I'll have a post up later tomorrow after practice.
CVnU - Los Angeles (Location Thread)
Outcast was running for his life, continuing with a series of flips and twirls, his mind solely on distraction and evasion and mainly staying alive. The masked hero knew that his luck would eventually run out and that the T-Rex would eventually land a blow like it did with Dusk Zephyr. By sheer chance, it was then Outcast saw Dusk Zephyr swing back into action - literally. His mighty blow created a rather loud clap, causing Outcast to grimace under his mask while the behemoth fell.
Outcast paused, seeing the troublesome dinosaur breath steadily slow and Dusk Zephyr fell too from his mighty blow. Outcast began a light jog to the two, the dinosaur continuing to shrink in size. He would run past the dinosaur to attend to Dusk Zephyr, only to pause, backtracking his steps back to the shrinking dinosaur. You got knocked out, butch!
Giggling, he would now race toward Dusk Zephyr, hoping the vigilante was fine. Yo, that was one of the dopest things I have ever seen. You came swinging like Mike Tyson. Outcast would turn for Dusk Zephyr to claim his victory with nothing more than the gecko remaining.
"Guess that thing had a time limit or something?"
I guess so, Outcast said as he lifted the tiny lizard with his fingers. We should take this to a lab for further investigation after we...Outcast would turn to the crate which birthed the dinosaur only to see just wreckage from the dinosaurs wake of destruction. cut his sentence short. Outcast could hear the sirens in the background come closer and closer as the red and blue hue of the police cars could begin to tint the shadows as the came to pier.
I don't know about you, but I think that's our signal to leave. Outcast would extend a handshake to Dusk Zephyr, grateful of his presence with the dinosaur, and also that they both survived the ordeal. It was a pleasure to battle with you. Im pretty sure we shall meet again, and if you need it, know I got your back.
It might have been broad daylight. FBI agents might have been walking in plain sight, waiting for the specialists from Gothic City to arrive. The crowd was silent as could be. It might have been Los Angeles, the City of Angels. But true evil was here. It was waiting for its game to unfold and for the pieces to start moving. Willingly or not, everyone who stepped into that house entered into a world of their worst nightmares made manifest.
Knowingly or not, they were being followed by unseen eyes. The weight of heavy, malevolent observation cradled the invaders to the murderous ritual. A FBI agent by the name of Steven Barnes greeted Gordon with a sad nod as he, too, walked under the archway.
A woman staring into the windows of the upper floor started to weep uncontrollably, and her family had to escort her away.
"The Devil!" she screamed through her wailing. "Don't go in there, the Devil's in there!" she reached out for Gordon before fainting.
Steven rubbed his brow.
"Neighbors believe something unnatural happened here. By all accounts, it did," he continued with Gordon into the arena of sin that the murder took place amidst.
He shut the curtains, plunging the living room into complete darkness, and motioned for the other officers and agents to stand by him in the other room.
"Close all the windows on the first floor, we're doing a light," he instructed before putting his hands on his hips.
What Gordon would find beyond the initial markings on the floor was understandably unsettling. The unbroken circle scribbled where the body had been found bled into other, more obscure details too muddled with large boot-prints to make out. But none of the officers wore that kind of shoe, and the SWAT members never set foot inside the living room. Even if someone mistakenly stepped into the blood, it simply wouldn't have been that pattern.
The prints went back into the main hallway, flecked between the carpet and dark hardwood. Barely any blood was tracked upstairs if Gordon were to investigate that way. Fingerprints, however, were far more common. A flurry of them on the leather of the chair indicated that the death was not a good one. It was a struggle and perhaps a horror beyond imagination to be pinned to one's own seating arrangement and slowly gutted.
Larger, foreign fingerprints were on the doorknobs and telephone in the kitchen as well. Of course, that was where the murder weapon was confiscated from. It was the largest knife in the room, a long steak knife for when the victim allegedly hosted barbecues in his backyard many years ago. It was still missing, with fingerprints on various handles in the kitchen apparently from a short and calculated search for a weapon. The drawer that was left ajar had a multitude of other knives as well. Something about that steak knife, however, attracted the attention of the murderer.
The victim died after the 3rd impaling blow. But his killer saw fit to go through the motion another 34 times, turning the human being into a slaughterhouse carcass. He had no internal organs that weren't punctured. Blood had been flung onto the ceiling, splattered across the walls, and the floor would have to be completely replaced once the cleaning crew arrived.
It was a haunting scene for a truly despicable murder, and more clues would start to reveal themselves the further Gordon dug down.
Only time would tell if he was uncovering the truth or making his own grave.
@jack_porter@thisisgonnahurt@the_conundrum
"Neighbors believe something unnatural happened here. By all accounts, it did,"
Gordon couldn't argue the notion by Agent Barnes. He had seen it so many times that he had grown numb to it. Was it evidence that he had fallen so deep into the darkness that he didn't know the way back? His mind would picture the victim, a puddled husk within his own living room and wondered how sickness like this could exist in the world. It was unnatural. AN anathema to life itself.
Gordon would follow the voice of the dead, hearing the cries and screams that went silent before it lead him through the house. He would look around the kitchen the moment he stepped foot inside the room, His gloved hand would slowly follow the path which was set before him, envisioning himself as the killer as he followed the prints tell their tale.
Gordon would pretend to possess the knife in his hand, as the morgue guided him through the location and angle of each blow. He did not know where the strike was actually initiated, but he acted out in his mind the repeated stabbing motion by the killer. Gordon had been in the military, trained in many close quarter combat techniques - the knife being one he knew all to well. The moment he envisioned a blow to the victim's carotid artery as well as the one that pierced the heart, he knew everything after the fatal killing blow should have been just moot rage but it wasn’t.
The person suffered, but only because the killer wanted him to suffer. Once the flesh failed to support the slashing, the death morphed from a homicide to a ritual killing. There was a purpose to the killing. It meant something to them. The sicko may have even enjoyed what he was doing but the purpose was the most vital.
Gordon would walk slowly toward the window, grasping the blackened curtains which engulfed the house into darkness. It took but one pull from Gordon as he wondered many of times how could such people exist. There was a momentary blindness from the intense sun gleaming through the windows. If only it had washed away the evil which his eyes had just witnessed. There was definite concern on Gordon’s face as he looked at Agent Barnes. The cuts had a purpose. Of what we do not know yet. If we were lucky it would be a one-time thing. I don’t believe in luck so I expect it to get much worse. Much, much worse. Killing is like an art, when one gets good at it the signature pretty much speaks for itself.
Gordon would walk to the door to get some air, the phantasm of the dead peeling away like the memory they were, but before leaving he would warn everyone in attendance. There is going to be more like this. I don’t know when and where but it’s coming again. My team is going to check in at a hotel. I want those finger prints ran. Knowing who the killer is will be one thing. Knowing what the killer is thinking is what's important.
@thisisgonnahurt: @the_conundrum
Gordon would be hesitant at Agent Barnes’ suggestion, the sheer fact that an institutionalized murderer presented a rather healthy alibi that no judge worth a dann would allow to see the juvenile record. Gordon would slide his hand from the back of his head over his fraught lips, his thoughts screaming not to follow the suggestion, but the look in Agent Barnes’ face suggested an extreme belief that Roger North was the killer. Gordon would see the similarities regarding the peripheral aspects of the case, but anything substantial would be locked away with juvenile records. Evil had a unique way of selecting its followers though, young Roger North seemingly the perfect example of its corrupting power. It was enticing to some, its immense gravity able to swallow up the most unassuming person and thus making everyone a suspect.
Gordon would go to St. Annabelle’s, the thought of talking with a killer never an experience any would want. The likelihood would be that North would be sedated on Clozaril and Thorazine rather than Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs, though he would play the role of Jodie Foster if it meant breaking the case. He had informed his team of the far-fetched idea, suggesting that the killer could have been inspired by North himself. Even Detective Black considered the possibility intriguing. All were suspects, even the psychiatrist themselves would be under suspicion.
