Chapter One:
Part V:
Impatiently, the blonde woman tapped a thick, carefully painted, red nail on her desk. Her pulse was steady; not giving away the impatience bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Instead she used that frustration to instill a powerful sense of control over those present. Fear was a miraculous tool. The four men before her sweated under her cool gaze, as though nothing they did was good enough for her. They trembled... And she enjoyed that.
Aisling Kimble was the most powerful woman in Arlington. She owned everything she could see from her 21st story office window. And that was no exaggeration. She was the head of the Lacrima Corperation. Not C.E.O. She owned everything. But, owning everything wasn't the sum of her efforts. She controlled everything. She understood everything-- she built the whole biochemical genetic institute herself. Later, the medical research facilities. And most recently, the astrophysics labs. Not built because she could, but built because they were needed. For the betterment of humanity and for herself. Aisling understood everything that went on in her facilities. And to her employees, that made her dangerous.
Aisling smiled to herself. A twitch of concern crossed the face of the man stammering to her. She covered it immediately. He paused again. He hadn't been expecting that and didn't know what to make of her abrupt facial expressions. It didn't matter. It wasn't meant for him. Aisling was beautiful, smart, and dangerous. Every time she thought about that, she smiled. She knew who she was, she knew what she was, and she used that to get what she wanted. And Aisling always got what she wanted.
Before her stood a small man--- most resembling a mole. He was short, balding, had thick glasses and stuttered like his life would depend on what he was saying. It didn't. But, she had that effect on people. The group of scientists before her watched their coworker with pride. They wanted him to succeed. Because, if he failed-- they all did. They were cute like that. All dependent on each other for survival.
Finally, his stammering was complete. The man was sweating now, small beads of perspiration dampening his collar and shiny head. Aisling stopped tapping her nail and smiled. She allowed this one to creep across her face slowly. That way it had a menacing attack, but the men before her accepted it as gratitude. She gathered every ounce of sweetness in her body before speaking.
"Thank you, Doctor Eichenauer. Your report has been very thorough." She took off her glasses. She didn't often use them, but for some reason her scientists respected her more when she wore them. Standing up, she closed the white report stapled on her desk and acknowledged everyone present. "I know you are all doing your best, and working your hardest. Deadlines are still tentative, so the project can continue indefinitely for now. None of you have ever given me reason to suspect failure; and I expect nothing but the best from my labs. Continue your work, I shall meet with you again in a few weeks, when I see fit. Until then, your regular reports will do." He men hungrily ate up every word she laid out for them. They devoured her presence like animals. For a moment, she allowed her smile to relax into being almost genuine. She liked being desired.
The moment didn't last long. She composed herself and gave them a small nod. In response, everyone began to nod like bobble headed dolls and say their complicated goodbyes. No one dared put their hand out to shake hers; that was taboo. Only she would ever initiate contact. They feared her, they loved her. They would work well. After a few chaotic moments, the head scientists of the Lacrima Corporation had departed.
Aisling sighed and fell casually into her large chair, charade over. She swiveled it around to view her empire. These meetings were nearly useless. She kept close tabs on everything that happened attached to her name, and knew every single minor employee, their background and what they were working on. She hardly needed her head scientists to come and give her a rundown of their projects in their "simpleton" terms. She scoffed, they thought she was much less intelligent than she really was. The fools were blind to what was directly under their noses and obvious like a neon sign. But, on the other side of things, that gave her an advantage.
Her beauty was her greatest advantage. She was tall and always wore heels, despite the awkward sense her height gave. She loved being pretty, and she was good at that. Her long blond hair was vibrant. Her green eyes were piercing, demanding, inviting, and mysterious all at once. Her legs were always bare; she constantly wore suits with skirts. People always stared. Well, they stared until she stared back. People would shake themselves visibly and quickly avert their eyes to try and undo what had just happened. It made her laugh. The simpletons of Arlington. People always underestimated her because of her beauty. She was much more intelligent than her beauty dictated stereotypically. And, because of that, she was deadly.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a door, hidden in the wall, opened silently to her right. Aisling smiled, hidden by the large chair. She adjusted her suit unconsciously. "Gizmo." His name rolled off her tongue like candy.
