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The Aristocracy



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Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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the Land of Nod
“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

High Priest of Sloanism
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Depends upon the day and if there is free pizza.
"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.
 
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Ulti

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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

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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..."
 

The Big Lovin'

Everyone's Favorite Uncle Ji-Chan
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"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...
 

Nebula Zero

THE GREATEST ATTACK EVER
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When you stare at something for a long time, its' sight can either become entrancing, or irritating. Unfortunate that it would be the latter for Desmond. The sun seemed like nothing more than an insignificant blob, and he grew bored. But in the presence of boredom, his blackberry vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, tuning into the events occurring in the castle. "They're starting, sir." said DEN, Desmond acknowledging. Sometimes he would forget why he was even here; He just wanted to take stuff. Fancy dinners weren't exactly in his list of fortes. But with one reluctant sigh, he went on the move.

Walking down the corridor, Desmond smelt something. Something he hasn't truly picked up in a long while. He encountered this thing in a job in his early days, but luckily the old man was there to help him. The smell was distinct. Ever since he encounter it, he could discern it from the crowd, so as to not run into it, for he knew it would end him. Reaching into the inner pockets of his jacket, he went around the corner. With a flick of his wrist, a blade made its' way to a neck. Desmond chuckled.

"I shouldn't be surprised. It is you, after all."

Desmond came back to the hallway, to find his knife on the neck of a pretty woman. Greek perhaps? A mere guess. Poison, he thought. The smell was feint, but he could smell it. He heard about her profile in the Aristocracy. A thief, just like him. Except she had a penchant for poisons, not cutlery. Not seeing her as a threat(for now), he withdrew his weapon, sheathing it inside his jacket with relative ease.

"Nicia, was it? My name is Desmond. I'll see you soon."

With that, he proceeded to the main hall. With wine glass still in hand, he found himself in the middle of speech, directed by none other than Harper. Having some wine poured in his glass, he was in time to have a toast. As long as there was more wine, he thought. He sat down with the others, his meal set before him. It looked alright, he figured he'd just wing it. He ate rather casually, the thought of an assignment keeping him from enjoying the night. If there was anything Desmond wanted to do, more than anything, was to slit some throats, and take some stuff.
 

Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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Lede had been giving Maddox furtive glances since taking her seat with Celia and Edward, attempting to stir up some sexual intrigue—he wasn’t fooled for an instant. Both women had come into the Aristocracy on Edward’s prompting, both were highly intelligent and loyal, and more importantly, both were possessed of a variety of skills, seduction no doubt being near the top of the list.

The way the little black dress clung to her body, hugging her skin in all the right places, and giving off just the tiniest hints of a potentially whimsical nature were undeniably catching his attention. She looked good; he wouldn’t deny that, he couldn’t. Eight months had gone by since the last time Maddox had found himself waking up a woman in his arms, no doubt Edward and every other craft operative with an agenda was aware of that fact. It wasn’t such a significant span of time that Maddox could excuse himself a slip in judgment.

He was toying with the idea of sending a servant to invite Lede over for a drink when a goddess in silver approached the table. For a brief moment, he worked the muscles in his face, fearing he’d let his jaw drop. She looked...exquisite....And the dress she wore put a startling contrast to the somber blacks, whites, and grays of the other women in the dining hall.

She approached his table and a seat without ever removing her eyes from him, even when a few people cast disapproving scowls her way.

“Maddox, we need to talk...” She spoke in her voice, finer than silk.

“...Certainly, Amaia,” he said, pausing to gather his thoughts. “My ear is yours. You are of course aware of the damage you’re doing to your sterling reputation simply by taking a seat with me, aren’t you? You the most beautiful woman in the room in the company of a black sheep like me. I’m surprised and delighted.”
 