Agent Barnes description of St Annabelle's was as if he had written them in a novel with the words fresh in his head. Gordon had even wondered if he was even still in Los Angeles County by the total transformation of the terrain around him. The GPS would not even locate the road which he drove. Any form of cell service vanished once he turned onto the dirt covered road. Gordon thoughts would contemplate that all those factors made the perfect beginning to a horror movie. Once his eyes set focus onto facade which was St Annabelle's, he wished he was able to bring his firearm into the facility. If time had ever forgotten a place, St. Anabelle's would be it.
The interior of the building was no better than the outside, its structure looking as if it hadn't been touched in decades. The paint that was not peeling, would enforce the stigma of such an institution with its beige tones and low lighting. It was definitely not a place one would voluntarily visit. Gordon would be greeted by the Medical Director of facility, their eventual conversation about North an uneasy one to utter, as every locked door they crossed into would follow with a crash, showing their intent of keeping those in permanently with no hope of ever seeing the outside due to the frosted glass windows which adorned the facility.
Gordon would be escorted to a waiting room, waiting for the chance to see where Roger North would lead. The room presented the same challenges as did every room he set eyes upon. It gave the impression that the facility was more to house people with difficulties rather than true rehabilitation. His thoughts would continue to run rampant until time had elapsed as if he was forgotten. There would be a power surge, plunging the room and the entire hall into a darkness only for the lights to return with a sporadic flicker.
Gordon would arise from his room, trying to get an update on the situation. He would hear the faint sounds of chatter in the hall, but the exact source of its direction would elude him, hearing it briefly only for it to disappear and resume in another direction. Gordon would come across the last locked door to the corridor which he was led into for questioning with no answer when he pressed the buzzer. What the Hell! Gordon would press the buzzer once more, still no answer. He would begin to shake on the door, pounding on the thick glass hoping to get anyone's attention. There would be a moment where he saw someone walk pass the hallway on the other side of the door. His screams for attention would go unnoticed as they continued as if his voice was non-existent. There would be another power surge, plunging Gordon into darkness once more, with their sporadic return followed by the faint chatter once again.
Gordon would redirect his frustration toward finding someone, anyone that worked for the facility. The chatter would continue to disappear and reappear, not ever growing any stronger than a faint whisper in the distance. The lights would plunge into darkness a third time as Gordon was now numb to its fluctuations, unaware of which that had appeared behind him. Gordon would feel the sensation of something piercing his deltoid as the room seemed to instantaneously spin upon the needle striking him. His focus would wane as his assailant would appear nothing more than a blur until there was nothing but darkness.
Gordon would feel as if he was in a terrible nightmare, seeing blurry visions of indescribable events flash before him, not knowing who they where or even what he was seeing. He was even unable to determine if they had happened or if they were part of some hallucination. He would hear the chatter once more in his sleep state, finally in a louder tone as if it was directly over him though he was unable to determine the exact discussion of the voices. He wanted to scream, though he desperately wanted to with every fiber of his being. Gordon had lost track of time. He had lost track of reality. And then there was nothing but darkness.
Gordon would awake with a gasp, the effects of breathing something he had to relearn, as if life had found its way toward his body once more. His pulse would slow from its frenetic pace as he gathered his bearings of what was around him. He would look at his hands, allowing them to touch his face to see if he was awake. He would notice he was no longer in the clothes that he had worn in the facility, but now he was adorned as if he too was now a patient of St. Anabelle's. What the funk is happening! He uttered aloud, his bare feet feeling the cold tiles of the twisted place. Gordon would exit the room, not knowing what was happening, or what awaited him next, but Gordon would make damn sure he would not be a resident for long.
Gordon stared at the door to 1260 what seemed to be an eternity. There was something familiar to it, almost like he had seen it somewhere in the back recesses of his mind. Whether it was it a dream or nightmare, its existence seemed to mock him, calling Gordon to know the answer which he never asked. He would reach for the handle, but his arm would feel the weight of a hundred fold of what it should. His feet had already cemented themselves to the tile floor. What was this? Was it fear? His hand drew closer as he could feel his heart beating aloud like a drum, his spine feeling the cold chill which had appeared. Gordon wondered why he needed to see what was behind this specific door. Why was it so familiar? Why did it know his name?
His hand would draw closer as the call to come closer grew louder. The sensation of its cold touch was something few had ever been invited to experience. Many had hesitated, not able to move past their own fears, but not Gordon. The feeling would wash over him, the room itself not waiting any longer as the round knob of the door turning by itself before Gordon could ever touch its familiar texture. The doorway would welcome its haunting history to whomever searched for it, and now Gordon was one step closer to its mysterious meaning. Gordon had walked along life's burning flame for so long he had forgotten when he had started his journey. Would today be the day Gordon finally got burnt. The doorway was now open, welcoming Gordon to take on step more. It was a step Gordon would take, not knowing what it meant, but it was a step none the less. It was slow and calculated, his mind trying to understand what was happening.
The chill continued as he entered 1260, the eerie silence of its occupants holding many secrets to what it possessed. The stainless steel doors of the morgue led Gordon to where it wanted. Once he set foot into the clutches of its power there was no other choice but to follow its path. He had no memory of it, but the door which crossed reality was now shut as if he was meant to be in the room never to escape it. He would not question why or how, none of it mattered not as his eyes set its gaze upon one figure in the distance. It seemed like miles as his feet reacted slower than his mind was commanding. He would eventually get there as he stood at the foot of it’s motionless body covered by a white shroud upon a cold table. He would stand over the shrouded body, the temptation almost as intense as when he entered the room.
You already know who lies under the shroud, Detective. A familiar voice uttered, appearing out of nowhere from the shadows. Much like the door, or Gordon's purpose being in the room, Detective Gregory Black's presence belonged in that room just as his did, his mind never questioning the appearance of the Detective. The voice blended with a relative calm within the thrall of chaos. What Gordon would see as reality not to be questioned. The sound of familiarity and intellectual superiority a guiding light to what Gordon did not know. The moment you started your search for Roger North and set eyes upon this corpse you already knew that this was Thomas North, Roger's deceased brother who he took from this world with not even a second thought fifteen years ago.
The boy was six, Gordon would respond aloud as Detective Black teetered on the edges of the shadows which lined the room, not caring for the obvious quandary which rested before them. And here we are now fifteen years later.Obviously the boy had problems.
Did he, Detective? The question was posed as if the shadowy figure knew more about the situation then Gordon. If your profession has taught you anything it should be that people are fickle to their core. They are an emotional powder keg ready to explode and have been such ever since they have walked this planet. There is a divine sin that lingers in us all, Detective. Excuse the analogy if you do not follow. Its just that Roger North acted on his inner voice where many of us pretend it does not exist. Roger North is just a revelation to us all that all are afraid to see.
What are you saying, Gordon would reply with disgust in his voice. Are you saying that we are like Roger North? That something inside us makes us...makes me capable of doing something like this?
Detective Black's eyes would finally reveal themselves to Gordon from their shadowy clutches. Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer, Detective? You need to seek answers for question that have longed plagued mankind forever.
Gordon would grow furious, drawing closer to his colleague with eyes set a flame. Roger North killed this boy. There is evidence that he killed the man that brought us to Los Angeles. I do not know how he did it, but he did. Roger North is evil.
Roger North is Evil! There would be a thunderous clap as Detective Black slammed both his hands upon the metal table which Thomas North rested. Is your mind not capable of comprehending what is before you, Detective? Roger North is just a name. He is the tale which many do not speak of. He is the Boogeyman to those that cannot accept reality, Detective. You know what he did. You know how he did it. Yet, it still brings you no closer to the answer you desperately need. Bringing up how he savagely impaled his brother thrust after thrust with not even a second thought brings you no closer to what Roger North actually represents. It isn't who or what Roger North did, but why he did it that is the question. Take away the name and the fifteen years of isolation locked up here for what he did and there is only the why that needs to be answered.
Why did Roger North do what he did? It was a question many psychiatrist had asked over and over again the moment Roger North stepped foot onto St. Anabelle's. It was that same logic that proved a conundrum to Gordon as much as it did the psychiatrist. Yet, the voice of Detective Black would remain consistent, a conscious along the path of darkness which Gordon had now entered. The lights overhead would flicker until only the light which rained over them remained. Detective Black would rest his hand upon Gordon's face, his touch as cold as ice. With just a push from Detective Black, Gordon would fall into the depths of darkness which surrounded them and into the abyss.