"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" was the cool, even response. In the doorway stood an Italian. He wasn't particularly tall physically, he just held himself in a manner that demanded respect; that made him seem taller than he really was. His hair was dark brown, almost black. His dark grey three-piece suit made his most distinguishing feature standout-- unnaturally purple eyes. They pierced from his dark complexion like diamonds from a black velvet case. They were eyes that had seen more blood, death, and crime than most. But, somewhere, deep inside them, there was a tint of kindness. "You said you had a job for me."
Aisling twisted the chair to face the man in her office. "Oh yes. But, it's nothing like you are used to. Nothing complicated. This is more of a ...favor." Her comment was met with silence. On autopilot, Aisling's smile twisted into a seductive smirk, and her voice rose in pitch, developing a sweeter quality. "And you'd do a favor for me, wouldn't you, Gizmo?"
His expression remained unchanged. "Well?"
She took a breath. "I need you to enroll a student in Arlington State." She sounded like a wounded animal.
He scoffed, never once redistributing his weight, "You need me for that? I hardly doubt the powerful Aisling Kimble couldn't enroll anyone of her choice."
Aisling dropped the act. It wasn't working. It never worked on him, it was just second nature now. That was how she got what she wanted. "Oh, I could, dear. I just need my name no where remotely attached to it. Not even a whisper."
There was a moment of silence. The two observed each other, carefully. Neither moving, and hardly breathing. The Italian was the first to break the silence.
"Done. But I must ask my own favor."
She raises her eyebrows. That was a bold statement. But, he understood her. "Anything, Gizmo."
"Don't call me that." As if on cue, the door slid shut silently.
Aisling watched the closed door with a confident smile. "Of course."
Word Count:
6,633 / 50,000
(13.0%)
Impatiently, the blonde woman tapped a thick, carefully painted, red nail on her desk. Her pulse was steady; not giving away the impatience bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Instead she used that frustration to instill a powerful sense of control over those present. Fear was a miraculous tool. The four men before her sweated under her cool gaze, as though nothing they did was good enough for her. They trembled... And she enjoyed that.
Aisling Kimble was the most powerful woman in Arlington. She owned everything she could see from her 21st story office window. And that was no exaggeration. She was the head of the Lacrima Corperation. Not C.E.O. She owned everything. But, owning everything wasn't the sum of her efforts. She controlled everything. She understood everything-- she built the whole biochemical genetic institute herself. Later, the medical research facilities. And most recently, the astrophysics labs. Not built because she could, but built because they were needed. For the betterment of humanity and for herself. Aisling understood everything that went on in her facilities. And to her employees, that made her dangerous.
Aisling smiled to herself. A twitch of concern crossed the face of the man stammering to her. She covered it immediately. He paused again. He hadn't been expecting that and didn't know what to make of her abrupt facial expressions. It didn't matter. It wasn't meant for him. Aisling was beautiful, smart, and dangerous. Every time she thought about that, she smiled. She knew who she was, she knew what she was, and she used that to get what she wanted. And Aisling always got what she wanted.
Before her stood a small man--- most resembling a mole. He was short, balding, had thick glasses and stuttered like his life would depend on what he was saying. It didn't. But, she had that effect on people. The group of scientists before her watched their coworker with pride. They wanted him to succeed. Because, if he failed-- they all did. They were cute like that. All dependent on each other for survival.
Finally, his stammering was complete. The man was sweating now, small beads of perspiration dampening his collar and shiny head. Aisling stopped tapping her nail and smiled. She allowed this one to creep across her face slowly. That way it had a menacing attack, but the men before her accepted it as gratitude. She gathered every ounce of sweetness in her body before speaking.