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Wallflower

that's when we'll explode
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Jack sighed. A lot had happened since they were all on the plane, and it all felt like a blur to him. Nicia's poisonous reaction to his advances, Maddox's assignment for the group, the Ten's opening speech... It was like Jack was watching himself from outside his body. It was very surreal, and Jack had not the slightest idea why it was happening. In effect, it seemed quite fitting: the last place Jack wanted to be was around the group that he was currently associating himself with, and he had a good idea why. Though Maddox commands respect from admittedly all of his peers, and Harper is practically a fearful figure in himself, and Edward... Jack's thoughts faltered. He looked at his watch inquisitively, and noted the time. It was almost time for their meeting.

Maddox wanted the group to meet soon, but Jack wanted to do some... Reconnaissance first, if you will. Tidying up his room, and leaving no trace of what he was doing, he wandered out into the hall, and looked down both ways. No one. Jack made his way down the hall, looking for someone. As he was about to turn the corner, he heard a familiar voice- Amaia. She was calling for Maddox. It pained Jack to do it, for the fact that if things didn't work out with Nicia, Jack would try for Amaia, but it had to be done. Moving back a little, Jack bounded off a doorknob, and jumped off of walls until he reached the ceiling. He could hear them moving closer, so Jack moved just a little more into the shadows- just in case.
 

Rainfire

New member
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Harper was mulling through something that the "chefs" of the castle tried to pas off as soup. He wasn't sure, but he could swear he tasted blood in it -- though it was probably just a common mistake as with all thick brothed-soups, using too much salt with common elements like beef. It was far more than capable of creating a taste such as the one he was experiencing. He sat back and then cast his gaze slowly to the shining silver beacon of attention that was sweeping into the room, only to watch her take a seat beside Maddox. He growled under his breath -- what were they doing? The Ten were even aware of the social categories that resided within their residence -- and this was a meeting of two different ends. It could attract unwanted attention.

He shook his head for a moment before slowly pulling himself to his feet. He looked around a moment, then nodded to the Ten (Nine) signaling his leave. He moved towards the door, fumbling openly with a small throwing dagger -- one of many weapons that he kept on his body at all times. He put it away though, in favor of the memory stick he still carried. He would have to see what was on it -- at least, on the copy that was in his room now. He had to take this one and drop it off at Operations. On his way from the dining room, he didn't even acknowledge any of the others, instead taking a bottle of Irish Whiskey from one of the tables as he left.

He passed through the corridors, and found himself in the Operations area soon enough. He walked down a flight of stairs, into the dark, yet unusually dry dungeon location. It was here that he found himself in the midst of a room of computers, camera ports, and other mechanical devices. He nodded to one of the usual specialists that was down here and handed him the stick, before slowly walking away, disappearing around a corner and through one of the various hidden passages. He made a stop at his room, taking care of some special actions before he then disappeared through another corridor, appearing in the room where he would wait for the others.

The meeting room that sat one floor above his own room, high in one of the towers of the castle. It was the main meeting room, and gave a far different impression than what it looked from the outside. Out there, it looked like a cold and desolate tower, isolated and none-too friendly. However, on the inside, there was a warm thick carpeting, only opening to a spot of hardwood that surrounded a fireplace. There was a large, long table, at which Harper sat himself at the head of, turning the chair around so that he was facing away from the table, but staring at the fireplace. He relished in the current isolation he held, feeling the warmth of the flames as it flickered in the hearth. He pressed a button on the arm of the chair, closing the gaping hole at the other side of the room that looked out upon the grounds and beyond. A thick glass window came down to lock in place, allowing the same view, but no cold air.

Now, all there was to do, was wait for the others. He slowly relaxed, letting his gaze ease and slowly drifting off into space, without actually falling asleep, or his senses losing their focus.
 

Ulti

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Nicia only had one second to respond to the footstep she heard. Ah, but too late. A knife was against her throat and she was going to die. But then it was taken off. She swirled to find a strange man before her. He knew her name, treated her like an old friend. He gave his name and left. Nicia stood there, breathing in spurts. Was she getting so soft that she could die as pathetically as that? She was neither angry nor annoyed. She was..intrigued..

