AAG - The Proposition
Nov. 4th, 2012 08:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAdrienne is summoned to the office of the Black Court's Jason Wyngarde, who makes her an offer she can't refuse.
Warning for an icky threat made by Wyngarde about abuse
Wyngarde’s summons had been unexpected but firm. Adrienne was to present herself at the Hellfire Club at 8pm exact to discuss her ‘situation’ with the Black Court. Even Emma’s protection wouldn’t allow her to ignore a summons stamped by the Lord Cardinal, even if she’d been willing to challenge them directly. All that she could hope was that it would stop Wyngarde from making any advances towards her. Summoned a former member of the Black Court was one thing; the Lords Cardinal had tremendous power inside the club, and even Emma’s worst enemy on the Black Court wouldn’t ignore a summons from her. However, if he attacked her, the summons wouldn’t protect him from repercussions.
It was with those not very soothing assurances that she trudged up the steps and was welcomed in by the complex’s majordomo. He took her hat and coat, and escorted her up into the offices, through the Black Court’s side and into a small non-descript office near the back stairs. It was simply furnished with a desk, several chairs, and a small sideboard, on which a bottle of bourbon and two glasses sat. Adrienne didn’t recognize the small man sitting at the desk, typing rapidly into his laptop. From his appearance, he looked like a minor functionary; the Black Court’s in-house accountant or something, barely noticed while performing the day to day work needed to keep both Courts operating.
As the door closed behind her, the illusion melted away, and in place of the man sat Jason Wyngarde. He finished whatever he had been typing and gestured to one of the chairs.
“Ah, Adrienne. Sit, please. Something to drink?”
She blinked a couple times in surprise but didn't make a remark about the illusion. Taking the proffered seat and settling herself on the edge of the chair to signal her impatience, she glanced suspiciously at the bourbon. "No thanks. Why don't we dispense with the formalities and just get right to it, huh?"
"Such pleasantries are the grease of civilization, my dear. It is what allows millions of barely evolved monkeys to pack themselves by the millions into cities and not commit mass murder on a daily basis." He got up and poured himself a generous measure. "You're sure you won't join me? I assure you, it's from an excellent lot."
"I'm good, thanks," she replied firmly. "Gotta drive home. No money to hire a driver anymore," she pointed out levelly. "Why did you summon me here, Jason?"
"In a roundabout way, you've already answered the question." Wyngarde sat back down and took a sip of his drink, regarding her levelly. "I must say that plebien world agrees with you. Flushed cheeks from walking in the cold, the practical blazer that just foils the attempt to hide your rapid breathing with flashes of cleavage. But, the working class attractions aside, I imagine that life as a dull functionary is lacking somewhat for a woman of your accustomed tastes. With that in mind, I am considering releasing the hold I have on your company and your assets."
Adrienne pretended to adjust the heel of one of her shoes while she tried to digest his statement without showing surprise. "And why exactly would you consider that?" she inquired, still not able to quite manage to contain the scoffing tone in her voice. "What do you need me to do for you that you'd tempt me with this again? And why would I consider helping you when you double-crossed me the last time you offered this to me?"
"Last time, you broke the rules and involved your sister. Have your forgotten that?" His tone was light, almost amused. "And you can choose to not trust me now. If you'd like to keep cutting coupons and budgeting away for your old age. Your money and your company will remain frozen until I have a reason to change that fact. I'm offering you a chance to give me a reason. If you'd rather leave, I'm sure there's a public bus or something back to Salen Center. I'm sure you've had time to get used to them."
"It's Salem Center, asshole," Adrienne muttered, struggling to keep a lid on her temper with all his remarks about being poor. "And why don't you just tell me what this 'chance' is so I can turn you down and get back on my bus?"
"Adrienne, you seem to be under the illusion that you represent some sort of asset worth enough to grant yourself the latitude to be disrespectful. I have seized your assets, true, but do you honestly think that's as far as my power goes to hurt you? That I've already brought you as low as humanly possible and thus you can throw caution to the wind?" Wyngarde's expression shifted, as did his entire body, now replicating Adrienne's as he faced her. Her own smile looked back at her, although the eyes were alien and chilling. "I can take away so much more, Adrienne. What happens when an amateur photographer sends a story to the Post that a scion of the Frost family was caught servicing men in exchange for heroin? Or photos surfaces of you naked and sexually abusing several unidentified pre-teen girls?"
