Investments
Nicholas gave me his report tonight. It wasn't as full as I would have liked (what is this project that has, or had, Worthington's interest?), but it had enough information to satisfy me for now.
Some prospects to play my pawns: Raymond Hubbard, the impertinent oil tycoon whom Melcross had mentioned; some arrogant, thuggish illusionist; an apparently disenfranchised mutant who can trigger psychosis in those around him over long exposure. Nicholas also spoke about fight clubs (yes, truly) sprouting up in the city. I wouldn't mind a good brawl, myself, nor the prospect of some disposable fighters of my own.
I set him on the trail of Rebecca Winters, but fact-finding only. I will handle suborning her to my plans, not him. A trust between regnant and advisor can go only so far, and I have never trusted him entirely. Too slippery, frustratingly obtuse and cryptic by turns, and (I suspect) possessing his own agendas that ultimately do not align with mine. I'm not dissatisfied with his service; still, it isn't exactly what I had anticipated. I might speak more with him on this subject.
6/26/2005
Logfile from Shaw.
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Hellfire Clubhouse - Shaw's Office
Ebony, sable, and jet: black defines this capacious room, making its modern furniture all the more sleek and its softening touches all the more deep. A desk dominates the space with massive construction and shining-clean top, empty of all but a silvery computer's flat-panel monitor, slim tower, and keyboard. A high-backed Aeron chair looms behind the desk, lording over the two guest chairs on the opposite side.
One entire wall lies shrouded in black velvet; whether the drapes cover only wall or windows as well stays hidden. A miniature marble obelisk, fully six feet high, guards a corner between the office's two doors, its sloping sides and pyramidal peak gleaming darkly pristine but for stray chips and scuff marks. The rest of the room is its own adornment: crown-molded ceiling, pale-rose silk wallpaper, and lush black carpet interwoven with tiny scarlet diamonds.
--
With the coming of evening, Shaw's drawn back the curtains from his office's outer wall, though the rank of windows there remains all closed. The city provides a weak illumination to go with the room's dim-tuned overhead lights; with the computer monitor's blue wash over the desk, it's enough for the businessman to be doing some business with a mess of faxes and fat legal documents. He's still in meetings' tailored suit, its stern black leavened by shirt's pale-rose, but he did loosen the tie and collar out of deference to the coming end of his day.
A soft knocking comes at Shaw's door... Nick-the-elder outside, wearing an immaculate custom-tailred suit with a clerical collar. The Black King wasn't informed of his Bishops' arrival at the clubhouse, but he certainly is here now. The appointment was made on fairly short notice, early in the day.
An irritated glance at the door, then Shaw sighs and puts aside the contract through which he was thumbing. Sitting back, he calls out, "Come in! It's open."
The door opens smoothly and Nicholas slides in, closing it behind him with a fingertip. He offers a formal sort of half-bow, "Mmm.. good evening, Ser." The priest smiles momentarily, then glances at the the assorted paperwork for a few moments. "I do apologize for interrupting."
"Lock it, too, if you would." Shaw leans into the chair's creaking embrace and from there regards his advisor with narrowed black eyes. Calculation finishes behind them, and he shifts into a genial smile and wave to the chairs on the other side of the desk. "No, I just got caught up in my work and forgot that we were meeting. Please, sit, Nicholas."
Nicholas locks the door as requested before walking over to the indicated chair and settling down. His posture is rather far from being obsequious.. but it isn't arrogant, either. The smile is returned for a moment before he nods, "Quite alright. Business is going well?"
Shaw answers with nice arrogance, himself, "As well as it can be, given the markets' uncertainty after the MRA announcement." He shuffles the papers aside to give himself a clear space and then pulls over a pad and pen for notetaking. Thus settled, he returns his weighing stare to the other man. "And your business?"
Nicholas shrugs lightly, "Take the long-term view, sir. It is much less vulnerable to these momentary whims." He mmms for a moment or two, "My business? Well.. it is your business, I suppose. A question of what assets you wish to gather, and from what realms." The man taps his fingers together for a few moments, studying Shaw, "And for what purposes they should be molded, I suppose."
"Yes," Shaw tells him, choosing directness, "so let's get to the meat of it. We have a few things to talk about before I let you go tonight: the project Warren Worthington was interested in, the prospects you've been culling, and one I'm considering, myself. Where would you like to begin, Bishop o' mine?"
The priest nods, "Very well. I have had little success in gathering any information on the project that Warren was interested in... those within the organization who were supposed to brief me have yet to be able to provide anything substantive." He shrugs lightly for a moment.