Throwing such odd thoughts away, Nicia finished her way down for dinner. It was already commencing. At least she did not have to hear false speeches. Almost every seat was filled. She found her seat in a corner, far away from everyone else. She was a bit relieved and yet annoyed. Was this just coincedence or a prank? Nicia took her seat as a plate of food was presented before her. Sprinkling Greek herbs on the slop, Nicia tried to down as much food as her stomach could hold within that course. Greeks were small eaters, hardly eating big meals. Nicia was determined to follow that fact.

The Greek thief was too annoyed to finish feeding her belly. A small part of her wanted to be noticed. To be thought as beautiful like Amaia or as proper as Harper. But when you are a tiny thief, you don't get a lot of head turns. And when you look like you apart of the walls, that doesn't help as well. Then again, attention had its downsides, as expected from a servant of a household. She never wanted that kind of attention ever again.

Nicia decided she had enough of this dinner. The meeting was soon to take place and Nicia wanted to be one of the first to arrive. To arrive after her superiors would not only be embarassing, but deadly as well. She hoped this so called meeting would finish quickly. Maury was not one to wait up all night to sell his "wares". The man had his own agenda besides a seller of illegal goods. As silently as she came, Nician went. The room was a bit of a trip for the normal person to walk to, but she was hardly considered a normal person. She took a few minutes to arrive at the room's door. Even with that heavy dress of hers.

Nicia carefully entered the room as she saw Harper in a chair. She never could tell when Harper was sleeping or thinking. The two faces were identical to the dot. Better not to disturb him either way. She quickly shimmied across the wall to a corner of the room. She took her place besides an empty chair and waited with Harper for the others to come.
 

lionheart06

Enigmatic Enigma
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*RIIIIIING!*

The alarm clock blared, bringing Robert out of his slumber and into consciousness. He reached over to press the button at the top, shutting it off. In the garbage can next to the desk were the ashes of a burned briefing folder. It was from Maddox, it even included one of those cool little hidden messages. It's style reeked of Maddox's haughtiness. It made him laugh a bit when he first read it.

The young thief proceeded to get out of his bed, no time to snooze today, he had a plane to catch, besides; he can easily catch those lost Z's on the insanely long flight to Prague. Eighteen hours to be exact. He loathed international flights, however he has a meeting to attend, so he can't remain in Oakland any longer.

After an extremely meticulous morning hygiene routine; Robert had stepped out of the bathroom and walked to his closet, or perhaps we should say into the closet as it is one of those walk-in numbers. This was a formal occasion so he could not go in just anything. The only problem is what to choose, he did look at a seersucker number, but decided against it; it wasn't hot enough in Prague. He finally laid eyes on navy blue three-piece pinstriped suit from Ralh Lauren's Black Label, oh yes it was quite nice, tailored to highlight his impressive musculature. With it he wore a white shirt woven of egyptian cotton, gold tie (tied into a full windsor knot), gold pocket corner, caramel colored leather belt, and a pair of matching Italian leather dress shoes that were ever so soft to the touch. Last but not least, he had adorned himself with a watch, it was made of 18-karat gold and had a clear face so that the underlying gears could be seen. Now fully dressed, Robert looked at himself in the mirror, the clean-shaven 6'2 twenty-something was impressed.

"I swear, If I were chocolate, I'd eat myself."

After the moment of self indulgence that all people fall victim to, he left his home for the airport. After about thirty minutes, the Maybach he was riding in pulled onto the airstrip, once near the private jet, the driver brought the car to a stop.

"Here we are Mr. Greene. Enjoy your flight."

Robert nodded to the driver and slipped him a hundred dollar bill before exiting the spacious cabin of the luxury vehicle. He made his way up the steps and into the plane. After seating himself, the plane soon prepared for take-off. He smiled at the flight attendant as she passed who gave him a look in return.

"Hello Mr. Greene, I'm Jessica. I'll be your attendant for this flight. Anything you need, I'm only a call away."

Funny thing about the word "anything"; it can be interpereted in so many ways.

"I'll keep that in mind." he replied to her, smiling, even going as far as to give her a quick up-and-down look as she left. Coincedentally she did the same.

