2789/Bridges And Roundabouts

Bridges And Roundabouts
Date of Scene:	10 October 2017
Location:	oscCorp Building
Synopsis:	Two people had a conversation, later, both of them'd deny having.
Thanks to:	Norman Osborn
Cast of Characters:	Green Goblin, Phage

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Green Goblin 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.

Green Goblin 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.

Phage 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.

Green Goblin 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."

Phage 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."

Green Goblin 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.

Phage 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.

Green Goblin 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."

Phage 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."

Green Goblin 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..."

"

Phage 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."

Green Goblin 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.

Phage 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?"

Green Goblin 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."

Phage 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.