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[Mar. 30th, 2008|05:05 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | lucy in the sky with diamonds | ] |
This game is not going in the direction initially intended when it was recreated. History repeats itself at times unfortunately.
Therefore, the JH Corporation is now closed.
You may continue your threads if you so desire, however no more posts will be able to be put up. |
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| On The House (Tag: Leander) |
[Mar. 24th, 2008|10:03 pm] |
"How do I look?" Ruth asked, staring into her mirror. There were two faces there: her own, pale and perfectly made up; and her assistant's, which was usually always wearing the expression of polite interest. The reflection just past her shoulder gave her reflection a long look. "Different," David finally answered, in the quiet tone he used when he didn't agree with something she'd done.
She did look different. The green swivel turned back to her own image and scrutinized it. The foundation was important. But perhaps... Ruth grabbed a handful of Kleenex and swiped it over her mouth, bringing it back with red smears and leaving her with much paler lips. It was only a dinner, and only at Chez Caprini's. She dropped the wad of tissue into the compact, round garbage bin nestled carefully on the floor just under the sink, then dampened a Q-tip with cleaning solution. A few minutes later, her eyes were not so kohled, and if she looked tired still, there was only so much foundation could do. "How about now?"
"Beautiful," the AIA replied. His compliments had stopped making her smile years ago. Instead she nodded, shoved her hand through her hair, and grabbed her clutch on the way to the door. Just as David opened the door for her and she passed through the doorway, Ruth tilted her head up and said to seemingly nothing, "I hope you're ready, Mr. Nolan."
Except there was something there, out of sight, affixed to the ledge over the doorway: a tiny microphone that transmitted directly into a recorder that played in Leander's room. It was meant to give him immediate warning if that other AIA decided to knock on her door. Or knock down her door. Unlike the last time, however, it wouldn't find anything of her father's in her apartment now.
She had turned the box of her father's mementos over to Leander the night she'd hired him, just after he'd arrived. It had been years since she'd looked through it. A diary, a few of Ruth's childhood paintings, and some old floppy discs she'd never bothered trying to find a floppy disc drive to access -- nothing she could see that would be worth her life. Perhaps Leander Nolan and Robert Skandra could do something with those things. Perhaps.
Her knock came politely enough on the next door down the hall. Behind her, David stepped away to call the elevator. |
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| House Calls (Skandra) |
[Mar. 22nd, 2008|10:24 pm] |
Most people on a Friday night were out partying. Out on a date, screwing, drinking, gambling, something like that. At least in New York City. Friday nights after work Meredith liked to relax. Considering how hectic work could be with how many bills she had to file away, all the things she had to do for them. To top that off, she had almost been killed not even a week ago. Meredith was tired, but there were some good things about Friday night. Like going online and chatting with her friends. Meredith stripped down to her black panties and left her white dress shirt on, half unbuttoned, only covering what was needed.
Her desktop, Charles, took up one whole corner of her apartment with everything it had with it. Three monitors which glowed a dazzling blue when she poked the mouse and sat down in the cushy rollable chair. The first thing she did was log into her chat programs and then turned on some nice music. She threw on her headset and logged into her favorite game at the moment, Counter Strike, never got old. Course the newest version of it was just a repeat of a thousand other games just like it, but something about splattering pixelated blood made her feel better.
( 45 Minutes ) |
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| Ugh.. I can't stop coughing .. |
[Mar. 13th, 2008|10:02 am] |
( It could be worse! )
It could've been Ebola. |
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| Sane inside insanity (Open) |
[Mar. 12th, 2008|12:26 am] |
He was the man of steel, no one could touch him, no one could harm him. Today Yuki Takahashi was Superman. He was Kurt Wagner--no wait, wrong super hero. That one was blue, different comic book series all together, he spoke German. The only German phrase Yuki thought he knew was something about Hitler, and Nazis, not to be shouted out on streets or the Jews might surface and strangle him. Though the blue-guy had a tail and tails could be useful, in fact, if he had a tail like Kurt Wagner's he would not have to roll his chair backwards to get his chop sticks for his rice.
"Clark Kent!" He shouted out-loud in triumph, when chop sticks were in his hand. Doll, who had just brought him his dinner of rice, looked startled at the sudden out burst. The rice was poised at his lips, about to take a bite, as he eyed her suspiciously. Did she give him a funny look? Or was he giving her a funny look? "I think he's Jewish though. I don't really fit Jewish. I read that somewhere that he was created by jews. They own everything, you know."