Shaw shrugs. "Well, keep at it, within reasonable limits. The answers might come out in their own way, and we'll be listening for them if they do." He taps his pen a few absent times on the notepad. "I wonder . . . no, best not to speculate. All right. And your prospects?"
Nicholas spreads his hands lightly, "Five. First, a wealthy man who seems fairly well connected but bored enough to want something more.. and who very much wishes to be invited to a party, here. Second, one who is an illusionist of impressive strength who is rather arrogant and self-assured most times, another mutant who can cause psychoses and is currently bereft of much in terms of resources and is thus perhaps easily grabbed. The last.. mm. More of an organization, really.. a club whose members seem inclined to fight simply for fun, and who have few meaningful connections that the media could pick up on. They may be useful."
Shaw, writing quickly, tucks up one side of his mouth in a pleased, cruel smile. "Good, good, Nicholas. I knew I could rely on you. Let's discuss them in order; they all sound like potentially ripe picking. The club is having a party on the seventh. Should we see to it that this wealthy man gets an invitation?"
Nicholas nods softly, "Yes. I was thinking of taking him myself.. I will introduce you to him at a suitable juncture, if you wish?" He smiles for a moment, "He dislikes social contrivances.. but he can get quite focused if discussing the right topics. He wishes to purchase a large number of weapons, as well.. if you can provide him with a few eye-catching contracts, we should have a good hold on him."
"Weapons." Shaw frowns at his notes, then at the Black Bishop. "What kind of weapons? For personal use?"
Nicholas chuckles softly for a moment, "Handguns and a few assault rifles would be more than sufficent, I think. Nothing impressive, overly difficult, or overly dangerous. For bodyguards and the like."
Shaw grunts and adds a scribble. "That's easily gotten, and it won't trace back to me, either." His conglomerate does handle munitions, but personal weapons are easily redirected whichever way one chooses. Much more easily than government goods, certainly. "Why does this wealthy man -- what's his name, anyway? -- want a private arsenal? What's he planning?"
Nicholas humms very softly, "To build a club, for one.. but otherwise... I am not entirely sure. I will find out soon enough. Raymond Hubbard, Jr." The priest fishes about for a moment before offering Shaw one of Ray's business cards. "Inherited wealth, from oil."
Eyes flash up briefly wide with surprises recognition at the name, and Shaw makes another pensive noise. "You don't say," he mutters as he leans over to get the card, which gets twirled a couple times through his forefingers before tucking away in the pad. "Thank you, Nicholas. That is /very/ interesting." Even if he doesn't elaborate on why, exactly. "We'll have to keep an eye on him. A wealthy man with a taste for weaponry -- yes, please arrange a meeting with me at his earliest convenience."
Nicholas hmms softly for a moment, "You know him?" He raises an eyebrow lightly, "I'd like to know of your observations, if I may. If he already knows of your connection to the club..." the priest trails off for a moment, then nods, "Before the masquerade, then?"
"Whenever," Shaw replies offhand to the latter before devoting himself to the former. "No, I don't know him, and I have no idea if he knows I'm a member of the club -- anything more than that, of course, he'd /better/ not know." Private affairs, Inner Circle affairs, yes. He frowns anew at some thought that he shrugs away. "Actually, a friend knows him; she's mentioned him to me, but I never followed up with my own research."
Nicholas nods, "Certainly.. mm. I'll continue my work on him, and introduce him to you as soon as possible. How would you like to be presented? One who could help him with weapons, or simply one whom it would be good to know?"
Shaw snorts dark amusement. "The latter's safer, to be sure. He and I can discuss his concerns once we're introduced. Let me know."
Nicholas grins for a moment, then nods, "I shall do so. Mmm. On to the next, then..?"
Shaw finishes the page, turns to a fresh one, and nods. "An illusionist, you said? I'll assume that you don't mean some circus performer. A mutant, I hope."
Nicholas nods, "Of course. A fairly powerful one. He is used to his powers allowing him to trod on anyone he desires.. but he is little more than a common thug at this point. If his arrogance can be quashed.. or at least redirected.... he could be used to great effect."
"I see." Shaw considers the cardinal. "Didn't see anything of yourself in him, did you, Nicholas?"
Nicholas blinks a moment, "Beg pardon?" He looks at Shaw quizzically, "Not particularly.. he is exceedingly arrogant but has little recourse when confronted... and he seems to have little desire to serve any cause."
Shaw teases out a grin. "Just checking. One tool's judgment of another . . . Arrogance is useful; arrogance is a way in. If nothing else, I can break him to /my/ cause, and let him serve accordingly. Are you able to arrange a meeting with him?"
