06-30-2014, 05:03 PM
Gabriel Escrivel was a natural conversationalist. His shorter height was obscured by the fact they were all seated, but his laugh was boisterously larger than life. Nikolai could imagine them sharing a cigar and wine in the sticky Mexican air, discussing politics and enterprise. Nothing would ever come to be, but such was the effectiveness of his Mexican guest. Gabriel was the former Secretariat of Foreign Affairs to the previous Mexican presidential administration. When the current president, who was little more than a figurehead, was elected, Gabriel's tenure in government ended. He was then recruited to the CCD, having formed a solid relationship during his time in office.
He was seated two spots from Nikolai. The Ascendancy leaned ever so slightly to engage him in conversation. The circularity of the table was designed to offer unobstructed views of one another. "You've returned recently from Mexico City, is that right, Mister Escrivel?"
The man tipped his wine glass affirmative. His English was impeccable. "Yes, Ascendancy. As a matter of fact I have. Mister Marveet might be inclined to hear that cartel leadership in the country is on the verge of consolidation."
Nik followed the man's line of sight to Scion Marveet, who seated across from them, was immediately intrigued by the conversation. The man was past his middle years, but still solid as a tank. There was more gray than black in the stylish curls that sat on his shoulders, but the effect added to a sense of his hyperawareness. His accent was distinctly Moscovian.
He pushed his wine and bread plate aside and returned the comment with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It has been attempted many times, Mister Escrivel. In '36, a man named Vinícius Lima Correia, a lieutenant who inherited the Michoacán cartel when its leader, 'El toro,' was arrested, attempted to seize control of three other cartels. In light of lacking competition to pit against one another, my international business suffered in the red for eight months until he was shot in the head by one of his girlfriends, who, my sources told me, made a deal with the Presidente himself and was granted asylum in exchange for the assassination."
Straight out of a novella, Scion was laughing at the end of the story. No doubt the last was embellished by rumors, but Nikolai watched without reaction as he proceeded to the next.
"Then, most recently, in '41 an even more shameful attempt to unite the cartels resulted in a short, albeit, fierce war between Tiajuana and the Gulf that ended up slaughtering more Federales than criminals in Mexico City in the middle. I believe that was under your former administration, was it not Mister Escrivel?"
Scion held the man's gaze without flinching. He soon shook his head and cast dismissal, once again, toward Nikolai."There will always be men who try to unite the chaos of Mexico."
Nikolai had to wonder whether Scion included him in that assumption.
Instead of commenting, Nikolai gestured so that their eyes were drawn to him. "Given the appropriate backing, unification is possible. Did you say this new charismatic leader was a foreigner, Gabriel?"
Nikolai glanced toward him, but the man paused, confused. Nikolai was manipulating the conversation. His own sources provided the information that he used like bait to bring heat to the table. Gabriel had not mentioned the subject's nationalisty.
Scion jumped at it. "A foreigner?! That's even more absurd!"
His laugh was a roar, and surprisingly, was mimicked by Escrivel. Perhaps the man hadn't known after all.
"Actually, it is said he is a foreigner. This is true."
Nope. Apparently he did know. Good. Nikolai would have been disappointed, otherwise.
At ease with the coarse of the subject, Nik took a sip from his water. "Foreigners sometimes have insights that nationals do not."
He of course spoke of himself in this regard. The men at the table bowed their heads in acknowledgment. It seemed that more than one eye was drawn to the Arcus Band in that moment.
In true breakage to the momentum of the conversation, they all shot surprised glances at the sudden spillage of liquid and the ensuing disturbance that followed. A waiter had spilled a goblet on their new Sigma's lap that slammed the table's chatter to a halt. Marcus quickly stood to make his exit, and foolishly asked permission to leave the table like he feared his father's lashing if he had not. By then, the others were ignoring him, but the spectacle was drawn on too long, and the subject of conversation was already set adrift. Unfortunately, Nik was left alone to coax the conversation back toward the Mexican bait. He had no doubt in his own success, but it would be costly. Nikolai had other objectives to address than investigating a potential puppet of the west.
