[M&M 3e] Villains for Hire [IC]

[Drakeburn]

Centennial City

A grand megalopolis full of opportunities.

A place of prosperity.

A location of many thriving businesses.

The perfect place to set loose your talents to the highest bidder.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel was in his office, though not doing much of great importance. Just going through his emails and indulging an idle fantasy of loosing his conjured minions on the people behind the roughly fifty spam messages he got per one legitimate contact.

He frowned some at the thought. It was not the first such one to slip into his head recently. Not about the spam people (that was perfectly natural), but about calling down his minions for some task. The mercenary work paid well, his powers were a useful tool, a valuable asset.

But...

He had to admit, there was something about the whole mercenary schtick, even beyond the monetary reward. He'd gotten quite good at delegation over the past few years. Perhaps too good. Being able to make more money with less need for his personal attention on the work was the goal, of course, but the bustle was no longer as interesting as it had once been. It was hard to compare it to the challenge, the danger, and the feeling of power he got when he donned the mask and armor of the Black King.

He caught himself unconsciously rubbing the ring that contained that armor with another frown.

It was disconcerting. The job of a mercenary was a risky one. It was useful, but it had to be something he could step away from at any moment if the risk began to outweigh the reward.

And for the first time since he had started, he was beginning to wonder if he would actually be able to do that.

Dariel closed his inbox, briskly stood, and headed for the office door. A surprise visit to Accounting would both take his mind off of the matter and be strategically advisable. Numbers could indeed lie, if you let ambitious eggheads play with them for too long without thinking they had attentive oversight. And perhaps after that it would be a good time to see what the "gurus" over in Marketing were coming up with. Next quarter's projections weren't going to meet themselves...

[Drakeburn]

Dariel

You suddenly have an odd feeling. With all the mental links you have to your pawns, you feel as though that you're one mental link short.
As you make your way to Accounting, one of your secretaries comes up to you.
"There you are sir," She says with relief.
"I've been looking for you. We have somebody on the phone who wants to speak with you. She says it is important."

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel frowned slightly as his link to one of his pawns vanished. That was annoying. It wasn't that they weren't eminently expendable, but breaking someone else's property like that was simply rude. He would handle that matter shortly, but for now, "Thank you," he replied with a nod of dismissal, taking out his cell phone and calling in to the connection to the office's phone network to take the call. "This is Dariel."

[Drakeburn]

"Hello Dariel," A woman's voice replied.
"I would like to schedule an appointment sometime today. I have a business proposition that you might be very interested in. What time would be best for you?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"My schedule is clear, I'm sure we can set a convenient time. May I ask your name and the nature of your proposal?"

Insight: [roll0].

[Drakeburn]

You can hear the woman chuckle on the other end.
"If you want to know, my name is Cassandra Green. If you really want to know what I have to offer, my lips are sealed during till we meet face to face."
"And maybe after the meeting, can get back to our little game?"

The woman on the phone may sound like an ace businesswoman on the phone, but you can tell there is something about her that she's holding back from you.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel was not, as a rule, a particular fan of melodrama. In his experience, people who wouldn't provide at least an overview of what they wanted to meet about either wanted something illegal (which Dariel avoided in his business for practical reasons) or had nothing of actual relevance to offer and were hoping an air of mystery would conceal that fact. Either way, they were typically a waste of time.

And had he been doing anything of particular value with his time today, he would have ended the conversation there. But his instincts told him that in this case, there was more to this woman than she was letting on, not less. "Very well. Then we shall meet in my office in two hours," he said. If his experience held truer than his instincts in this case, let hers' be the time and gas that went to waste.

Well Informed regarding Cassandra Green: [roll0]

EDIT: Well, given that she's the Enigmatic Quest Giver, that's probably appropriate :smallamused: :smallsigh:.

[Drakeburn]

"Great," Cassandra said.
"I'll be there. Oh, and by the way...." She purred.
"As for our chess game from before, we last left off when I captured your pawn." Then she hung up.


