[h2][center]Forge[/center][/h2] [center]Guest starring: [b]DearTrickster[/b][/center] [hr] [h3]Los Angeles, California[/h3] [b][u]Some time near dawn[/u][/b] Zoë was [i]not[/i] feeling that it was going to be a constructive day, despite the upcoming call and pending move. Having slept for a fitful few hours, she was now standing bleary eyed in what remained of her kitchen, directing her helpers in packing up and shipping off the rest of her possessions to storage. Her work phone was in her pocket, along with her secured phone, while she held the civilian one in one hand, flipping through real estate listing across the country. She had already decided against remaining in California unless something spectacular showed up, and nothing had. Setting down the phone for a moment on the bare formica counter, she retrieved her overly large mug and sipped the now lukewarm tea she had made earlier, watching the workers over the rim of the cup. Alex, one of several local boys that had decided to work with her full time while she was in LA, was pacing up to her nervously. The young man was perhaps twenty, fresh out of prison for gang-related crimes since he was fifteen, had leapt at the opportunity to make 'legit' money, and had so far proven to be rather more steadfast and loyal than the Frenchwoman had been honestly expecting from a young Latino covered in gang tattoos and wearing simply the [i]worst[/i] in the latest “gangsta” fashion. [i]No book resembles its cover, I suppose,[/i] she thought idly, watching him approach. He, like the rest, had at least glimpsed that she was a meta with significant power, and most of them let him speak for them, too scared lest she do something [i]awful[/i]. She hadn't given them reason to suspect she would, but perhaps the social stigma of being a villain didn't help. [color=tomato]“Yes, Alex?”[/color] she asked as he finally got within a reasonable speaking distance. [color=tomato]“Is there something the matter?”[/color] “Uh...No, Miss, at least, not with the packing. We're almost through.” He had gotten over the habit of wincing in anticipation of being punished while talking to her, for which she was grateful, though he still remained incapable of meeting her gaze. [color=tomato]“What is it, then?”[/color] “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his shaved head, “it's just, we was all wondering...If you're leaving, is there still gonna be a job? Cause a lot of us gots family here, we can't just go, y'know?” [color=tomato][i]Ah, I was wondering when this was going to come up. Magnifique.[/i] “No, Alex, you won't be coming with me, but there will still be a job for all of you. I will be maintaining my business interests here, and in fact I have a job for you as soon as you are done here, if you want it.”[/color] “Huh?” She knew he would be confused. She had yet to show any [i]real[/i] faith in any of them. A byproduct of the natural paranoia that came with being a villain, she supposed. [color=tomato]“There are two tasks, one of which is very much more complicated than the other. First, though, I want you to take down this number.”[/color] She rattled off the Wraith number, the one phone she didn't have on her because no one was ever stupid enough to call her on it. [color=tomato]“That is how you will stay in contact with me from now on. I want you to use burner phones whenever possible, at least until I can get you a secure line.”[/color] Thankfully, Alex was a very intelligent lad. He would have to be, for her to work with him, but he was a cut above the rest as well. [color=tomato][i]Not his fault the system let him and his family down.[/i] [/color] “Okay,” he said, finishing typing it into his own device. [color=tomato]“Next, I need you to take several documents, which I will email to you in the next couple of days, over to the real estate office to purchase a property for me. I will be using it as my new center here, so I want you to make sure everything is nice and legal, yes?”[/color] “Si,” he mumbled, still typing in his phone. She knew by now that he was taking notes, not texting someone, but it still irked her somewhat. [color=tomato][i]Couldn't he use a notepad or something?[/i][/color] [color=tomato]“Following that, I-”[/color] She was interrupted by a buzzing from her pocket. [color=tomato]“Sorry, I have to take this,”[/color] she said, setting her mug down and waving him off. [color=tomato]“I will be in contact. Finish up here please.”[/color] As he headed back over to where the rest were joking around and moving the last box onto the truck, Zoë retrieved the phone from her pocket. Her heart sank slightly, as it always did, when it wasn't her secret line. But it was work, and she had expected it. She flipped the little disposable open and hit the button for accepting the call.   A distinctly french accented voice greeted Forge by her alias in English, “Good morning, Madame Forge. This is Jacque with the Parisian Syndicate. Are you free to speak with me?”   Jacque waited patiently, minor background noise of industrial machinery could be heard filtering through the earpiece.   The villainess was taken aback for a moment, and her accent came back without her bidding. [color=tomato]“Paris Syndicate? How have I not heard of this before now?”[/color] She shook her head and continued, schooling her voice but not bothering to hide her accent now that she had spoken with it. [color=tomato]“Never mind. I am free, taking care of last minute business. You have something you need done?”[/color]   A slight pause as Jacque noticed the accent change, trying to figure out where she was from, naturally slipping into French. “[i]I do not have work for you but rather hoping to set up a meeting for my partner whom wishes to employ you. They are in need of a metahuman who is particularly skilled with controlling fire.