Nicholas looks at Shaw for a moment.. and smiles slightly, "As you say, sir. Mmm.. do be careful, if he desires it, you will find your feet bound or a powerful blow coming to your chest. I.. track him at times, but he does not at this point much like me."
Shaw looks supremely unconcerned. "Nicholas, if I can work closely with Emma Frost for several years, I think I can handle this 'common thug' of yours. I appreciate the caution, however." Another smile's twist. "You don't want me ousted again, I take it."
Nicholas humms for a moment. "Honestly, sir... I will feel more invested in one leader or another once I have had a chance to work over time with them." He coughs faintly, then nods, "Miss Frost is of an altogether different catergory... she does not attack people to amuse herself."
"So you say," is Shaw's bland response to that assessment. "I do, so I think this illusionist and I would get along famously, were we to meet. Work towards that, would you? Without getting yourself in danger, of course." He looks faintly cynical at the notion.
The priest nods, "I shall do so, if you do desire it." He hmms for a moment or two, tapping his fingers together lightly. "The other.. I suppose you wish to met them as well? I will see what can be arranged."
Shaw glances through the notes. "We have Hubbard, this illusionist -- who's the psychosis-inducer you mentioned? If he's without resources, the Hellfire Club could certainly take him in." Pause. "I could, anyway, if he proves himself worth my time."
Nicholas nods, "He is a touch unstable... if you spend too much time in his company, then you will find your own quirks amplified to the point at which someone might think you need to be institutionalized."
Genuine interest pulls Shaw straight in his chair, and he rests elbows on the desk to prop a lean forward. "He amplifies quirks to the point of psychosis? That's . . . damn, Nicholas. I could use someone like that in meetings. How good is his control?"
The priest chuckles softly, "He has no control over it whatsoever. The effects of his powers are temporary unless contact is very close or prolonged... mm. I am working on his control, somewhat."
Shaw mutters, "Well, shit to that idea. You are? Good, good. If you make progress, let me know. If I had access to a reliable telepath, we might get somewhere faster, if she could just rewire him." He makes some notes, writing with irritable speed, and continues without looking up. "A shame he's not as useful as I'd thought, or hoped, but . . . keep at it, I guess, Nicholas. Never can tell when a new piece could turn the game in our favor."
Nicholas nods, "Indeed. If nothing else, if inserted into an meeting, he can ensure that any attempt at organization fails miserably.. and that old emnities are stirred up again." He smiles softly for a moment.
"Yes. Exactly. That's exactly it, my fair-minded friend." Shaw puts down the pen and leans back again from the desk, relaxing into the chair with an eased breath. "What else, then? This organization you mentioned at the last . . ."
The priests pauses a few moments before reponding. "Mmm. yes. I infiltrated a fight club of sorts... they are particularly vicious at times. Some of those there may be useful, if you wish.. well.. a source of thugs. And there seems to be significant amounts of anti-mutant and anti-foreigner sentiment in a few of the attendees. The functions themselves are not such, but I think that many attend them to try to work out frustration..."
Shaw repeats with some incredulity, some dubiousness, "'Fight club.' You're kidding -- like in the movie?"
Nicholas looks at Shaw blankly for a few moments, "Like in the movie..?"
Incredulity takes the upper hand. Shaw explains patiently, "Yes, there was a movie a few years ago -- well, a little more than that -- called _Fight Club_, about a man who starts a network of underground, well, fight clubs, where men can go to beat each other up and thus find some meaning in their empty, commercialized, impotent lives. Black comedy, got a lot of accolades and criticism; I think that's one I might have actually seen after it came out. And . . . you're saying someone in this city is actually /doing/ it? In real life?"
Nicholas ahs faintly for a few moments, then nods slowly, "Mm... yes. Given what you've said of the movie, it seems a very good fit." He coughs faintly, "I.. am not entirely up-to-date on popular culture. I haven't been to a movin.. a movie in a while."
Shaw makes a rude noise, though he answers calmly enough, with only a trace of irritation. "Then go, please. I can't have a Black Bishop who isn't up on the basics of this culture, wouldn't you agree?"
Nicholas frowns slightly for a moment.. then shrugs lightly, "As you wish, sir.. I will do my best to get more aquainted with it."