She was actually quite stunning, flawless caramel colored skin, no make-up aside form the lip gloss she was wearing, full pouty lips and an adorable pair of big brown eyes. Her hair was cut short in that little "Rihanna" bob that seemed to be popular as of late. Her body was amazing as well, he could even tell through her uniform, although it didn't do her justice at all. It seems as though Robert just may have something to occupy his time during this absurdly long flight.

"Oh, Jessica." He called in a sing-songy tone.

.:18 hours later:.

The plane had finally landed. That was quite a flight. Robert proceeded to exit the plane, but not before looking back and waved goodbye to Jessica who blew him a kiss in return. A grin took his face. You know, that grin that comes when you get exactly what you want? Yeah, that one. He tightened his tie as he made his way down the steps and to the Ferrari 599 waiting for him. The valet tossed him the keys to the car and with that, Rob entered and was soon on his way to the Aristocracy HQ.

By the time he arrived, the sun had set and it was time for dinner. He parked and made his way through the castle to the dining hall. He honestly didn't care for these meetings, he did however enjoy the speech given by Harper. It was humorus in a sense, Harper probably knew more about this Progeny group than he is letting on, yet the crowd in attendance ate it as though it were the very same food in front of them (okay maybe not this food). Robert scanned the room for familiar faces, he had seen a few that he had done jobs with before. Well for now, all he could do was mingle, at least until it came time for briefing and it couldn't come any sooner. It was time to blow this joint. Robert stood gave a slight wave to the Ten, well technically the Nine, and left.

Making his way through the maze that was this castle, Robert had finally found the room where this meeting would take place. Upon arrival he noticed Harper who bore a stoic look on his face, he was either relaxed or in deep thought, he could never tell; that man's face was like slate. He nooded to him anyways knowing it was the polite thing to do, even though he probably didn't notice. He looked to Nicia who was in the corner and waved before taking his seat. Now to wait.
 
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Obliviongirl13

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ooc: Nice catch up Lionheart. And the best line ever: "I swear, If I were chocolate, I'd eat myself." XD I love it.

Amaia ignored all of the stares that she had so quickly acquired, and she continued her conversation with Maddox.

"I know the cats are watching you, its irritating how I could smell them even when I first entered the room." Her tone was cool and soft but it also had a hint of dislike in it.

"I need you.." she leaned forward. "to get me something. A little something, more like a bit of the cake if you will."

A waiter had just arrived at their table, as Amaia lifted her slender hand up and the man quickly obeyed. It was hard not to notice that he was staring at her but she eased up on the weight of his arm by removing a small crystal glass filled with white wine. As the young man left their table blushing, Amaia pressed her lips to the glass and sipped a little bit. A stain of deep red lipstick was imprinted on the glass, her eyes lifted up to look at Maddox.

"If you can't get me what I want, I won't have to keep making the girls in the room uncomfortable. Just let me know. I can't let the two kittens get overly excited."

A small smile appeared over her face as she glanced over at Nicia and then Edward and Harper. She turned her attention back on the speaker and let out a gentle sigh. She couldn't wait to get back into her room and go to bed.
 

Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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The waiter practically tripped over his own feet he was so enamored with Amaia—frankly, Maddox couldn’t blame the man, but he did have to fault his lack of self control. Obviously the Aristocracy made a habit of depriving people of fulfilling sex lives: a trend that Maddox could attest to with some regret.

“Must you corrupt the help? The boy probably needs a change of underwear and he’ll be handling and serving the drinks all night,” he said, feigning disgust. “Speaking of things handling, you’d be loathe to know that I was actually entertaining rather lewd thoughts about Lede before you stole my attentions.”

He grinned across the room at the now bristling Lede and gave her a playful wink. The action would either preserve the flickering hope of future escapades or set the Nordic beauty against him for the rest of his life. Either way...could be fun.

“Still,” he signed,” I suppose I owe you for saving me the regret of a one nightstand with one of Edward’s little-pusses. Walk with me, would you? I suspect Harper’s briefing will be quite painful for me, and could use a bit of relaxation beforehand. I’d love to have your company for the interim.”

