New Ghoul - Diane Crassus - Part 1
((OC: Below is the first part of a background for a new Invictus ghoul. I'm still pondering Milliner-Crassus or ordinary Crassus. I used Milliner for this, just for ease in writing, though I still need to get permission to play. Feedback and thoughts is VERY welcome, as I'm still shaping this concept.))
"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
Late September 2008
The Doctor's words were cool, collected. He sounded as if he had to give this speech every day, and for all she knew he took some perverse delight in delivering the worse news day in and day out. He wasn't one of her people, bought and groomed into some semblance of decorum. Just a specialist her own doctor had sent her too. "I'm sorry Miss Milliner, but the test reports are conclusive. You have.."
She cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I got that the first time. Unlike some of those you deal with, just assume I listen and we will get along better. Now. Treatment?"
"Experimental." He flips though the chart, frowning. "There is one trial at John Hopkins that shows some promise in cases like theses, but the second round of trials won't be starting for another three months. With pain management treatments, breathing treatments, perhaps oxygen tanks, the quality of life can be extended as long as possible."
She leans forward, just a bit to make her point. Keeping her eye contract with the doctor, she notice the signs that he was becoming ill at easy. "Break it down into just the numbers Doctor. With treatment and without, years versus months?"
He cleared his throat. "Without treatment.. Six months until your condition enter the final stage. Death within three months. With the breathing treatments and pain management, fourteen, perhaps fifteen in most cases. When you enter the last stage though, nothing can be done."
"Thank you Doctor. I trust you will not be upset if I get a second opinion?" She knew what he wanted out of her. The corporate bitch to break down, to become a human shaking with fear of her own mortality. Her calmness unnerved him, the grace with which she took the news. Wouldn't you like to know how I can be so calm, Doctor? I was only eighteen when I had to serve monsters, with a smile on my lips and grace in everything I did. After that, nothing can be harder, not even this.
"Understandable. But you need to start treatment immediately For the shortness of breath and the dizziness, at least." He started to write out the treatment plans.
She stood, walking to the door. "Thank you Doctor, but I will let you know what I decide. I expect to have those charts faxed to my office by the time I return there." With the calm, cool mask in place she strode out of the office. That was one of the earliest lessons she learned, never to show fear in a world full of predators.
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
Early October 2008
Diane sat at her desk, the tumbler of whiskey at her right hand, the stack of papers in front of her. On the wall, the stock returns on half a dozen markets flashed their minuet by minuet returns. The risk report was very detailed, one of her best had been working on it all summer as the mortgage mess grew within the United states and started to spread. His prediction had lead to the selling off of all unnecessary real estate last winter and the divestment of several finical groups from their portfolio this summer.
She flipped though the papers again as she sipped the single malt whiskey. Pressing a button on her desk she signaled her sectary. "I want Richard in Finance and his team here in two hours. Get Samuel in the meeting via conference call." The report fit in perfectly with her assessment of the situation, and it was time to get out of the market while the prices were still high.
The last of the merger paperwork was next, Chinese manufacturing combined with Indian market share would make for a very profitable diversion. It took less than thirty minuets to cross check everything for the final signing in the morning. The charity event of the month, needed her name attached to bring in just the right people, and she signed off her donation. Another call arraigned that an original designed would be ready for her in time for the gala.
With the critical reports out of the way, she could no longer put off the slim medical folder that sat on the corner of her desk. She made her way to the bar against one wall, pouring herself another drink. Her breath caught for a moment, a stitch in her side for just a moment that made it difficult to take in air, and she leaned against the bar for that time.
This had been her office for the past ten years, ever since she displaced her uncle as head of the corporation. He was a brilliant man, but he didn't have the same ruthless streak she had. Too much a submissive son of his house to be in this role, holding this much power. She had hated that part of the life and ran as far as she could as soon as she could.
Her reward was this office, and all it represented. The desk in front of the windows, looking out over the city, gleaming cherry wood and hidden electronics. Custom built to be as classic as possible and still match the black of the electronic casing. The conference table off to the side with a dozen seats for her most trusted. Leather seats around the bar, a place to put people at ease.
She settled into one of those leather seats with a sigh, and starting going through the folder. It was the highly paid specialists that her doctor had found for her, the expert in this type of matters. He had the virtue of being to the point, and he report pulled no punches. Everything was in black and white, the prognosis, potential treatments and side effects, everything. When she was done reading, she stared out the widow, weighing each of the options before her.
For twenty five years she had been mostly free of her blood and breeding. Twenty five years where she was not expected to serve, not expected to put herself on the market. They had hoped she would submit, but as the years turned into decades the disapproving looks came less and less. Until her skill and talents won for herself a measure of independence. She was not expected to serve, and in return she made the family grow both in blood and money. One child for the breeding program, raised in a private boarding school. Just as she was raised.
It was the life she never wanted. To give herself over to someone body and soul and become whatever they wished of her. A long life, in a gilded cage. Or this short one, then a pine box. Her daughter marked as unfit because of the illness and her stubborn pride. In the end, it was no decision at all. She rose, setting the glass back on the bar before retuning to her desk.