You need to know why Roger North does what he does, Detective. Then and only then will you see what he truly is.
Honestly, if you asked me how it was, I found myself in Los Angeles of all place, I would not have an answer for you. To be fair, it is not because I have any ill will towards the city. Far from it. I rather enjoy the sights and sounds that such a metropolis has to offer, and it is one of the few places I can name where I have some of my better memories. I guess it just never occurred to me that I would find myself in the City of Angels anytime soon. Not with how much time has passed; not with how long I have been gone.
For over two years now, I have been in hiding. After acquiring the Toast Master from Thunderfist, I had decided that it was not my time yet. I needed to regroup, and search for allies to help me in what was to come next. The first place to start was with family. I figured if anyone could assist me, it would be them.
But instead all I found was their ruins.
The scorched rubble.
The charred bodies.
Remembering what I had seen, my hand tightened around the Toast Master in my pocket, the core of energy constantly thrumming. After visiting my old home, I had slunk back. My ambitions, my hopes; all of these I put on hold, and instead I had wandered the world. Dread had set within me, and any want I had of completing my mission was lost.
But maybe it is best not to dwell on the past. I should look towards the future and figure out why I was here. Why did I decide now to return?
Perhaps it was the pleasant memories, the "good times" that had brought me back? I suppose that would make the most sense. Maybe somewhere within the recesses of my subconscious, I knew that I could not delay the inevitable, and that now was the time to put plans into motion.
Whatever motivation it was, the fact that it had led me to a maid café was still surprising to say the least.
"Hearts of Diamond," I read, looking at the sign posted above the entrance. It was a neat little establishment, tucked deep within the city, not far away from the bustling downtown scene. I had heard of such restaurants before, an attraction commonly found in Japan. How one found itself in California I could not imagine. 'But,' I thought to myself, 'I hardly ever go out, much less to Japan. I could be a nice little detour.' With that, I stepped forward, letting myself into the building.
Right away there was a ringing bell, signaling my arrival. Almost as immediate was the man behind the front desks’ response. With a surprisingly good accent, he welcomed me to the [Hearts of Diamond] and handed me a pamphlet with details about the services offered. "Thank you," I said curtly, putting on an appropriate smile, "I believe I have a general idea."
He went on to explain that he was rather short on staff. Looking around I noticed for the first time just how busy the cafe was. My face betrayed my rather surprised reaction. 'I wouldn't have believed such a niche restaurant could be so popular,' I mused.
"That's quite alright," I assured him, "I'm sure your two will be more thanadequate." I looked around, wondering where the two he was referring to were, before I remembered I was meant to ask. May I see them?"
"Why of course" the manager replied courteously before lifting up a small bell that rested by the podium and shook it a few times, the repetitive rings would alert the two other waitresses who were in the employee room that it was time to come out. Two females would exit from the room in synchronicity and take a turn around a corner that led them to the main entrance where Lucia would be.
The first maid was Galatea she was a brunette that possessed; long black hair with bangs, milk white skin, Eurasian features and purple irises. Galatea stood at a height of five feet and eight inches, and had the oh so popular hour glass figure for body shape.
The other maid beside Galatea was Yuna a redhead that possessed; long braided red hair, tanned skin, Middle Eastern features and fake golden irises provide from contact lenses. She stood at an incredible six feet tall and had the pear shaped body figure.
As soon as Yuna saw Lucia the maid would wrap one of her arms around Galatea and pull the brunette close to her bosom in what was a gentle squeeze, Yuna followed this up by raising her hand and in a teasing manner pressed her finger against the dragon girl's cheek.
Yuna then spoke as she winked playfully to Lucia "Greetings new Master, you may pick the grumpy one" Galatea let out a silent sigh but did not interrupt the theatrics of the red head. "Or me Yuna!" Yuna said with a confident grin as she let go of Galatea and pointed to herself while standing on her tippy toes so as to appear more playful.
When Yuna finished her introduction Galatea would gaze at Lucia, her facial expression was indeed quite stoic but this very same unflinching gaze of a dragon also possessed a natural almost alluring enigma to those who stared right back into her eyes. Galatea's uniform too was different from Yuna's and in fact was the only maid uniform in the Cafe that had components of real armor to them, the official purpose was to make her stand out more with the extra shine but non officially it was to extend the life span of Galatea's uniforms due to her habit of accidentally tearing the fabric during physical movements.
"Please allow me to introduce myself" Galatea would reply back with a tone in her voice that could be easily mistaken for as cynical or perhaps cold, but a very precise observer could tell that Galatea's statement did not come out with the emotion of someone who disliked the patron before them but rather with the emotion of someone who was already on thin ice and doing their best to remain perfectly composed.
"I am Galatea" she introduced herself before giving a courteous or perhaps respectful head nod towards Lucia. "Ah well then" the posh manager would lean on the podium before gesturing with his hand the employees "Ma'am which one of these two lovely ladies would you enjoy to have in your presence for at least the next thirty minutes or so?"
As the manager asked this question Yuna would stand on her toes up and down multiple times while gesturing to herself but Galatea, she would merely cross her arms behind her back and stare blankly at Lucia.
Galatea was mentally preparing herself for the rejection, from her own experience it was rare that a female customer would pick her as many female customers usually preferred servants that were the outgoing playful type with the only exception Galatea could recall being business women but the costumer before her appeared far too youthful to be the corporate type or at-least that is what she assumed.
Guess Yuna wins this one, I just can't get out of my shell like she does. I mean it's not like I can't be happy, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need to warm myself up to people better. Oof what if the manager fires me, did I do anything wrong to warrant that? Why did I ever stick to this career?
Galatea's train of thought seemed to go down a path of negativity with no clear way out, that is until she found her eyes subconsciously trailing to meet the gaze of Lucia. When her eyes made contact with those light blue eyes it was as if her negative thoughts were just a haze that now vanished into thin air, the color of those eyes reminded Galatea of the sea. The sea even the coast were the only other places she ever felt true tranquility and comfort, for that moment Galatea closed her eyes and imagined herself soaring above the sea with the wind brushing gently against her face and wings.
Thank you
Galatea murmured in her mind to the guest, the stress seemed to have been some what alleviated from her body and in turn she felt her senses more refined to the new found clarity. It was due to this clarity that she managed to notice something particular about the guest that she hadn't noticed before, the electrical signal from the woman in-front of her was different from all the other normal humans yet Galatea could not deduce what this meant only that Lucia was special in some way perhaps.
Well doesn't matter anyway she's obviously going to pick Yuna. Might as well go back to my station and wait for the next customer or something.
Galatea's eyes opened and looked else as she was about to leave upon hearing the word 'Thanks' but she stopped herself after hearing the rest of Lucia's statement. Galatea shot a glance back to Lucia and saw the small smile on her lips, upon seeing this Galatea couldn't help but react with trembling eyes something about the smile felt so bizarre that it caused her eyes to tremble against her will. She placed her left hand by her temple in an attempt to shield her eyes from the others as if she was receiving a migraine, "I am honored to be chosen as your servant" she replied softly almost as if embarrassed to have been chosen.
After a few moments of stalling by faking a migraine Galatea's eyes would cease to tremble and return to normal. "Well then" the manager replied after giving Galatea a questionable yet stern gaze "Servant Galatea will lead you to your designated room and cover the rest of the details" the manager handed Galatea a clipboard with two papers attached to it then gestured for Lucia to follow the brunette.
Upon hearing the manager give her the go ahead Galatea would remove her left hand from her temple and accept the clipboard before offering her free hand to Lucia "Follow me please, I will take you to your room" if Lucia accepted her hand the dragon would give a gentle squeeze and walk by Lucia's side while leading, if she did not Galatea would calmly turn her back and lead the way across a series of halls that required a few turns. When Galatea finally stopped moving they would come across their destination, it was an authentic Shoji door "We're here, please make yourself comfortable while I ask a few essential questions on behalf of the business" Galatea stated as she slid the Japanese styled door open to reveal a surprisingly large and well decorated room.
