In pursuit of Knowledge and Power; Dr. N. Essex (livingnsin) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-01-08 21:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | attack of the clones, gambit, mr. sinister |
Who: Nathaniel Essex (Mr. Sinister) & Remy Lebeau (Gambit)
When: January 8th
Where: PHONE CALL
What: Mr. Sinister is about his usual business. TBCinC.
A dining room table is just a dining room table, regardless if strewn with papers, beakers, a stray body part or two, it is still at the essence a dining room table. A table made to eat upon, talk over, and occasionally be resting on as things were discussed of a salient nature. At the moment, the dining room table in one old Victorian mansion was strewn with a few pages of lab notes, somehow defying any attempt to neatly arrange them, perhaps if he would quite changing the calculations they would remain more controlled.
Beside said papers was a small china cup on a matching china saucer, both of them picked out by a woman who had passed into and out of his life ages ago. A woman who had left an indeliable mark on the Dead man as he was so often called. Just the thought of her still brought something of a smile to his lips. The one woman in the world who had managed to soften a few of those solid ice edges. Pity she wasn't around any more to do that, though picking up the phone and summoning her did cross his mind a time or two. It wasn't as if she wouldn't come at his command, that had been drilled into her during all the countless hours he had spent improving her. No matter how much damage she could do, there was no way for her to raise her hand against him. Sometimes, it was gratifying to watch her try.
The ringing of the cellphone he kept for work purposes got him to look up. It was exactly the kind of non-descript ring that one could hear anywhere in the world these days without remarking on it. Exactly the kind of thing that he would have.
"I don't have anything for you at the moment," those were his first words upon picking up. "But I'm sure that you gentlemen can find a way to keep yourself occupied." It wasn't as if it took a rocket scientist to figure out what the two in question would do now that they were awake and aware. After all, two rather intriguing women had chosen to put an end to them. It was really only fair that they return the favor. "Do bring back proof if you don't mind. I might be able to make something of it."
He could always make something out of nothing, but it was much more interesting to work out what nature had intended and then improve upon it. The Morlocks had been a colossal mistake, one that he honestly should have simply taken care of himself after seeing what a failure allowing others to handle it had become. Yet it was more interesting to see how things would turn out if left to others.
He flipped the phone shut and then considered it for a moment. Well, why not, he needed to discuss this most recent issue with him anyway. He dialed and let it ring.
"Good evening, Remy."
"Essex." Remy did not sound pleased to hear from him.
Before the phone had rung, Remy was pilfering some of Elvyeran's baked goods from the kitchen, a difficult task given that Fred had strictly forbad his presence there after the microwave debacle. However, even the conspiracy theorist had seemed distracted lately. Hell, everyone was distracted lately, himself included.
Thoughts of his stomach pushed aside at the name associated with this call, Remy veered left down the hallway, moving to a less populated area before he picked up the phone. Not answered was never an option with Essex. The man simple found more direct ways of reaching you, when he really wanted to speak. Remy ducked up the stairs, sliding around a group of squealing teenagers on their way down to the Rec Room.
He could certainly say anything he liked, but as he wasn't in the mood to make this a prolonged conversation, he cut right to the chase. "Exactly how much damage did Marvel do?" He certainly could ask Sarena herself, the girl was willing to speak to him largely for the same reason that Remy was, if he wanted to talk, there was no way to get away from him.
"Enough." The answer was short and to the point. Remy had no desire to prolong this conversation any more than Essex. He was angry at the man, of course. But if there were a single lesson he'd been taught, it was that anger did little when dealing with the likes of Essex. Sarena hadn't been killed, which was good. But Marvel was still around, although that was probably going to be short, given the price on her head. "Y'really should take better care of your toys. So many of 'em end up broken."
The silence on the other end of the line could have meant any number of things. None of them good. Yet there was a full moment of silence on the other end where someone could have held their breath. "She won't be a problem for long," Essex didn't like for things to bother his long term plans. Sarena was a long term plan, Marvel was no longer of interest, but only an annoyance. Her usefulness far outlived. "There is another job I need done, one that involves your particular charm." One should never underestimate him when he switched gears.
"Ain't interested." The reply was automatic. "I filled my quota of work for t'year. Get one of your lapdogs t'handle it."
He was tired of digging up bodies or industry sabotage or whatever infilitration Essex wanted this week. The shackles were beginning to chafe, that was much was obvious. There were a finite type of work Remy would perform for Essex, even given their bargain. He would work. But he wouldn't like it.
"Pity," though it certainly didn't sound like he was terribly upset at the refusal. He expected it. This was Remy after all, he refused anything he could as often as possible. "I was hoping that she wouldn't have to be harmed in this particular transaction, but I suppose one of the others will have to do." No names given, but Remy had been there and seen the pictures, certainly he knew that she had been discussed. Yet there was no pushing the issue. "Answer duly noted, I'll pass the job on to Jack or Riptide. Perhaps Vertigo, she's always looking for brownie points."
Remy stiffened slightly, ducking upstairs into his designated room. Given the peculiar talents of half the school staff, he didn't want to be around people at the moment. Even while telling himself to stay out of it while he could, Remy found himsellf asking.
"Who?"
There was a "she" involved, obviously someone Essex wanted. He didn't think the man would be after Sarena or Arla, not so soon after making the bargain. But that left a lot of options for possibilities. He wracked his brain for the solution, mentally thumbing through files on people who might draw his interest - then the photograph came to mind, as well as his previous conversation with the man.
"You've already stated that you want nothing to do with the assignment, Remy," Essex seemed to have little interest in continuing the conversation. "There is no reason for me to divulge any such information to you." With a tap of his fingers, he seemed to hum a moment. "Have a good evening, my son." There was the hook, Remy knew it was there, yet would he avoid it or take it, just as he always seemed to?
Remy swore audibly in french, knowing Essex had him even as the other man knew himself. "We both know y'ain't about t'give up after that little show."
He'd thought there might be more time, given that Exodus hadn't seemed to listen to his previous warning. But apparently neither of their respective lucks were holding.
"So talk."
"First I need to know for certain," Remy was stuck with the hook, one that would undoubtedly cause him significant pain sometime in the near future. "Whether you're taking the job or simply trying to satisfy your insatiable curiosity. I don't need you interfering with my plans, if it is simply the latter." Sinister was pushing the dominoes, each set up to watch them fall. Granted, he didn't set them all up himself. There was a great deal of human choice involved. He just liked to use the choices made to further his own designs. "And I have only so much time to set these things in motion properly."
Essex enjoyed his games, especially when they involved other people's lives. But that was all they were to him, as Remy had learned some years ago.
"Would I do that?" Remy? Interfere with something? Never. Nor was it as if he didn't know the basic idea beneath this particular mission. The question always was whether or not Essex was setting him up - and how. Second guessing Essex often proved an exercise in futility. Nevertheless, Essex had made the call for a reason.
"Of course you would," there was just a hint of amusement in his voice. "But since you've decided to retract your disinterest, the target is Madonna Richards," a soft almost purr over her name as if there was something there that wasn't quite the same as usual. Yet it was obvious that he was playing a game with his son. "Bring her to me, quietly, my son. Otherwise, the next person I send will be less gentle." Not even an implied threat, a real threat spoken in truth, outloud. This was not the usual occurrence with the Marauders.