( She was giving him a funny look. ) |
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| What would I do without a secretary? (Cassandra) |
[Mar. 11th, 2008|10:45 am] |
It takes a bit of creativity for a man to maintain his regular lifestyle once he has no secretary to provide their compassion to him, and impart their savvy coffee making skills into each delicious morning cup. Sprinkled with smiles and sung to by birds.
Sure, a coffee machine may seem like a relatively simple contraption - especially, for an engineer of John's caliber. But you see, once you've got the privilege of a certain someone fashioning your coffee each day for the past million years your mind wanders, your thoughts get cloudy, you forget that the machine exists at all. Or that anyone is behind making it.
You forget that ladybug's have bright yellow urine.
Why? Because someone else knows how to do it and ladybugs are rare in the city unless you're lucky, and that someone else will certainly be there forever to handle the equipment. Even when zombies rise from the grave from Hell having no more room, they will juggle the coffee maker down the street just in case a party member may be suddenly in need.
He'd eventually given up. Even the other employees sneered at him. "Get outta here." he'd snarled playfully - he was here far too early for Cassandra to bring him his coffee, or even his apple fritter. He'd wanted to sit down and ponder, meditate, and all that other spiritual avenue to rewire his anxious mind at the current events. There are a lot of things to think about right now. It's a wonder John wasn't merely a responsive puddle of brown mush since the stress was mortaring him down into a fine powder indeed, in India, they could use him to make Chai.
There was a list of things he cut down to worry/think on since his meeting with some members of the board where they handled some things that would be important and potentially cataclysmic unless someone, or something intervened. Aside from that, his other worries that had been dispelled by still lingered as phantoms in the old abandoned spooky house of his psyche:
Holly hating him for not telling her about Max, though that was resolved. Never mind.
Everyone hating him (the general public) who cares?
Cassandra suddenly hating her job and quitting.
The other employees hating him.
Hostile AIA coming after people because of Brigs.
The new secret weapon which would stop those AIA eventually.
The reason why employees have been getting blown up lately ...
Talk to Dr. Chancey.
Other assorted worries
Forgetting to turn the stove off... wait.. that might be important.. anyway.
( And now, John sat down at his desk relaxed. He waited patiently for lunch hour to arrive ) |
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| less human than human (narrative) |
[Mar. 8th, 2008|10:37 pm] |
after this. before this.
"Did you hire anyone yet?"
"I just got back from a big job."
"I read about it. That's why I'm calling."
"You people don't know how to mind your fucking business, do you?"
"Your business is our business, Mr. Skandra."
"Oh. Right."
( This. ) |
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| A quick lesson in how to love (John) |
[Mar. 7th, 2008|11:08 pm] |
Of all the Kings and Important men
Never did they touch my heart
as deeply as my ( fathers hand. ) |
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| Welcome Home (Max, Cassandra) |
[Mar. 5th, 2008|08:24 pm] |
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He took his last drag before flicking the cigarette to the side. He was standing outside of his apartment, a big bag of Purina Dog Chow at his feet. Harvey picked it up and walked a few feet, before making it to another door and dropping it. He pulled his keys from the pocket of grey cargo pants, the jingling making him sound like Santa Claus as he singled out the correct key. He could already hear sniffing at the door, with small whines of anxiety as he turned the key. Cracking the door, he picked up the dog food and slid inside, keeping Spunk from getting out. As soon as he was inside the dog jumped up on him, causing him to grunt. "Come on, buddy. Let's go," he said sternly, not really into the whole dog thing. He wasn't mean enough to kick him off, but he wasn't the type to make out with the mutt either. ( He also didn't like smelling like dog. ) |
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| News Archive [ 4 ] |
[Mar. 5th, 2008|01:00 pm] |
Plot Warning:
New York is going to be the victim of a bioterrorist attack soon. You can choose whether or not you want your character to be affected by it. More details in next week's news post. For now, rest toxin free.
( Weather )
( News )
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| retainer (meredith, leander, ruth) |
[Mar. 5th, 2008|02:12 pm] |
When you were waiting on a meeting everything was slow time. Skandra wanted to sit in his office and pretend that he had nothing better to do than play cards, but the truth was he did. They were supposed to be meeting with some rich writer today about an AIA problem she was having. Probably her robot butler went AWOL with her bank account information. It wouldn't be the first time a rich snob had come into Skandra's place of business and looked down on him just long enough to underpay for his services, but somehow the haughty women were always worse than the haughty men. Men wanted to be like Skandra, run a business like this and fuck people up like he did. Women were just annoyed that their husbands were less manly than Skandra or Leander, so they treated both like shit to make up for it. Skandra didn't know how that logic processed, but there it was. All morning he'd been bugging Meredith, paging her desk phone with their two-way intercom to ask if the guest was here yet. So far she hadn't showed up, but that could change any time. Meredith had stopped pointing out a long time ago that she could call him, so if the lady got here, she'd page him.