"Thank you. You /are/ an advisor, are you not?" Shaw can afford to be convivial, now that he's gotten that agreement. "I can't be everywhere, hearing and watching everything, so I have to rely on you. You watch the news at least, right? And read the papers? Or . . ." He slouches further back in the chair, regarding the cardinal with a fresh thought in his snapping black eyes. "Is your advice limited to other areas? I don't want to use you beyond your limits, Nicholas. If I'm asking too much of you, let me know."
Nicholas nods, "Yes.. that is the position I was given." He smiles for a moment, then nods again, "I read the papers and watch the news.. but.. mm. My advice will come in any area which you desire it. However, I am perhaps not the best choice if you wish someone with his finger on the pulse of society. I will do what I can to fill in my knowledge."
Shaw waves a hand dismissively and then folds it with the other on his middle. "So be it. We do what we can with what we have . . . and if I choose to replace you, Nicholas, I promise that you'll be the first to know." He smiles. Nicely. "So, tell me about these fight clubs. Are you a trusted member?"
Nicholas shrugs lightly, "I will have no objection, if you choose to replace me, as long as we remain on decent terms.... mm." He taps his fingers together for a moment, "Fairly so."
"Who's running them?" Shaw wants to know next. Curiosity is rising into intrigue in his manner, and he's listening very closely. "Do you know? Are you in that person's confidences?"
Nicholas frowns slightly, "That.. I do not know. I'm doing my best to find out, though." He clicks his tongue for a moment, "Some of the thugs that frequent the place may have connections to other organizations that have use of such hostility.. do you wish those investigated?"
Shaw inclines his head. "Follow wherever your instincts take you, Nicholas. I'll be eager to here the results." And then his eyes gleam like the slow smile he lets out to play. "Do you think /I/ might attend one of the club's meetings?"
Nicholas looks you over for a few moments.. then smiles slightly, "I think so, yes. though you'd certainly have to alter your dress and your standards of cleanliness a bit if you wanted to fit in. They have a rule.. no killing.. that will fall as soon as they have sufficent cause to feel that they are safe from the police."
Shaw's smile stretches into a grin. "Trust me, getting grubby for a good brawl won't be a problem. It's how I got started, you could say." His voice almost dotes on that, as if on a fine memory. "--No killing. Mmm. But they /are/ thugs, and might be amenable for some suitably thuggish employment outside the club?"
Nicholas smiles for a moment, "Ah.. well. Then perhaps you should attend." He nods slowly, "Quite so, I would suspect. They get into a bit of a blood-rage, and will probably end up addicted to it shortly."
"Excellent," Shaw decides, pleased. "We'll talk more about that some other time, I think, once I've sorted out the idea in my head. In the meantime, stay close to them, and start whispering about some opportunities that might come to the very loyal: madness and mayhem, and very good pay."
Nicholas nods softly, "Certainly. Mmm.. I'll do my best to sound them out and lay the foundations for a recruitment drive, if you wish it. Or we could simply stir them up against something, if need be." He shrugs for a moment, then ahs faintly, "There were some people you were considering?"
"Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me." As quickly as that, Shaw shifts back into command mode. "There's a girl on Emerson's campus that I'd like you to investigate -- very carefully, because I fear she has ties with Ms. Frost and I don't want any movement towards the girl to get back to our good Queen. Her name is Rebecca Winters. She also has ties with the White Rook Tyanna Fiske, so be doubly careful. Just . . . dig up whatever you can on her, or watch her as you would one of your prospects. I'm thinking that she'd be a good pawn for me to play against the White side of the board."
Nicholas hmms for a moment and nods, "I'll do what I can. Does she have any special interests or abilities that I should know about, may I ask?"
Shaw hesitates. "It might be logic of some sort to think that she's a mutant, but she didn't reveal that part of her any more than I did of myself. She's a photography major taking business and accounting classes to help Fiske run the business she inherited." Contempt drips from that last: an /inherited/ business, forsooth. First Hubbard, now her . . . "She does seem to be uncertain of her role, now that her friend is a rising corporate power and she, Winters, is only the assistant. I'm thinking I could wedge into that opening, but you might leave it to me. For now, just fact-find a little. And if nothing comes up . . ." He shrugs. "No worries."
Nicholas nods slowly.. and taps his fingers together for a few moments before straightening up. "I'll look into her nature... and see what I can learn without raising too many flags. Ah. Is there anyone else I should be concerned about?"
Shaw answers, "Not at the moment, no. Let's continue our separate investigations and meet again soon, shall we?" With a wry expression, he nods at the papers flooding his desk. "When work allows, of course."
Nicholas smiles softly.. and then nods and stands up, offering a graceful bow, "Indeed.. I'll keep you abreast of any progress."
