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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 15:23:46 GMT -5
Month 6, Week 2, Day 2. Closed. ________________________It is late. Octavian is in his office, sitting in his appropriately villainous but comfortable swivel chair, facing the large window behind his desk that looks down upon the city below, his vision obscured by a nightly thunder storm. There is a glass cradled in his hand, it's contents already mostly consumed. The dull sound of thunder outside of Octavian's ivory tower are joined by Apacolyptica's Romance.This is nothing new. He often does this when he returns from a mission, enjoy the solitude while celebrating with a glass of fine wine. He even slips into his most comfortable robes. And he certainly has reason to celebrate. Brawl has been retrieved, and what's more, he remembers who he is. Partially. It is all rather vague. But Elsa remembers more than Valerie does. But he is not drinking a celebratory wine, nor is he wearing his most comfortable robes. Instead, he is drinking scotch, and instead of being embraced by soft fluffiness (a comfort even Onslaught begrudgingly enjoys), he is wearing a hospital gown that has been unbuttoned in the front, exposing his muscular torso that is only blemished by minor bruises. There is another thing that is new and not welcomed. Octavian is a born soldier, but he has never actually suffered significant injuries. The benefits of being a meta-human for a significant portion of one's life: Generally, you will not suffer more than a bruise or a scrape, unless you act foolish. Onslaught has, but the benefit of being a robot is that one can be easily repaired, be it with original components or replacement parts. So the presence of a black eye patch to hide something that is now missing is entirely unsettling. He grumbles as he brings the glass to his lips, only to find that it runs out far too quickly. "Hrmpf." Another meta-human curse, one he never thought he would mind: You can't even get drunk properly.
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Frenzy
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 16:22:56 GMT -5
The door to Octavian's office whisks open softly. Cipher stands framed there for a moment, dressed for a relaxing evening in silken pajamas and bare feet. She carries a tray with a number of little dishes on it - sirloin tips, lobster, veal, mutton, pita and hummus, lamb-stuffed dolmades - and a rather large sundae in the center. There are two spoons and two forks on the tray. Cipher was playing strip chess with Rosalita when the doctors notified her of Octavian's condition and release. She can guess Lord Octavian's mood, so she hadn't bothered with dressing. She's certainly seen him in more undress than neck-to-ankle cream-colored pajamas. She sets the tray on his desk silently, then stands where she will be reflected in the window.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 17:06:59 GMT -5
Octavian had given strict instructions that his office is under lock down so that he may be alone. There is only one person who could possibly gain entry. So when the doors open he does not turn to look who it is. He already knows that. He wants to know why she is here.
Or rather he tries looking at her. He does it with his blind side. An annoying grunt escapes him, then he turns his chair the other way. Just far enough so he can glance at her with his eye.
What he sees is not what he expected.
He downs the last few drops of scotch that were still in the glass. Then, he swivels his chair around to face both her and the desk. He does not say anything as he leans forward, putting the glass down so that he may enjoy the more then royal meal she has prepared for him.
After a few bites, he glances up at her again.
"I don't recall having ever seen you wear that. Never imagined I would, either."
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Frenzy
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 17:24:33 GMT -5
"That's because you've never come back in need of critical care before, Octavian." It's extremely rare that she drops the 'lord' in front of his true name. That, more than anything, might give Octavian an idea of what he's in for.
Cipher puts her hands on her hips. "Were you not provided with dossiers on everyone's known abilities? Didn't we say there was a suspected teleporter? Don't you have a [Batmanned] helmet with that suit? Are you not a professional?"
She snaps her fingers on his blind-side. "Rosalita would have shoved the knife all the way into your brain. You are so extraordinarily lucky the little teleporter's trick with momentum didn't result in the same!"
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 17:47:30 GMT -5
He cuts some of the lobster, pricks it with his fork and brings it to his mouth.
It is the lack of 'lord' that stops it from entering his mouth.
And makes him realize that she is well and truly upset.
Octavian lets her rant. He does not say anything, does not interrupt her, does not defend himself...Only puts his silverware down and leans back, his hands folding, as he waits for her to finish.
When she is done, his eye narrows. "First. You will address me as Lord Octavian at all times. Do not address me as if I were a commoner again."
"Second. Do not question my competence. Remember the Custodian." Cipher's predecessor. His fate was so gruesome that it has become one of those things that everybody knows but never talk about. "I did not know that they were there. The intelligence department failed."
Then, he does something exceedingly rare. Something few have witnessed him do.
"However. I knew she was there, that others could be, but I did not anticipate this possibility. I made a mistake and paid the price."
He admits fault. Begrudgingly so, with furrowed brow and lips pulled back in a displeased frown.
