United Heroes MUSH - User contributions [en]

2929/You See Nothing Special... Hopefully

2017-10-24T23:15:50Z

Counterpunch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/25 |Location=Metropolitan Museum of Art |Synopsis=Don't be so suspicious. Lots of people go to art galleries. Nothing to see here... |Cast..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/25
|Location=Metropolitan Museum of Art
|Synopsis=Don't be so suspicious. Lots of people go to art galleries. Nothing to see here...
|Cast of Characters=1240, 42
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Most operatives get used to making aproaches to people. Some hostile, others friendly and the rest anything in between. Usually though it's easier. Usually... both parties know something about the other. Known to tradecraft as a warm approach. The opposite, approaching cold, is a bad scenario. What makes it so is the agonising trade off of attention grabbing and misunderstanding. Call in a threat and start a ruckus in Times Square and lots of people'll show... but forget about talking or getting anywhere on anything. Send a polite request to make an appointment through official channels and the world'll have ended a thousand times over before an email's thrown in the cyber-trash. It helps to be creative. Like arranging LexCorp to have a surprise donation of pieces to the Metropolitan for an exhibition, a personal invite from one of LexCorp's Executives but mixing it up by sending it directly to the Embassy for Themyscira and not on any corporate branded material. Of course It was just a quick note from Carl Mach requesting, if at all possible, for Diana Prince to make an appearance at what is otherwise a uneventful place with a less than dazzling display of art works. Nothing else would have been left on the invitation. It's hardly subtle to write something like 'Please come to talk. Matter of utmost urgency.' As it'd leave a paper trail. Unless it was a bonded courier that made sure the letter was handed over and read within the hour before the writing faded away. ... at a guess. At any rate. Meanwhile Mach takes a huge interest in the same few exhibits by the front door. Definitely not looking through his yellow tinted glasses to zoom in and see if he can spot one arrival in particular out of all those comings and goings. Just a casual encounter. Nothing special to see here... 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana Prince would arrive as well, and she'd even arrive on-time because she was always punctual... or strived to be at the very least. Diana would be delivered to the Museum via her Embassy's town car, driven by one of her Amazonian sisters. Diana was dressed to fit into a social setting today, she was wearing a black leather jacket and a white top beneath it, she had her armored bracers on but they were hidden beneath the cuffs of her jacket that had little metal zippers unzipped, so the bracers could be seen by anyone with an attentive enough eye. Dark black slim jeans and some simple wedge heeled black leather shoes finished her attire, her black hair was tied back into a braid down past her shoulders. Diana stepped into the area, her hand removing a pair of dark sunglasses from her eyes, she was... instantly recognizeable by many, she was a hard woman to miss and was a well known public figure for all she did in the world and many other reasons. Diana would greet thsoe who greeted her, and she'd move toward wehre the invite had said to go. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Although it's an exquisitely tailored suit, likely costing the same as the defense budget for a few countries added together the black suit, matt shined shoes, shirt as black as pitch, all... should be an ensemble for any occasion. Except, on this occasion, where he rolls his shoulders a little, giving away that the conventional wardrobe that he used to be used to, even when reckless abandon is applied to his unconventional expenses, is just not the first choice for him anymore. In deference to his preferences though Mach's had to accept that after falling off of one building and other assorted mishaps that trusting there wouldn't be some intermittent failure to the very clothes he's wearing in a very public place might not be the best thing. Still. It's relief enough to compensate for his discomfort when Diana arrives. He moves as directly as he can, around the building crowd at first then, when it gets too thick, cutting a path through to her. "So very glad you could make it." Mach says to Diana, relying on his build and height from him being swept back and away, "Carl Mach. I hope you got my invite and I've not pushed through just to make a fool of myself." He, tries to indicate a direction but, on the first attempt a pang of pain is his only reward... Trying again with more success he adds, "I've arranged a private viewing of some pieces on the first floor. If I could steal you away, just a few precious moments of your time... it would be something I could not appreciate more." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana's blue eyes would go to the man in the nice suit when he approached her and greeted her. She'd offer him a faint and soft smile. "It is a pleasure to meet with you, Mister Mach." Diana would reply to him in her Greek accented voice. She'd give a glance in the direction that he indicated and she'd nod once again. "A private art viewing is a great honor, I am sure of that." She said in as diplomatic a way as Diana ever conducted buisness. Diana would offer another light smile to the man then and a little shake of her head right to left. "I am certain that you will not be making a fool of yourself. Or at least, I hope not." She smiled faintly again before turning to follow his lead. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' The time it takes to go from the main floor up to the private gallery is relative. It doesn't actually take long. To him though... every step is forcing the molten lead of his legs to move, having to actively swap for his right arm to push the button for the lift up... The cool of the upper gallery just enough to take the edge off his rising temperature so he doesn't sweat. Drawn towards a bench in amongst the paintings, sculptures and other piece he happily sits, taking some welcome weight off of his frame. He takes a labored breath or two and admits, "I'd say it was the art that took my breath away... but I'd find it hard to back a lie like that up." "Don't get me wrong..." he corrects, "Life hasn't been so hard on me I can't appreciate the expression or passion that goes into them... just events move fast and haven't left me the time." He takes off the glasses, drawing in air greatfully, before adding, "Like the events that have brought me to reach out to you." He places his hand, fingers spread on the bench, leaning on his good arm for extra support and draw cool from the bench's surface. 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would observe the man idly and casually as they ascended to the private gallery and she then watched him move to the bench and settle down to seat upon it. She'd listen to what he had to say while she stood there a few feet away and let her eyes roam over the room and her hands rest together in front of her lap. Diana would turn to look at one of the displays and she'd take a moment to study it, using her deep experience to instantly draw many opinions of the piece... all of which she'd keep to herself in this moment. "Quite a lovely collection." She would idly add though. Diana then turned to take a glance back at him and partially turned to face him. "And what events are those, Mister Mach?" She'd ask him, noting that he didn't seem well... but she didn't bring that up just yet. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "Now that... is a question and a half." Mach says, then blinks a few times. He stands and walks over to one of the paintings, "I'm not sure where to begin..." For a rare change he actually looks at one of the paintings and nods at it. "Yeah. That nails it really. Mr Gray. Made a deal with the devil himself to stay the same and everything changed, even him, deep down, only making it worse. I didn't make a deal, it wasn't with the devil, and a lot changed along the way." He turns and looks at Diana's blue eyes with his. Most simplify it to hazel but, really it's the scars of green, brown, other facets and flects depending on the angle too... if the proverb's true and they are the window to the soul... Mach's all fractured fragments reset in a frame, many things at many times, but, in the end, something that is ultimately broken. He sighs, "I made a choice and I've been doing everything I can to keep up with the consequences of that... but, now, I think I've seen too much. More than I could handle alone." He pauses before trying to be clearer, "I'm in deep... all to try and fix something. In doing so I've seen... a factory. Mass producing monsters in the making." He shrugs and winces, "Maybe it's too late to stop the production line. Maybe not. Which is why I'm calling for help. I'm on the inside with the man behind it. He still may be able to help me but... even if it means risking my own end... I can't unsee what I have. Can't unthink what'll happen if those things are let out in their hundreds... thousands... millions..." tailing off, somewhat pathetically, Mach falls silent all the same. 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would stare at the painting that Carl was speaking about and she'd just silently absorb what he was saying while then turning her eyes to look into his uniquely shaded own. When he started to spill the beans on what sounded like some kind of robot war machine facility, Diana would turn to face him fully now. "Mister Mach." She started. "If you have some inside information on what you believe is an... insideous plot to build an... army of mechanical soldiers... I would very much appreciate all the information you have on it, and no theatrics or misinformation." The Amazon Princess' eyes would narrow a little and her dark eyebrows would furrow downward across her brow. "What exactly is that you know, sir?" She'd inquire further of him. "What is it that you wish of me to do in regards to it?" 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "Diana." Mach starts softly, slightly quieter than he has been speaking before, "It's not mechanical. It's... organic. Like... I dunno... like this." Mach then closes his eyes and focusses. ...I know you're tired, hurting, and if there were any other way you know I'd do it partner... ,,,There is strength enough for this demonstration. Proceed,,, The fluid trickles up from the insides of his suit, slowly taking a new form. Stumps rather than blades, yellow scarring more present than usual, Phage's form flows into place and, now changed, he continues, "We assume you have seen the others. Like Venom. A sample of it was obtained and a crude attempt to grow it was made." The shift back is somewhat swifter, as Phage is too tired to keep it up for long, "However the same one who did that had made advances enough to, perhaps, fix a flaw in our own bonded partnership. Luthor may have damaged my symbiote, Phage, without realising and, the scientist I discovered may be effecting a way to repair the damage done." The spy in all but official classification looks to her. Trying to get a read, see if there's anything he's missed. While he does he continues, "What I exactly know is limited. I've been an operative for longer than most and he's good. Move at the wrong moment and those feral duplicates'll be hidden where no one could find 'em. I hoped, and still do, that I may be able to prevent them being loosed." He sighs. It's not doing right by Phage. That kills him. Wearily he continues on though, "However, should that fail, I need to have some people rush in, preferably those with fire, microwaves, sonics... stop these things so they can't get out and find people." Mach presses the point home. "My symbiote, Phage, is as the name implies. Symbiotic. It only can live by being bonded to me. I only benefit by being bonded to it. Those things are parasitic. They'll consume anyone they try to bond to entirely." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana's look while watching him shift forms was one of confusing and dismay, but she maintained her composure while listening intently on what he had to say about... all of this. "I see." She said softly when he stopped explaining. "Well then, that sounds like a potentially very hazardous situation... And you are afraid that my associates at the Justice League would be... too dangerous a risk to send after this... parasitic bonding factory? You are fearful that they would flee only to hide anew and come back another day?" Diana slowly would shake her head. "If that is the case, Mister Mach, you are going to have to suggest to me a way that we might intervene and disrupt this situation, before it gets any worse for others who have no interest in a symbiote, let alone what these things may wish to do once they are... bonded with one. How do we stop it then?" 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Carl waves his hands vaguely in that way people do when trying to explain something complicated, "It's on two fronts. First is those parasites are corrupted. Phage easily managed to assert itself against them. It may be able to stop them, control them... maybe destroy them before they can be turned loose but the treatments we've been going through have weakened it. My powers have been intermittent. I fell of a building as I suddenly couldn't stay stuck to the wall." His face then creases. How does anyone explain that one? "... the facility those things are in could be moved in a moment but there's no way to know if the place can even hold the ones in there." He then grins brightly. "Luckily... I had a career making facilities super-proof. So, I can do that." The grin grows brighter as he reaches into his pocket. "I might be sore, I might be blowing my only chance to help heal my partner... but I didn't forget my manners." He offers what, to be fair, looks like a phone. "Always bring a gift. Don't bring a problem without offering a solution. On that... there are design specs for a tracer chip. It'd take someone boosting the power on the city's cell towers but... that'd focus the microwaves on whoever was tagged with them." He takes out the yellow tinted glasses and puts them on. "All symbiotes and bonded pairs share similar vulnerabilities. Like I said, sonics, fire, microwaves... but... to initiate a bond... physical contact's required. As much as a cleaning crew's sealed suit'd be enough to stop even the most compatible pair from bonding. Parasitic, Symbiotic or otherwise. I assume the League have sealed suits?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would listen to what the man was explaining and she looked a bit unsure of all of it, but she seemed to believe him and was worried for his well being, which is what made her speak up next. "Mister Mach." Diana started without a thoughtful tone. "Since I have gotten here, I have observed that you appear to be... fairly distressed. I can only assume that this distress is related to the symbiote that you, are, bonded with." Diana would peer a bit more curious at him then. "Are you... in discomfort?" She'd ask. "Is there a way to separate you, from this symbiote that has bonded itself to you? Is that something you even desire?" 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Carl replays that in his head, just to be sure. The look of surprise is something he doesn't even try to hide. Then he chuckles softly. "... in all due deference to your preceding reputation... no. Very much no." Oh boy. Let's give explaining this a go. "Many people don't understand things. You, me, anyone. How they react to that is the important bit. Luthor didn't understand Phage is a living alien creature. Sentient and as alive as you or I. I was the one it chose to bond with. It's a symbiotic relationship though. I benefit it... it benefits me." Sometimes tactical considerations get in the way of what an operative wants to do. In this case... smoke. "Phage, I suspect, was hurt by Luthor, trying to force it to bond to him rather than me. He didn't understand it can't be done." He sighs, "I didn't understand how to fix Phage so, using the company's less than sterling reputation, I attended a little meeting that led me to a gifted scientist who's trying to undo the damage done. He doesn't understand that, so far, the treatments have left Phage exhausted and, I only found this out myself when, at the top of a building, I suddenly couldn't stick to the walls any more." There's a slight shrug, "About twenty storeys trying to slow my fall with brute force, damn nearly ripped my arm off, about ten more on my face... and a crash landing in a dumpster. Still. There's worse that coulda happened." He looks for that glimmer of understanding. Hopeful and quizzical mixed together replacing the surprise on his features, "I don't want you to misunderstand me Diana. I chose it like it chose me. I will go to any length to protect its life. Easily at the cost of mine. It got a rough deal, was messed with, tortured, before it had any say in anything. It's alive, sentient and that's not exclusive to humanity. Never thought so myself." Another soft chuckle follows, "I'm used to hurting. Beauty of the disposable and deniable. Nobody's problem except on my own. All I need is a little time to set things up so, when I call in the cavalry, it doesn't turn into a bloodbath. The same things that can stop those parasites... can stop Phage..." He adds, almost as an inconsequential afterthought, "... and me. I've went some set of lengths to find out what I have and try and save it. More to let you and your colleagues know but let's be clear." "I signed up for this life. To be a spook. Meaning nothing to noone and, if I'm lucky, dying when I get sloppy... Phage didn't. Push comes to shove I'm saving it's biomass at the cost of my own. To that end... where you can... don't put my name about too much. More information recieved rather than Carl told you. If something goes down I'm just another hostile. Best chance it's got." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would stand perfectly still with her hands at her sides, eventually moving them so that her fingertips are touching lightly against one another while shse listens to him. Eventually, Diana would simply nod her head two small times. "You have to understand... I had to ask." She told him. Though she wasn't convinced that this symbiote had attached itself to Carl wit Carl's permission. "I am... glad you did not suffer any real terrible damage in the fall." She'd show a light smile then and there before moving on. "With that said, I would like to know precisely what it is you feel I can do to help you with... all of this?" 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "It'll likely come as no surprise that LexCorp has extensive files on all the gods and supers around. Why I could sell specialised security systems." He waves the phone again, "Even if you don't have people available at the time who have sonic of fire based powers... the schematics on this give you, or anyone, little symbiote, or parasite killing tags. Just put one on, send a power surge through the cell towers, and it'll fry anything that the tags are stuck to. Likely leave unbonded people with nothing more than a tan." He smiles, he's out of his depth, Osborn's likely gonna kill him... not a metaphor... but it's one last time. Where the world makes sense. On an operation. That moment... where he's useful... still solid... if just for that fleeting moment. "So, take the science, make a good few of them... wait for my call and bring all the fire and noise to any parasites that are made, or half finished or whatever. Then... whatever you do... arrest the guy yourself, hand him over to the cops... I've worked too many small time compared to your team's ops to know how the real big leaguers do." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would reach her hand out for the phone, assume it had been offered to her, and she'd offer a soft smile to him. "Likely... to leave a nothing but a burn." She said to him then. "We shall have to make sure on that, because if it were to kill a large amount of people, well then... we would have to alter the plan." Diana would then nod lightly a single time to Carl. "Thank you, Mister Mach. For bringing all of this to me. Let me give you my personal number so that you can contact me via text or otherwise, I would rather you communicate directly with me than through messages sent between others." Diana's right hand dipped into her leather jacket pocket and she'd extend a business card to him a moment later, it was simplistic in design with her name and info written in dark gold text on a glossy white background. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Mach passes the phone and swaps it for the card, "Thank you. It's an older model phone. Real buttons. Old and obselete... like me. But, like me, still has a few tricks to it. Hardwired the unlock button to speedial the network I bounce my calls through. Best skip the details but, call that, anywhere in the world I might be... I'll answer." The fleeting smile fades a little and he adds, "Shame really about the circumstances but it has been a pleasure meeting you. Just wish I could have found something at short notice I could have expensed. It annoys Luthor when I expense things... so I try to do it whenever I can." He's gotta admit it. Especially now, since Phage is dormant and resting. i.e. it wont hear his thoughts and be able to gloat. Mach's thinking was flawed. There was, and is, more to life, more to him, than the next job or objective. Smart-alec alien-bonded partner... he couldn't have done better. It couldn't have done worse. Maybe it all balances itself out. "Then again... I might hear more soon enough to maybe arrange a better venue for an update. Stranger things have happened. Of course, the private gallery is for the day so, as best pleases you, feel free to enjoy the works here." Then his smile changes gears from faded to bright. He felt a small vengeful attempt at an internal jab. His partner's way of saying... it's down but not out. 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana would accept the phone and she'd offer a little smile before nodding at his words. When he spoke of enjoying the gallery she'd glance around again and comment idly. "It is quite lovely." She told him. "I am a big art enthusiast, so you could not have selected a better place to ask me to meet with you on all of this." Diana would hold the phone between both of her hands in front of her stomach, she'd glance down at it a moment before looking back up at him. "I best be on my way, I suggest you try not to peeve Mister Luthor, I hear he has quite a temper." She was just teasing though and the playful smile she expressed would help elaborate that. Diana would make to leave though, turning back the way that Carl had escorted her in. "We will be in touch." She'd say back to him then in her heavily accented English. 
}}