Shaw returns the smile politely. "Thank you, Nicholas. Good night."
[Log ends.]
Some prospects to play my pawns: Raymond Hubbard, the impertinent oil tycoon whom Melcross had mentioned; some arrogant, thuggish illusionist; an apparently disenfranchised mutant who can trigger psychosis in those around him over long exposure. Nicholas also spoke about fight clubs (yes, truly) sprouting up in the city. I wouldn't mind a good brawl, myself, nor the prospect of some disposable fighters of my own.
I set him on the trail of Rebecca Winters, but fact-finding only. I will handle suborning her to my plans, not him. A trust between regnant and advisor can go only so far, and I have never trusted him entirely. Too slippery, frustratingly obtuse and cryptic by turns, and (I suspect) possessing his own agendas that ultimately do not align with mine. I'm not dissatisfied with his service; still, it isn't exactly what I had anticipated. I might speak more with him on this subject.
6/26/2005
Logfile from Shaw.
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Hellfire Clubhouse - Shaw's Office
Ebony, sable, and jet: black defines this capacious room, making its modern furniture all the more sleek and its softening touches all the more deep. A desk dominates the space with massive construction and shining-clean top, empty of all but a silvery computer's flat-panel monitor, slim tower, and keyboard. A high-backed Aeron chair looms behind the desk, lording over the two guest chairs on the opposite side.
One entire wall lies shrouded in black velvet; whether the drapes cover only wall or windows as well stays hidden. A miniature marble obelisk, fully six feet high, guards a corner between the office's two doors, its sloping sides and pyramidal peak gleaming darkly pristine but for stray chips and scuff marks. The rest of the room is its own adornment: crown-molded ceiling, pale-rose silk wallpaper, and lush black carpet interwoven with tiny scarlet diamonds.
--
With the coming of evening, Shaw's drawn back the curtains from his office's outer wall, though the rank of windows there remains all closed. The city provides a weak illumination to go with the room's dim-tuned overhead lights; with the computer monitor's blue wash over the desk, it's enough for the businessman to be doing some business with a mess of faxes and fat legal documents. He's still in meetings' tailored suit, its stern black leavened by shirt's pale-rose, but he did loosen the tie and collar out of deference to the coming end of his day.
A soft knocking comes at Shaw's door... Nick-the-elder outside, wearing an immaculate custom-tailred suit with a clerical collar. The Black King wasn't informed of his Bishops' arrival at the clubhouse, but he certainly is here now. The appointment was made on fairly short notice, early in the day.
An irritated glance at the door, then Shaw sighs and puts aside the contract through which he was thumbing. Sitting back, he calls out, "Come in! It's open."
The door opens smoothly and Nicholas slides in, closing it behind him with a fingertip. He offers a formal sort of half-bow, "Mmm.. good evening, Ser." The priest smiles momentarily, then glances at the the assorted paperwork for a few moments. "I do apologize for interrupting."
"Lock it, too, if you would." Shaw leans into the chair's creaking embrace and from there regards his advisor with narrowed black eyes. Calculation finishes behind them, and he shifts into a genial smile and wave to the chairs on the other side of the desk. "No, I just got caught up in my work and forgot that we were meeting. Please, sit, Nicholas."
Nicholas locks the door as requested before walking over to the indicated chair and settling down. His posture is rather far from being obsequious.. but it isn't arrogant, either. The smile is returned for a moment before he nods, "Quite alright. Business is going well?"
Shaw answers with nice arrogance, himself, "As well as it can be, given the markets' uncertainty after the MRA announcement." He shuffles the papers aside to give himself a clear space and then pulls over a pad and pen for notetaking. Thus settled, he returns his weighing stare to the other man. "And your business?"
Nicholas shrugs lightly, "Take the long-term view, sir. It is much less vulnerable to these momentary whims." He mmms for a moment or two, "My business? Well.. it is your business, I suppose. A question of what assets you wish to gather, and from what realms." The man taps his fingers together for a few moments, studying Shaw, "And for what purposes they should be molded, I suppose."
"Yes," Shaw tells him, choosing directness, "so let's get to the meat of it. We have a few things to talk about before I let you go tonight: the project Warren Worthington was interested in, the prospects you've been culling, and one I'm considering, myself. Where would you like to begin, Bishop o' mine?"
The priest nods, "Very well. I have had little success in gathering any information on the project that Warren was interested in... those within the organization who were supposed to brief me have yet to be able to provide anything substantive." He shrugs lightly for a moment.
