(Untitled)

[400yearsold]

WHO: Adam Monroe, Zechs Merquise
WHERE: Ryoko's Restaurant
WHEN: After Adam's current post.
WARNINGS: Will edit if needed
SUMMARY: It's the Marvel Team-Up of crazies who want to destroy the world.
FORMAT: Paragraph.

Comments

[6million_and1]

It was getting warmer, and Zechs had opted to leave the helmet at home. Eating at a restaurant was hardly the place to wear metal headgear. But, of course, it seemed as though Adam was prepared.

Disciple Zechs was not, but potential co-conspirator? Certainly. The ideas presented by Adam were interesting - not exactly identical to Zechs, but similar enough that Zechs was pleased. He hadn't expected something like this so soon.

Perhaps White Fang wasn't such a far-fetched idea, even here.

He cleared his throat slightly and nodded at Adam's back.

"You would be . . . " he said, in an expectant tone. He was fairly certain he knew, but it didn't hurt to attempt politeness.

[400yearsold]

Adam turned to look around as he heard someone's throat be cleared. Ah. There he was. Looking at Zechs, Adam dropped the overly cheerful facade he put on during the day. He was fully intent on getting Zechs as a disciple, or teammate at the least. That involved showing as much of his true colors as he could.

However, it didn't involve his real name. "Me? I'm Richard. But you can call me Kensai." Smirking slightly, he turned to shake Zechs's hand. This had to be the person.

"I believe we talked over the boards before."

[6million_and1]

"Zechs Merquise." He left it at that, not specifying one way or another whether it was a codename or not. Really, he didn't always know himself.

For the moment, it was as close to a real name as he would get.

"We did. I believe we spoke about sensitive subjects." He gestured briefly to the shop with his chin. "I hope we're not likely to be interrupted."

[400yearsold]

Adam nodded at Zechs. "We won't be. The restaurant is closed for the evening so it will be just us." As if to prove his point, he walked over to the windows and started lowering the blinds.

"I'd advise you don't sit anywhere near the back right corner. Some idiot spilled a soft drink and the floor's still sticky." After closing all the blinds, he turned back to Zechs.

"So. Let's continue our talk."

[6million_and1]

"Right . . . "

He cocked his head slightly, sitting where directed.

"Where were we, then?"

[400yearsold]

"Tell me more about your plan," Adam said, looking at Zechs. "Something about sending people to space, I believe." Considering that his world had only put people on the moon, Zech's plan sounded interesting.

"I'm afraid my world has only gone to the mood. So if you could explain just how it would happen, that would be nice."

[6million_and1]

"The moon?"

There was a brief pause, and Zechs shook his head, almost looking mournful. The moon . . . it was sad, really.

"We've gotten a great deal farther than that," Zechs said, a small smile creeping onto his face. "The technology isn't as complex as everyone seems to think. It would take . . . perhaps a few years to build permanent bases in space."

The political ramifications would, of course, take considerably longer. But Kensei didn't strike him as someone particularly interested in politics.

[400yearsold]

Adam sighed slightly, leaning back. "Yeah." Granted, Adam was proud of the fact that humanity had advanced far enough for people to get on the moon. He was born in the freaking 1600s, space travel wasn't even thought of until a long time later. But he still felt pathetic about his world when talking to Zechs.

"I take it that's what you did?" he asked, looking at Zechs. "You got the technology and built the bases." It sounded plausible. And it would be another good way to moniter who lives and who dies.

Indeed, Kensei wasn't one who was particularly interested in politics. He just wanted to get this thing started. He leaned forward, looking at Zechs.

[6million_and1]

"I didn't build them myself." Zechs shrugged. "But the technology was there. I'm sure the technology is here too. It would be very expensive, and much less expansive than my home, but perhaps - "

Wouldn't that be a good thing? The fewer people, the greater the chance of peace. Or so he thought. More on that later. A flawed syllogism was no way to start a real plan.

He shook his head. "More or less, yes. That's what happened."

[400yearsold]

"If money's a problem, I can fix that. I'm certain that the stock market can be twisted and used to our advantage." After living for four hundred years, about two-hundred of those in the same country, you got a sense of the economy.

"Well, let's do that here," Adam said, grinning at Zechs. "We can get the money and the technology. What's stopping us?" Adam really just wanted to get this thing going. He had been waiting forever to get this done, to make his dream a reality. He was ready.

[6million_and1]

"It was my understanding that it's already failing . . . " Zechs tapped his chin, smiling slightly - although it was barely apparent to the casual observer. "It could be done."

His plans were very different from Adam's, in the end goal - but he didn't need Adam to complete them. The man's help in getting them started, however, would be invaluable. He knew the system better than Zechs did and was familiar with modern times.

Besides . . . having this extra space to think would be . . . an asset.

"I suppose . . . contact with the space authorities would be the first step. Covert, of course."

[400yearsold]

Adam nodded. To be honest, he had no idea how one would contact the space authorities. Were there even space authorities here? Did Zechs just expect them to phone up NASA? Right. It wouldn't work.

"Maybe we should get a patent on the ideas first. Then people would listen. If we just went up to talk to the authorities, they might think we were just a bunch of crazy lunatics."

Also, a patent would be helpful in generating revenue. Adam steepled his fingers, plotting to himself.

[6million_and1]

"It can't be exactly the same as before. And we should use aliases of some kind. Mustn't be connected to us or the supers, because either would generate suspicion . . . " He tapped his chin.

"A central organization to work on this sort of thing would be helpful. A cover, if you will."