Back at her desk, she pressed the button for her secretary again. "Linda, connected me to my cousin. He's in the personal folder, under Milliner, Steward. Then arraign first class tickets to JFK on the evening flight. Have a car and driver waiting when I arrive, and send Sara to pack for me. At least a week, perhaps more."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.
"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
Late September 2008
The Doctor's words were cool, collected. He sounded as if he had to give this speech every day, and for all she knew he took some perverse delight in delivering the worse news day in and day out. He wasn't one of her people, bought and groomed into some semblance of decorum. Just a specialist her own doctor had sent her too. "I'm sorry Miss Milliner, but the test reports are conclusive. You have.."
She cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I got that the first time. Unlike some of those you deal with, just assume I listen and we will get along better. Now. Treatment?"
"Experimental." He flips though the chart, frowning. "There is one trial at John Hopkins that shows some promise in cases like theses, but the second round of trials won't be starting for another three months. With pain management treatments, breathing treatments, perhaps oxygen tanks, the quality of life can be extended as long as possible."
She leans forward, just a bit to make her point. Keeping her eye contract with the doctor, she notice the signs that he was becoming ill at easy. "Break it down into just the numbers Doctor. With treatment and without, years versus months?"
He cleared his throat. "Without treatment.. Six months until your condition enter the final stage. Death within three months. With the breathing treatments and pain management, fourteen, perhaps fifteen in most cases. When you enter the last stage though, nothing can be done."
"Thank you Doctor. I trust you will not be upset if I get a second opinion?" She knew what he wanted out of her. The corporate bitch to break down, to become a human shaking with fear of her own mortality. Her calmness unnerved him, the grace with which she took the news. Wouldn't you like to know how I can be so calm, Doctor? I was only eighteen when I had to serve monsters, with a smile on my lips and grace in everything I did. After that, nothing can be harder, not even this.
"Understandable. But you need to start treatment immediately For the shortness of breath and the dizziness, at least." He started to write out the treatment plans.
She stood, walking to the door. "Thank you Doctor, but I will let you know what I decide. I expect to have those charts faxed to my office by the time I return there." With the calm, cool mask in place she strode out of the office. That was one of the earliest lessons she learned, never to show fear in a world full of predators.
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
Early October 2008
Diane sat at her desk, the tumbler of whiskey at her right hand, the stack of papers in front of her. On the wall, the stock returns on half a dozen markets flashed their minuet by minuet returns. The risk report was very detailed, one of her best had been working on it all summer as the mortgage mess grew within the United states and started to spread. His prediction had lead to the selling off of all unnecessary real estate last winter and the divestment of several finical groups from their portfolio this summer.
She flipped though the papers again as she sipped the single malt whiskey. Pressing a button on her desk she signaled her sectary. "I want Richard in Finance and his team here in two hours. Get Samuel in the meeting via conference call." The report fit in perfectly with her assessment of the situation, and it was time to get out of the market while the prices were still high.
The last of the merger paperwork was next, Chinese manufacturing combined with Indian market share would make for a very profitable diversion. It took less than thirty minuets to cross check everything for the final signing in the morning. The charity event of the month, needed her name attached to bring in just the right people, and she signed off her donation. Another call arraigned that an original designed would be ready for her in time for the gala.
With the critical reports out of the way, she could no longer put off the slim medical folder that sat on the corner of her desk. She made her way to the bar against one wall, pouring herself another drink. Her breath caught for a moment, a stitch in her side for just a moment that made it difficult to take in air, and she leaned against the bar for that time.
This had been her office for the past ten years, ever since she displaced her uncle as head of the corporation. He was a brilliant man, but he didn't have the same ruthless streak she had. Too much a submissive son of his house to be in this role, holding this much power. She had hated that part of the life and ran as far as she could as soon as she could.
Her reward was this office, and all it represented. The desk in front of the windows, looking out over the city, gleaming cherry wood and hidden electronics. Custom built to be as classic as possible and still match the black of the electronic casing. The conference table off to the side with a dozen seats for her most trusted. Leather seats around the bar, a place to put people at ease.
She settled into one of those leather seats with a sigh, and starting going through the folder. It was the highly paid specialists that her doctor had found for her, the expert in this type of matters. He had the virtue of being to the point, and he report pulled no punches. Everything was in black and white, the prognosis, potential treatments and side effects, everything. When she was done reading, she stared out the widow, weighing each of the options before her.
For twenty five years she had been mostly free of her blood and breeding. Twenty five years where she was not expected to serve, not expected to put herself on the market. They had hoped she would submit, but as the years turned into decades the disapproving looks came less and less. Until her skill and talents won for herself a measure of independence. She was not expected to serve, and in return she made the family grow both in blood and money. One child for the breeding program, raised in a private boarding school. Just as she was raised.
It was the life she never wanted. To give herself over to someone body and soul and become whatever they wished of her. A long life, in a gilded cage. Or this short one, then a pine box. Her daughter marked as unfit because of the illness and her stubborn pride. In the end, it was no decision at all. She rose, setting the glass back on the bar before retuning to her desk.
Back at her desk, she pressed the button for her secretary again. "Linda, connected me to my cousin. He's in the personal folder, under Milliner, Steward. Then arraign first class tickets to JFK on the evening flight. Have a car and driver waiting when I arrive, and send Sara to pack for me. At least a week, perhaps more."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.