Shaw shrugs. "Well, keep at it, within reasonable limits. The answers might come out in their own way, and we'll be listening for them if they do." He taps his pen a few absent times on the notepad. "I wonder . . . no, best not to speculate. All right. And your prospects?"
Nicholas spreads his hands lightly, "Five. First, a wealthy man who seems fairly well connected but bored enough to want something more.. and who very much wishes to be invited to a party, here. Second, one who is an illusionist of impressive strength who is rather arrogant and self-assured most times, another mutant who can cause psychoses and is currently bereft of much in terms of resources and is thus perhaps easily grabbed. The last.. mm. More of an organization, really.. a club whose members seem inclined to fight simply for fun, and who have few meaningful connections that the media could pick up on. They may be useful."
Shaw, writing quickly, tucks up one side of his mouth in a pleased, cruel smile. "Good, good, Nicholas. I knew I could rely on you. Let's discuss them in order; they all sound like potentially ripe picking. The club is having a party on the seventh. Should we see to it that this wealthy man gets an invitation?"
Nicholas nods softly, "Yes. I was thinking of taking him myself.. I will introduce you to him at a suitable juncture, if you wish?" He smiles for a moment, "He dislikes social contrivances.. but he can get quite focused if discussing the right topics. He wishes to purchase a large number of weapons, as well.. if you can provide him with a few eye-catching contracts, we should have a good hold on him."
"Weapons." Shaw frowns at his notes, then at the Black Bishop. "What kind of weapons? For personal use?"
Nicholas chuckles softly for a moment, "Handguns and a few assault rifles would be more than sufficent, I think. Nothing impressive, overly difficult, or overly dangerous. For bodyguards and the like."
Shaw grunts and adds a scribble. "That's easily gotten, and it won't trace back to me, either." His conglomerate does handle munitions, but personal weapons are easily redirected whichever way one chooses. Much more easily than government goods, certainly. "Why does this wealthy man -- what's his name, anyway? -- want a private arsenal? What's he planning?"
Nicholas humms very softly, "To build a club, for one.. but otherwise... I am not entirely sure. I will find out soon enough. Raymond Hubbard, Jr." The priest fishes about for a moment before offering Shaw one of Ray's business cards. "Inherited wealth, from oil."
Eyes flash up briefly wide with surprises recognition at the name, and Shaw makes another pensive noise. "You don't say," he mutters as he leans over to get the card, which gets twirled a couple times through his forefingers before tucking away in the pad. "Thank you, Nicholas. That is /very/ interesting." Even if he doesn't elaborate on why, exactly. "We'll have to keep an eye on him. A wealthy man with a taste for weaponry -- yes, please arrange a meeting with me at his earliest convenience."
Nicholas hmms softly for a moment, "You know him?" He raises an eyebrow lightly, "I'd like to know of your observations, if I may. If he already knows of your connection to the club..." the priest trails off for a moment, then nods, "Before the masquerade, then?"
"Whenever," Shaw replies offhand to the latter before devoting himself to the former. "No, I don't know him, and I have no idea if he knows I'm a member of the club -- anything more than that, of course, he'd /better/ not know." Private affairs, Inner Circle affairs, yes. He frowns anew at some thought that he shrugs away. "Actually, a friend knows him; she's mentioned him to me, but I never followed up with my own research."
Nicholas nods, "Certainly.. mm. I'll continue my work on him, and introduce him to you as soon as possible. How would you like to be presented? One who could help him with weapons, or simply one whom it would be good to know?"
Shaw snorts dark amusement. "The latter's safer, to be sure. He and I can discuss his concerns once we're introduced. Let me know."
Nicholas grins for a moment, then nods, "I shall do so. Mmm. On to the next, then..?"
Shaw finishes the page, turns to a fresh one, and nods. "An illusionist, you said? I'll assume that you don't mean some circus performer. A mutant, I hope."
Nicholas nods, "Of course. A fairly powerful one. He is used to his powers allowing him to trod on anyone he desires.. but he is little more than a common thug at this point. If his arrogance can be quashed.. or at least redirected.... he could be used to great effect."
"I see." Shaw considers the cardinal. "Didn't see anything of yourself in him, did you, Nicholas?"
Nicholas blinks a moment, "Beg pardon?" He looks at Shaw quizzically, "Not particularly.. he is exceedingly arrogant but has little recourse when confronted... and he seems to have little desire to serve any cause."
Shaw teases out a grin. "Just checking. One tool's judgment of another . . . Arrogance is useful; arrogance is a way in. If nothing else, I can break him to /my/ cause, and let him serve accordingly. Are you able to arrange a meeting with him?"