[/i]” He added, pleasantly, “[i]The Shroud Syndicate is an international organisation, we operate out of Paris.[/i]”   He went on, his footsteps echoing across metal walkways. “[i]I noted you are largely interested in the situation regarding these Hounds of Humanity, yes? My partner is as well.[/i]”   Zoë slipped easily back into her mother tongue, despite not having spoken it for months. [color=tomato]“Yes. They are...a bother. I would prefer they were eliminated, burnt from their holes, and reduced to ash before they cause any more issues for anyone.”[/color]   She smiled to herself and said, [color=tomato]“As for skill with fire, you will not find anyone who is hotter than I am. And I have some additional skills that may come in handy, depending on what your partner has in mind. I will say now, however, my services do not come cheap. Do you have a price range in mind?”[/color]   He laughed shortly at that, “[i]Excellent. We share the same sentiment then. As for payment we can afford your rates upfront in full, half - whichever is convenient. You hold a reasonable reputation from what I have seen, running independently of course.[/i]” The footsteps paused then carried on at a leisurely pace as he explained, “[i]For sake of convenience my partner will come to you and discuss payment themselves.[/i]”   “[i]We have only have one simple condition to be understood before such a meeting to be agreed upon.[/i]” Jacque said,  “[i]When will be a good time and place for this meeting? Barring any security measures, and protection of anonymity. We understand secrecy above all else. Names, location, accounts for payment will be done through secured networks. If you are interested, of course.[/i]”   Her eyebrows shot up at the words ‘up front’. That was unexpected. Whoever these people were they were obviously well-funded. She responded in French, herself. [color=tomato][i]“I could make my way clear of my current task within the next few hours, so whenever your associate feels they can make it to Los Angeles will be fine. With the number of incidents with our mutual enemies, the only secure location I can recommend is where I am standing.”[/i][/color] She frowned, rubbing her elbow with her free hand.   [color=tomato][i]“If I remember flight times correctly, they will not be here until tomorrow, so I will have some extra security for their sake, but otherwise, I think it will be fine. If you have an email address I can send you the information, or the broker you spoke with before would also have it.”[/i][/color]   [color=tomato][i]“In case it wasn’t obvious, I am interested. Jobs are running a bit dry with this group’s activity, hence my haste to deal with them. So, what is your condition?”[/i][/color]   “[i]Ah yes, flights. That will not be the case, they are in Las Vegas at the moment. Enroute to Los Angeles before they leave the United States.[/i]” He said, “[i]Security will not be necessary, they have their own… ehm[/i] detail [i]in place. I will retrieve the email address and any additional contact information from the brokerage, I will forward it to my partner.[/i]” He took a deep breath, taking great care in his word choice. “[i]The condition is, as I said, very simple. My partner… has a very particular expectation of respect. If you agree to not use crude language and maintain your professionalism during this meeting and subsequent employment, you will find yourself some very lucrative work following this job.[/i]” He added, rather slyly, “[i]The Syndicate is always in need of hiring exceptional people.[/i]”   Zoë’s eyes narrowed as she pondered how a flight would not be necessary for getting from Las Vegas to here, but the person must either be a meta or have decided to drive. [color=tomato]”[i]Very well, in that case I suppose whenever is convenient for them. Let the contact know my currently listed home address is acceptable.[/i]”[/color]   Her eyes lightened up and she smiled wide as she learned of the ‘condition’ of this supposed employer, though she was feeling a bit on edge at the terminology being thrown around. [color=tomato]”[i]I am sure following [u]normal business protocols[/u] should be easy enough, sir. I would like you to keep in mind, however, that there is a reason I have been an independent contractor, and unless the offer your partner makes is something utterly miraculous, I will not be taking employment with anyone, Syndicate or otherwise, in the traditional sense.[/i][/color]   An exhale of relief but he chuckled at her comment regarding the Syndicate but choose not to comment further. There was no point to pushing someone on the first phone call. She would come to see their resources first hand. Having stated that, her voice flipped up to an almost sickeningly cheery register, and not all of it was false. She felt good to have work, and even better to have it from her fellow countrymen. [color=tomato][i]”One security measure I will insist on, of course, is that we exchange photos? That way neither of us attempts to kill the other before the meeting can get underway. Unless your partner would prefer passphrases?”[/i][/color]   “[i]Passphrases, they prefer to do introductions themselves.[/i]” He replied. “[i]The passphrase will be Fête de la Fédération for my partner. What will yours be?[/i]”   Zoë pondered for a moment, and then replied, [color=tomato][i]”La Maid devrait être un chevalier. Any idea when I can expect this partner of yours. I would like my associates to be gone by the time they arrive here.”[/i][/color]   Jacque paused for a moment, finally able to place her accent. “[i]I hear Orléans is rather lovely this time of year. If you don’t mind my saying, of course. Your accent is acute to my ears. Do not fret, I think an American would struggle to tell the difference,[/i]” He laughed, “[i]Your passphrase is rather telling.