one of her dresser's. She picked up the Crown Jewel that she recently stolen and placed it inside the middle drawer. This seemed like an ordinary event. It was for the most part. But then she did something a bit odd. She slammed the drawer once, twice, thrice. Brushing whatever dust that had collected in the short time it was out of the closet, Nicia walked out of her room and towards the dining room. She did not plan to have a pleasant meal. Tonight they were serving a French cuisine. Nicia particularly hated French as the food was too large. At least she could down what food she ate with the herbs she collected from her garden.

[Obliviongirl13]

ooc: blah morning.

As the night slowly encroached on Amaia, she shuffled through her dresser in anger because she had an uncomfortable feeling. Something that had been brewing ever since she took this little assignment. As she continued to flip through the dresses like the pages of a little black book, she chose a simple yet gorgeous silver dress. It was floor length and a bit of it trailed behind her. The neck was low and the silver fabric slipped right over her chest and sat there nicely. The dress was flattering, with no sleeves, but at her waist, it was now constricted by a silver corset, ornate in detail, and at the bottom edges of the corset, it pointed off in four different sides.

Amaia didn't know what do to with her hair, so as she took it down from its clip, her long hair fell down in an arrangement of curls and bounces. She took up one of her cans of hairspray and helped the curls stay there. Her makeup was simple, black liquid eyeliner followed the crease of her eyelid right near her eyelashes, flowing out to make points like the ancient Egyptians liked to do. She put on some of her favorite perfume titled "Pride". Its strong but gentle fragrance made anyone stop doing what they were doing, just to see who it was that walked by.

As she walked out of her room, she noticed Maddox and Edward moving towards the reception hall. The place they were all supposed to go. She looked at Edward, knowing he was scheming something at the moment. Amaia wanted to know what it was. Her curiosity got her in trouble sometimes with whatever it was she wanted to find out. Getting information wasn't her cup of tea. So she had to think quickly, Who was the person what was good at getting information for the 'Team'. As she stood there and thought. Her mind slowly filled through all of the team members. She paused.

"...No, I couldn't."

Yes. She could.

A small smile, appeared on her face as she gripped her small sliver purse and continued on her way to 'Dinner'. As she stepped through the room, she noticed that most of the people on the plane were already there. Sitting far away from each other, not caring about anything else but themselves. Amaia glided over the floor as if she was gently sliding over ice. Her movements were subtle but ladylike. She tried to find out where Maddox was knowing he would be needing some lady friend for company.

Amaia found him and quietly walked over to his table, she placed her purse down and sat in the empty seat next to him. Her eyes never leaving him for a second. Her posture was good and straight but her appearance was jaw dropping.

"Maddox, we need to talk..."

[Ric]

"Jesus..."

He exhaled the smoke built up in his lungs. Finally, he was able to bum a few cigarettes from one of the butlers before the diner procession. Nicotine deprivation generally made him extremely sensitive to the smell as well as slight crazy. He sat back in his chair, trying to best to play off the ecstasy from the tobacco while Harper gave his speech. But even then, in the back of his mind, he anticipated this secret meeting tomorrow. Maddox was one sneaky s.o.b, and that made it even more interesting. He took a sip of whiskey from the glass that was placed in front of him by a waiter. Whatever Maddox was planning, it was going to make things that much more exciting. Hopefully, anyways...