Cassandra Green has a reputation of being a very successful businesswoman. She has her own company, Green Well Enterprises, which is a big in the Nutraceutical and cosmetics industries. She is also a philanthropist, who has organized and attended several charity events.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel put his phone away, nodding some at the confirmation of a niggling suspicion he had. Good then, would save him the time of having to conduct an investigation. There was, however, one matter of importance. He returned to his office, drawing the blinds closed (which was pretty much strictly unnecessary, given that he was rather high up, but he had never found harm in an excess of caution), locking the door, and once assured that he was alone and would not be disturbed, he summoned the destroyed Pawn back to the world. It appeared as a burly-looking man in a dark suit covered by a black trenchcoat, wearing a pair of sunglasses and a round, rimless hat.

~What attacked you?~ he sent to it through the psychic link he held to his constructs.

The constructs are unintelligent, so I don't expect they can provide much detail. Mainly just raw perceptual data I figure.

[Drakeburn]

The burly-looking pawn answers your question with a baffled look and a shrug.
~I don't know. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but I felt something hit me from behind.~
As your pawn replies through the psychic link, he rubs one hand on the back of his neck.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel nodded and dismissed the summon with a gesture, before going back to the rounds he had begun, killing time until the meeting (although not without informing his secretary about it). He'd be back in his office fifteen minutes before the indicated time to await the caller.

[Drakeburn]

Almost two hours have passed, and you're sitting in your office.
Then you hear a knock on the door, and a woman in a dark green trench coat comes in. She has long, smooth, black hair with a green streak. Her face is round, with green eyes and green lips.
"Hello there Dariel." She says as she extends out her hand with a handshake. You notice that her fingernails are also green.
"I'm happy to see that you've 'noticed' me."

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel stood and shook her hand politely, before gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk and taking his own seat. "Indeed. You spoke of a business proposal?"

[Drakeburn]

"I did." Cassandra said as she took her seat.
"As you may know, I'm the founder, owner, and CEO of Green Well Enterprises. My company specializes with cosmetics, but I've recently acquired a biotech company. I'm offering a business partnership, and I'll throw in a share of the biotech company. What do you say Dariel?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

Biotech, was it? That could be a worthwhile asset to acquire. "I would say I'm not opposed to the idea. What exactly would you want from me?"

[Drakeburn]

"Your services." Cassandra answered with a sinister smile.
"I know about what you do outside your business. Your unique abilities are the reason why I'm here."
"You see, I come from a secret organization that is seeking extraordinary talents like the kind you possess. The head of that organization has a 'job' that needs to get done."

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel appeared to have to think about it for a couple seconds, before recognition lit his features. "Indeed? Well, it is unorthodox, but given the potential reward I suppose I can oblige. Are we talking more formal buffet, or barbecue? Actually, if you already have a menu in mind, I can get back to you with the ingredients I shall require by end of business on the day of receipt. I am, of course, obligated to advise you that my stuffed salmon is justifiably famous in my social circle, and for it not to be included would be remembered as one of the great tragedies of the modern age."

[Drakeburn]

Cassandra smirks at the last sentence.
"I'm sure my 'client' would disagree with you otherwise." She chuckles.
"He's suffering from a serious medical condition. He's close to receiving a proper treatment, but he needs somebody to fetch his medicine for him. And that is where you come in."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"That hardly sounds like cooking at all. It sounds, in fact, like a job best carried out by a secretary, or perhaps UPS. I am beginning to think you may be confused about who you are talking to. Perhaps it has something to do with this supposed game of chess you said we are in the middle of? I do enjoy a good chess match, on occasion, but I do not believe I have ever had the opportunity to play against you."

Dariel knew precisely what she was trying to get across, of course, but he simply couldn't respond to it. He had his protocols for a reason. He couldn't take her at her word that she truly knew his other identity; even if she suspected it, she could just be fishing for a confirmation. Even if she did have a legitimate offer, he couldn't accept it as Dariel. Certainly not as part of a business deal that involved his actual company. It wasn't that it would create an obvious trail to follow. But it would be sloppy, an unnecessary risk.

[Drakeburn]

"Really? I could've sworn I did." She says, looking rather amused.
"You want to talk tragedy? You should've tasted the sushi I've prepared." Cassandra laughs.
"My friends have gotten food poisoning like you wouldn't believe."
Cassandra takes a moment to finish laughing before continuing.
"Anyways, my 'friend' and I would really appreciate it if you can pick up that ingredient for us. It is a rare ingredient however, so I hope it isn't too much trouble if you can fetch it for me. I'd get it myself, but I prefer not to get my hands dirty."

