[indent]Well, wasn't this just the sorriest bunch of fucks she had ever seen.

This had to be a joke, a faux pas, a jest surely to remedy a sense of vengeance against something she had committed; an outrageous sin, a slandered dalliance, or a wound she left open and bleeding on someone unfortunate to meet the vermillion of her keratin claws. There were numerous possibilities and various occasions where one would seek after a penance to impose upon her fortified will of hate; she would be more surprised if such an attempt hadn't been made after the years she had spent chasing after psychoactive revelations into the warped subconscious’s of what she called her countless victims. 

[i]But this was just going out of the way.[/i]

Simone proffered one sneer of her lip and promptly turned on the heel of her boot, a soft clack of her departure; for there was no way in Hell - if there was ever such a place- that she was going to subjugate herself to be allied with piss poor looking individuals beneath her talent, and promptly everything about her striking dominance. With her locks a carefully and intensely disarrayed style of long tresses spilling around her thin shoulders and eyes a dark and swirling mess of browns and blues, her very presence was one of careful grooming - every thing about her gleamed to a self rioted perfection, to the expense of her coat, to the cherry of her lips, down to the fabricated style of expensive foot wear. She even walked with a show of grace, her saunter a rolling expedience whilst appearing crude in the brisk exiting from the central cue.

She didn’t make it far though.

An arm struck out across her chest, catching the brunt of her with a harsh, nearly bestial growl of displeasure as Simone snaked out her scarlet slashes and dug them into obsidian threads and [i]threw[/i] it. 
“I am not doing this.” Snaked out from her lips in a candied bite. “It’s stupid, I won’t work with those people up there and Central can kiss my ass.”

The irony was not lost upon her, for everything Simone was brilliant at, in ever execution and performance, teamwork was where she stood at a standstill and refused to partake. Partially because no body could mimic her flawless tendencies and others because they couldn’t put up with every directed slander to their own appearances, habits, and the overall cruelty Simone practiced in her everyday life. She used people to her own beneficial desires and threw them away just as carelessly without a flicker or shadow of remorseful reflection.

Perhaps is was just an Archembault thing. If you knew the family, the politicians, the dictator that heralded over the linage with just as much rancor, if you knew them and how nefarious and astute their demons were, you simply didn’t last long enough to scour out their true origins. 

“They asked for you, requested it, just like the-”

“Of course they did, but that doesn’t meant I have to agree to it.” Her vermillion nails left irritated tracks through a sheathed arm, much to the annoyance of her pursuer and objector. A man of equal narcissism and abusive natures, her once upon a time partner and sometimes passionate -if not ravenous and harmful- lover shoved back with equal irritation and glared into hazeled blue.

“Must I remind you of the parameters for this arrangement?” He procured the parcel of her utter demise, slips of digital hate that detailed and illustrated her end in the Erasure deeds. An unassumingly, harmless sheaf of electronic creations, man made, digitalized into blue fonts and casting azure glows, all the more ominous in the textual release of her enlistment should she actually refuse this particular assignment. Simone grasped hold of the detailing and chucked it at the ground in clear spiteful and intentional harm, the screen merely cracked in the assault and she beamed a biting smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Simone…” He paused, a slow, deliberate thought wormed across the expanse of nerve clusters and his direct knowledge of the particularities of Simone Archembault. And he grinned, for while was she true evil depicted in the soft sensualities of a woman, she was also easily manipulated upon that fairer front of gender tendencies.

“Why not use them then?” 

Her eyes slid over in a cool glance, curious, caught, hooked upon the implication in his baritone. 
“What do you mean?” She quired, peeked and annoyed, crossing coated arms over her bust in direct confrontation. Should he fail to displease her, she would leave, dismemberment be damned.

“This could be an opportunity to use the Central benefits, not to mention the members of your,” he cringed at the word. “[i]Task Force.[/i] Also in showing your real potential and abilities. They have a reason for doing this I’m sure, just wait it out and see, should you come to hate and find it unworthy, I’ve no doubt you can simply pull away from the horrendous service.”

Her brow quirked, contemplating. 

It wasn’t a terribly bad idea, but then it was. Simone still balked and inwardly cursed the gall of her superiors offering her up to this menial task, but there was some truth to the words of her companion who stood at her side, watching. His observations annoyed her and Simone snaked out her palm and shoved his chin away from her, turning into the motion and pinning him to the foyer doors of Central that held her undoing and her spite.

“You and everyone will pay for this degradation.”

And they would, her promise held a sadistic weight to their whispered cadence, slipping past the ruby of her sinned mouth with an edge of cutting purpose. 

Now with fresh mars across his cheek, bits of scarlet paint impaled into the abrasions, she then speared claws into his sides and moved him out of her way, stealing into the Central cue once more with the motive to use and abuse the company unfortunate enough to be associated with her now.

---

The sight of these individuals, she counted six, didn’t improve or change into the favoring inclination when she allowed the survey of her hand structure and as she used her quoted keycard probably with more force than actually necessary. Never mind that she had exited previously in a illustrated display of anger and cast off displeasure. She was fuming but did not allow such a stain of emotion mark to the presentation of herself when she poised in graceful structure and tacked down each person, now that she bothered to look, with an eye of hazel and blue that burned and demeaned and mocked.

[i]And was that a child?[/i]

Simone scoffed under her breath, worse that she had to work with an aging man who looked bitter and ill-favoring in his ascending age, now they had planted a mere child among their requested ranks. The others of their pitiful assemblage were no better assuming in appearances, at least to her eyes, and she was simply appalled by their mannerisms with booted feet shucked up on the table and one appearing to be in the wails of a hangover by the calculation of his groan and slouching demeanor. And then there was the young puppy little fucker with the blue-blue eyes and he didn’t look much older than the little brat with her books and her optical wear.

At least the appointed room appeared in a proper establishment, silvers, blacks and whites with the cleanliness that Simone could even appreciate. She brushed dexterous phalanges over the ornate winding and spirals of technological craftsmanship of their delegated seats and deliberately chose the obsidian furniture farthest from everyone as she could possibly manage; at the opposite end of the head selected settee. Her posture was straight and refined and yet her own, with crossed arms at her breast and one leg supported over the opposite, her booted foot swinging with the pulse of her irritation and distaste of the situation.

He had said to use them, and Simone intended to, but briefly surveying them once again she could only ponder on how exactly they would be useful to someone of her caliber at all. For Simone took nothing but the best and would accept none other from them.[/indent]