There was a dining table for two in the center of the room; a plasma screen TV above a dresser in the West side of the room, a cotton couch on the East side of the room with two bedroom tables beside the cotton couch and one bedroom table had a laptop for guest usage while the other had a series of literary books from famous authors, finally at the North side of the room was a very comfortable looking twin bed.
"The Wi-Fi password for the internet is HeartsxDiamonds in case you want to use the internet, there's also over three hundred channels available to pick from on the TV or Netflix if you prefer the streaming services" Galatea took a step inside the room while her voice emanated with pride as she talked about the luxury services provided for the guests of the establishment "Very comfy cotton couch to watch TV from or optionally dine sitting there instead of at the table" as Galatea said this she gestured with an empty hand to the couch with enough seats for four people.
Galatea turned to face Lucia and gave a slight head tilt to the bed on the North side of the room "Sometimes guests get a little woozy from drinking so every room has a bed for a guest to recuperate in, if you end up drinking too much during closing time and don't have enough time to sleep it off the establishment pays a cab to drop you at your place of residence and will not tow your vehicle while you are away"
After giving her summary of Lucia's room, Galatea would let out a content sigh along with a hardly visible smile as she raised the clipboard in-front of her "Are you ready to begin with the questioning?"
After making my choice, I didn't quite expect the reaction that I got. Galatea's eyes shot open and met mine once more, but her gaze was wavering. In fact, I could swear I saw her eyes trembling. Was it something I said? Was she excited? Nervous? Whatever it was, her hand rose to her temples with a pained look on her face. If I didn't know any better, I would say she was having a migraine. And I was probably the cause of it. That thought soured my mood a bit, a frown quickly covering my previous smile.
Whether she saw my worried look or not though, I am unaware. Through what sounded like strained effort, my newfound servant managed to edge out a reply, practically whispering it. After a bit of an awkward pause, the manager spoke up once more, handed Galatea some supplies, and went back to work, Yuna in tow. Only now did the armored maid look up, now apparently composed. Raising her hand to me, she offered to take me to my room. I reached out with my left, grasping her and feeling a slight squeeze. My expression again softened as we began to head to what was to be my room.
But I was still wondering about her own health. "Hey," I spoke as we continued our walk, "Are you okay? You looked a bit," I struggled, thinking of a proper word to use without causing her to feel anymore strained, "stressed back there." Whatever her reply was, I squeezed her hand for reassurance, and offered another smile.
A few more turns and we arrived at our destination. Sliding the door open, I was met with a very comforting sight. I guess I did not know what to expect, but either way I was thoroughly surprised. The room was unexpectedly large, offering many amenities one would find in a typical living room, at least to my experience. 'They have a TV, a couch, a laptop.... holy ship is that a bed?!' I thought incredulously.
All the while I listened to Galatea's rundown of what this room had to offer. "I actually do prefer the streaming services," I grinned, glancing over at her, "You can't Netflix and chill with TV." I playfully moved my eyebrows up and down, trying to appear serious. I could not manage it though, and a chuckle let loose instead.
When she brought up the rules of drinking and the policy the cafe had for it, another chuckle came. "That should be fine. I mean I walked here, and I don't exactly live close by." I let that last part trail off as again my thoughts starting to turn towards home. Luckily though, when she wrapped up her rundown, she asked if I had questions. Ripping me from my stupor, I nodded and made my way over to the couch, wishing to test its comfort. 'Hmm, she was right,' I thought, bouncing to test the cushion, 'this is comfy.' Satisfied, I looked up to my new servant.
"Yes, of course. I do have some pressing questions." I looked to her, a gleam in my eye brightening as these thoughts came to mind. "So, exactly what are the extent of things you're allowed to do for me?"Like, say, are you allowed to dine with me? I would hate to have all this comfort just to myself."
When Lucia questioned the health of Galatea during their walk towards the room she would respond with just a gentle murmur, Galatea did not want the customer to be concerned or sow doubt to the customer that she was unfit to serve "It was nothing, I'm fine" and Galatea left it at that.
I'm having a hard time focusing again, why was I tranquil before but now I'm not anymore? At-least she's smiling now, I should keep it that way and maybe she'll give me a good review I need one now more than ever.
"You can't Netflix and chill with TV.
Galatea felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing that statement then looked at Lucia with an odd expression, Galatea's eyes were trembling once again but she did not fake having another migraine instead she curled a lock of her raven black hair behind one of her ears while giving a timid almost cautionary facial expression. Galatea was confused and uncertain about whether she was reading the situation before her correctly and while it seemed that Lucia was being friendly the dragon did not want to misinterpret what the customer was saying even though the chuckle and gestures were clear so Galatea chose her next words carefully.
"Yes that is true, Netflix has a way of...bringing people closer at-least better than regular TV" Galatea while not sexually active did have some albeit minor experience flirting with both sexes yet she never made a habit of doing it at the workplace like some other servants would do at the Heats of Diamond. Today she believed the reference given to her by Lucia was a disguised flirt but Galatea still erred on the side of caution with a follow up statement "but I've never actually watched Netflix in that way with anyone else, I'm timid" after making her some what veiled response she would sit by one of the chairs next to the dining table and face Lucia.
Galatea calmly made mental notes on every word Lucia said, she was calm that is until she saw the other woman test the comfort of the couch by giving it a gentle bounce. This caused the stoic dragon to finally crack with a pink blush that lasted on her cheek for a few seconds while she pretended to act like everything was fine.
So cute when she did that bounce and that face she makes when satisfied...
Galatea would let out an anxious cough as she tried to ignore the strange feelings she was sensing inside her body "Ah yes well to keep it short and sweet, I can do anything for you that's not illegal in the state of California and the only rule for you in this place of business is just to not damage the furniture or room itself" Galatea pulled a pen from the clipboard she held and twirled it between her fingers in an elegant display of dexterity "it's some what unusual for a single woman to come to this type of business as normally friends or family would accompany them but in this case an exception IS allowed for servants to dine with the customer IF they have no one else with them"
Galatea gave a short pause before adding an extra comment "here at the Hearts of Diamond we all want the guests to be as satisfied and as comfortable as possible, servants not only deliver the food but also provide entertainment whether it be through conversation or..." Galatea gestured with her pen to the dresser holding the plasma screen TV "the various board games present" looking back at Lucia she would ask her own questions.
"But before we could get started I need to ask some basic questions so you can have the best experience possible" after saying this Galatea would look at the clipboard and ready her pen as she gazed at some fill ins and check-marks.
"May I have your name please?", "Do you intend on drinking any alcohol during your stay?", "The fee is eighty five dollars per hour in the Hearts of Diamond, do you have any intentions on staying longer?", "Do you wish to have the role play experience, this meaning you gain the title of Master and I truly act to the best of my capabilities as a servant?", "and finally do you intend to pay through cash or card?"
'There it is,' I smiled to myself, watching Galatea's reaction to my, less than subtle, flirting. Her eyes were definitely trembling this time, though instead of hiding her face she just gave an awkward glance. To this point I had not quite pinned down this enigmatic woman; everything she did was so reserved and kept close. Even the way she moved seemed like she was constantly on edge. She may have been sick, or possibly uncomfortable. At least that is how I had labeled her up to this point. But now it was clear as day what this poor woman was suffering from.
'She's nervous.' My servant in shining armor hadn't had a migraine earlier, she was merely flustered by my forwardness. I didn’t chuckle this time, instead content on laughing inward. The thought of this was just too cute for me. Recognizing this also made things moving forward much easier. All I had to do was help in letting her guard down and open up a little.
Finding out she had never watched Netflix with another, I saw a change to do just that."Well, I guess we'll have to change that sometime." My earlier smile returned, and this time I would make sure it was here to stay. If I was to accomplish anything here, it would mean that I would need to keep up the pressure and drop any hint of subtly. Knowing her, she might second guess every word I said, and I couldn't afford to let anything get lost in translation.
She motioned to some board games, at which I shook my head. "I was never any good at board games. I was always more of a straight forward kind of girl. I doubt I'd waste my time with them anyway. Conversation with you should be enough, Galatea." Hoping to grab her attention and make eye contact, I drawled out that last word, savoring the first time I actually said her name. 'And what an unusual one too,' I thought skeptically. I'd need to press her on that later.