"Thank you, Doctor Eichenauer. Your report has been very thorough." She took off her glasses. She didn't often use them, but for some reason her scientists respected her more when she wore them. Standing up, she closed the white report stapled on her desk and acknowledged everyone present. "I know you are all doing your best, and working your hardest. Deadlines are still tentative, so the project can continue indefinitely for now. None of you have ever given me reason to suspect failure; and I expect nothing but the best from my labs. Continue your work, I shall meet with you again in a few weeks, when I see fit. Until then, your regular reports will do." He men hungrily ate up every word she laid out for them. They devoured her presence like animals. For a moment, she allowed her smile to relax into being almost genuine. She liked being desired.
The moment didn't last long. She composed herself and gave them a small nod. In response, everyone began to nod like bobble headed dolls and say their complicated goodbyes. No one dared put their hand out to shake hers; that was taboo. Only she would ever initiate contact. They feared her, they loved her. They would work well. After a few chaotic moments, the head scientists of the Lacrima Corporation had departed.
Aisling sighed and fell casually into her large chair, charade over. She swiveled it around to view her empire. These meetings were nearly useless. She kept close tabs on everything that happened attached to her name, and knew every single minor employee, their background and what they were working on. She hardly needed her head scientists to come and give her a rundown of their projects in their "simpleton" terms. She scoffed, they thought she was much less intelligent than she really was. The fools were blind to what was directly under their noses and obvious like a neon sign. But, on the other side of things, that gave her an advantage.
Her beauty was her greatest advantage. She was tall and always wore heels, despite the awkward sense her height gave. She loved being pretty, and she was good at that. Her long blond hair was vibrant. Her green eyes were piercing, demanding, inviting, and mysterious all at once. Her legs were always bare; she constantly wore suits with skirts. People always stared. Well, they stared until she stared back. People would shake themselves visibly and quickly avert their eyes to try and undo what had just happened. It made her laugh. The simpletons of Arlington. People always underestimated her because of her beauty. She was much more intelligent than her beauty dictated stereotypically. And, because of that, she was deadly.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a door, hidden in the wall, opened silently to her right. Aisling smiled, hidden by the large chair. She adjusted her suit unconsciously. "Gizmo." His name rolled off her tongue like candy.
"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" was the cool, even response. In the doorway stood an Italian. He wasn't particularly tall physically, he just held himself in a manner that demanded respect; that made him seem taller than he really was. His hair was dark brown, almost black. His dark grey three-piece suit made his most distinguishing feature standout-- unnaturally purple eyes. They pierced from his dark complexion like diamonds from a black velvet case. They were eyes that had seen more blood, death, and crime than most. But, somewhere, deep inside them, there was a tint of kindness. "You said you had a job for me."
Aisling twisted the chair to face the man in her office. "Oh yes. But, it's nothing like you are used to. Nothing complicated. This is more of a ...favor." Her comment was met with silence. On autopilot, Aisling's smile twisted into a seductive smirk, and her voice rose in pitch, developing a sweeter quality. "And you'd do a favor for me, wouldn't you, Gizmo?"
His expression remained unchanged. "Well?"
She took a breath. "I need you to enroll a student in Arlington State." She sounded like a wounded animal.
He scoffed, never once redistributing his weight, "You need me for that? I hardly doubt the powerful Aisling Kimble couldn't enroll anyone of her choice."
Aisling dropped the act. It wasn't working. It never worked on him, it was just second nature now. That was how she got what she wanted. "Oh, I could, dear. I just need my name no where remotely attached to it. Not even a whisper."
There was a moment of silence. The two observed each other, carefully. Neither moving, and hardly breathing. The Italian was the first to break the silence.
"Done. But I must ask my own favor."
She raises her eyebrows. That was a bold statement. But, he understood her. "Anything, Gizmo."
"Don't call me that." As if on cue, the door slid shut silently.
Aisling watched the closed door with a confident smile. "Of course."
Word Count:
6,633 / 50,000
(13.0%)