2880/Walkthrough

2017-10-17T21:06:15Z

Counterpunch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/17 |Location=The Green Gobbler, Greenwich |Synopsis=Part human conversation, Part alien conversation... all SCIENCE! |Cast of Characters=14..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/17
|Location=The Green Gobbler, Greenwich
|Synopsis=Part human conversation, Part alien conversation... all SCIENCE!
|Cast of Characters=1426, 1240
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Even before his life became the focal point of so many conspiracy theories and infamous events, Norman Osborn always kept a number of projects and laboratories off the books. With the Pentagon looking over OsCorp's shoulder back in it's weapon-development days, the man always found it valuable to keep certain employees and sites from being included in company reports - the land leased by an unrelated third party, the payroll all handled through shell companies (of which he had, and still utilizes, many). In one such laboratory in Brooklyn, Norman has one of his allies working around-the-clock on spreading his tendrils of control into the Municipal Government computer systems. In another such lab, various technologies - all kept compartmentalized from the other - to improve his various weaponry. And in one, far more SPECIALIZED laboratory, a creaturee from another planet is being studied in great secrecy and security. 'The Green Gobbler' is a well-known vegetarian restaurant in the upscale neighbourhood of Greenwich Village. It's well-reviewed, generally has a waiting list, and turns a tidy profit for it's owners - who have been set up in the location simply so Norman Osborn has some place nobody would EVER think of looking for a secret facility. The alleyway behind the restaurant is deserted minus some half-full dumpsters and assorted garbage stirring in the wind. A long alley, leading to the rear entrance (directly into the kitchen) - the door is propped open. In the shadows, a figure is leaned against the door frame, watching ahead for the approach he's expecting at present. Hopefully Carl is on-time, Norman is not one to stand around waiting for those he deems to be his 'lesser'. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' It isn't as hard as it looks. Since almost all of the time is surveillance, waiting around in a car with nothing to do but wait to see if there was a few fleeting moments to make it all worthwhile... any operative, even a rookie can push through it. Those used to the routine can even stay competantly alert long past the snacks are exhausted and when every weapon's been took apart, cleaned and reassembled, every battery checked and every bit of small or cabin fevered talk has been exhausted. If the operative's lucky enough to have a partner on the job that is. Still. Carl'd be lying if he wasn't eager to see what his second silent partner could do. Maybe there's nothing to do it's playing the past words equivalent of a hunch... but, when you've been him for as long as he has you exist on knowing people, places and situations all better than they know themselves. Fortunately his hunch is backed up by, objectively, alien or no, on paper or word or in person, the best natural talent he's came across in his entire career. It is time. Shapes swirl on the wall opposite, fluid fabric flows back and Carl Mach becomes visible to... what Carl'd desribe as 'one of the people the world turns for'. It's a trick. Spies play it all the time. Be early. Then be earlier. Just in case. The amount of op's botched 'cause some drunk driver crashed their car into the discreet meeting spot and the one shot of contact is lost is too painful to recount. Or so he's told. He would not let that happen. Especially now. He nods and says, simply, "Mr Osborn. Sir." 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Glancing quickly at his Hugo Boss watch (one can't beat the Germans for matters of precision - after all), Norman makes a mental note that the man is punctual, if nothing else. He doesn't utter a word in the open as Carl makes himself visible - Osborn is used to such tricks from symbiotes (particularly after his recent run-ins with Venom, who seems to LOVE a dramatic entrance - as well as Carl's extensive history as a security operative... a bit of pre-surviellance is to be expected). He greets the man with a wide grin; he always enjoys a pointless display of power - it's part of what drives his daily agenda, after all. Not uttering a word out in the open, he instead ushers Carl inside with a beckoning finger, shutting the door firmly behind them (there is a hydraulic *hiss*, almost as if the door were sealing itself shut behind them - another sign this is more than just the kitchen exit of an upscale Vegan restaurant. In fact, there ARE no cooks in the kitchen - instead, a series of automated robotic devices shred lettuce, skin carrots, peel potatoes, and assemble dishes that are shoved out to the 'pick-up area' between the kitchen and dining room, where it is taken by a human waiter and carried out to the patrons. There is no view from the back of the restaurant to the front, and it's clear it's all been organized in a way that allows no front-of-house staff to come back into the rear. The door between the two is heavily locked and chained from the kitchen side, and every so often a tray of half-eaten food is slid back through a small slot into the kitchen, where another automaton dumps the remaining food and begins to clean the plate and cutlery. Who the hell knows how much all of this cost? For Norman Osborn, the secrecy seems to be worth whatever start-up costs this entire, automated kitchen may have cost - hell, it's entirely possible he stole half this equipment from one of his competitors. "Mr. Mach, the man of the hour himself," says Osborn with a laugh - obvious that he only ever considers HIMSELF the 'man of the hour', the whole city (soon the whole world) set to revolve around HIS wants and HIS desires. He doesn't make any mention of the numerous robots in the kitchen area - instead calmly walking through a flurry of metal arms and chopping blades to a row of meat freezers against the far wall. Picking the second from the left, he reaches up his wrist and taps something on the side of his watch. The doors to the meat locker open, the back wall opening up in-synch and revealing a long, twisted stairway downwards. "I hope you don't mind a bit of a walk? It's a few floors down," he says, his green eyes shining with a certain manic energy to them. Jesus, Norm, take your pills. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "Very impressive. Even against most facilites I've never been to that don't exist... of course" Mach says. He took in the details of the kitchen but with different eyes to most. The yellow tinted lenses he looks through let him catch all the visual orchestral score of the machines in action, zooming in and out to take the most detail on the tight angle all so the single casual sweep he takes is anything but. He is too institutionalised to see it from any other perspective though. Concealed access, possible other dynamic entry points. Drones easily capable of offensive military units as well as functional food prep-ers. Redoubled perspective, he suspects, for the front, so people, without thinking, forget that the kitchen even really happens... For a man who made and converted facilities for a living, focussing on keeping supers out... it's a job he'd be proud of. The corridors that followed allow for the professional amount of small talk. "Far from minding, Sir." Again, experience makes the capital clear, "After the amount of time standing still I've been a walk's like finding out the enemy's bought a cheap generator and gave themselves a power cut." It happens. More than you'd think. Rounding down the second flight of stairs and into another corridor Mach doesn't muse on Osborn's more manic edge. For two main reasons. First is he's seen people pumped up as nature intended and very not and everywhere in between. It's kinda background now. Second is Mach isn't prone to emotional reasoning. He drops an ammo crate on his foot? He's gonna swear like only someone who's been as many places as he has can. He's not gonna kick the crate for something he did. One reason Phage chose him. The final flight and corridor makes it harder for him to keep the same steady pace. It's hard fighting the instinct to speed up so, to destract himself he says, "I seen the broacasts about your candidacy. You're polling well. I'll be sure to swing a block of votes your way." Then, letting the man of the hour take the lead, Mach follows on in past the final door to... 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' "Hah!" - corrupt businessman, mass murderer and greasy aspiring politician, Norman Osborn still enjoys a joke every now and again, responding to Carl's initial statement. But that's all he says as he silently follows his guest down the stairwell - perhaps a certain professional paranoia, wanting to keep the security expert in front of him as they descend the three floors into the laboratory. "I'm pleased to hear it," he responds to the promise of additional votes, "I have full faith the people will see the WISDOM of electing Norman Virgil Osborn..." he says, referring to himself in third person with a tone of odd confidence - almost as if he viewed the outcome as already decided in his favour; no doubt there are numerous schemes Carl isn't aware of to 'help' Osborn in the campaign, and certainly he can't expect the candidate to speak further. Pleasantries are all well and good, but Norman doesn't allow such talk to progress beyond idle chit-chat. They're both here on other business. Once they reach three stories down, there is an opening in the stairwell - and although the stairs down seem to continue for quite a ways, Norman ushers them through this exit - and into a low-ceilinged, almost claustrophobic laboratory. Just tall enough to fit some of the larger, 9 or 10-foot tinted glass boxes along each wall. The laboratory is little more than a single corridor, stainless-steel fixtures and the occasional table space for microscopes and various tool... but the majority of room is taken up with the tinted glass of the display cases... with no light presently illuminating from inside, it is impossible to see into.. but Carl's own symbiote enhanced senses are likely going all kinds of crazy at the moment. There's life in here... and it's not from this planet. "Nanomachines," Norm says suddenly, breaking his silence as he begins to laugh, calming himself suddenly as he straightens his tie. Staring Carl in the eye, he continues, "Lex Luthor, for all his successes, was always a very myopic individual. Very narrow-minded in spite of his genius. Oh, certainly, he could see into the future in many ways. His work in the fields of machinery, nanotech... groundbreaking, even -I- must admit. But, like the man himself, his work betrays a STUNNING lack of understanding for how LIFE ITSELF functions - how organic life is connected, how it functions in a given environment, the bonds that give life meaning. With an intimate understanding of another creature's physiology, you know how to harm it, how to heal it, using nothing but the organism's own natural processes itself, to make whatever changes one wishes, to destroy, or to improve, as necessary," he says, pausing as he rubs his chin thoughtfully, staring into the distance for a moment. He could just as easily have been talking about the OZ Serum, the super soldier project that turned him into the 'man' he is today. Indeed, Osborn has always had a certain flair for organic chemistry, whereas his business rival Lex Luthor far eclipsed him in futurist technology. In THIS situation, though, THIS application of knowledge.. Norm has the upper hand. And he's eager to enjoy the opportunity to show up Luthor, even if the man himself isn't here. "Now, if you're ready to see one of my more... long-term projects? I think the results may be of particular interest, especially relating to YOUR case..." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' It's a lot to take in. Phage isn't, like it describes it as, the progenitor, but it can sense energy, biomass, maybe constituent matter... it is uncertain. However it is reassured by Mach's earlier team talk with it. If needs be it can assume the lead role in the conversation and discuss science. Mach'd rather not as... well... unless Osborn's as passionate about all this as Phage is... boring a new powerful ally to sleep isn't a GREAT impression to leave. Phage, listening in, using Mach's senses is impressed. It, so far, likes this one. The theory is sound. Electromechanical entities are irrelevant to it. It'd be like a virus with an immunocompromised system... the mutations could phase quickly enough so the immune system, at it's stronger points, repairs some damage done and, when weaker, would allow the virus to run rampant whilst, at any point, too much dust would be kicked up by a battle to detect the real threat. Mach smiles a little, since Phage, for all the kidding on between them is the expert here. So, if it thinks the science is legit... can only be a good thing. Mach nods and says, "I would. Anything that furthers fixing this is top priority for me." The strain on using singulars was hard today. "Also, for the record, my other does tell me it agrees entirely with your hypothesis. I'll admit, you're both on a level in a field I'm not specialised in. I just have to sound competant at anything I need to and meet the objectives. But, Mr Biochemistry-Set wanted to pass on its compliments." He gestures to be lead on to the reveal. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' "I appreciate the compliment," Norman says smugly - he's always been something of a brilliant, unorthodox mind in the field or organic chemistry, and although his fortune mainly came from his weapons prototypes for the Pentagon - his TRUE passion was always exploring changes on a more genetic level... "1-amino-2-phenylethane. A monoaminergic neuromodulator, found in the Central Nervous System of human beings but ALSO present many other places in nature..." he says, almost as if to himself, as he leads Carl down a corridor of black-glassed display cases - the tint preventing either man from seeing inside without any lighting from inside the case. Carl can likely already feel it - several small, barely active samples... and one, older, healthier. "Venom disappeared from this city in 2022... Before he did, however, I managed to secure a... sample, shall we say. Something I could explore, in my years out of the public eye. I've LONG been fascinated with the original creature, from the moment I first saw it fight that blasted wall-crawling vigilante..." he says, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head to focus past the whispers of KILLPARKERKILLPARKERKILLPARKER that are always heard when discussing the Spider, "I've had some time with this, a sample of the ORIGINAL symbiote, and I've made some progress," he trails off, almost absent-mindedly pressing a button on the largest, tinted case in the lab. A light within it goes on, illuminating the inside - bare metal except for a large, slithering, spreading black mass. As soon as the light comes on inside the terrarium, the creature practically attacks the glass, attempting to latch onto Norm and the other individual. There's a screech, muted but heard even through the thick, shatter-proof tinted material of the case. "When I first... heh... 