In Marcus' abscence, appetizers were served next. Something light and airy that Nikolai could spare to eat between breaths. Scion was deep in conversation with his potential business partner, a dark haired, dark skinned beauty from the tropics. Despite her youth and appearance, she was devilishly sharp in the boardroom.
As he was unwilling to force the hand until it naturally presented itself he spent the next several minutes coaxing the other side of the table toward military matters. An entire new divison of the armed forces was not something that could be snapped into existance overnight, and if Michael were to be ranking officer, there was the minor issue of his lack of formal rank to address. Even should Nikolai create one for him to assume, he would be working under the command of the remaining Custody of Defense supreme officers. One of which whom was present.
The man presently seated next to Michael was Chief of Special Operations of the CCD armed forces. As such he did not hold command over a geographical theater of the world, but rather was the supreme leader over various special operations components across all the military branches: army, navy, and marine. This included responsibility for such teams as Assault Team Vega, the White Knights, the Spets, the EoA's own Zenith Advanced Reliancers (ZARS) and all corresponding intelligence directives. The four-star General of the Army, Kondrat Borodin, was a dignified man of Eastern European descent just past his middle years. He would need be the one to whom Michael reported, excluding the Ascendancy himself. If operation of this special unit they discussed before dinner were to be a military matter, of course. Nikolai's preliminary thoughts designated it as such, for it would be the easiest commission, both financially and legally to install. Although to attest that final concern, Nikolai glanced at the Justice. He was one of seventeen that sat on the Council of Judges of Custody Court. Few in the room would accurately guess the specific reason why the Justice was invited to attend the head table.
While the Justice was engaged in conversation, a bright stroke of power, like lightning, suddenly pulsed overhead. The set to Nik's jaw hardened instanteously, and he instinctively searched for its maker. He swung a look over his shoulder.
Turned slightly in his chair, he surveyed the room. Men and women continued conversation without interruption. The Barrier Preator agents were unmoved, although the nearest one had taken note of Nikolai's apparent unease.
There was nothing to see or sense, but when he turned back, his focus landed immediately upon Michael. Power raged like a storm within Nik yet they shared a look. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the Barrier's touch his earpiece and depart for the hallway. It had been Alric.
Nikolai was not one to play his hand too conservatively, however. He nodded suggestively at Michael. It was time to see him put his money where his mouth was, as the patriarch for a special operations, now was his chance to prove himself.
Find out what that was. The solidarity of his gaze alone was enough of a command.
Nikolai fell smoothly back into the conversation.
He was seated two spots from Nikolai. The Ascendancy leaned ever so slightly to engage him in conversation. The circularity of the table was designed to offer unobstructed views of one another. "You've returned recently from Mexico City, is that right, Mister Escrivel?"
The man tipped his wine glass affirmative. His English was impeccable. "Yes, Ascendancy. As a matter of fact I have. Mister Marveet might be inclined to hear that cartel leadership in the country is on the verge of consolidation."
Nik followed the man's line of sight to Scion Marveet, who seated across from them, was immediately intrigued by the conversation. The man was past his middle years, but still solid as a tank. There was more gray than black in the stylish curls that sat on his shoulders, but the effect added to a sense of his hyperawareness. His accent was distinctly Moscovian.
He pushed his wine and bread plate aside and returned the comment with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It has been attempted many times, Mister Escrivel. In '36, a man named Vinícius Lima Correia, a lieutenant who inherited the Michoacán cartel when its leader, 'El toro,' was arrested, attempted to seize control of three other cartels. In light of lacking competition to pit against one another, my international business suffered in the red for eight months until he was shot in the head by one of his girlfriends, who, my sources told me, made a deal with the Presidente himself and was granted asylum in exchange for the assassination."
Straight out of a novella, Scion was laughing at the end of the story. No doubt the last was embellished by rumors, but Nikolai watched without reaction as he proceeded to the next.
"Then, most recently, in '41 an even more shameful attempt to unite the cartels resulted in a short, albeit, fierce war between Tiajuana and the Gulf that ended up slaughtering more Federales than criminals in Mexico City in the middle. I believe that was under your former administration, was it not Mister Escrivel?"
Scion held the man's gaze without flinching. He soon shook his head and cast dismissal, once again, toward Nikolai."There will always be men who try to unite the chaos of Mexico."