Nicholas looks at Shaw for a moment.. and smiles slightly, "As you say, sir. Mmm.. do be careful, if he desires it, you will find your feet bound or a powerful blow coming to your chest. I.. track him at times, but he does not at this point much like me."
Shaw looks supremely unconcerned. "Nicholas, if I can work closely with Emma Frost for several years, I think I can handle this 'common thug' of yours. I appreciate the caution, however." Another smile's twist. "You don't want me ousted again, I take it."
Nicholas humms for a moment. "Honestly, sir... I will feel more invested in one leader or another once I have had a chance to work over time with them." He coughs faintly, then nods, "Miss Frost is of an altogether different catergory... she does not attack people to amuse herself."
"So you say," is Shaw's bland response to that assessment. "I do, so I think this illusionist and I would get along famously, were we to meet. Work towards that, would you? Without getting yourself in danger, of course." He looks faintly cynical at the notion.
The priest nods, "I shall do so, if you do desire it." He hmms for a moment or two, tapping his fingers together lightly. "The other.. I suppose you wish to met them as well? I will see what can be arranged."
Shaw glances through the notes. "We have Hubbard, this illusionist -- who's the psychosis-inducer you mentioned? If he's without resources, the Hellfire Club could certainly take him in." Pause. "I could, anyway, if he proves himself worth my time."
Nicholas nods, "He is a touch unstable... if you spend too much time in his company, then you will find your own quirks amplified to the point at which someone might think you need to be institutionalized."
Genuine interest pulls Shaw straight in his chair, and he rests elbows on the desk to prop a lean forward. "He amplifies quirks to the point of psychosis? That's . . . damn, Nicholas. I could use someone like that in meetings. How good is his control?"
The priest chuckles softly, "He has no control over it whatsoever. The effects of his powers are temporary unless contact is very close or prolonged... mm. I am working on his control, somewhat."
Shaw mutters, "Well, shit to that idea. You are? Good, good. If you make progress, let me know. If I had access to a reliable telepath, we might get somewhere faster, if she could just rewire him." He makes some notes, writing with irritable speed, and continues without looking up. "A shame he's not as useful as I'd thought, or hoped, but . . . keep at it, I guess, Nicholas. Never can tell when a new piece could turn the game in our favor."
Nicholas nods, "Indeed. If nothing else, if inserted into an meeting, he can ensure that any attempt at organization fails miserably.. and that old emnities are stirred up again." He smiles softly for a moment.
"Yes. Exactly. That's exactly it, my fair-minded friend." Shaw puts down the pen and leans back again from the desk, relaxing into the chair with an eased breath. "What else, then? This organization you mentioned at the last . . ."
The priests pauses a few moments before reponding. "Mmm. yes. I infiltrated a fight club of sorts... they are particularly vicious at times. Some of those there may be useful, if you wish.. well.. a source of thugs. And there seems to be significant amounts of anti-mutant and anti-foreigner sentiment in a few of the attendees. The functions themselves are not such, but I think that many attend them to try to work out frustration..."
Shaw repeats with some incredulity, some dubiousness, "'Fight club.' You're kidding -- like in the movie?"
Nicholas looks at Shaw blankly for a few moments, "Like in the movie..?"
Incredulity takes the upper hand. Shaw explains patiently, "Yes, there was a movie a few years ago -- well, a little more than that -- called _Fight Club_, about a man who starts a network of underground, well, fight clubs, where men can go to beat each other up and thus find some meaning in their empty, commercialized, impotent lives. Black comedy, got a lot of accolades and criticism; I think that's one I might have actually seen after it came out. And . . . you're saying someone in this city is actually /doing/ it? In real life?"
Nicholas ahs faintly for a few moments, then nods slowly, "Mm... yes. Given what you've said of the movie, it seems a very good fit." He coughs faintly, "I.. am not entirely up-to-date on popular culture. I haven't been to a movin.. a movie in a while."
Shaw makes a rude noise, though he answers calmly enough, with only a trace of irritation. "Then go, please. I can't have a Black Bishop who isn't up on the basics of this culture, wouldn't you agree?"
Nicholas frowns slightly for a moment.. then shrugs lightly, "As you wish, sir.. I will do my best to get more aquainted with it."
"Thank you. You /are/ an advisor, are you not?" Shaw can afford to be convivial, now that he's gotten that agreement. "I can't be everywhere, hearing and watching everything, so I have to rely on you. You watch the news at least, right? And read the papers? Or . . ." He slouches further back in the chair, regarding the cardinal with a fresh thought in his snapping black eyes. "Is your advice limited to other areas? I don't want to use you beyond your limits, Nicholas. If I'm asking too much of you, let me know."