'received' this sample, it was little bigger than than a pencil's eraser. Now, as you can see..." he says, green eyes glinting as he shows his teeth in a foreboding grin, "big, healthy, and still GROWING. Keep in mind this is a sample from a first-generation symbiote.. I wanted to discuss some of the.. problems we've encountered, before we move on to YOUR sample," he says. But before he says more, he quiets himself, staring between Carl and the encased symbiote, still writing and slithering across the glass. It's almost pulsating with energy and a desire to feed - it seems... uncontrollable, in it's current form. But it's alive, healthy, and has obviously been growing. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Mach looks at the contents of the case, slightly impassive, more as Phage is throwing more information at him than he really can comprehend at this speed. After a while he turns to Mr Osborn and says, "This..." Then there's a response he didn't expect. Phage, reformats itself to a smoothened 'black suit' form of itself, covering the host's body and turning his head away from Norman and back to the case. the flickering flared eyes stare at the contents of the case, the jawed maw running from ear to ear, if it had any like this, opens and growls, rapidly raising to a screech. Forcing the semi-symbiote to recoil. If Phage had a nose to wrinkle in disgust it would. It turns back to the unbonded human and speaks. "We are the Phage symbiote. Bonded to Carl Mach. I... was told to apologise for the sudden reaction. However that..." Still smooth fingers point at the case, "... was in grave error. I... protect the host. Advances by another will not occur. I... have listened also. You have questions. If answers exist I... will provde them. Mach's impressed. It even took time to ask for the go before taking action. It worked out by itself to not do the full plates and whistles and blades for the sake of appearances. It's a fast study. Hopefully it'll find some charms to back up the answers it's gonna give to Mr Osborn. Still. Mach's sure, although new to many things, Phage has the natural talent to deal with this. Hold a conversation. Let's face it... only guy it seems to enjoy screwing with at any given time is him... 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman was watching for something like this - though he has had YEARS to research the Venom symbiote, viewed interactions between the original and the next-generation creatures has been rare indeed. He's been keeping this healthy symbiote and the other, damaged samples as seperate as possible - for fear of further harming the younger symbiotes in some unknown way. There's still SO much for Norman to learn about these creatures, he can't help but regard Phage with interest, eyes shining brighter as he watches every little shift in the symbiote suit. He seems to take the whole thing in stride, casually moving back into his smug scientific exposition, eager to share his results - perhaps MORE eager to share them with Phage than Carl himself. "You must know yourself, 'Phage'. Phenethylamine. Present in things like chocolate, human brains, high-protein plant foods, even eggs," Norman begins, placing his hands behind his back and grabbing one wrist - rocking almost imperceptably back and forth on the heels of his feet as he locks his shining green eyes onto Carl, keenly watching for a reaction, "I'm sure you know, also the primary source of nutrition for the symbiote. It helps it grow. It's abscence causes hunger in the creature. By itself, this knowledge does us little good." "We've known since Venom's first defeat that sonic waves have a strong effect, particularly on the first-generation symbiotes... what fewer know is, the application of these waves isn't JUST a way to harm the symbiote. No, it's SO much more..." he says, putting one hand against the glass, the black, oozing symbiote within immediately moving it's position to try and latch onto Norman's hand, through the thick material between them. "It's a way, in low doses over time, to stimulate the creature. To promote not just a reaction of pain, but one of GROWTH and RESISTANCE, as well. Again, this information by itself does nothing." Moving his hands from behind his back, Norman interlocks his fingers in front of his face, "TOGETHER, these two principles have allowed me to take what was a weakened, dying sample of the ORIGINAL symbiote... and turn it into THIS," he says, moving his hand off the glass and tapping on it twice, causing an angry response from the alien symbiote within. "Now, we've had something of a problem as well. Something that makes me slightly hesitant to begin work on YOU." His right hand wanders over to another button on the case - not pressing it quite yet, just hovering over the button, giving the symbiote a moment to take in this information - no doubt the creature knows it's own physiology, so he hardly expects as much surprise as Carl might show. Still, it's progress - even if there ARE apparent, unspoken problems... 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman quickly adds, "I was HOPING, in fact, you might shed some light on the exact... NATURE, of the host/symbiote relationship." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Phage, given free reign to take it from here, seamless and silent, listens but portrayys all the external charm, charisma, personality and expression of a brick wall. It is listening. The time to speak will come later. It also, despite all the 'jokes' and 'showing off' the host describes it to have, has no sense of tact. It points at the case. "That is not the progenitor." It states. Hold on... this may be a bumpy ride. "The structure of the cellular form is a mono-archetype. Each component of constituent matter can be reconfigured to the needs of the host. The energy... is what makes each alive. A complex submolecular waveform, a pattern formed from irregular phase in the structure of each essential building block of each tom of each cell... otherwise undetectable from one symbiote... to the other... so even if another searched every last cell of this constituent matter it could not be found..." Phage, with a little nudge from it's partner stops pointing. "If it was the progenitor it would not have recoiled with such pitiful weakness. You are correct, catalysation of the constant reformatting is achieved with such a compound. Differing energy waveforms can cause an effect on different symbiotes or, even, different pairings. This pairing could be entirely different to had I... bonded with another." Phage pauses. It learned this from the host. He pauses to verify understanding. It is a fast study. Satisfied understanding has been achieved so far... it continues. "Sonic waveforms likely disrupt the input and output carries between symbiote and host. The shock of being attacked in every component of existance is also transferred as it is experienced. Enough exposure could waste a viable host. Further again will break down the essential cohesion. I... would cease." It doesn't seem bothered by this. As it is irrelevant. "That is stimulated biomass and constituent matter. Stripped and lacking encoding from its behavior... alive but not sentient. Sufficient encoding to function but not live. Also it has not had symbiosis with another. For an extended period. The effect of that has been death or dormancy. I... suspect it is in a transient state between the two. A non-dead." Mach can sense it. Not only is Phage having fun... it just tried to improvise a joke. He swears to all that there is it didn't get a sense of humor from him. At least he hopes not. It flickers a look at the button then at Norman. "Demonstrate." It doesn't seem concerned with the other samples. Or what's been done with them. It doesn't care. The host and his development are all that is relevant. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman listens carefully to the symbiote's words - it's far more intellectual, more erudite than his experiences with the Venom symbiote, even the ones he's had most recently. Whether it has to do with the Phage symbiote being more advanced, or with the relative sly subtleness of Carl Mach vs. the brute strength and anger of Eddie Brock, who can say? It's part of why he's brought Carl here; he was hoping to provoke a reaction from Phage, give himself a chance to study the creature in close. It's a fair bet everything happening between the two is being recorded from numerous angles. Finally, as the symbiote finishes speaking, Norm nods. "You're right, it's grown, it's alive, but it remains unevolved. It's proven to be far more emotional, more feral and instinctual than any fully-grown symbiote SHOULD be," says Norman, responding to Phage's comments on the nature of the encased sample, "and what's more - it WON'T bond. It just FEEDS." "Watch closely," Norman says, pressing the button his finger has been hovering over. Suddenly, a back wall in the case opens up - revealing a man in a suit tied to a chair, in an adjoining cell. He's shouting, though the words aren't heard due to the distance and the thick glass between them. Almost immediately, the symbiote picks up on the sensations of fresh prey within it's new, expanded confines. Oozing across the floor with blinding speed, it launches itself into the air and attaches to the chest of the unfortunate individual - as to the man's identity, Norm gives no hint; whether a nosey journalist, troublesome employee, or just an unfortunate passerby... the idea of the man's life being at all valuable is obviously not one Norm entertains. Within a few minutes, the symbiote has fully engulfed the man - and rather than bonding with him, has begun to devour the hapless prisoner instead. Thrashing against his restraints, Norman quietly comments to Phage as he watches the symbiote continue to feed on the man, "I don't know if this is a result of the process we've undertaken, whether this splinter of the original symbiote still considers Venom's host to be it's own, or if all the human test subjects have simply been... unsuitable." By the time he's finished speaking, the black symbiote - slightly larger and noticeably more healthy, has re-attached itself to the glass between it and Norman/Carl. The back wall of the case has closed just as a number of incinerators visibly begin heating up - no doubt removing any DNA evidence of the gruesome murder that just took place, all to show the drawbacks of Norm's 'research' on the symbiote. "Hardly useable, in THIS state. This is why I was hoping you might help me understand what makes a symbiote CHOOSE it's host.." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Phage considers. It then consults the host. There is still some confusion. It speaks. "There are many answers. To begin with constants. The... stimulation has caused not just disruption but corruption to the symbiotic bond. A form of carcinogenesis, bonded yet not to itself. It is parasitic. Not symbiotic. The bond betweenthe host and I... is beneficial to both. I... passively and actively augment all that is the host. Particularly dominant traits." The host provides energy and procures biomass." It pauses then corrects. "I... have watched cooking shows. To provide metaphor. Biomass is the food as it is eaten. Consituent matter is it digested, stored within the body. It cannot do this. It can only consume and, with it bonded to itself, feeds off it's own electrochemical neural responses to remain in a state of half existance." "Further constants. I... am different to other symbiotes. What makes a compatible host is a differential to others. This host has an abundance of energy it does not... engage in to a degree exhibited by other potentials. As such it was optimum. We discussed matters before bonding and I... was persuaded it would be able to live with such an arrangement indefinitely. The host is a mental and physical optimum, prime, example of the species. I... gestated, was optimised for, this world and its hosts. So it will be a more successful bond with the same. The progenitor... although an alpha of the race we are told we came from was not. With a lack of viable hosts I... could bond with a largely incompatible host to achieve symbiosis, to live, and locate a better match." It pauses, the jawed maw moving, it choosing its words best for accuracy. "What makes a host viable or optimum is dependant upon the needs of each symbiote. Some details can be determined in advance... others can be speculated... others can only be discovered after the fact. This is the end of constants." Phage IS a fast study taking it's next line out of Mach's playbook. "Context is necessary. What is your objective? In addition why is it functional symbiosis is required? That is a tumor. A mass of cells that, in many respects, is akin to functional matter but... when examined deeper is a precursor to the waste of any viable host." "That consumption is a process I perform. Biomass to constituent matter. However I can also develop the same from the host overconsuming food in the standard process. It is slower but, I... have been told, is less complex in certain respects." It stares, the flickering periphery of its eyes gone. Two, now yellow, cut ovals, almost glowing, waiting, expecting, stare at Norman Osborn. It speaks once more. "The questions have been set. Context is required. Irrelevancy will be the only result otherwise." It's curious, still stating fact, but it won't lie or guess. As it doesn't care. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman Osborn is noting every word down in his rather impressive, though fractured and unhinged, mind - even though the entire exchange is being recorded. A conversation with a lucid, intelligent symbiote is a rare occurence indeed - and he intends to learn everything he can from replaying Phage's words, applying the logic to his current samples. He's attempted to hold discussions with the Venom symbiote in the past, but has always found that creature crude and almost thoughtless in it's actions. THIS one, however... could be very useful. Breaking out into a grin, Norman leans forward and blows a heavy breath on the glass of the display case - a white fog covering the material. He reaches out with his right hand and draws a circle, then two dots, and a smile - the prototypical 70s smiley-face written in the fog of his own breath. "Fascinating," he says - and for a moment, that's his only response, as he stares at the black, feral symbiote through the eyes his own little doodle. Finally, his eyes turn back to Phage and re-focus, as if seeing him for the very first time. Clearly, for a moment there, Norm was off in another world. "Tell me; second-generation symbiotes have, in the past, displayed a heightened resistance to usual weaknesses. Sonic waves and fire, particularly. Is this true in your case, as well?" With one hand, he reaches out and presses down on the same button that lit up the encased symbiote, returning it to complete darkness. "You're interested in repairing yourself. You seem to have a very common bond with Mr. Mach. I believe, if you're willing to undergo some testing, I may be able to make some progress... where the great Lex Luthor could not," he once again breaks out into a smug grin, wishing he were able to tell Luthor of his success in this matter. Ah well, when all his plans are completed, perhaps he'll pay the head of LexCorp a visit as well... 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Almost as an afterthought, Norman drags his palm across the now-darkened glass of the healthy symbiote's terrarium. "Night night..." he whispers, almost as if soothing a baby. 
}}

