starbeast (starbeast) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2010-06-23 00:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | atlas, natal maltose, npc |
Who: Atlas/Natal Maltose & Freyra/Janelle Delmar
What: Negotiations
Where: Ridgekeep, Washington D.C.
When: June 6th
Warnings: None
Atlas was sprawled lazily in an over-sized arm chair. The fact that the chair comfortably allowed even his large frame to sprawl lazily did nothing to improve his sour mood. He leveled a flat stare at the woman sitting across the table from him, trying to convey just how annoyed he was at the proceedings.
"Explain it to me again," he drawled sardonically. "Just what do you want from me?"
Freyra didn't lazily sprawl in her own over-sized arm chair; instead, she sat with her arms on either armrest, tapping them as she leveled her own stare. He wasn't the only one to be annoyed at the proceedings, but she had different reasons. "Fine. I will explain it again," she replied as flatly as she possibly could. Her deliberateness kept her from adding the phrase "in smaller words". "I believe it would be a good time for you to be added to the company roll. The modern world requires things like money, id, residences and you just bumming around doesn't. And if you want to reside and work in Miami for a bit, fine. You wouldn't be the first. My brother only comes up here for meetings usually."
"And I want to have those things," Atlas replied, not changing his casual posture, "but what I want most is my freedom. I am willing to trade some of that freedom for those things, but I am also willing to go back to my swamp and go back to 'bumming around'." He tried his best not to give anything away when she mentioned working in Miami. He wanted to keep a strong position in this negotiation. Freyra had successfully bound him with the chains of family, but Atlas would not turn into her pet because she gave him a treat.
"If I am on this 'company roll', what would I have to do?"
Ooh, a new part of the conversation. Just when she thought she had been locked in another endless cycle. Freyra ceased her annoyed tapping in favor of fixing her bracelet to rest flat against her wrist. She preferred when Odin did this part but he had given her some suggestions that work, "You were a commander, were you not? Perhaps you could help in the training of the troops then. The company would pay for that."
"Train them to do what?" Atlas asked, sitting a little straighter. He appreciated that someone remembered that he had once commanded respect. Natal's time training under Taskmaster flashed through his mind. Perhaps training the Northmen's pet mortals would be fun. He wondered with some anxiety if this training would tie him to Ridgekeep and their impressive training facilities.
The Elf-goddess smiled slightly as she shrugged, "Train them to endure. We put contracts in all sorts of terrible conditions even before the guns start to fire. Sure, some of them have had some sort of military training before but others..." She then shook her head. Even though she rarely had to deal with raw combat recruits, she still passed them by in the facilities. "Others have not, to put it lightly. Learning their limits and pushing passed them? That's good for all soldiers."
Atlas smiled, despite himself.
"I suppose I would have to keep them alive?" Atlas asked. He would need to keep his eyes on the mortals to keep them from breaking. It would be easier if there could be acceptable loss margins, but he doubted that would be the case.
Freyra frowned a little in confusion, "Yes. We wouldn't want you to train them to death but if a few die because of accident or incompetence, that just happens. We have a funerary department for a reason. You can't be trained to face death without possibly risking it."
Atlas liked that response. It freed his hands a bit. Atlas frowned slightly. He hadn't agreed to anything yet. He couldn't get ahead of himself.
"It sounds like I would be spending a lot of my time baby-sitting these mortals for you," he said bluntly. "How often and how long would I be expected to run these endurance training sessions?" Atlas leaned forward, awaiting Freyra's answer.
Freyra turned the question back to him, "How long do you think it would take to bring a human to their breaking point?"
"I can break their backs in an instant. I can drown them in a swamp in a minute. I can kill them with thirst in a few days. I can starve them within a month," Atlas rattled off casually. His tone growing serious, he continued. "But to have a man walk into the wild and survive to walk out again is not that easy at all. It is more complicated." Atlas considered for a moment. "How many men would I have at a time? And what do you want from them when they return?"
"No more than ten at a time. We're found that groups of ten are best for bonding purposes. More than that in the early stages and uncontrolled rivalries spring up." Freyra was especially glad Atlas' tone had grown serious. His casual tone and questions had only reminded her that this wasn't her job. If she ever heard the word 'rapport' from Odin again... "We want them to be able to handle environmental stress we drop them in without fear. Or at least to manage their fear so they do not break when they have a gun in their hands."
Atlas thought back to the man that had found him in the swamp. Kyo certainly had seemed overwhelmed, and he was less than a mile from civilization at the time.
"Fine. I will place myself on this 'company roll' to train your ten man teams," Atlas said with a sigh. "But I want the freedom to train them how I want, where I want."
"Fine, as long as you don't come busting into my offices telling me how to build walls," Freyra replied without any delay, "We're not going to check your lesson plans. We all do what we're good at so no one can tell us what to do. But I would like you not to bust into my office, even without being sarcastic. I like my doors."
Atlas wondered why he would tell Freyra how to build walls. He wasn't a mason.
She must be angry about when I broker her door, he decided.
"I will not break any more of your doors," he promised. He could always break her walls, instead. "But, I will need supplies. I believe you mentioned something about 'money' and 'residences'?" Now they were getting to the part Atlas liked, payment.
This was also the part, she liked. It was easy and it might as well have been torn from a movie. Freyra reached behind her to grab a file folder that had been hidden behind her back and then slid it right across the table to him. "How's that for money and residences? And of course, you would still have your apartment here."
Atlas open the file. It was full of numbers that he ignored. Numbers didn't mean anything to him, only things. He did notice that he had gained a title.
"'Director'? Impressive," he murmured.
His excitement over the his title was short-lived. As he flipped through the following pages. They were full of rules and protocols he had to follow. He grimaced slightly, but at least he knew what they expected of him, now. He had said he would trade some of his freedom, and now he was facing the reality of that promise.
At the end of the file were a series of diagrams. Atlas' concerns over his freedom were forgotten as he looked them over.
"What is this?" he asked, confused. "Some sort of house on a truck?"
"That's exactly what it is. A small house on a big truck." Freyra considered her words and then added, "Well, small house for you. I've seen some tiny people."
Atlas idly wondered if she was talking about the gremlins Polyhymnia had mentioned.
"Then I will have to learn how to drive a truck," Atlas said resolutely. "Also, what do all these numbers mean? How do I turn these numbers into phones, supplies, tools, or weapons?"
The Elf-goddess was forced to blink and lean back into her chair. She couldn't have just heard that. She couldn't have. "Tell you you're messing with me and you know how money works."
"Well, I've seen humans trade things for other things," Atlas said, chagrined. "And I know that these days they trade 'money' instead of things. But is this a lot or a little? How do I trade these numbers to keep my phone working? How many numbers do I need to buy fuel for my truck house? You see, I've never had much need for 'money' while holding apart the earth and sky or, how did you put it, 'bumming around'." He looked at Freyra expectantly, awaiting answers.
Freyra suddenly flashed back to the 1950s when Baulder was forced to sit the whole group of them down, those he could find at the time, and explain the world they found themselves in. She stood then, typing quickly on her own phone before motioning to Atlas, "Come on, let's go get something to eat. After that, Ja... Baulder will explain everything you will need about the modern world. Probably in power point format. He likes slide transitions."
Summary: Atlas and Freyra negotiate the terms of Atlas' employment with Ridgekeep. Atlas is petulant. At least until he is promised a house that is also a truck and mortals to push around. After that, he starts to come around.