"May I have your name please?"
Now it was my turn to blush. It only now occurred to me that I had not given her my name yet. 'But then again,' I thought to myself, 'I cannot very well go on and give her my real name now can I?' I had not gone by my true name is so many years, constantly keeping my true identity a secret. Was now really a good time to drop that? Though to be fair, at this point I doubted that anyone would even care for my true name. Even if I did say it, I hardly anyone would recognize it. If they did, who's to say I wasn't a different Lucia Aurelius? I mean, in full honesty, I hardly looked the same then as I did now.
"Lucia," I forced out with exasperating effort, "Lucia Aurelius."Sighing, I absentmindedly ran a hand through my hair. Who would've thought simply saying one's name could be such a strenuous task. I cleared my throat, hoping to continue and look like I was still composed.
Galatea explained what she as a servant was and was not able to do, which surprisingly was anything short of being illegal. A slew of ideas raced through my mind, weighing each one for both risk factor and possible reward. 'Of course, only if she's comfortable with them,' I mused, 'I wouldn't want to push the poor woman too far from her comfort zone now would I?'
She asked more questions, these ones requiring far less mental effort to reply to.
"Do you intend on drinking any alcohol during your stay?"
"Only if you'll join me. To drink alone is a sad and lonely endeavor, and I most certainly did not come here to partake in either of those burdens. It is not warranted after such exceptional hospitality, nor in such a lovely location as this."
"The fee is eighty five dollars per hour in the Hearts of Diamond, do you have any intentions on staying longer? And do you wish to have the role play experience, this meaning you gain the title of Master and I truly act to the best of my capabilities as a servant?"
"Well, that depends where the night takes us," was my reply to the first half. The second however..."Wait, that's an option?"I blinked, genuinely surprised that such an option existed. Oh well, who was I to challenge the rules? "Absolutely. If anything it should enhance how the rest of our time plays out."
"and finally do you intend to pay through cash or card?"
This one piqued my attention, and my eyes widened. Money, how could I have forgotten something as simple as that?! Scrambling I reached into the handbag I had beside me, hoping beyond hope that I had the necessary funds to prolong this night. Shuffling through the bag, my hand grasped what I believed to be a wallet. Taking it out, I undid the flap that sealed it, and gazed inside to see what treasures it held. In the sleeve where one would find money, I counted $1,000 in cash. Whoever this bag had previously belonged to, they were clearly wealthy.
"Cash," I spoke, waving my newfound wealth before Galatea.
Well, I guess we'll have to change that sometime."
We'll as in together? Is this happening is she really flirting or am I just misinterpreting some sort of warm kindness?
Galatea would respond with a timid smile as she was still over thinking what was happening "That would be nice" she replied with an expression that appeared to be mildly flattered in response to the offer given. Then when Lucia made the reference about games it caused Galatea to give a visible pout that seemed slightly upset.
But I like board games, they're fun. Am I a waste of time or wasting the time of others for playing them?
But that facial expression would quickly shift to one of confusion upon hearing the words 'Straightforward Girl' then to one of embarrassment when Lucia drawled out pronunciation of her name, Galatea placed a palm on her face for a moment to shield her embarrassment as she laughed softly almost angelically at her earlier presumption and figured or at-least now assumed that what Lucia meant was that she was serious in a way.
She's really or rather seriously interested in me, is that it no games with me?
Galatea would remove the palm from her face and place it by her heart as she responded softly whilst locking her captivating eyes with those of Lucia's "I understand, I look forward to knowing more about you" when Lucia finally began to start answering her questions she would notice the distress the first question added. The difficulty in answering the question was clear and the distress even as mild as it appeared caused an impulsive reaction from Galatea, she didn't want Lucia to be uncomfortable but the reason behind this desire was not because of her doing her job but something deeper on the emotional spectrum she was not yet aware of.
Galatea had in the blink of an eye stood up from her chair with a concerned even worried face while reaching her hand out to Lucia before quickly stopping herself upon hearing the answer released from an exasperated mouth. There Galatea stood dumbfounded at the reason why she was now standing with an outstretched arm pointed at Lucia it was not as if the guest was in any actual danger, with no purpose in her action she felt and looked humiliated at what she perceived as a stupid and pointless gesture.
Her eyes in embarrassment gazed down towards the ground by her armored heel and upon seeing it she gently bit her lower lip in vexing frustration, the wooden floor had suffered a hairline crack too small to be perceived by the untrained eye yet an expensive mistake as a result of her applying too much pressure with the muscles on her leg. Remembering that she was in front of Lucia she would stop biting her lip and would force a smile as she took a step forward in an attempt to distract Lucia's vision from the barely visible damaged flooring.
"Cramp" Galatea lied pathetically as she gestured to her right leg then her arm "had to stretch heh, silly me" Galatea laughed with very obvious anxiety as her eyes drifted back to the clipboard.
Wait what was her name again..it waas...it was, oh that's right Lucia Aurelius. I wonder why she was so worried about that name? I'll have to check up on this at a later time
Galatea hastily scribbled the guests name and inaudibly mouthed the words to herself as if she was tasting the name by pronouncing it. Hoping for her little embarrassment to be a thing of the past Galatea was more eager to add comments to the follow up answers and hopefully divert attention away from what happened recently "Very well if you want to I will join you should you drink but please note I'm some what of a light weight. Don't expect much of a challenge from me if you challenge me in a drinking competition or something similar"
"Well, that depends where the night takes us"
Upon hearing that statement Galatea gulped, no witty comment and just gave a side ways glance as she moved to check the next box. "Ah of course, every servant gets special training for the role playing nature of this cafe so it's a wise choice indeed Miss Lucia" Galatea said with a reassuring smile before giving a thumbs up of approval.
There it is again!
Galatea noticed the eyes widening of Lucia and what she perceived as distress, Galatea felt her own impulsive nature try to override her better sense of mind but stopped it and although she took no action Galatea's body would still visibly shudder ever so slightly from seeing Lucia like this. Even Galatea's breath had been held in that is until Lucia found the money needed, when the money was displayed the purple eyed girl let out a relieved sigh.
"Very well, I have finished. Let us begin" Galatea would comment as she finished scribbling the last bits of information needed, after doing this she would close her eyes and start a count with her fingers which began at three before ending at one which signaled the start of the role play.
"Master.." Galatea's accent visibly changed to a romanticized Shakespearean accent, affection and love flowing from the pronunciation of each word so gentle and almost sensual in a way"Lucia my lady, what are thy desires for the evening. Would thee desire a succulent meal?" Galatea placed her clipboard on the table before approaching Lucia and dropping to one knee like a knight would before a princess "or perhaps a bev'rage of sweet nectar?" Galatea tilted her head down in humility as she played the part of the loyal servant.
"I await on hand and foot for thee"
Watching the woman’s reactions was starting to become its own form of entertainment. Her timidity was really something that was simply too adorable to rightfully exist. Every little half-smile, her little cough she let out when in an even slightly awkward situation; most of all, she literally hid her face out of embarrassment from me simply saying her name. Truly, she was too pure for this world. But, it seemed I was starting to make progress with Galatea. At least her response made it look as though she was beginning to understand. Hopefully, it would remain that way.
After I had spat out my name, with embarrassingly great difficulty, I was met with the sight of Galatea hovering over me, her hand stretched out. She was frozen in place, those purple irises looking at me with an expression other than the timid look I had become accustomed to. Her face wore a look of worry, and every other muscle was tensed, as if ready to retaliate against some unknown assailant.
A slight creak caught my attention, something that otherwise would have gone unnoticed by less trained ears. Glancing down to the source of the noise, I saw, right underneath Galatea’s foot, a fracture in the wood flooring. ‘Such strength,’ I thought, looking back to see her staring at the same spot, biting her lip. ‘Definitely not an ordinary maid.’ Her arm was still raised, and I couldn’t help but feel tempted to reach out and take it; I wanted nothing more than to accept the care that she offered in that moment, and share it with her.
But the moment was over as soon as it had begun. She moved closer, her gaze cast away and her hand racing to her side. Excusing herself, she continued as if nothing had happened. For once, I deemed it better to let the moment slide. It would not help to press her on this one.