2817/The Race Is On

2017-10-12T21:52:23Z

Counterpunch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/12 |Location=Greenwich Village, NYC |Synopsis=People are running for the office of Mayor. Announcements are made. one expected... one not...."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/12
|Location=Greenwich Village, NYC
|Synopsis=People are running for the office of Mayor. Announcements are made. one expected... one not.
|Thanks=Norman Osborn
|Cast of Characters=1426, 1501
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' It's a cool autumn afternoon as Norman Osborn is in the middle of addressing a crowd of assembled media professionals - having been stood in front of a podium for the better part of 30 minutes by this point, laborously debating the slanderous questions of the media and stating his platform in campaign for Mayor of New York City: Lower taxes for all income brackets, increased taxes on certain buildings and superteams operating in and around New York City (including, predictably, the headquarters of his media opponents, several business rivals - even known mutant businesses and institutes in the city. It's a divisive issue, but it seems to be resonating among a portion of the population who long for days of relative peace, and can easily be duped into viewing these 'heroes' as the cause for much of the chaos in their daily lives. "Now, now, ladies and gentlemen - if you'll cease these defamatory statements about my past... all of which, I should note, have been refuted in a court of law... we can hopefully move on to some more IMPORTANT questions..." He scans the audience, looking for the man... who is barely recognizable, and Norman can't help but smirk, as he points out to a tall, lanky individual in the crowd, "Yes, this man here. What was your question, sir?" 

:'''{{#var:1501|Charlie Border (1501)}} has posed:''' He's looking good. The suits sharp his face and hair are made up to look as best they can, and the team you've done it worked miracles to that effect... so make-up is done. The stage is set. The warm up act is in full swing... nothing left to do but start the show. He waits for an opening... not his usual opening line but, different places, different faces... And there's the setup... here comes the pitch... "Yes. My question is this. For all the good people of this fair city who've taken the time to show up and listen to the barrage of of I'll do this, promise that, talk about the other in ambiguous terms so I can commit to both sides... don't you feel like it's all been said and done before?" He pauses, smiles, carefully, and gives a wave to the media until the attention focuses on him. "I do. That's why I, Charlie Border, will be beating you in the upcoming election." Another shorter pause, just enough to get the reaction started and cut it off before any focus on him is lost. "Voter turnout's dead, no one cares, the whole routine's done to death and why? Let me tell you. Public officials either feather their nests or are given the runabout so they can't do anything anymore. Everyone knows it and that patching the system is the same dead horse being flogged as the election itself. Once I'm in..." That grin grows, still contained, just, "I'll put the power back in the hands of the people!" He turns, vaguely addressing the crowd around him in that way it feels like he's talking to everyone one to one. "You know what you want! You don't need to tell me! The infrastructure's there to let you all vote on what should be done and when. When elected I'll put the call out on the issues, as they come up to votes on the net and in local government offices. So you get to choose whether your bins get taken out more often, what trips away I should have to pay for myself and what are in the city's interests!" "... everyone will get exactly what they wished for. I'll just be doing the Charlie horse work of getting those issues to you to decide on! Taking the politics out of politics and giving all you fine people exactly what you want! So a vote for me is a vote for you... and, let's face it, if I can run and do it..." He points to the other candidate... "and if they'll let him continue to do it in the same old... boring way... how hard can it be for you to do it? How hard could it be?! Vote... for me... and you'll find out." 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman puts on a vaguely shocked expression at the sudden outpouring from the man - obviously not a jouranlist and displaying no press credentials of any kind. Regardless, he doesn't prevent the man from saying his piece - instead calmly leaning forward with both hands on each side of the podium, cooly staring down from the stage at Charlie. When the man finally ceases his speech, and amid the flurry of press questions hurled at the apparent newcomer to the race, Norman casually adjusts his olive green tie and checks his watch - as if to show how unperturbed he is by this new opponent in the race. With a breath, he sweeps one hand out to gesture at Charlie in the middle of the crowd, his voice cutting through the din and quieting the press as they hold their microphones and cameras aloft, "People of New York City... you see, this is what we've been reduced to. Cheap theatrics. SOCIAL MEDIA DEMOCRACY. Meanwhile our city - nevermind the country at large - has to deal with constant wanton destructions - a devastating lack of law and order in our streets, despite millions spent in repairs from these so-called 'superheros' ruinous displays of power." He stands up straight again, his hand gestured at Charlie coming down on the podium with a *SLAM*, voice rising noticeably as he works off the other man's words without pause, "I CANNOT allow a city I grew up in, a city I LOVE, to fall into the hands of some dispassionate, insincere nobody like Mr. Border here! And neither can you, people of New York City. I have no doubt the lying media will throw their support behind this stuffed suit, perhaps he is even a strawman on their behalf?" He says this with a shrug, not wanting to state definitively for legal reasons. "All I know is, I am unconcerned. I will simply redouble my efforts - OUR efforts - to return this city to it's past glories. It's time for the people to say ENOUGH. We want REAL order in the streets. REAL justice in the courtroom. A REAL man in charge of this great city of ours!" 