Offering Amaia an arm, Maddox quickly but calmly out of the hall and through a winding path through the castle, taking various unpopulated or simply hidden passages in order to assure some privacy for them—and just maybe provoke open communication with the seductive assassin.

“Whatever you want, Amaia, you’ll have to be a bit more direct with me about it. Also take in mind that the Ten keep a tight leash on me. Would you believe that yesterday’s mission was the first time I’ve been allowed outside of Prague in nearly four years? In my 20s, I’d developed a reputation as a man that never failed. I accomplished great things. Impossible things, even. And I did it all by myself because the Aristocracy considered me unworthy of support. My skills as a tactician and a thief developed a reputation nearly as legendary as your skills as a killer.”

Turning down a dusty-inner passage, he casually set his hand on Amaia’s lower back, and continued speaking. “So, with that in mind, I’ll gladly assist you, if you’ll consider assisting me in my own endeavors. What do you say?
 

Obliviongirl13

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Amaia raised her eyebrow in irritation as she slipped away from Maddox's hand. "I would appreciate it if you didn't arouse it out of me. I want to know who has been behind all the orders given to me, as well as whatever you know about the progeny." Her voice was as hard as stone as she spoke. Her intentions were purely for her own gain.

She could hear the sounds of the chattering people in the dining hall, and realized that some of them didn't know that they were dining with assassins. People that could kill them and never have anything trace back to the killer. Interestingly enough, she realized that none of the people that she worked with really got along. Sure they had their obvious disliking for one another but they always seemed to wear facades.

Her attention moved towards the real task at hand, getting information out of Maddox. She had to think quickly about how to get it out of him, because at any moment, someone might come looking for one of them. So she moved closely to Maddox.

"...Listen, I really don't want to get you in trouble, because your one of the only people I can rely on... But I really need to know this information."

She looked up and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and her perfume seemed intoxicating. Within a second, her mood changed and she seemed more uncomfortable.

"I have to go... Please meet me in the library after breakfast tomorrow."

As she slipped away from the close contact of Maddox, she hoped that she got to him. Amaia took the long way around to her room through some back hallways and appeared back down a floor near her room. She opened the door and gently closed it behind her, sliding down with her back against the door, sighing heavily.
 

Nebula Zero

THE GREATEST ATTACK EVER
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Desmond quietly left the dinner table, noticing the Greek woman from before leaving. He quietly stalked her, the thrill of shadowing his so called prey not wavering his steady heartbeat. His footsteps were silent; He dared not to make a sound. The smell was still on her, and he found himself slightly intrigued by the woman. But alas, women were not a major part of his life. He had many love interests that exited left like a Greek tragedy. His lifestyle almost prohibited it. She finally entered a room, and Desmond stood near the door. He took a deep breath, and went inside.

The room was empty, save the two presences. The woman, and a man. It was Harper, the one who delivered a speech. He felt like, in a sense, that he did not belong. So to accompany this feeling, he simply leaned against the wall, and put his fingers through his hair, straightening it out. He looked at the woman with a blank face, until a small smile cracked through. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment, and tried to break the silence.

"Sorry if I'm intruding of sorts. But, I'm in a need of an assignment. Hope you don't mind." he said, closing his eyes and lightly tapping his foot, the shoes producing a muffled thud noise, not annoying enough to be called on for it. His arms crossed, he simply tuned into the darkness that he only saw. The ambient noise proved to lull him somewhat, while a light ringing ear filled his ear. The ringing was mysterious, in that it would always come when silence was present. But he didn't mind it. Not at all.
 

Rainfire

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All that really acknowledged Desmond's presence was a knife burying itself into the wood half a centimeter from his neck. The dead silence that followed would see to any kind of answer he might have had for him. Slowly, Harper put his hand back down on the armrest, having thrown it without even looking towards where he meant to aim. Did he miss by accident, or do it on purpose? Who knew. Harper was enigmatic like that. He slowly turned around to face them, the three or so that had gathered so far in the meeting room.