She gives you a puppy face, looking as innocent as a lovely woman can be.

"We'll be more than happy to compensate the trouble. You'd just have to name it."

You can immediately tell that she isn't going to take no for an answer.

You can tell that her innocence is merely an act, that she's determined to have you accept the job, and that she has more than one way to make you change your mind.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Ms. Green, you seem to be enjoying playing a game of innuendo. I am not sure if there is a purpose to it, or if it is purely a conceit that makes you feel like you are being clever and dangerous. However, I believe that it would be a disservice to you to continue to play along, so I shall speak bluntly. I am Dariel Lucellian. I am a successful businessman, and the CEO of this company. Now as best I can tell, you are either attempting to get me to perform some menial task for you as a point of vanity, or far more likely, you are trying to ask me to do something illegal, which I have neither the inclination nor the capability to do. There are other people out there who would accept such jobs, and I am sure that it would not be difficult for you to go through whatever normal protocols they have in place to acquire their assistance. Now, unless you have some actual business to discuss, I will bid you good day."

It was as obvious as he could make it without coming right out and saying, "Contact me as the Black King if you want the Black King's help, you can't get it from Dariel Lucellian."

[Drakeburn]

"Very well then." Cassandra sighed as she got up from her seat.
"Perhaps you are right. Maybe I am asking the wrong person for the job."
She stops for a moment when she grabs the doorknob, and turns to you with a mischievous grin.
"I'd keep an extra close eye on your employees if I were you. You know those urban myths about the Emerald Assassin? They're more true than you think. But I prefer the name Poisoness."
She opens the door and lets herself out while chuckling to herself.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel let the threat pass uncommented. Once she had gone, he sent a message to his remaining active Pawns: ~I expect one of you shall be hearing from a potential client shortly. Please inform me the moment you do. Also, send your location to me upon moving to a new one and every five minutes while on the move.~

And with that order sent, he would wait to see if the Black King received any contact from this Poisoness.

[Drakeburn]

It has been more than twenty minutes since you sent your message to your remaining pawns. They have provided feedback that is nothing out of the ordinary so far. As thirty minutes pass, as your pawns provide feedback of their whereabouts, one in particular stands out:

~I found somebody who was waiting for me. He's really big man. He says he wants to speak with Black King as soon as you can at the abandoned apartment building in the West part of Centennial City.~

Through the mental link you can tell that the pawn is held by a strong grip at the collar of his shirt.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel "spoke" to the man through his Pawn, basically just sending the Pawn words to repeat for him. "First, put down the Pawn. You are incapable of causing it permanent damage and it is incapable of feeling fear, so there is absolutely no point to being rude. I need your name or an alias known to the public, the target of the mission, and the offered payment. Your choice of a location is acceptable."

Dariel did already know what this was about, of course, but he had the Pawn make the request anyway. They were part of his usual protocol. Although it was exceedingly unlikely that anyone would be paying attention to them, knowledgeable enough about the Black King's process to recognize him breaking from it uncharacteristically, interested enough to investigate the break, and clever enough to tie it a short meeting that Dariel had previously had that day and which didn't amount to anything, it was still just barely possible. And, moreover, the protocol was in place for a reason. To break with it would have been sloppy, inviting future carelessness which might lead to future trouble. Dariel was way too paranoid for that.

[Drakeburn]

"My apologies," The large man said.
You can feel him loosen his grip on your pawn.
"You can say that I don't know my own strength. You have to forgive my lieutenant for what happened to one of your pawns. She has a habit of being a bit playful. I hope she wasn't any trouble."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"The destruction of a single Pawn does not rate as trouble, no. Now, who are you? And what is the task and payment being offered?"

[Drakeburn]

"For now, you may simply call me Devon." The man answered.
"As for the job, it contains very sensitive information. Information that I feel more comfortable sharing with you at the rendezvous face to face. For the payment, I have in mind a seven digit number for your services."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Very well. How does half an hour sound?"