:'''{{#var:1501|Charlie Border (1501)}} has posed:''' "Now, now..." Charlie... ? Yeah, that's it, speaks with honeyed tones, winking and smiling at the media, pointing to a badge with 'Vote for me' written on it in answer to any question, signing things, perhaps some things he wasn't being asked to, shaking babies and kissing hands... wait. Other way round. Maybe? It's been a while since people were happy to see him like this... He then continues "Norman. We both know the world moves too fast to really keep it all locked up behind closed doors... Open up the closets, throw all the dark dusty contents of closets, skeletons and all out into the streets! I'm not qualified at being a single parent working X jobs and still not getting by... so let them make the call on that which effects them. The mayor's a public official, right people?!" He raises a hand in the air, cueing a cheer of an approval... "My job is to be free to do as you tell me, Right!?!" A shorter pause, raising his voice, unplugged and un-mic'd to keep his reply going... "I'm free tho do what you say... RIGHT!" A statement, not missing a beat, he carries on... "Well... vote. For. ME! and you'll get... everything you ask for... I promise you that!" He waits, letting the circus play out. Then he says, "A man. Far greater than I once said... the masks we wear are far more telling than what lies beneath. Or something like it. I probably screwed the quote up. But... point is... we're so entrenched in hiding, consolidating, procrastinating... and why?! It'll tell ya why! We're afraid, crippled by fear, to say I don't know! I did done fail! I made an ass, both cheeks of this! I don't know what I'm doing!" He coughs and says, less animated more solemn and somber. "We put everything in to one person. Who hoared the power for themselves and whored themself out to get enough fleeting support when they needed it to keep that power. Alone... I can't do this. People on privliged perches WILL try to stop me flipping the whole system on it's head. Call me crazy. On truth, greater than I've ever been ever to tell up to now is this... I've only wanted to do that which makes you happy. I think this... is it." He stops and takes a deep breath then explodes into the finale... "So, let's give it a try! You can do this!! How hard can it be... VOTE FOR ME!" 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman's eyebrow visibly arches at the odd tangent of the new Mayoral Candidate, Mr. Border - as though he were in some way surprised by the bizarre outburst, as unorthodox as it is. Well, there's a certain charisma to the man's words, as the camera's turn to the newcomer and flashes start erupting in his direction. A few reporters nearby even begin to stick their microphones towards him and ask him questions - taking in by the openness of the man's performance. Norman clears his throat, looking around at the rapidly deteriorating press conference - eyes locking with his new political opponent for just a second - green meeting green. A faint glimmer of amusement cross Norman's eyes, and then he leans forward and speaks into the microphone with a commanding voice, "As always, I welcome new ideas - and new blood into this old, tired game of politics. If this man Mr. Border is GENUINE in his concerns for the city, I look forward to meeting him in the coming Mayoral Debate. You will be hearing from me in the meantime, but it's clear you folks have a new story at the moment..." he says, ceding the stage all too quickly as he's ushered away from the podium by his security team... but not before he flashes an almost manic-looking grin back at Charlie Border. <Not baaaad, not baaaaad at aaalllll, Normieeeee...> 

:'''{{#var:1501|Charlie Border (1501)}} has posed:''' No way no one could see it. They'd have to be looking for it. An edge to that grin, for the shadow of a fraction of a moment, one of many that fit between each ratchet of the works that make time tick by... Even a tiny imperceptible movement, maybe a jostle of one of the many manically trying to get a piece of Charlie... no, kids, not that one, the hair on his head is real, no syrup required... but, yes, that nod and raised grin'd be missed by all save those other grren eyes catching his. A mark of respect from one master of the craft to another. Knowingly or not Norman Osborne made him. Established, tradidtional, behind barriers to keep the people from him versus anothe joker in the crowd. Made one of the people by the people all right. Let loose and gaining traction. All thanks to his opponent. Other things, likely too... To the frenzying press he actually puts a friendly arm round two reporters and directs them to a third camera, "So? Since it's you all that are running what do you think your chances are? Am I going to this debate?" The unified cry of "YEAH!" from his new supporters is heard loud and clear, he cocks his head a little and cries out, as loud as he can, "There ya go Norm! The people have spoken! I'll be there! See you soon!" After working the crowd for a while longer he eventually leaves arm in arm with a lady journalist to get an exclusive and talk details... obviously. Trust him. He's a politician. Amongst other things... 
}}