[/i]”   Switching back to English, she smiled and said with a snort, [color=tomato]”Americans can’t tell their own accents from each other, what chance do they have with a more refined language? You can take the girl out of the city, but not the city out of the girl, eh? It would be very nice there right now, but I have not been home in a long time. Something about the work being not conducive to living in a city I love.”[/color]   Jacque followed suit as well, switching back to English, “You can expect my partner sooner rather than later. As I said, they are enroute.” He thought of warning Forge of The Ambassador’s more eccentric qualities but that would certainly ruin the surprise. “[i]Merci beaucoup, Madame.[/i] We look forward to working with you.”   [color=tomato]”You as well, [i]monsieur[/i]. Have a pleasant afternoon!”[/color] Zoë snapped her phone shut, glancing over to where the truck was just pulling away from the door and Alex was busying himself sweeping before closing the place up and leaving her alone. [color=tomato][i]Well that was stupid. Now I have to go get new furniture and everything just for a meeting.[/i][/color] She headed over to Alex, who reacted to her movement much like a rabbit would, freezing in place until he could see she wasn't angry. Which was also stupid, since [i]everyone[/i] could see when she was getting angry. The walls tended to ignite. [color=tomato]"Alex, I need one more thing from you today, and then you are free to go do whatever it is you do during the day."[/color] "Uhh, sure, yes ma'am. What is it?" She pulled out a wad of bills from her pocket and peeled off what she thought was probably more than enough. [color=tomato]"Go to, I don't know, Walmart or something, and get the nicest lawn furniture they have. Table, chairs, and whatnot. Go get me...ugh. Some crackers and fruit as well. Take your time, I will be gone for a while myself, but then I expect you back here by eleven, yes?"[/color] "Okay." [color=tomato]"Oh, and keep whatever you don't use, but it had [i]best[/i] be adequate items."[/color] As he hurried off, Zoë opened her civilian phone and began typing in several queries. A local bakery, a tiny little boutique eatery that probably cost more than most people made in a week to eat at, and the 'best' winery around. Considering who she had just spoken too, none of this would be good enough, but it wasn't for her, either, and she was not likely to find actual French cuisine here on short notice without going into Hollywood, which she refused to do. [hr] [b]Several hours later[/b] The sun had finally stopped making the ceiling glow with reflected light through the windows, something she hadn't had to deal with for while, since she had installed thick curtains over them when she had moved in. Checking her phone again, she sighed. [color=tomato][i]Shouldn't have gotten rid of the television yet,[/i][/color] she thought to herself, eyes glazing over slightly while she flipped idly through to available games to buy for her phone. It could be useful during the long dull hours of her career between jobs, though dulling her [i]senses[/i] might be a danger. She stretched one leg underneath the little table and set her heel on the opposite chair, pausing to admire Alex's purchases. The table was a simple small, circular table, wrought iron leg with four clawed feet and the same metal around the outside, framing a four foot expanse of small slate tiles in muted greens, greys, and blues. A small hole in the center would fit an umbrella that came with it, though she had bid Alex to keep it in his truck until later. The chairs were the same iron work, though they featured solid boards of some deeply dark-stained wood, formed so that the things were not at all uncomfortable. Arranged on the table were several plates filled with slices of cured meats, fruits cut to bite-sized cubes, and slabs of a few different cheeses. Zoë had sampled two of them already, and though one was some sort of Irish cheese, and one of the ones she hadn't tried was a German, she had to admit it wasn't a [i]terrible[/i] selection. Alex had done the best, however, in finding a bakery that sold traditional baguettes, a few of which were nestled into a woven basket with a cloth covering them to keep them from going stale. Her own prize purchases were several bottles of French import wines, the prices on which had been quite reasonable, especially given the hour. She had also not been able to stop herself from buying a set of four fluted wineglasses, the stems of which had a distinctly flame-like motif. All-in-all, her fellow countryman (or woman, they hadn't said) would at least find this attempt at a café table not offensive. Having reviewed her preparations in other cases, she mentally checked off her own person. A simple red baseball tee with black accents, loose-fitting jeans, and a set of running shoes, all of which were as inexpensive as her the rest of her wardrobe so she didn't ever have to regret incinerating something [i]nice[/i]. A snub nose .38 revolver in one pocket, and a pair of long fighting knives attached to the underside of her seat by way of metal brackets. The whole of the table could also easily be a weapon if she was pressed. And above, on the ceiling, a large box full of twisted scrap metal she had scraped off of her target range before packing everything up, easily within range for her to burn it open and rain searing shards of steel down on anyone inside a thirty foot circle. She didn't honestly expect to need any of these things, but knowing how dangerous some of her clients could be, and not knowing anything about this person or their 'security detail', caution was her comfort here. Satisfied she had done everything she had the time to do to prepare, she lapsed back into boredom. Hopefully they were here before she had picked the food clean.