The voice was still Wyngarde's; male and very English. But the doppelganger effect was unsettling. "Imagine spending the rest of your life not being able to walk down the street without hearing the whispers; junkie, pervert, murderer. I'm sure your grand Professor would spare no expense defending you in court, but... well, once those things surface, people tend not to believe a successful defense. The White Court will bristle, no doubt, but without proof, I'm afraid even their vaunted protection is only worth so much." The illusion disappeared, leaving Jason back in his seat. "So, why don't we start with an apology?"
A sick feeling rolled up from Adrienne's stomach into her throat and she tasted bile as she struggled to keep her vision from whiting out with fear. She held on to it for a couple painful moments. Since it came so rarely nowadays she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be so terrified of another person's words, and she wanted to use that now because it reminded her how far she'd come from the days when she would give in to it. She could push it away now, think beyond that fear instead of letting it consume her as it used to. She did push it away now, force herself to think beyond it. "I'm sorry, Jason," she mumbled, eyes cast downward. She'd unconsciously adopted a protective posture, arms hugging her sides. "Can we please start over?"
"There. That's better." His tone was unctous; buttery and satisfied at his victory. "You see, Adrienne, I have no wish to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to give you the opportunity that you've craved since you joined the Hellfire Club. And all I require in return is a simple, pleasant task on your part. If you do this job well, I will restore your fortune. If you show me that you can be trusted with such a role, prehaps it is only the beginning."
He leaned back in his chair and pushed his laptop around to show the image of an attractive older woman in an expensive designed blue gown. "This is Emma Steed. The Blue Queen of the Blue Court of the London Hellfire Club. Are you familiar with it?"
Biting back all the 'disrespectful' retorts that were bubbling up at the patronizing tone he used, Adrienne straightened up and squinted at the woman on the screen, unfolding her arms from around her sides and gripping the edge of his desk to steady herself. "I am, yes," was all she said, trying to recapture the professional tone she hadn't been utilizing much lately.
"Good. The London Chapter also happens to be the Royal Chapter for the European Hellfire Clubs. The Blue and Red Kings and Queens are also Lord Cardinals, the same as our Black and White Courts here in New York for the rest of North America. Steed has a relationship with Shaw based on... mutual understanding, and has assisted him from time to time on various ventures. Over time, we've realized that she possesses an extensive intelligence network and a remarkable database of assets and secrets. We want you to retrieve the key for that database."
Adrienne digested this information while still staring at Steed's image on the screen, unsurprised by the fact that Shaw and Steed had a mutual understanding and yet the Black Court apparently wanted to try to steal her intelligence network out from under her. "Do you know where the key is?" she questioned mildly, not sounding either bored or enthusiastic.
"That is, of course, the tricky part. Before coming to the Blue Court, Mrs. Steed was an agent for MI6. She and her husband, Sir John Steed, were top level operatives prior to his death in 1995. Suffice to say that since her election as Blue Queen eight years ago, their security has improved immeasurably." Wyngarde touched a button and the image switched to an antique looking key fob, heavy with gilt, the kind once found a hundred years ago in the very best hotels. It was not all antique though. Attached to one end was a USB port connection, and the metal around it have been cunningly reworked, to fit a slim case of some type.
"Mrs Steed has done an excellent job in ensuring that her database is locked under quantum encryption. Without the physical key, you can't even bring up the interface. If a key is stolen or goes missing, the system can be locked in minutes. Finally, stealing the key to make a copy is impossible because you'd need to have the current interface from the database side to program it, which you can't get. It is a perfect security system."
Biting back more snide comments, Adrienne waited a couple beats to gather herself, hand still on the corner of his desk for purchase. "So, am I correct in thinking that's where I come in? Because I can use my powers to Read the physical key and just give you the information that was accessed on it via computer screen?" Her range of view was such that she could situate herself to see whatever was on the screen of any computer the key was plugged into whenever a user accessed it.
"In part. In reading the key, we think that your subconscious will read the elements programmed into it. At least, enough of the configuration that by distilling the memories out with a skilled telepath, we'll be able to replicate it. Now, Mrs. Steed always keeps the key on her person, but our research has revealed that her liaisons tend to be focused primarily on women. My own creature, Astrid, was a 'conquest' several years ago. Now, they are having a party tomorrow; some sort of Samhian themed farce; mostly an excuse to drink fortified mead and bugger the hired performers. However, your attendance delivering the package will not be noticed, and more importantly, it is the right context to get closer to Mrs. Steed and her bedchambers."