2789/Bridges And Roundabouts

2017-10-10T21:59:50Z

Counterpunch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/10 |Location=oscCorp Building |Synopsis=Two people had a conversation, later, both of them'd deny having. |Thanks=Norman Osborn |Cast of Ch..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/10
|Location=oscCorp Building
|Synopsis=Two people had a conversation, later, both of them'd deny having.
|Thanks=Norman Osborn
|Cast of Characters=1426, 1240
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Having retired to his private office suite on the top floor of the oscCorp building - temporarily serving as the 'Osborn for Mayor' campaign office in the gigantic main lobby - Norman Osborn sits in his almost throne-like (and yet still uncomfortable looking, with sharp edges everywhere and an almost painfully straight back) and gazes into the corner of the dimly lit room. "It's going to be... fine..." he says quietly, to nobody in particular - after all, his large office is empty, and the only people working on this floor on a regular basis is his Personal Assistant, Victoria, seated in the connected waiting room. In fact, this thought reminds me of something, and he leans forward in the chair and presses a button on his office phone - dialing up Victoria and not even waiting for a response before stating, "My 11:15 appointment, is he ready?". Cutting Victoria off in mid-answer by clicking the line off, Norman straightens his back and takes a sip of the fizzy green liquid sitting in a glass on his desk. He taps a button under his desk, unlocking the office door (a new security measure put in place after this latest break-in) and shutting down the CPU in the room. The man he's expecting is known in the world of corporate security, and he wouldn't put it past Luthor to send him here trying to extract data in the guise of a simple appointment. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Having retired to his private office suite on the top floor of the oscCorp building - temporarily serving as the 'Osborn for Mayor' campaign office in the gigantic main lobby - Norman Osborn sits in his almost throne-like (and yet still uncomfortable looking, with sharp edges everywhere and an almost painfully straight back) and gazes into the corner of the dimly lit room. "It's going to be... fine..." he says quietly, to nobody in particular - after all, his large office is empty, and the only people working on this floor on a regular basis is his Personal Assistant, Victoria, seated in the connected waiting room. In fact, this thought reminds me of something, and he leans forward in the chair and presses a button on his office phone - dialing up Victoria and not even waiting for a response before stating, "My 11:15 appointment, is he ready?". Cutting Victoria off in mid-answer by clicking the line off, Norman straightens his back and takes a sip of the fizzy green liquid sitting in a glass on his desk. He taps a button under his desk, unlocking the office door (a new security measure put in place after this latest break-in) and shutting down the CPU in the room. The man he's expecting is known in the world of corporate security, and he wouldn't put it past Luthor to send him here trying to extract data in the guise of a simple appointment. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' The door opens and the man enters. Although recieving information is one of his talents he's made more money for his employer and achieved far more personal power by keeping others OUT of places, things and locations. Really information is a two way street. Sometimes you need to know something... far more often you need to let somebody else know something else far more important. "Mr Osborn, thank you for taking the time to see me." Mach starts, taking in the room. There's a read to be got from everything. The office, timing, stance and introductions, why, so often, precious time is wasted on the formalities. It's a complex process. Establishing protocols, seeing the best ways to clearly communicate, if indeed it's possible at all to have common ground to talk about. "The meet and greet was... interesting, wouldn't you say?" Again, common ground, they were both there, Mr Osborn didn't have to offer him a point of contact... "Thank you, again, for seeing to giving me an opportunity to call." ...since, right now, building connections, maybe bridges, of his own... is of the highest priority. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Standing up swiftly as Carl Mach is shown into the room by his personal assistant, Norman ignores his eyes at first and simply gives his employee a nod, "That will be all for now, Victoria. Be a dear, and call that man about that thing.." he says - the woman begins to open her mouth for a question and Osborn once again cuts her off, "No, not that thing. The OTHER thing. Now go. Do." Shooing her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, the oscCorp CEO and new Mayoral candidate steps forward and locks eyes with the man from LexCorp - flashing a fake smile, bright green eyes shining despite the dim light of the room. Perhaps Carl notices how.. sparse, how spartan it is. The chair, uncomfortable. The desk, massive but made of hard, unyielding wood. No couches or even a second chair for another person to sit in. This is clearly Norman's private sanctuary, and the chill from the air-conditioning (despite it turning into autumn outside) would likely be noticeable to any normal individual; but then, Osborn's eccentricities (the public ones, at least) are fairly well known. Offering his hand to Carl for an introductory shake, Norman quickly turns to walk back to his desk - picking up a manilla folder. A personnel file. A LEXCORP personnel file, to be specific, which he picks up - showing the cover to Carl for a moment before placing it back on the table. "You probably don't know this, Mr. Mach, but prior to my... departure from OsCorp, I had been making offers to your employer for quite some time. Generous offers. Ones he foolishly," he says, scoffing at Luthor's professional arrogance - obviously some business rivalry in the man's past carrying into the present (at least on Norman's part), "turned down. A pity, we both stood much to gain." Clapping his hands suddenly and loudly, his grin widening even more as he regards Carl calmly, watching for a reaction, "But look, here you are in my office, anyway. Years later, to be sure, but I'd say it's a pleasant sign of changes to come. But yes, I was rather surprised to see YOU in such... high company." A slight insult, maybe, but more likely Carl knows how outclasses he was in such a room - a simple.. observation, perhaps. "And yet, one may call it providence. A fortunate coincidence." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Taking the hand and shaking it Mach says, "A real pleasure." He notes the room and what it says. Substance over stance. Function over form. A tactical nightmare of an opponent. The kind that engagements end before they start with. He, frankly, couldn't approve more. Then there's the folder which illicits a happy grin. "That's something I didn't know." he admits, "Up 'til recently the details of the highest levels of the company could be... made more difficult to access. With Lex being somewhat dark... I've found a unique opportunity and advantage. One I hope to make best use of. So I'm certainly far more amenable to an offer." He takes a cigarette and lighter out of his coat and gives a nod, asking for permission, before he starts smoking. "Recent events have been fortunate to me." He nods at the file, "If that's mine it's only one part of the story. In fact the other two were why I'd rather hoped we could find a beneficial arrangement of our own." 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Laughing at the comment regarding Lex's recent retreat from the public light, Norman can't help but crack a genuine smile - not the usual fake, political one he generally sports in such instances. It's obvious there's some bad blood there in Norman's screwed-up head, perhaps envious of LexCorp's continued success, while the company he founded and nurtured himself - OsCorp - has been run into the ground by the new CEO placed into position after his dismissal. Lex Luthor still has his legacy. Norman Osborn has to work, simply, with money and connections. It... irritates him, to see a business rival elevated higher than him. He quickly nods his consent at Carl's request to begin smoking - he certainly doesn't make a habit of it himself, but one would hardly get far in the worlds of business OR politics if they extended their own moderation towards such things to potential allies. Half of the senators on his payroll are heavy smokers and drinkers, though he himself consumes neither. The smoke doesn't seem to bother him whatsoever."Oh, I'd almost be surprised if you'd heard, Mr. Mach," says Norman in clipped tones, remaining formal and business-like despite the bags of sleep under his eyes - the cool, dry office seems to... calm him somewhat. Maybe the prescription bottle in the desk drawer helps a bit, also. "After all, Luthor is not known for respecting his employees and their right to information. Just as he has stubbornly refused partnership for so many years." "I'd offer you a drink, but I'm not used to entertaining company," he says, gesturing at the lack of bar or even a small refrigerator. Leaving it a mystery exactly where he got that still-fizzing glass of lime & tonic water sitting back on his desk. "And anyway, I'm a busy man. I'm sure you follow the news." Folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against his massive oak desk, Norman regards Carl with a cool glare, green eyes narrowing in on the man, "Your file, indeed. My people have been keeping an eye on your career path for some time - you do show some promise, or you wouldn't be HERE, speaking to ME. Now, I've wanted to speak to you for some time, but as I understand it your position in LexCorp still affords you certain... luxuries. I wonder, why risk the ire of your employer - even if he's hiding from that idiotic boyscout Superman - just to get in touch with a man such as myself? Are you confident he's not watching you? You do have much, much more to lose here than I do, Mr. Mach." There's no hint of menace in HIS voice, he's just used to dealing with Luthor and his ruthless, secretive methods - which, in many way, mirror his own. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "I have a lot to lose but I've more to gain. Even more than I gained already. You know how it is. There's learning, training, application, instinct, natural talent, luck then something beyond words. Then something further again in that order. It only takes you or me so far though... In my case while Lex takes a mental and physical vacation it leaves me with a brief opening." He takes a draw from his cigarette and says, almost sing song, "Poor Venom. I'm told it's a shattered fragment of what it once was. Never quite acclimatised to Earth and, sometimes a host can bring down the bellcurve. It's not the only symbiote out there. I should know." He forgoes a childish display in lieu of trusting Mr Osborn can fill in the blanks of who else has a symbiotic partner these days... "To keep up with the supers. So I could stay operationally effective. After the punishment I'd taken... years be damned... I was an old man. I learned a lot after bonding. Also I can't be tracked by Lex, at any rate. But... I've a theory. Newly formed. Let's pretend I'm Lex, save insulting anyone else present. I've found this biological armor, or so it seems, could amplify someone to superhuman levels... but it won't activate for just anyone. Won't activate for me. First thing I try to do is use my clumsy pawings at science to make it work for just me... but it won't. I rationalise to soothe my ego. I find some potentials, trusted employees in the company, to try and activate it. One does, for now, a success." He takes another draw, almost spitting the smoke out, "My best guess. Lex tried to make it bond with him. Maybe he did something to it by accident, damaged it, I need to know if that's the case. If so how to fix it. You do that and it's all the carrot I need. I'll give you enough to raise the company to the ground or absorb enough of its assets so it wouldn't really matter or anything else." He gives a casual shrug, "Think about it. Symbiotes are ALIEN lifeforms, never mind the reproductions here on earth have more power than that which spawned them... who do you know who HATES aliens. Especially blue spandex wearing, cape toting ones? How many opportunities will I get while Lex is bored or otherwise not there to trade on this and, once I'm done with there, as suits certain parties best... I'll cut ties." It's not a full tabled offer. Everyone in the room knows that. More a statement of intent. Luckily Mach's way of thinking marries up to Mr Osborn's in many ways. No need to be anything other than direct when it's most effective most of the time. 