The next part however-
“Oh? A lightweight? Don’t worry, I am not able to hold my liquor all that much either.” This was actually true. My family could have attested a great number of times at which I had managed to embarrass myself in their company, both from my usual demeanor, but also because of my secret love of booze. “You know, the thought of a drinking contest had not occurred to me, but now,” leaning forward, the old mischievous look returned, “that sounds like a great idea.Trust me Galatea, if it comes down to that, I have no doubt you’d be able to hold your own.”
Now, when the role-playing came, I expected a corny performance to further emphasize the maid motif. What I got instead an invigorating act that silenced any reservations I may have had towards Galatea. Her tone played the fine line between dignified and sultry, a duality which had me confused and above all else enamored. Wherever this night did take us, I knew I would have to see this woman again.
But I had to do my part as well.
‘Well,’ I thought, ‘best to get into character as well.’ I coughed, clearing my throat. My hands then went to my shirt, pulling at the rims to straighten out any wrinkles, and make myself to appear as proper as possible.
With as much exaggeration as my body permitted, my performance began. “Oh, my dearest Galatea,” I had shifted my voice to match that of a classic British accent, and my right hand rushed to my head, imitating a damsel-in-distress about to faint, “yes! I heaved myself onto the couch, fully committing to the swoon.
“I hast found myself famished and in want of drink. Humbly gather the finest food and wine for thy master. And should'st this please me,” I rose from the couch, and in a slow strut, walked closer to my armored servant. Standing before Galatea’s kneeling form, I leaned down to tilt her chin up. Then, in imitation of her prior tone, “I shall reward thee in a manner befitting such a fare maid as yourself.”
Galatea's eyebrows raised in slight surprise since usually from her experience most guests were content with being themselves instead of playing along with the role play, still Galatea couldn't deny the hidden excitement she felt from Lucia going along with it. While Galatea's face was as composed and as neutral as it could be her heart raced in reaction to Lucia strutting ever so close to her, now this close together it would have impossible for Lucia not to have detected the faint scent of lavender perfume that clung to Galatea's maid uniform.
"You are too kind my master" Galatea would reply in her ever so soft and sensual voice before attempting to reach with both her hands to gently grasp the hand Lucia was using to tilt her chin. For a moment Galatea contemplated about giving a soft kiss of affection to Lucia's hand but just as it appeared as if she was about to perform the act she stopped herself short from doing it "I will serve thee" she replied then stood up from her knelt position still holding on to Lucia's hand if her prior attempt earlier was successful.
Galatea's eyes gave away what the rest of her facial expression was attempting to hide it was a powerful gaze of desire Galatea had, but it was being restrained by a sense of professionalism and duty to her job. It was true that Galatea felt a spark of attraction to Lucia one more powerful than any other spark she had ever experienced, perhaps it was fate or just a combination of Lucia's overwhelming beauty and flattering interest to her that made the dragon feel an intense pressure around the other female. After what seemed to be almost an eternity of being caught in the moment, finally Galatea separated herself from Lucia.
Fraternization with the guests wasn't an uncommon event in the Hearts of Diamond, the act was kept a secret between the other maids as a sort of unofficial rule of agreement between each other to avoid the potential consequences of upper management finding out. Galatea had definitely seen her fair share of employees fraternizing scandalously for guests but none of them were performing legitimate actions of affection rather just sensual acts of greed while lusting for the wealth of the select clientele that ever so often visited the Cafe. Galatea didn't want to be like that, she considered that no different from being a one night stand skank or at the least a heartless gold digger, no she had standards. She swore to herself then and there as she left the room that she would not make any advances on Lucia, she would respect the guest and was determined to show a form of integrity.
This is hard, I don't want to be like the other Maids. Sleeping with others for money or a fat tip? But I'm positive I'm not attracted to her because of the money but how can I prove that?
Galatea contemplated as she reached a Buffet like area where other Servants were picking up plates of food made by the five star cooking crew of the Cafe, Galatea's purple eyes gazed around looking for a meal she thought worthy enough to the guest that patiently awaited her.
What if she just wants a one night stand? or what if she'll get upset I don't accept her advances even though I want to accept them. This is such a conundrum.
Finally Galatea's eyes came across a relatively simple dish, a Fettuccine Alfredo the smell was aromatic and it did not look to heavy for the stomach which meant more potential meals for the guest later, Galatea picked up a tray then placed a plate of the pasta on top of it before gazing at the selection of drinks at the opposite side.
I don't want her money, I want her affection her LONG term affection. How do I get this message across?
Galatea came across a bottle of white whine and placed it on the tray followed by two glasses and the necessary silver ware to dine for one person. "I hope this is to her liking" Galatea would murmur before returning to the room she last saw Lucia at."Master Lucia I have selected thy meal and drink, Naught too heavy for thy tummy in case Thou wanted to taste another variety of food or drink." After saying this with one hand she would carefully pass the single plate of Fettuccine Alfredo while describing the ingredients in said dish to Lucia as if Galatea herself made it. After describing the ingredients in the making of the dish she would wait to see where Lucia desired to dine before offering the silver ware and turning her focus to the white wine.
"it is peculiar how the longer a drink is preserved the better it tastes, it is almost like a relationship don't Thou think?"Galatea would comment as she tried to hint in her own way a veiled feeling to Lucia "to contrast drink that art consumed whole as soon as it is made pales in flavor" in a somewhat informal behavior Galatea would bring the cork of the bottle to her mouth and gently wrap her teeth around the cork in a manner very reminiscent to an apex predator clamping down its teeth on the neck of its prey.
blup!
With a casual flex upwards Galatea removed the cork of the wine bottle while shooting an intrigued look to Lucia, the cork still held in between the flawless teeth of the servant.
My ears pricked up, a new sound catching my attention. Or rather, a previous sound that quickened in pace. Galatea’s heartbeat had picked up. Hearing what I could only assume was her excitement in my role-playing nearly had me in another chuckle-fit, but I refused to break character. Inhaling her lavender fragrance, I let my servant grasp my hand, and watched with bated breath as it appeared as if she might kiss it. When she did not, a somberness took hold. Even still she acted so professionally. On any other given day, such qualities could be found admirable. But today, I was impatient.
And it certainly did not help when she looked at me that way. I may not have been able to read her face, but her eyes were an open book. There WAS a mutual attraction, I could feel it resonating from those violet orbs. I was almost certain she could see the same, the way her gaze burrowed into me. But there was something else. Something that was holding her back; a dam that refused to break and let loose the tides. Whatever this ‘thing’ was, I was determined to tear it down, and see just what lied behind.
Leaving the room, I now found myself left to my own thoughts and devices. “Why does she reject me?” I said aloud, rubbing my temples in frustration. My thin brow furrowed in thought, desperately trying to grasp a reason for this predicament; two in particular came to mind. “Is it as simple as her not wanting to appear unprofessional?” The way Galatea acted; it could easily be true. She was so reserved, bottled up. When she had reached for me earlier, it was probably out of impulse, and upon catching herself in the act she had froze up. Just now, the servant had looked as if she was going to kiss my hand, but again she had paused in indecisiveness. “Perhaps…she thinks I want this to just be a fling?”
This thought was much more troublesome. For the former, if need be, I had little doubt I could persuade her to be laxer with her occupation. This one, however, was a trickier beast to slay. If the metal maid had already concluded that I was only looking for a quick lay, then she had already deemed that I was not worth the time and attention.
But what if it was a combination of the two? “Ugh!” my hands flew to my hair, angrily combing it, almost tearing a clump off with frustration. “This ship should not be so complex! I need to think of something. A way to prove myself to the girl.”
And as luck would have it, that opportunity came. Galatea arrived, holding a splendid dish on a fanciful platter. Before I even saw it though, my nose signified what it was. Fettuccine Alfredo served with white wine. Somehow this woman had managed to gather a homemade favorite meal of mine. Back at the Eagle’s Nest, this platter was commonplace among the family. Its aroma brought thoughts of heartfelt times, and a smile to my face. “Yes, the meal is divine. Thank you, Galatea.”
My maid listed off the ingredients, and I nodded along, listening intently so that she knew she had my undivided attention. But that was not hard with her next act.