Well Informed on super-strong rich guys named Devon in the area: [roll0]

[Drakeburn]

"Fine with me." Devon answers.
You can feel your pawn land on the ground on his rear end.
"And don't be late."

You don't know anything about anybody with super strength, or rich who go by the name Devon.

[Quellian-dyrae]

The Pawn simply vanished, as Dariel dismissed it and the others, before leaving the office and heading to a relatively secluded spot where he could summon his armor, adopting the persona of the Black King. He summoned his Queen shortly thereafter, directing her to fly him to the rooftop of a building a few blocks from the designated meeting spot. He then sent the Queen to the abandoned building to conduct the meeting, per his usual protocol.

[Drakeburn]

"I was expecting a king." Devon's voice said as he moved out of his hiding place on the rooftop of the abandoned apartment building.
"I didn't realize how shy the Black King was."
Devon stood about six and a half feet tall, wearing a long black coat over his black pants, shoes, and shirt. He also wears a black baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses.
"Although I have to say that we both share a liking to a certain color."

[Quellian-dyrae]

"I could give you some sort of chess analogy. Something about never revealing your king until the endgame, perhaps. But the fact of the matter is that I have found this method of communication to be safest. For you as well as myself. While my minions can afford me a general sense of your appearance, it is a very limited description, so even if I were caught I could not point you out in a lineup or otherwise reveal your identity. I take the security of my clients' information just as seriously as I take my own, and as you can see, I take my own very seriously indeed. I trust you understand."

"With that said, shall we discuss business? What is this job you wish for me to undertake."

[Drakeburn]

"Let's." Devon agreed.

"You may know about the first supervillains and superhero of Centennial City. Cold Front, Redwood, Hightail, Code Master, Warpath, and their arch-nemesis, Sky Blue. What you didn't know was that they were results from military experiments. The experiments were run in secrecy by General Richard K. Stuart. You see, he wanted to create super soldiers so he could possess his own key to future victories. To accomplish this, he had to break the ethic principles of human experimentation."

"General Stuart kept running his 'unethical' experiments until Sky Blue interfered to shut down his operations. Permanently."
You can hear the deep hatred and anger in Devon's voice when he said that last word.

"So Sky Blue battled General Stuart and his super soldiers, and as Sky Blue fought off Stuart's super soldier, General Stuart went for the most dangerous super weapon he had in his armory, and fired it at the hero. But the hero deflected the shot from the experimental weapon, and it hit General Stuart. The hero destroyed the secret lab while General Stuart was left to be eaten away by the shot from his own weapon."

"The experimental weapon was a rocket launcher. A rocket launcher that shot out rockets that carried an acidic formula. General Stuart, was never seen or heard of ever again." You can hear the pain and sadness in Devon's voice as he says it.

"I'm telling you this because the project was shut down years ago, until today. General Stuart's super soldier project has been reconstructed and modified to be safer. My sources tell me that this project is going to be used to create a new generation of SUPERHEROES. From what I've been informed, an old 'friend' of yours has made quite a contribution to the project. I ask of you to sabotage this project, so that we have less 'annoyances' to worry about. I'll pay you three million dollars if the job gets done. What do you say, 'Your Majesty?'"

[Quellian-dyrae]

Dariel thought the matter over for a few moments. He held no illusions about where he stood on the sliding scale of heroes and villains. He also held no illusions that he was by any means unstoppable. Dariel's success came only partially from pragmatism and caution. The rest of it, was that he was difficult enough to track down and useful enough to certain people in power that he wasn't worth the effort of a concerted attack. There were far more dangerous villains in the world than he.

But more superheroes would mean more people to deal with those others, potentially lightening the workload enough that he became a priority. And if Arthur was involved, it became all but a certainty.

Yes, this was definitely a "worthy" cause. And besides, three million dollars was three million dollars.

"I will require one million up front, to allow for expenses. Do you have any additional information of value on this program, and are there other resources you can make available for dealing with it or other contractors that I should coordinate with?"

[Drakeburn]

Devon remains silent for a moment.
Finally, he says "Deal."
"The project is taking place at the Richardson Research Facility. The program will begin at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, on the fifth floor. And as a matter of fact, I have hired another to assist with this job."
Somebody emerges from the shadows, revealing himself to the queen.

Enter HopeHubris's character