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Norman keeps his arms folded as he listens intently to Carl's pitch; he keeps his professional poker-face on - a sense of physical exhaustion from recent events combined with a dose of medication just an hour ago keeping him about as level as the man ever gets. Though Carl has no doubt heard some of the rumours surrounding Norman Osborn's own personal exploits, as well - such news travels quickly in the world of business. And indeed, Norman has heard something of Carl's own particular... abilities, a knowing smirk his only brief acknowledgement that the man isn't JUST speaking about Venom when he brings up the topic. Still, he does not interrupt the man - he raises several interesting points, and the man's right eyebrow arches as he considers all this information, no doubt mulling it over in his head. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh and inexplicably turns his back to Carl, gazing distantly out the massive, one-way glass window that serves to provide a floor-to-ceiling, heavily tinted view of the NYC skyline from inside his penthouse office. "We've just met, Mr. Mach, though I've known of you for some time. I know, you are a professional. I know, you are loyal... particularly for a price. MY kind of loyalty," he says with a grin, most likely unseen to the man who might still be behind him as he gazes out the window, "New York City... the greatest city on Earth..." a slight jab at Metropolis, no doubt, "Within MY grasp, Mr. Mach." He turns again, coming back around to face the LexCorp employee, "You are fortunate, however. The re-appearance of this... unknown element, Venom and... other troubles, they pose a serious threat to my plans." His tone noticeably darkens, a vague undertone of anger dripping into his next words, "I do NOT allow obstacles to keep me from what is rightfully MINE. So, say I help you. Realize I wouldn't do it because of the business opportunity you present. I would have PLANS for the symbiote, Mr. Mach. And you may be able to guess what they are, given your attendance at that little meeting... I CANNOT allow that... thing, to risk all I've worked to build. I know NO better defense, than to fight fire with fire, if you catch my MEANING." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Mach grins. "I see." He does. It was a long time. A very long time... since he last seen his world. Where things made sense... "Well. In THAT regard we can be particularly useful..." He pauses and leaves the demonstration for a moment longer, "For example, you've read up on everyone. You know them... likely better than they know themselves." "So, likely, you've heard of Carnage in its host? That's a fully healthy second generation symbiote... same generation as Phage. Acclimatised to Earth and, from limited information based on a few incursions... stronger than Venom. But neither have a particularly suitable host. Hence why they tailed off and faded out for the most part." His grin grows to the point that it rivals his others form... "However Phage is the chatty kind. I understand a lot more about the nature of the symbiotic bond than almost anyone alive. Their vulnerabilites. I won't give you just a single unit to put into the field capable of going toe to clawed toe with them... I can give you loadouts for every single minimum wage security drone you've got. Every bit of cannon fodder you've got deployed'll be a symbiote's worst nightmare. Any of them." "I chose this. As being just a man in a world of gods and superhumans meant the only world I knew was being taken from me. Lex's poor call nearly ruined my chance. However I can't let him spoil this for me. Find out where he's fucked up, fix it and YOUR city will be the safest of them all." He moves slowly towards the table, making his presence known, not any change in stance, just in precise location and taps his finger against the desk. "Each symbiote is capable of certain traits unique to itself. Table's solid. No surprise there..." then Mach, with a grunt of efort rips the sleeve off his jacket and wraps it over the area he just tapped. "... Phage, when parts of it are detached from the main biomass, form a mutagenic acid that reconfigures itself to make a psuedo-bond with the matter it seeps into. Temporarily alters it so it's as manipulable as the other constiuent matter as the Phage symbiote itself." He then pushes his finger through the table as if it were smoke. The section moves, curls and changes into geometric shapes. Then he withdraws his finger and the table's matter is as it once was. Like nothing had happened. "That's my party trick." He explains as a new sleeve forms from the fluid flowing symbiotic matter over his arm. "So, say the word, say we've got a deal and the mission objectives are set." 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Candidate Osborn considers this all thoughtfully, his eyes moving down to the carpet as he taps his own chin in an odd rhythym, seemingly lost in the distance for several long, drawn-out moments. He barely even seems to be breathing, except for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders. It is, to be sure, a lot of information - potential possibilities, applications of this alien lifeform to bring law and order back to New York City. And to bring certain... troublesome individuals to heel, should they continue to pose a problem to his plans. It was, after all, only a few short nights ago when this very office was broken into by an unknown, shadowy individual - one that reminded him, almost, of Harry... "You make an interesting case, Mr. Mach, and you've given me much to think about. The applications of such a creature, such a WEAPON - if properly understood and utilized - are endless..." - he would never let a new associate know, but he's studied Venom in-action for years, doing his best to gather as much information on the symbiote as possible. After all, the threat it poses to Spider-Man while it ran rampant in the city was one only equalled by that of his own alter-ego, The Green Goblin - such a creature, a force of them, could clean up the streets and force order on New York to secure his reign. At the very least, it should be fun to get one over on Lex. "You want my opinion, Mr. Mach, I would keep showing up at LexCorp. I might even gather whatever information your security clearance still gives you access to - about the symbiote, maybe something about Lex's business dealings as well, I might ensure as much of this data as possible finds it's way into my hands... and then I'd ensure I made it out, alive, to get the reward you seek," he says with a smirk, though Carl has no doubt figured out that Osborn has other informers within Luthor's corporation; hence the personnel file on his desk - inches away from the area that Mach applied his unique little... trick to. Though his neutral expression during the little display doesn't show it, he's actually relatively impressed. "I won't feign as though I'm not pleased with the show, Mr. Mach. You'd have been ushered out if I didn't see great things in you. I've built something of a career off recognizing potential in others..." " 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' Mach's brow quirks, "Since there were certain security breaches nothing to do with the company on third party data servers which never were backups for LexCorp, and an operation, spearheaded by myself, to make fresh backups... you gotta wonder if the originals had already been compromised. That, after an unknown assailant made its move, maybe LexCorp knows nothing. Maybe if that assailant had kept a copy and followed up with his own research it would be wise for that to somehow to fall into your lap..." He looks at the closed personel file. It looks a little bigger now. Like someone had used old fashioned sleight to put a few data drives inside it. "To change the subject entirely... you know how ridiculous it is that people force you to have certain character sets or numerical combinations in your password? Almost like an invitation to wipe clean a laptop, spritz the keyboard with a UV tracer, and wait for someone with an all access clearance, like a ceo, to enter their remote access password. Worse, they're the same kind of genius that'd reset it to Password123, capital p, as their ego assumes they'll never be cracked. Then you can dupe their account, same pass and all and, since they're too high access to ever need a reset over time... untraceable access. True you'd need the custom firmwared laptop loaded with the hardwired custom OS to do... but, point still stands. People get so sloppy. He reaches into his coat again, "Oh, yes, coming back to business Mr Osborn, sir, I didn't want to make a formal introduction in a more one on one setting..." and he pulls out a small is laptop, custom, almost like a hard drive with peripherals, plug it in, add a monitor, keyboard and mouse, and good to go. "... so I brought a gift." He holds his hands up defensively "I know! I know... quite useless and obselete in many ways... but I'm damn sure you'll find a certain special quality to it that may be useful." He shrugs and takes a draw. On his exhale he adds, "This is the only thing I know... but I'm better than the Devil itself at it. Hell, the adaptive properties of this suit... I could look so much like him he'd never know the difference." 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' From the moment Carl walked into the room at Doom's meeting, he'd been watched with a keen eye by Norman - the way the man operates, it's obvious he's a professional, confirming all the information in his personnel files and certain other stories he'd heard about the man's skills. If this entire thing is one roundabout job interview, than the LexCorp employee is doing a damned fine job, as Norman watches and listens with a vaguely pleased smirk. "Ah, I do enjoy watching someone else who takes such pride in their craft. There's so much mediocrity in this world, Mr. Mach - so much in this very city alone. Is it any wonder they try and tear a man like myself down, when they couldn't hope to reach the heights I have?" he asks, hardly expecting an answer. He steps away from the table to allow Carl more time to set up his mobile tech, watching with some interest, no doubt curious as to exactly what the man has to show him. An electrical engineer in his own right, Norman tilts his head somewhat to examine the various ports and specificities of the box - it doesn't look to be anything special, but further investigation (particularly with those drives now slipped into the personnel file) may prove to be more fruitful than initially anticipated. "You'll forgive me if I'm not incredibly keen on discussing more... PERSONAL matters at this time," says Norman - perhaps thinking Carl is making some vague reference to Spider-Man, and no doubt eager to cut off any possible rumours about his connection to the web-slinger leaking out through a... still yet-unproven source. "I'm interested, Mr. Mach. You're clearly capable, and my organization could use a man like you - even absent your unique insight," he vaguely references the man's intimate knowledge of the mysterious alien symbiote, "I will leave it up to you, however, to decide how you handle your responsibilities with LexCorp - your career there, your SAFETY, is your own... If what you've provided proves useful, my people will reach you - at which point, you may consider yourself an employee of oscCorp." "In, of course, a PRIVATE capacity..." he quickly adds - for someone like Carl Mach, leaving LexCorp and heading directly to an on-the-books position at oscCorp could be... troublesome for Norman. Best to keep things on the hush-hush for now, if the other man is amenable. 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "I know the deal. The file's letterheaded LexCorp but... look at the central signatories list, the tax returns for employees pay... all that papertrail and health and safety and internal disciplinary records. I'm absent. Look in the independant contractors list however... and here I am. It's basic, not even rookie, stuff..." He takes another draw pluming smoke shapelessly, "If I work for someone... I need to be entirely deniable and disassociated in a second. If I'm not front facing... I don't need to be named as anything at all. It's not anything personal. I'm useful right now. Later I won't be. Later again I might be useful again. It is what it is. Why risk losing the repeat business and good working relationship by getting paid for time I'm not doing anything?" He shrugs and concedes, "You know what it's like but, these days... there are plenty who don't. A disservice to the craft. Privately, and confidentially, it has been a genuinely positive experience meeting you Mr Osborn. It's a reminder not everyone's dropped uncompromising standards. The file has records of my contact info. Voice call the fax number for my apartment and it'll route the call to wherever I am." He shrugs again, "I'm older. No one uses faxes any more. Old habits die hard." he explains. "Meantime, I understand, On the surface... all is as it was. Will there be anything else sir?" 