"it is peculiar how the longer a drink is preserved the better it tastes, it is almost like a relationship don't Thou think? To contrast drink that art consumed whole as soon as it is made pales in flavor."
This time I froze, the not-so-subtle wording of the statement not lost on me. My cheeks flushed, and my eyes remained locked on to Galatea's. My surprise was mostly with the fact that these words came from Galatea. This was the most blunt she had been this entire time, and it left no room for interpretation. She had understood my advances all right, and now she was fishing for her own answers. Clearing my throat, I "Indeed, drink is similar to romance. For when given time to grow and mature, there is depth and richness in its flavor. This is lost to those who find their satisfaction in cheap swill."
Her display with the cork had me gulp. Stepping forward, I would meet Galatea until our faces were only inches from one another. Ever fiber in my being wanted me to pluck the cork out with my own teeth, and set aside any more of the formalities. But it was not time for that. Not yet. Hands trembling with barely held restraint, I would pluck the cork from between her teeth, my eyes never leaving hers.
"I need you to get another set of utensils, my lovely servant. For I would dine with you, over this exquisite feast."
If she left once more, I would immediately begin preparations. Finding the remote and moving over to the TV, I began to surf through the streaming services, and trying desperately to find an appropriate movie or TV show to stream. In all honesty, I have absolutely no idea what people watch on Netflix, I was only trying to flirt earlier. But now the time had arrived, and I had to pick something, anything, that would even remotely serve the purpose of background noise.
“What about this, The Dragon Prince?” Anime, given the Japanese setting of this establishment, I was pretty sure was watched often here. While a pretty bold assumption on my part, I had nothing else to go off of. Queuing up the show, I set the fettuccine Alfredo on the table, and rushed over to the couch. I adjusted my positioning to present myself in an informal yet flattering way. Moving a few strands of hair and straightening my outfit, I waited for my servant’s arrival.
When Lucia reached to pluck the cork from her mouth Galatea would have added a little resistance to the grip of her teeth just so it wasn't too easy for the Master of the room to remove the cork, but Galatea did this action inadvertently as it was a bad habit of her dragon nature to be some what obsessive of what ever that was in her possession. Upon Lucia removing the cork Galatea would nod her head down with humility as if not having the extra utensils was to be considered an unacceptable failure on her part, with a some what sad tone she would reply back "Forgive me Lady Lucia, I had neglected to consider the possibility of us dining despite your prior mention of the topic. I will go retrieve additional utensils with haste"
This time retrieving the spar utensils was all that was on Galatea's mind, she put aside thoughts of swooning Lucia and put the ones of proving quality service first. Galatea would return much sooner than most would assume, mere seconds really to the point that when she stepped foot back in the room she saw the intro of the Dragon Prince flash by the TV, the words Dragon caused Galatea to give a rather serious yet unflinching gaze.
Wait, does she know?
Galatea's eyes had locked onto the screen for a few seconds as distrust and a trail of thoughts that bordered on paranoid skepticism flowed through her mind, Galatea's grip on her silverware tightened ever so slightly before she switched her gaze to Lucia whom she believed to be in a rather suggestive position. "Dragons is it my Lady?" Galatea asked her tone less affectionate as an element of skepticism was added into it.
Could she be...a Dragon Hunter? I've never met one but this could explain the strange feelings...maybe I misjudged her, what ever the case I can't go back to taking my work seriously until I know her true intentions.
Galatea paced into the room and noticed the plate on the table, Galatea cocked her head sideways wondering if something had been done to the food or if Lucia was being polite and waiting for the servant to return before eating. "I would assume you will be dining in your current position yes?" Galatea asked while lifting up a chair with one hand and placing it close to the couch where Lucia rested "if so, I would gladly feed you so that you may be in comfort" Galatea would say as her skeptic tone faded away and she went back to get the plate of food by the table before taking her seat on the chair.
Unraveling the silver ware in a napkin the violet eyes would dart to Lucia then back to plate, Galatea with grace gently stabbed the pasta with the fork and made certain that it would not fall off then gestured for Lucia to lean forward to take a bite from the fork "do you find this to be inappropriate Lady Lucia? I do not wish to patronize you, and certainly not upset" the inquiry given so as to figure if Lucia preferred to be fork fed or feed herself.
The Staples Center - Los Angeles, California
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Filled to capacity both in and around the arena, the Staples Center was about to explode with feverish enthusiasm as the 41st governor of California prepared to take the artificial stage. In an unbelievable display that left many in awe, Samson Starr had managed to bring together the two leading figure heads of the infamous Bloods, and the legendary Crips. A small sample of the powerful influence the Superman of Superheroes held throughout his home state.
A nationwide ceasefire between the two gangs had been negotiated. Temporary. Fragile. It was nevertheless a decent gesture to kick off Samson's reign.
The home of the Black Mamba had been aesthetically taken over, transformed into a Selebrity theme park dedicated to the unapologetic promotion of the unique superhero brand. Complete with small rides, concession stands, food kiosks, banners and symbols. Toys and merchandise as far as the eye could see.
Video monitors continually streaming the chopped up edited versions of Trinity's heroic 1v1 with never before seen angles and footage. Autographs from some of Selebrity's lesser known players in hopes of furthering their public profile and standing. It was a superhero carnival pretending to be a corniating acceptance speech.
Behind the scenes chaos and stress had begun to overwhelm the various handlers who had seemingly lost track of the newly appointed governor. Missing ever since having escorted the Sequel to rehab.
Suddenly headbanging bass erupted through the speakers sending the anxious crowd into a frenzy of cheers and whistles. S-themed signs were held high alongside posters of Samson's unreleased Cybersin Superman look. One of, if not thee, most anticipated look in Samson's extensive superhero catalog.
Naturally his detractors and haters had infiltrated the crowd with their own signs and chants. And though in the minority, a series of unexpected complications had taken some of the shine off from the Universal Patriot, giving his enemies enough ammunition to stay in the public discourse.
"Ladies and gentlemen please clear the designated area. We have incoming in 3, 2.....Aaaaaaand NOW! LIVE FROM THE STAPLES CENTER IN LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA, LADIES AND GENTS I GIVE YOU THE 41ST GOVERNOR OF OUR GREAT STATE......Gov. SAMSON STAAAAAAARR!"
From high above the National Anthem of Narcissism descended into the perfect superhero landing causing a metallic ring as his suit touched down, landing in front of a military entourage and saluting.
Instantly social media erupted with activity. Samson's new look was taking the nation by storm. Afrofuturism added to the clean crisp lines of the armors overriding patriotic aesthetics.
Sometime later Samson would take the stage laying out his vision for the state and the future of superhumans in general. Flanked on all sides by various Selebrity faces, mostly rookies and C-listers. Adding further speculation that a rift had grown within the rank and file of Selebrity's field team. None of which having been photographed together since their return from the NYC.
Samson brought his coronation to a roaring conclusion with his latest trademark phrase;
Catalina at home:
The Los Angeles Mutahuman Rehab & Wellness Center
Caitlin watches Samson's triumph as California's new Governor from her room inside the Rehabilitation Center. It's frustrating she cannot be there in person. She tried asking the staff here to let her go, at least temporarily, to be there for her favorite hero. But they said no. So now the redhead is forced to watch on the sidelines.
At least Caitlin gets to watch, though. It's something at least. But it still stings she can't be there by his side. But here is where she needs to be right now because her health comes first. She wipes the tear from her eye, smiling as Samson takes the stage. She's so very proud of him and knows he will do great things for California. The new look is met with approval and Caitlin loves it. Next time he visits, she'll tell him about that.
Stables Center - Los Angeles, California
Elite gets out of her car, taking off her black shades and steps out in all her green-skinned glory. She's glad her public approval rating sits at a solid 89% according to the latest polls. For some weird reason, Meta-Humans are more trusted than mutants. And while some people think the two species are the same, they are actually quite distinct from each other.
Nicole doesn't bother with the theme park since she's here on business and not pleasure. She's also not here with Selebrity since she hasn't joined it, but she will provided Samson wants her to.
