On Top of the Ivory Tower

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

OOC: Month 6, Week 2 Day 4, Private

There is a storm brewing.

He can see it in the darkening clouds, swept forward by howling winds. How appropriate, thinks the man as he stands in front of the window of his spacious, luxurious office, arms crossed behind him, hidden by the flowing cloth that hides the details of his towering, intimidating form.

When the door on the other end of the spacious room slides open, he does not turn around to look. No, he finds his hand far more interesting, raising it and flexing the gloved fingers, like they are new to him. But he does not ignore who just came in, either.

"What do you have to report?"

[Frenzy]

The woman standing behind him is a deep, dark brown. Her features are from sub-Saharan Africa, but her accent speaks of growing up in the Middle East. She dresses to Western professional standards, all in dove-grey and white, save for a flash of green-and-blue in her jewelry.

"Three cases, Lord Octavian." Her voice is low, throaty - if she wanted to, she could bring a man to his knees on her command.

"Two of them are edge-cases." She sets a datastick down on his desk. "They hit enough of the flags to merit a live person's eyes, and my research dug up a few other flags. One: Willard Swanson, Detroit. Male. Heavily scarred - burns and cuts. Picked up twice for fighting in the last four days. ID obviously fake. No records to match name and/or features. No known meta-abilities. I'd say he's a man running from a crime of passion elsewhere."

She laces scarred fingers together. "Two: Raymond Stantz, Detroit. Male. Meta-human of unknown powers, almost accidentally buried. Heterochromic eyes. Provisional ID. Likely a fake name - that's one of the Ghostbusters. No records to match name and/or features. I wouldn't make a guess as to who he actually is, but I wouldn't swear he was one of your specials, either."

Now for the third one, the one she is almost certain will interest Lord Octavian. "Jane Doe, Detroit. Female. Red eyes. Suffering from trauma-induced amnesia due to suspected motorcycle crash. Released from hospital under own cognizance yesterday. Signed release forms as Petunia Dahlia. Obviously a fake name. No records to match name and/or features. No recorded relatives to match bloodwork." Irritation tinges her voice: "Blood samples accidentally destroyed by an enthusiastic intern."

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

The man still does not turn to face her, even as she informs him of some rather intriguing cases. He runs both through his mind, comparing it to his real set of memories, not the one that was forced upon him when he was entombed in this rotting carcass.

The storm is starting.

Willard is remarkably easy to figure out. There is nobody else it could be. He will have to send an agent to investigate further. Raymond Stantz is more difficult. There is no Autobot who matches this description. If he is one, whatever did this to them must have gotten creative, or he's one of those runts that they keep hidden away.

Then, his secretary mentions Petunia.

Lightning lights up the sky.

"Petunia Dahlia. Initials, P.D."

A chuckle escapes his throat. Deep, rumbling, sinister. "Oh, that is just splendid." Then, he turns around and away from the window that overlooks the city to walk towards the desk, passing bookcases, a globe and a fireplace. Gloved fingers reach out to grasp the data-stick and slot it into the console on his desk, a holographic display activating almost immediately, showing the profiles and the pictures of the three.

"Excellent work as always, my dear. I am quite pleased with your thoroughness. Expect a noticeable bonus to be included with your paycheck at the end of the month. Buy yourself something nice with it, perhaps those upgrades that you have been eying. Now, as for these three...."

His fingers tap the profiles of the two males, bringing up a submenu and filing them under 'Monitor'. "These two are low priority. Investigate them further, but do not act. Yet." Then, he looks at Petunia's profile.

Murder flashes in his eyes.

"As for this little tart... She will receive special attention. Agent 'Charlie', perhaps. Yes. That will work."