Nikolai had to wonder whether Scion included him in that assumption.
Instead of commenting, Nikolai gestured so that their eyes were drawn to him. "Given the appropriate backing, unification is possible. Did you say this new charismatic leader was a foreigner, Gabriel?"
Nikolai glanced toward him, but the man paused, confused. Nikolai was manipulating the conversation. His own sources provided the information that he used like bait to bring heat to the table. Gabriel had not mentioned the subject's nationalisty.
Scion jumped at it. "A foreigner?! That's even more absurd!"
His laugh was a roar, and surprisingly, was mimicked by Escrivel. Perhaps the man hadn't known after all.
"Actually, it is said he is a foreigner. This is true."
Nope. Apparently he did know. Good. Nikolai would have been disappointed, otherwise.
At ease with the coarse of the subject, Nik took a sip from his water. "Foreigners sometimes have insights that nationals do not."
He of course spoke of himself in this regard. The men at the table bowed their heads in acknowledgment. It seemed that more than one eye was drawn to the Arcus Band in that moment.
In true breakage to the momentum of the conversation, they all shot surprised glances at the sudden spillage of liquid and the ensuing disturbance that followed. A waiter had spilled a goblet on their new Sigma's lap that slammed the table's chatter to a halt. Marcus quickly stood to make his exit, and foolishly asked permission to leave the table like he feared his father's lashing if he had not. By then, the others were ignoring him, but the spectacle was drawn on too long, and the subject of conversation was already set adrift. Unfortunately, Nik was left alone to coax the conversation back toward the Mexican bait. He had no doubt in his own success, but it would be costly. Nikolai had other objectives to address than investigating a potential puppet of the west.
In Marcus' abscence, appetizers were served next. Something light and airy that Nikolai could spare to eat between breaths. Scion was deep in conversation with his potential business partner, a dark haired, dark skinned beauty from the tropics. Despite her youth and appearance, she was devilishly sharp in the boardroom.
As he was unwilling to force the hand until it naturally presented itself he spent the next several minutes coaxing the other side of the table toward military matters. An entire new divison of the armed forces was not something that could be snapped into existance overnight, and if Michael were to be ranking officer, there was the minor issue of his lack of formal rank to address. Even should Nikolai create one for him to assume, he would be working under the command of the remaining Custody of Defense supreme officers. One of which whom was present.
The man presently seated next to Michael was Chief of Special Operations of the CCD armed forces. As such he did not hold command over a geographical theater of the world, but rather was the supreme leader over various special operations components across all the military branches: army, navy, and marine. This included responsibility for such teams as Assault Team Vega, the White Knights, the Spets, the EoA's own Zenith Advanced Reliancers (ZARS) and all corresponding intelligence directives. The four-star General of the Army, Kondrat Borodin, was a dignified man of Eastern European descent just past his middle years. He would need be the one to whom Michael reported, excluding the Ascendancy himself. If operation of this special unit they discussed before dinner were to be a military matter, of course. Nikolai's preliminary thoughts designated it as such, for it would be the easiest commission, both financially and legally to install. Although to attest that final concern, Nikolai glanced at the Justice. He was one of seventeen that sat on the Council of Judges of Custody Court. Few in the room would accurately guess the specific reason why the Justice was invited to attend the head table.
While the Justice was engaged in conversation, a bright stroke of power, like lightning, suddenly pulsed overhead. The set to Nik's jaw hardened instanteously, and he instinctively searched for its maker. He swung a look over his shoulder.
Turned slightly in his chair, he surveyed the room. Men and women continued conversation without interruption. The Barrier Preator agents were unmoved, although the nearest one had taken note of Nikolai's apparent unease.
There was nothing to see or sense, but when he turned back, his focus landed immediately upon Michael. Power raged like a storm within Nik yet they shared a look. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the Barrier's touch his earpiece and depart for the hallway. It had been Alric.
Nikolai was not one to play his hand too conservatively, however. He nodded suggestively at Michael. It was time to see him put his money where his mouth was, as the patriarch for a special operations, now was his chance to prove himself.
Find out what that was. The solidarity of his gaze alone was enough of a command.
Nikolai fell smoothly back into the conversation.