"I feel the others will mull in here soon enough... lazy asses. Anyway, take your seats properly, it's time to get down to business."

Harper pulled himself fully upright and placed his hands calmly on the table in front of him. It was a table made of Japanese Cherry wood. A dark, reddish brown with a lovely lacquered finish. He ran a finger down the smoothness of it, as if lost in thought for another few seconds. He took in a deep breath, looking at them before he started to speak.

"So, as you know, I was placed in charge of this... possible fiasco. That is, if we let it get that way." he said this as he drummed his fingers in a certain unnoticeable pattern upon the table, letting those who were members of the Progeny know that this room was not bugged and so any talk other than positive would not be rebuked later on by the Now-Nine. He never let a smile bless his cold but gentle features as he looked between each of them.

"What we have on the Progeny now, all we know, is that they are members of our beloved foundation. They are... vermin that have infiltrated this group in order to bring forth what they probably view as change. They will be very secretive, and probably have eyes and ears all over the place. The Progeny are probably also picked well -- each probably is a specialist of some sort. This we can defer from common sense. What else we know, is that at the scene of the crime of Mr. Pike's murder... all we found, was a small puddle of water. I know this tactic -- the weapon was made of ice. A clean, effect way of killing someone. The evidence melts away. This either means that they were close enough to kill him by hand or from a distance, possibly with a throwing weapon of some sort. "

He looked down for a moment. "So, I am going to have you split up into groups and assign you each duties. Of course, we will have to wait for the others to get here before I can assign anything. Until then... do any of you with the dignity and respect to have shown up on time have any questions or anything you think you might can contribute to this?" his voice emptied the phrase in the questioning tone as he sat back, looking calm and relaxed as always.
 

Ulti

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Nicia gave a exhausted sigh when she saw that oh so familiar man enter the premises. She didn't even have to guess how Harper would respond. That can't be a good way to use knives. How does he even afford that many knives to throw away that easily? Taking her seat, Nicia waited to watch the others arrive, most likely not daring to look up at Harper. That's what you get for not being punctual. Nicia took her glory in a silent smile. She did not mean to direct it at Desmond, but her body shifted. Strange things happen on such nights.

Harper went on about the Progeny. Nicia did not think they were as dirty as Harper claimed them to be. Whoever can take down a member of the Ten was alright in her book. To use a weapon made of ice was genius. Who were the Progeny? They could be the people Nicia works with. They might not even be meeting in this room. But Nicia had her doubts. Someone here had to be a member.

Harper was always Nicia's first choice. He always had a plan, no matter what situation they all were in. He was quick enough to be one of the Progeny. Then again, he could be just a puppet. Those eyes neither convicted or proved it. More likely, the eyes were just the bait. Daring someone to yell their claim to the hook. Nicia was just one of the fish. Should she take the bait, the hook might rise up and Nicia will simply die. But should she be clever and take the bait without arousing the hook, she will live another day with her belly full. Nicia decided to take the bait.

"What should happen if we are approached by one of these members of the Progeny?"
 

Nebula Zero

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"Well, then.."

Desmond said as he pulled out the knife beside him, impressed with Harper's use of weapon. And it was Desmond's weapon of choice, as well. He stood tall, and twirled the knife in his hands. With a light flick, the knife went its' way back to Harper. It landed right in front of him, on the table. He need not kill the man who presumably gathered these people. He simply took a seat in one of the empty chairs, one nearest to a wall. He listened contently, with his fingers interlocked, near his lips. When he had finished, Desmond had pondered on what was just spoken. Interesting case, he thought.

"Well, there are many things to consider. If there were no entry points, such as a broken window in which the weapon would've gone through and taken his life, there are other things, as well. He could have gone in through the ceiling, and did the job from there. Or, he could have gone incognito, via a disguise or other means in which to kill him without his notice. And then there's the way of how he died, as well. If it were thrown at him, it would appear as a puncture wound. Or if it were done up close, most likely the damage would have been done to the neck, in the form of a slice, or any vital place in general if he were to make it discreet. If we can understand the killing method, we can catch him in the act, should we find out his next target. What you do with this person when it goes down is up to you, Harper."