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Frenzy
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 17:59:45 GMT -5
Cipher's eyes narrow. The old instincts, the ones steeped in pride and violence, demand she slap him hard enough to crack his cheekbone and chastise him for the presumption of dictating how she addresses him. The fact she is incapable of hitting him that hard does not impinge. But it's her current instincts she listens to, the ones that know she'll lose any hand she tries that with.
"I am your servant by my own choice, Lord Octavian." Tone of voice turns the title into an insult. "Do not presume that I cannot make other choices."
Her expression softens. "You really are extraordinarily lucky that knife didn't go any deeper. If it had hit at a slightly better angle, based on our estimates of speed and heat... it would have gone all the way through your brains and out the back of your skull."
Octavian could have died, stupidly and uselessly.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 18:25:04 GMT -5
Octavian can see the fire that rages inside her. In the look of her eyes, the sound of her voice, the way she even stands there. It all makes her look like an angel of fury and wrath. Even with the white silk pajamas.
The way she uses her title makes him scowl. He says or shows nothing else, though he wants to smile.
"I know. I saw the report." It is rare he is faced with his own mortality. It is difficult. Especially the thought of dying in this meat sack body. It would be the ultimate insult.
He glances up at her. Studies her closely for a second, attempts to think of anything else to say. "Cipher, while you have full right to scold me for my stupidity, it would achieve nothing. I already realize my mistake, and while I understand that you feel the need to unload yourself, I am not sure how much more I will allow. I am and always will be a prideful creature."
Then, he looks down at the meal spread out over his desk. How much there is of it. The dessert with two spoons. His eye darts back up to look at her. The expression on his face is softer than usual.
"I would rather have you sit down and enjoy this meal with me."
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Frenzy
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 19:01:58 GMT -5
Cipher takes a breath. "Duly noted, Lord Octavian."
Anger gets put away; she'll take it out to batter a punching bag with later. Now she perches on the edge of the desk, dips pita in the hummus. "Have you given any thought to what features you'll want in your new eye?"
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 19:22:08 GMT -5
He does not even bat an eye when she perches there of all places. He would have been more surprised if she did take a seat.
Octavian returns to slicing bits of the lobster for consumption, and he uses this opportunity to think on it. "Needless to say, I want my depth perception returned. I can not fight without it. The ability to see other spectra would be welcomed." He stabs a bit of lobster with his fork, brings it up, and looks at it. "Yes. It has to be aesthetically pleasing. I can not decide between an eye patch or a monocle. Both would work well." He bites, chews, swallows and looks inquisitively at her. "Is it possible to have a laser installed?"
There is a boyish hopefulness in his eye.
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 19:37:08 GMT -5
"We'd have to remove a bit of your brain for the power source, but I don't think you'd miss it." Cipher winks, finishes her pita, and reaches for a dolma. "We could an eyepatch that covers a monocle with the monocle functioning as the laser."
By 'we', Cipher means she can find someone who can do it, not that their organization has anyone who can do it.
She bites into the dolma, makes a pleased sound at its spiciness.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 19:43:24 GMT -5
"Tsk. And you were so concerned about my magnificent brain not even five minutes ago." He chuckles, his tone as teasing as he allows it to be, then tries something else. He decides on the veal, which is simply divine. "Mm. Use a zylian power cell with a tertiary flux set up. That will keep it all contained in the same unit and not require more surgery than necessary."
"So. I must ask. How did Rosalita respond to the news of my injury?" He is suspecting that she cheered, then went off to kill something to get over her disappointment of the injury not being fatal.
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 19:56:38 GMT -5
Cipher raises her eyebrows at the tech-instructions. Well. Isn't that interesting?
"She was extremely irritated at our chess game being interrupted. Given I almost had to turn my bra over to her, I can understand why." She shrugs. "She was... distinctly unimpressed with the other teleporter's abilities."
So, yes, Rosalita cheered then went to kill someone to get over her disappointment at it not being fatal.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 20:03:04 GMT -5
Most of what Cipher says is expected. Most of it. There is a certain bit that catches him by surprise. Octavian doesn't choke on his food. That would be even more embarrassing then dying from a free falling knife. But he does look up from his meal to look at her with a dull stare. Then he shakes his head and returns to his meal.
"I will expect her 'get well' card to be as passive-aggressive as her notes, then."
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Post by Frenzy on Mar 4, 2012 20:07:57 GMT -5
"I like her passive-aggressive," Cipher chides. "When she's aggressive-aggressive, she starts with knives and works her way up."
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Mar 4, 2012 20:23:34 GMT -5
"That she does, yes." A dry chuckle escapes him. Then, he finishes his veal and moves on to a mutton, using one of the other plates as a side dish. He did not even realize how hungry he is. "It is that she performs her job well, or I'd have her fired years ago. I have not against psychopaths, quite obviously, but I must admit that I feel inclined to draw the line at having them be in the Household Department."
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