"Indeed," Adrienne nodded, smiling now, "so not only do I get the pleasure of having my fortune and company restored to me, but I also get to allow myself the pleasure of being a conquest of the lovely Blue Queen? How could I possibly refuse? And as to your thoughts on my reading the key," she continued, seeming to have finally relaxed, "my subconscious will certainly read the configuration of its elements; no doubt about that. I'll have retained a perfect recollection for replication which I can document for you to possibly eliminate the need for a skilled telepath. Of course, you're welcome to use one if you think it necessary," she added in an easygoing tone. "Can I ask now what measures you're going to take to ensure that my fortune and company will actually be restored to my control after I perform this service for you?"
"I'm tempted to say none, since really, the only thing that can ever restore your fortune to you are my good graces." He paused, tapping his fingers together. "However, I suppose a concession might motivate you. Once I have the key and have completed my business with it, I will contact a third party lawyer with the authority to release the hold on your funds. We'll both agree on the lawyer to ensure that they remain impartial."
Thinking this over for a moment as she watched Wyngarde tapping his fingers together, green eyes drawn to the school ring he wore on his right hand, Adrienne nodded. "Agreed." She held her hand out for him to shake on the agreement.
"Indeed." He took her hand firmly, but his grip tightened as she tried to end it. "I should warn, Adrienne, that this time, there will be no room for failure or betrayal. If anything goes wrong that I suspect you are involved in, I will destroy everything you love before I come for you. Serve me well and loyally, and the reward I will be able to offer will make your existing fortune look like pocket change."
Quashing the queasy feeling again, Adrienne nodded again. "Understood."
"Good. My people are preparing the documents and your travel arrangements. A car will be at the Institute in four hours with the remaining details to take you to the airport." Wyngarde broke contact and sat back down. "I will be in touch following your return. Good luck, Ms Frost."
The psychometrist was glad Wyngarde had broken contact as her hands had started to shake and she didn't want him to see, so she rose quickly, nodded again, and backed towards the door. "I don't believe I've ever needed luck to get a woman to sleep with me," she grinned, "but I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Wyngarde."
Warning for an icky threat made by Wyngarde about abuse
Wyngarde’s summons had been unexpected but firm. Adrienne was to present herself at the Hellfire Club at 8pm exact to discuss her ‘situation’ with the Black Court. Even Emma’s protection wouldn’t allow her to ignore a summons stamped by the Lord Cardinal, even if she’d been willing to challenge them directly. All that she could hope was that it would stop Wyngarde from making any advances towards her. Summoned a former member of the Black Court was one thing; the Lords Cardinal had tremendous power inside the club, and even Emma’s worst enemy on the Black Court wouldn’t ignore a summons from her. However, if he attacked her, the summons wouldn’t protect him from repercussions.
It was with those not very soothing assurances that she trudged up the steps and was welcomed in by the complex’s majordomo. He took her hat and coat, and escorted her up into the offices, through the Black Court’s side and into a small non-descript office near the back stairs. It was simply furnished with a desk, several chairs, and a small sideboard, on which a bottle of bourbon and two glasses sat. Adrienne didn’t recognize the small man sitting at the desk, typing rapidly into his laptop. From his appearance, he looked like a minor functionary; the Black Court’s in-house accountant or something, barely noticed while performing the day to day work needed to keep both Courts operating.
As the door closed behind her, the illusion melted away, and in place of the man sat Jason Wyngarde. He finished whatever he had been typing and gestured to one of the chairs.
“Ah, Adrienne. Sit, please. Something to drink?”
She blinked a couple times in surprise but didn't make a remark about the illusion. Taking the proffered seat and settling herself on the edge of the chair to signal her impatience, she glanced suspiciously at the bourbon. "No thanks. Why don't we dispense with the formalities and just get right to it, huh?"
"Such pleasantries are the grease of civilization, my dear. It is what allows millions of barely evolved monkeys to pack themselves by the millions into cities and not commit mass murder on a daily basis." He got up and poured himself a generous measure. "You're sure you won't join me? I assure you, it's from an excellent lot."
"I'm good, thanks," she replied firmly. "Gotta drive home. No money to hire a driver anymore," she pointed out levelly. "Why did you summon me here, Jason?"