Elite glances at the TV monitors that display various angles of Trinity's fight with Ziccarra on an endless loop but the green giantess quickly grows bored of it.
The extremely loud announcement of Samson's arrival elicits a cringe from Nicole's model-like face, covering her ears because it works havoc on her enhanced senses. Yeah, it's cool having such an advantage but it can also get really annoying in situations like this!
It's not every day a green skinned woman of 6'7" passes them by but the crowd of people make no hesitation to make a path for her as she makes her way to the front.
Upon seeing the introduction of his new look, Elite smiles and claps along with everyone else as she cheers with the crowd. I like it, I like it. She thinks. It's nice and shiny and she is already wondering how much it will take to put a dent in it. Not that she would, but Elite tends to think that way sometimes.
As the so-called coronation concludes, Elite makes her way over to the new Governor showing her ID to the security when she needs to and they immediately let her pass. Why? Because she's been hand-picked by Samson himself to be his Lieutenant Governor. When she received the news, it came as something of a surprise. Out of all the possibilities, why her specifically? Answers may or may not come, but either way, Nicole is here to meet him as well as lend her support.
Smiling, Elite walks over to Samson, her wipe hips swaying back and forth as she sticks out a hand to be shaken, "Great job seems so inadequate. You really know how to make a dramatic entrance. It's nice to meet, Mr. Starr. I look forward to working with you."
Most people would have employed a 'holy shit' double take having laid eyes on the towering kush colored titan before him. But the Cybersin Superman was anything but like most people.
Having been raised by supers, around supers since he was old enough to crawl, the unique and obscure never felt oddly out of place for him. On the contrary. The greater the deformity the greater the possibility of a life-long bond. Samson was all about the cultural promotion of his people, and now had the power to not only make good on the only promise he had ever made, he could - and damn sure would - chart an unprecedented course into the future. And he'd drag every last stagnated bigoted human into it with him by the neck if he had to.
As such his coronation was filled with rare oddities. Even among the mutated and enhanced, Samson's sub-cultural following bordered on the visual extreme. So even though his newest assistant stood taller than most, was greener than most, was built like a brick shithouse, her presence would be greeted with open and sincere acceptance.
"It's great to finally meet you. You come highly recommended. You and I are going to accomplish some great things. Might even enjoy some of it along the way."he passively joked.
Checking his watch, Samson's stoic demeanor transformed into a rushed hurricane of instant motivation. "You're gonna have to forgive me but I gotta be somewhere. We can either pick this back up on Monday in the office, or you could come with me but you'll have to wait outside?"
| Sometime Later; The Los Angeles Mutahuman Rehab & Wellness Center |
|---|
"What the &^%$ do you mean she cant have any visitors?" Unbeknownst to Samson the MRWC had been corrupted by the Sequel's nightmarish arch-enemy. And unlike the last time they had met, this time she had no intention of so easily letting her prize captore go.
"We understand you're upset Mr. Starr but out facility rules state tha"
"Give a &^%$ bout your rules you're gonna let me back there or I'mma let myself" his anger being pitched higher and higher. He could feel himself on the verge of losing control. Could feel the ruby hued heat of his laser vision begging to be unleashed just beneath the surface of his eyes. And it was at that exact moment that he felt a collection of cellphones aimed in his direction.
"This aint over."angrily pointing down any nurse, doctor or orderly forming the human shield before him with his massive brown-suger finger.
As he burst through the exit doors he barked, "As of now your job consists of finding out what the hell is going on in that place. Did you feel it? Something aint right bout this place. We gotta hurry. Dammit!" he suddenly roared. He hated himself for bringing the Sequel here. He abandoned her. Or so he felt.
It would take at least another 30 or more minutes before Samson would truly leave. Staring out the window at the facility the entire way out and down the long gravel drive before hitting the freeway.
He had just been elected to protect and serve his state. Truth was however, he couldnt even protect the people he cared most about.
'F'that. There's no time for pity and self-doubt. Now was the time for resolve. Now was the time for action.' he silently thought on the ride back to the HQ.
The phone would ring in the office like any other day for Andre Carter. He worked in radio speaking the voice of the people for those who could not speak. He worked hard for an ideal. He was looking for a change a man he could rally behind. A vision for a better tomorrow. He would say it often on his show that his vote was for Samson Star.
He had always considered himself a family man, even though his wife had died two years ago from cancer. He had to raise two kids by himself since that day, and he worked to provide for everything he knew they needed. He would see the joy in which they played and smile at their laughter. It was the call of tomorrow. The call of a better day he knew was on the horizon.
He received a phone call seven days ago that he had tested for cancer - level four. It just had been detected to late. He had no superpowers but his humanity was so evident when he heard the doctor say those words. What of his kids he wondered. Andre was an only child. His parents both passed. As did his dead wife. Who would watch for his kids? It was a dilemma he battled inside, not telling his kids hoping it was just go away. The dream of a better tomorrow was too much for his health to crush.
....ring....ring....
WFTN. This is Andre, he said on the phone. It was almost lunch and he planned to vote. Cast his ballot for Samson Star that maybe the day he brings, if he wins, will help his kids where he could not.
The voice on the other side of the call was a monotone voice, synthesized by grammar bursts from commercials and television shows. Andre Carter. You are dying of cancer. You have not told anyone, but the truth cannot be buried.
The call made Andre look around, thinking this was some bad joke. A spark of anger lit inside himself wanting him to slam the call in disgust, but the reporter in him wanted to know who this was on the call. What kind of sick game are you playing, buddy.
This is no game, Andre Carter. The Razcaz controlled voice replied coldly. This is a proposal to help kids. Check you bank account. Check your email and you will see you have a life policy that will support your kids after your demise. They will be together. Grow up together because you have provided for them. Check your email and know I am speaking the truth and I will call you back with the terms of our arrangement.
The call would end, his mind still raging with anger over the call. He would take a deep breathe, trying to calm himself from the rattling call and then -- then he would look at his cell phone. His hand slowly reached for the device, opening up his email to see a message from Life Mutual. Andre would open the message, stating his balance on the policy. His eyes would open wide seeing the seven digit policy which was back dated fifteen years ago. Another message popped up from stock broker, stating his stock in WARP industries as well as Hawke industries where in good return, forcing a sell off since they did so well last quarter. it was stock he knew he had never invested in. How was this being done, he asked himself quietly and then his phone rang again.
I see you have seen the messages, Andre Carter. Razcaz would say, knowing he had opened both messages.
What...what do you want? He asked as a broken man, knowing it was a number he could never provide his kids.
I want you to vote for Samson Star, the Razcaz replied. The intention was simple, he wanted Andre to do something he was already going to do.
What?
I want you to vote for Samson Star, Razcaz said once more. All your listeners know who you are voting for. Pushing a candidate without compensation.
You want me to vote? Andre curiously asked.
Yes? Razcaz said. There will be a package for you at your receptionist desk. It contains a small device. Place that device on you. Your pain will soon be over after that. You are terminal. Your doctor has told you that even though you have not informed anyone. You wont even have to do anything. Just vote for your candidate. Call your kids. Tell them you love them. And know your sacrifice will bring them a better tomorrow. The choice is yours Andre Carter. This is a one time offer. Do not take the package and your kids are left with nothing. The choice is yours.
The phone would go dead, the implied message very evident of what was needed for him. He would slouch back, ashamed that he would even consider such a proposal, but he was a man short on days. He looked at the picture of his kids, seeing their smile and breaking his heart in the process. Could he do such a thing?
One does not need telepathy to control the human mind. One just needs to know the precise buttons to push to control such a person. In Andre Carter's case it was his kids and his button to push was his dying health. His days were short, he knew that. He also knew that he did not want his his separated.
As he walked toward the polls, his mind still contemplated could he do such a thing. His feet walked up those steps, which seemed as if they were walking straight into heavens gate this time. He had walked those steps hundreds of times, this time though his feet just seemed heavier.
He entered the voting center, quiet like everyone else waiting to fulfill their civic duty. His brow began to sweat heavily as others would wave to the voice of the city, knowing they too would vote for Samson Star. For a better tomorrow. It was now his turn as he accepted his yellow voting card to go into the private booth, inserting it, closing his eyes as he remembered his kids one last time
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