Nicholas nods, "Yes.. that is the position I was given." He smiles for a moment, then nods again, "I read the papers and watch the news.. but.. mm. My advice will come in any area which you desire it. However, I am perhaps not the best choice if you wish someone with his finger on the pulse of society. I will do what I can to fill in my knowledge."
Shaw waves a hand dismissively and then folds it with the other on his middle. "So be it. We do what we can with what we have . . . and if I choose to replace you, Nicholas, I promise that you'll be the first to know." He smiles. Nicely. "So, tell me about these fight clubs. Are you a trusted member?"
Nicholas shrugs lightly, "I will have no objection, if you choose to replace me, as long as we remain on decent terms.... mm." He taps his fingers together for a moment, "Fairly so."
"Who's running them?" Shaw wants to know next. Curiosity is rising into intrigue in his manner, and he's listening very closely. "Do you know? Are you in that person's confidences?"
Nicholas frowns slightly, "That.. I do not know. I'm doing my best to find out, though." He clicks his tongue for a moment, "Some of the thugs that frequent the place may have connections to other organizations that have use of such hostility.. do you wish those investigated?"
Shaw inclines his head. "Follow wherever your instincts take you, Nicholas. I'll be eager to here the results." And then his eyes gleam like the slow smile he lets out to play. "Do you think /I/ might attend one of the club's meetings?"
Nicholas looks you over for a few moments.. then smiles slightly, "I think so, yes. though you'd certainly have to alter your dress and your standards of cleanliness a bit if you wanted to fit in. They have a rule.. no killing.. that will fall as soon as they have sufficent cause to feel that they are safe from the police."
Shaw's smile stretches into a grin. "Trust me, getting grubby for a good brawl won't be a problem. It's how I got started, you could say." His voice almost dotes on that, as if on a fine memory. "--No killing. Mmm. But they /are/ thugs, and might be amenable for some suitably thuggish employment outside the club?"
Nicholas smiles for a moment, "Ah.. well. Then perhaps you should attend." He nods slowly, "Quite so, I would suspect. They get into a bit of a blood-rage, and will probably end up addicted to it shortly."
"Excellent," Shaw decides, pleased. "We'll talk more about that some other time, I think, once I've sorted out the idea in my head. In the meantime, stay close to them, and start whispering about some opportunities that might come to the very loyal: madness and mayhem, and very good pay."
Nicholas nods softly, "Certainly. Mmm.. I'll do my best to sound them out and lay the foundations for a recruitment drive, if you wish it. Or we could simply stir them up against something, if need be." He shrugs for a moment, then ahs faintly, "There were some people you were considering?"
"Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me." As quickly as that, Shaw shifts back into command mode. "There's a girl on Emerson's campus that I'd like you to investigate -- very carefully, because I fear she has ties with Ms. Frost and I don't want any movement towards the girl to get back to our good Queen. Her name is Rebecca Winters. She also has ties with the White Rook Tyanna Fiske, so be doubly careful. Just . . . dig up whatever you can on her, or watch her as you would one of your prospects. I'm thinking that she'd be a good pawn for me to play against the White side of the board."
Nicholas hmms for a moment and nods, "I'll do what I can. Does she have any special interests or abilities that I should know about, may I ask?"
Shaw hesitates. "It might be logic of some sort to think that she's a mutant, but she didn't reveal that part of her any more than I did of myself. She's a photography major taking business and accounting classes to help Fiske run the business she inherited." Contempt drips from that last: an /inherited/ business, forsooth. First Hubbard, now her . . . "She does seem to be uncertain of her role, now that her friend is a rising corporate power and she, Winters, is only the assistant. I'm thinking I could wedge into that opening, but you might leave it to me. For now, just fact-find a little. And if nothing comes up . . ." He shrugs. "No worries."
Nicholas nods slowly.. and taps his fingers together for a few moments before straightening up. "I'll look into her nature... and see what I can learn without raising too many flags. Ah. Is there anyone else I should be concerned about?"
Shaw answers, "Not at the moment, no. Let's continue our separate investigations and meet again soon, shall we?" With a wry expression, he nods at the papers flooding his desk. "When work allows, of course."
Nicholas smiles softly.. and then nods and stands up, offering a graceful bow, "Indeed.. I'll keep you abreast of any progress."
Shaw returns the smile politely. "Thank you, Nicholas. Good night."
[Log ends.]