"In a roundabout way, you've already answered the question." Wyngarde sat back down and took a sip of his drink, regarding her levelly. "I must say that plebien world agrees with you. Flushed cheeks from walking in the cold, the practical blazer that just foils the attempt to hide your rapid breathing with flashes of cleavage. But, the working class attractions aside, I imagine that life as a dull functionary is lacking somewhat for a woman of your accustomed tastes. With that in mind, I am considering releasing the hold I have on your company and your assets."
Adrienne pretended to adjust the heel of one of her shoes while she tried to digest his statement without showing surprise. "And why exactly would you consider that?" she inquired, still not able to quite manage to contain the scoffing tone in her voice. "What do you need me to do for you that you'd tempt me with this again? And why would I consider helping you when you double-crossed me the last time you offered this to me?"
"Last time, you broke the rules and involved your sister. Have your forgotten that?" His tone was light, almost amused. "And you can choose to not trust me now. If you'd like to keep cutting coupons and budgeting away for your old age. Your money and your company will remain frozen until I have a reason to change that fact. I'm offering you a chance to give me a reason. If you'd rather leave, I'm sure there's a public bus or something back to Salen Center. I'm sure you've had time to get used to them."
"It's Salem Center, asshole," Adrienne muttered, struggling to keep a lid on her temper with all his remarks about being poor. "And why don't you just tell me what this 'chance' is so I can turn you down and get back on my bus?"
"Adrienne, you seem to be under the illusion that you represent some sort of asset worth enough to grant yourself the latitude to be disrespectful. I have seized your assets, true, but do you honestly think that's as far as my power goes to hurt you? That I've already brought you as low as humanly possible and thus you can throw caution to the wind?" Wyngarde's expression shifted, as did his entire body, now replicating Adrienne's as he faced her. Her own smile looked back at her, although the eyes were alien and chilling. "I can take away so much more, Adrienne. What happens when an amateur photographer sends a story to the Post that a scion of the Frost family was caught servicing men in exchange for heroin? Or photos surfaces of you naked and sexually abusing several unidentified pre-teen girls?"
The voice was still Wyngarde's; male and very English. But the doppelganger effect was unsettling. "Imagine spending the rest of your life not being able to walk down the street without hearing the whispers; junkie, pervert, murderer. I'm sure your grand Professor would spare no expense defending you in court, but... well, once those things surface, people tend not to believe a successful defense. The White Court will bristle, no doubt, but without proof, I'm afraid even their vaunted protection is only worth so much." The illusion disappeared, leaving Jason back in his seat. "So, why don't we start with an apology?"
A sick feeling rolled up from Adrienne's stomach into her throat and she tasted bile as she struggled to keep her vision from whiting out with fear. She held on to it for a couple painful moments. Since it came so rarely nowadays she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be so terrified of another person's words, and she wanted to use that now because it reminded her how far she'd come from the days when she would give in to it. She could push it away now, think beyond that fear instead of letting it consume her as it used to. She did push it away now, force herself to think beyond it. "I'm sorry, Jason," she mumbled, eyes cast downward. She'd unconsciously adopted a protective posture, arms hugging her sides. "Can we please start over?"
"There. That's better." His tone was unctous; buttery and satisfied at his victory. "You see, Adrienne, I have no wish to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to give you the opportunity that you've craved since you joined the Hellfire Club. And all I require in return is a simple, pleasant task on your part. If you do this job well, I will restore your fortune. If you show me that you can be trusted with such a role, prehaps it is only the beginning."
He leaned back in his chair and pushed his laptop around to show the image of an attractive older woman in an expensive designed blue gown. "This is Emma Steed. The Blue Queen of the Blue Court of the London Hellfire Club. Are you familiar with it?"
Biting back all the 'disrespectful' retorts that were bubbling up at the patronizing tone he used, Adrienne straightened up and squinted at the woman on the screen, unfolding her arms from around her sides and gripping the edge of his desk to steady herself. "I am, yes," was all she said, trying to recapture the professional tone she hadn't been utilizing much lately.
"Good. The London Chapter also happens to be the Royal Chapter for the European Hellfire Clubs. The Blue and Red Kings and Queens are also Lord Cardinals, the same as our Black and White Courts here in New York for the rest of North America. Steed has a relationship with Shaw based on... mutual understanding, and has assisted him from time to time on various ventures. Over time, we've realized that she possesses an extensive intelligence network and a remarkable database of assets and secrets. We want you to retrieve the key for that database."