:'''{{#var:1426|Norman Osborn (1426)}} has posed:''' Sir. Heh. Well, if nothing else was gained today, he's certainly stuck another thorn in Luthor's side - a reminder, many years after the fact, that one does not turn down Norman lightly. Certainly not without consequences. Osborns tend not to FORGET grudges - it is, after all, in their BLOOD. "You and I are of a mind in this regard, Mr. Mach - a man of your skills, particularly with what might be dug up on you... well, it would not do to have you personally tied to the Osborn name," he says calmly, with a dismissive shrug, "But no matter. I'm sure you've heard the rumours - back at Oscorp, I was no stranger to off-the-books employees. Many of my brightest minds, my most interesting projects, were ones only known to a select few." "And, to be sure, I respect a man who takes certain... precautions," he says, with an almost predatory grin, "I doubt you'd have survived Luthor's employ for so long without a certain sense of tact, a certain skill for keeping one's OWN interests in mind." "I'm not asking for loyalty, beyond what my help and my money buy me. Just keep in mind, I DO expect that such things buy, if nothing else, your SILENCE." He pauses, to let that sink in, then carries on in a darker tone, "I certainly don't want you having this very conversation about ME, with a business rival of MINE, in a few years... Work with me, and I will provide for you and yours, for life. That is, of course, assuming you give me what you've... promised." Yes, even without a formal contract, the words spoken by Carl are enough to form a binding agreement in Norman's mind. He will EXPECT the partnership of this man in all matters symbiote-related, from research to training others to use the very same creature. He has grand visions - perhaps the symptom of a diseased mind, but grand nonetheless... "If you understand this, then I believe we have a deal... DO tell me, NOW, though, if you don't agree with these terms. I'd HATE to find out... later." 

:'''{{#var:1240|Carl Mach (1240)}} has posed:''' "We're quite clear. Again..." He sighs, "It used to be professionalism so basic it wasn't even part of the craft. Just common sense. What operational parameters you set out now, if they change, and after the mission's complete... are just that. It's a necessary part of the setup but, metaphorically speaking, it's destroy after reading." He nods, he understands. Time was neither party'd ahve to so much as talk about it. Sadly... kids these days... "Similarly I know the information, or services I provide were just information recieved or things that happened or your own hard work. I don't get external credit. You knowing is enough." He finishes the cigarette. "I agree to the terms sir." He disposes of it by sleighting it away, "Sooner you can get me in for evaluation and treatment the better. You need a consultation with regards to symbiosis... give me a call." He turns and starts towards the door. 
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