( It didn't do any good. ) |
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| Across the Night(Harvey and Max too if he wants to catch up with them) |
[Mar. 3rd, 2008|05:00 pm] |
Across the night
It was the moon that stole my slumber
Across the night
I fell in love with people sleeping
And hugged a man's arthritic shoulder
I fell tired, asleep in a golden ocean
Your eyes perspired, a spike in my ( fascination ) |
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[Feb. 29th, 2008|02:36 am] |
It was a complete friggin' mess, with violence on the streets, atrocities around every corner, and a cursed drive that kept him going, trying to stay on top of everything all at once. In more than one way he felt like Atlas, trying to bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders.. but sooner or later he was going to drop it. Lose it, whatever. Problems that could be solved with a bullet were so much easier.. in any event, he found himself walking down the hall of the state department, intent on seeking some expert advice and guidance. From what he had gathered from asking around and his own research, Dr. Elliot was the authority in New York on AIA psychology; if she could not help him piece together some of the pieces, no one could. But would she be willing to help?
He stopped just outside her office and glanced at his watch. Not too early, not to late.. it was early afternoon, so he imagined at worse he would catch her with a patient or something. As his hand reached out to the door, he composed himself as best he could, trying to at least give the appearance of being a civil authority. After two quick knocks, he opened the door.
( Continued ) |
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| News Archive [ 3 ] |
[Feb. 27th, 2008|11:38 am] |
Kung hei fat choy
( Weather )
( News )
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| Consequences (Skandra, Meredith, Leander) |
[Feb. 22nd, 2008|10:11 pm] |
When Skandra, Meredith, and Leander entered the room there was a lone man standing on the opposite end of a table from them, his back turned, tossing what appeared be a coin up and down in one hand he held out to his side. When the door closed, he snatched the coin out of the air, and turned to face them. Clad in a leather jacket and jeans, there would have been no way to discern that he was a cop if they were anywhere else. The stubble on his face and dark circles beneath his eyes marked an easy indication that it had been a while since he had slept, or had the time to take care of himself. Never the less, he simply nodded to them, and though he did not smile, he seemed at least on the surface trying to make an attempt not to lord over or intimidate them. He knew better. Instead he merely waved them to the three seats, and waited until they had all taken one before he sat himself. The table was wide enough so that if any of them were to try, they could not grab at him, at least not without climbing up and laying over the table. Other than that, it seemed the only precaution. The fact that the Detective was in a room alone with the three of them did not seem to bother him in the least, which of course hinted there were other, less visible means of keeping order.
( Continued ) |
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| Oh Baby, Baby. (Narrative) |
[Feb. 20th, 2008|02:08 am] |
If there was one place in particular to find the down trodden, scum of the city it was the Red Light District, the proverbial arm pit of New York, where drugs flowed freely and anything from illegal weapons to flesh could be bought for the right price. It was a place where one simply did not go if not armed, and with eyes in the back of their head unless they were asking for trouble; a place so dangerous that the law itself seemed to shy away from it. There was a damn good reason that cops wore masks these days and hid their identity, and the goings on in the Red Light District served as a prime example.
Peep Land was a favorite among the sexually depraved of society, those sorry bastards who couldn't get laid anywhere else, be it because of their looks, a lack of money for a good SISM, or a combination of the two. It was here that they could wave whatever cash they did have, in hopes of attracting a scantily clad or nude body just long enough to take it from them. It was pathetic, really. Grown men on hands and knees for even the slightest hint of naked flesh, even if it wasn't real...
( Peep Show ) |
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| News Archive [ 2 ] |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|04:04 pm] |
Doctor, doctor! Gimme the news!
( Weather )
( News )
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| Keep Good Company(Max) |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|01:30 pm] |
Take care of those you call your own and
( keep good company ) |
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| wicked world we live in (john) |
[Feb. 17th, 2008|06:38 pm] |
Harvey stood quietly, having stationed himself at a stairway balcony. It really wasn't a balcony as much as it was the place where someone had decided to stop laying bricks in the wall. It was embellished with a rusted metal hand rail, and nothing more. Despite the cheap construction, the rectangular cut was admirable; it provided a panoramic view of the city which was breathtaking at this time of night. Made it quite clear that someone, some years ago, had a vision of creating something clever, scenic, and contemporary, only to be told "This is the budget-- don't make it too cutesy or we'll have a riot on our hands."
( Which was a smart call. ) |
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