[Center]-Phoenix and The Architect-[/center]

The Architect was hardly an intimidating individual. A man at least  seventy years old, his silver hair was trimmed as neatly as the rest of  his appearance. He wore a tuxedo with matching black tie and was one of  the only other individuals at the party who hadn't opted for any type of  mask or costume. He held a black cane in his right hand, resting lazily  against his knee, the silver handle glistening in the soft lighting. It  was a simple handle, made of pure silver and designed to look like a  level, ruler and parchment shaped like a small pyramid. 

"Ah,  Mister Regel, your drink of choice?" He asked warmly, gesturing a hand  toward the waitress. "Everything is top of the line, I must assure you."

Michael waved her off before taking a seat, "I'm just here to handle our business. Who knows if you poisoned the drinks as well?" He knew he probably had to be careful with this guy, it was possible the man was hiding some anger that Pheonix hadn't shown up the previous night on time. Michael had some experience with how gang warfare tended to go, and the high class members of society were really just gangsters in suits.

The old man looked Michael over briefly, as if assessing the value of one of the paintings that sat in the silent auction above them. Rather than speak, he chuckled at the young man, tapping his cane lightly on the floor. The waitress nodded her head to the two and made her way out of the VIP enclosure.

"And an extra two shots of whiskey!" He called after her.

"You see," The Architect turned his attention back to Michael. "I like a drink when I discuss business."

"Let's be direct with this, shall we?" The elder of the two asked. "You didn't bring the flash drive to me last night. You see, I was under the impression that I paid you and your brother quite a bit of money for that safety deposit box. Seeing that I'm without my end of the deal; either you owe me money or you owe me a flash drive."

Pheonix looked at him for a moment before reaching into his clothing and pulling out the flash drive, holding it out in his hands for the man, "Alright, let's be direct, here it is. When you take this, consider my work with you done, understood?" He said this with no hint of anger, it was simply matter of fact. Michael had little wish to continue embedding himself further in whatever agenda this man had.

The Architect let the flash drive sit in Michael's hand between them. It was reflecting the soft light of the room, the scratches and marks from the previous day's escapades showing what the device had been through.

"Mister Regel," He said. "This flashdrive is far less valuable to me now than when I had previous need of it. Yes, I can gain some [i]tidbits[/i] of information from this pathetic piece of hardware, but my real intent was time sensitive, you see."

The old man half-heartedly motioned toward the party, hidden from them by the thick veil of white fabric, still audible and boisterous. He wasn't physically a threat, seemingly old a feeble, unless he happened to have an invisible henchman waiting directly behind Michael, the fire-starter was safe for the time being.

"I'm not going to lie." The Architect said, sighing lightly. "I'm too old for that. The meteor that struck this city one week ago and somehow managed to grant you those amazing abilities has been on the move for the past six days. That flash drive was the only way to figure out [i]where[/i] and [i]when[/i] the stone would have the least amount of protection. Now that it's been placed deep below this building, it's far harder to retrieve."

"I choose not to worry about the fate of the stone for the time being." He started, looking out of the corner of his eye to the young Regel. "Your brother should be on his way to retrieve the item as we speak- whether he knows it or not."