Adrienne digested this information while still staring at Steed's image on the screen, unsurprised by the fact that Shaw and Steed had a mutual understanding and yet the Black Court apparently wanted to try to steal her intelligence network out from under her. "Do you know where the key is?" she questioned mildly, not sounding either bored or enthusiastic.
"That is, of course, the tricky part. Before coming to the Blue Court, Mrs. Steed was an agent for MI6. She and her husband, Sir John Steed, were top level operatives prior to his death in 1995. Suffice to say that since her election as Blue Queen eight years ago, their security has improved immeasurably." Wyngarde touched a button and the image switched to an antique looking key fob, heavy with gilt, the kind once found a hundred years ago in the very best hotels. It was not all antique though. Attached to one end was a USB port connection, and the metal around it have been cunningly reworked, to fit a slim case of some type.
"Mrs Steed has done an excellent job in ensuring that her database is locked under quantum encryption. Without the physical key, you can't even bring up the interface. If a key is stolen or goes missing, the system can be locked in minutes. Finally, stealing the key to make a copy is impossible because you'd need to have the current interface from the database side to program it, which you can't get. It is a perfect security system."
Biting back more snide comments, Adrienne waited a couple beats to gather herself, hand still on the corner of his desk for purchase. "So, am I correct in thinking that's where I come in? Because I can use my powers to Read the physical key and just give you the information that was accessed on it via computer screen?" Her range of view was such that she could situate herself to see whatever was on the screen of any computer the key was plugged into whenever a user accessed it.
"In part. In reading the key, we think that your subconscious will read the elements programmed into it. At least, enough of the configuration that by distilling the memories out with a skilled telepath, we'll be able to replicate it. Now, Mrs. Steed always keeps the key on her person, but our research has revealed that her liaisons tend to be focused primarily on women. My own creature, Astrid, was a 'conquest' several years ago. Now, they are having a party tomorrow; some sort of Samhian themed farce; mostly an excuse to drink fortified mead and bugger the hired performers. However, your attendance delivering the package will not be noticed, and more importantly, it is the right context to get closer to Mrs. Steed and her bedchambers."
"Indeed," Adrienne nodded, smiling now, "so not only do I get the pleasure of having my fortune and company restored to me, but I also get to allow myself the pleasure of being a conquest of the lovely Blue Queen? How could I possibly refuse? And as to your thoughts on my reading the key," she continued, seeming to have finally relaxed, "my subconscious will certainly read the configuration of its elements; no doubt about that. I'll have retained a perfect recollection for replication which I can document for you to possibly eliminate the need for a skilled telepath. Of course, you're welcome to use one if you think it necessary," she added in an easygoing tone. "Can I ask now what measures you're going to take to ensure that my fortune and company will actually be restored to my control after I perform this service for you?"
"I'm tempted to say none, since really, the only thing that can ever restore your fortune to you are my good graces." He paused, tapping his fingers together. "However, I suppose a concession might motivate you. Once I have the key and have completed my business with it, I will contact a third party lawyer with the authority to release the hold on your funds. We'll both agree on the lawyer to ensure that they remain impartial."
Thinking this over for a moment as she watched Wyngarde tapping his fingers together, green eyes drawn to the school ring he wore on his right hand, Adrienne nodded. "Agreed." She held her hand out for him to shake on the agreement.
"Indeed." He took her hand firmly, but his grip tightened as she tried to end it. "I should warn, Adrienne, that this time, there will be no room for failure or betrayal. If anything goes wrong that I suspect you are involved in, I will destroy everything you love before I come for you. Serve me well and loyally, and the reward I will be able to offer will make your existing fortune look like pocket change."
Quashing the queasy feeling again, Adrienne nodded again. "Understood."
"Good. My people are preparing the documents and your travel arrangements. A car will be at the Institute in four hours with the remaining details to take you to the airport." Wyngarde broke contact and sat back down. "I will be in touch following your return. Good luck, Ms Frost."
The psychometrist was glad Wyngarde had broken contact as her hands had started to shake and she didn't want him to see, so she rose quickly, nodded again, and backed towards the door. "I don't believe I've ever needed luck to get a woman to sleep with me," she grinned, "but I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Wyngarde."
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