Desmond took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Just threw in his two cents, if it mattered, looking at the way he was greeted upon entry into the room. He just weaved his finger through his hair once more, and sat quietly in his chair. His eyes were open this time, to make sure no more knives were thrown. He looked at Nicia, in response to her question.

"Would we know if we were approached by the Progeny? They could be like us, for all we know. Unless there have a certain way of dress or something to that extent, it would be near impossible to discern them amongst us. Mind you, if anything, one from the Progeny would approach you with killing intent, until proven otherwise. And being specialists that they are, it would be safe to assume to fight fire with fire, no?"
 
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Morpheaus

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Maddox found himself at a slight disadvantage as Amaia stepped away from his touch. Could she be more defensive than he’d anticipated, worse yet, would she be willing to take violent action within the headquarters? She was a superior hand to hand fighter without a doubt, but Maddox needn’t have worried. She was only establishing boundaries, temporary boundaries he hoped.


"I would appreciate it if you didn't arouse it out of me. I want to know who has been behind all the orders given to me, as well as whatever you know about the progeny."

Her request was more straightforward than he’d expected—definitely not something easy to ask for. It revealed a certain yearning for purpose within the woman. Could she be questioning her place within the Aristocracy, or would this turn out to be the first sign of Amaia becoming a revenge driven killer like Harper? Hopefully she would pursue the former path because Maddox couldn’t imagine a worse scenario than a rogue Nightingale with a vendetta.

“Look,” he said, staring directly into her mismatched eyes, “what you’re asking is a bit...complicated. However, I do ha—“

She’d suddenly closed the distance between them, pressing herself so closely to him that he could feel the heat of her body through her dress. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, floral with a slight zest that reminded him of fresh lemon peels and wild flowers, and he felt a sudden urge to trace a finger tip along her chin and kiss her neck. She called him reliable and expressed concern for his well being despite her requests. The situation set him on edge. He resisted the desire to reach out to her and found himself questioning just how truthful either of them could be in a place like this. At the end of the day, Amaia, the Nightingale, was the Aristocracy’s finest assassin. And all the brains in the world counted for almost nothing in the face of a beautiful woman with the skill to twist a man’s thoughts.

”I have to go...Please meet me in the library after breakfast, tomorrow.”

She left after that, and he didn’t try to stop her. There wasn’t much more to be gained from the conversation. Whatever doors she’d opened to him were closed now: If he wanted to see them opened again, he’d be in the library tomorrow. He would be; indeed, he couldn’t help but let curiosity get the better of him, just this once.


Thirty minutes later:

As he entered the meeting room the accented tones of Nicia caught his attention, followed by the deeper, more playful voice of a voice he did not recognize. A cocksure smile warmed his features as he realized what the two were discussing.

“Actually, if you want my opinion—which I’m sure you do—I would suggest a great deal of introspection on your part, Nicia. That goes for each of you. Consider what the Progeny have to say, weigh their offer against what the Ten have given you for all these years, and then make the best decision for yourself.”

Both eyebrows wiggling playfully, he leaned in over Nicia’s chair, placing an origami lily squarely between her two breasts, and giving her a playful flick on the nose before returning his attentions to the room itself.

“Oh, I know what a lot of you are thinking, ‘Maddox is insane,’ or ‘Maddox is just throw fuel on the fire because he’s bitter,’ and while both of those opinions are probably correct to some extent, I am merely trying to remind each of you where your final loyalties should lie. Think very hard on that, my friends.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, dramatically gesturing towards the well dressed, ebony man at the table. “I almost forgot you were coming, Robert. This is a big case and I thought I’d take the liberty of bringing you aboard before the Ten took things out of my hands. I’m sure Harper will enjoy your expertise.”

“Speaking of expertise, what did you have in mind for me, Harper? Considering our dissimilar methods of conducting operations.”
 
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