[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/23E9PTz.png[/img] [sub]Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss![/sub] [hr] [h3]Detroit, MI[/h3] 15:00, July seventh[/center] It had been a slog, really, but as Zoë spun in her office chair to take in the sights of the floor below, she found the results to be quite pleasing. Following the raids on HoH storehouses and weapons manufacturing, even giving Ares their murderous ten per cent of recovered plus fees, she had made out with tens of millions of dollars in military hardware, manufacturing equipment, and raw silver, plus access to a huge amount of financial records. A lot of it had ended up being dead, already seized by various governments by the time she had looked at it, but enough had come through that, on top of her savings from her gallery sales, she was [i]very[/i] comfortable. The office was now well furnished. The old brick walls were covered by rich oak panelling, with a fireplace directly behind her desk, which was of deeply darkened mahogany and almost as big as a car. Even darker woods had gone into the flooring, done in a swirling marbled pattern with lighter woods as accenting. Around the walls were various paintings she had found from other artists, either subtly unsettling or just [i]off[/i] somehow. She liked the effect it had on visitors. Off to her left had been added a door, and a whole additional section of the building. From the office door only her own domicile was accessible, but the lower floor entered into a sort of barracks area, though far more comfortable than that word suggested. The zoning commissioner had had [i]several[/i] dirty secrets and had been exceptionally open to her keeping them secret in exchange for building whatever the hell she wanted on the premises, no questions asked. Down below, several rows of brightly lit and warmly decorated cubicles were arranged, with several people working just now. This was, after all, the American headquarters for Einherjar Globale Entwicklungsgesellschaft, and needed to look properly office-y. The large recreational area with bean bags and drafting boards made it look like a hip new company, and at least two employees were dedicated to solely building an online social media presence. The place was an architectural design company, but also development and planning, focusing on low-income, low-expense projects. She'd been forced to actually hire a couple of architects and engineers anyway, so she had put them to good use designing the lower floors of the building. Below the office, the first basement held various necessities, such as the parking garage, security office, IT dept, and supply rooms. Also on that level was a secret elevator which went down into the true heart of her operations. The sub-basement held several interrogation chambers, an armoury, several training areas including her personal one, a design lab, and another set of dormitories. These housed any agents she had hired who didn't have access to their own facilities, and the whole level had a separate entrance over on the pier. Satellite facilities were planned around the city, but funding wasn't infinite and she didn't have the manpower for them yet anyway. A knock on her office door caused her to swing around and adjust her tee shirt to look a little neater. A raven-haired girl poked her head around the corner and said, “Miss Richter? You're three o' clock is here.” Zoë nodded, and using her 'Natalie' accent said, [color=tomato]“Show them in, please, Sonya”[/color] The girl shook her head. “No, Miss Richter. Your [i]other[/i] three o' clock.” [color=tomato]“Oh!”[/color] Zoë clapped her hands and stood up. [color=tomato]“Fantastic, Sonya! Let's go down and see them then, shall we?”[/color] While everyone else tended to wear business professional, even though she only demanded [i]barely[/i] business casual, Zoë tended towards wearing old and comfy jeans spattered in paint, old concert tees, and her combat boots, as if she was stuck in the eighties when she hadn't even been born then. At this point the dye had washed from her hair, leaving it her natural dark auburn. She walked with a skip in her step alongside Sonya, a recent recruited meta with mild teleportation abilities and an eidetic memory. Sonya always dressed the same, Black jacket over white blouse with a knee-length pencil skirt of pumps, both black. She was one of the few who actually lived in the building so far, and was fanatically devoted to Zoë's plans for the city. They made their way through Zoë's living quarters, consisting of a suite of two bedrooms, a dining area attached to the kitchen, an art room, and her water closet. The hall between the bedrooms dead-ended, unless you could pass the biometric scan, knew the password, and had registered DNA for a pinprick. She usually just phased through the door when alone, but that wouldn't work with Sonya in tow, so she spoke the password, which opened the panel on the wall for everything else. When closed all of this was pretty much undetectable except to careful UV scans that revealed electrical components. As she finished the scans and submitted her blood for analysis, Sonya muttered something behind her. [color=tomato]“What was that, Sonya?”[/color] “Oh, sorry, ma'am. Trying to figure out the work schedule for tomorrow so there's no overlaps.” [color=tomato]“Ah. Very good.”[/color] The elevator door hidden in the wall opened and they stepped smartly through. This elevator only went to the sub-basement, and like the interrogation rooms and her training area, had no fire suppression systems, something Sonya was acutely aware of. Once before in the last month, during a bad case where a potential recruit had tried to take the place for himself, Zoë had let Sonya know to teleport and had then incinerated the little bastards. [i]Honestly, what was he thinking bringing rats to a firefight?[/i] Sonya's powers were particularly good at being a safety system, pulling out her own people while Zoë lit up the enemy, or 'porting the enemy to one of the locked interrogation rooms for further analysis if they hadn't prompted violence. Which was where they were heading now. Zoë strode into the room, hands in her pockets, grinning wolfishly at the fat amn chained to the folding chair in the room. He quivered in hat looked like his evening wear, which would make sense considering where he would've been grabbed from. She spoke in rapid Russian as she sat don. [color=tomato][/color] He responded in English. “I don't speak Commie!” Zoë continued in Russian, as Sonya handed her a file and she flipped through it. [color=tomato][/color] The man visibly paled as she set down a photo, one of a younger him in a Russian military uniform. He spoke shakily in Russian, Zoë sat back, crossing her arms. The tingle of her power told her he was seeing her as something else, but she didn't know what. [color=tomato][/color] He was growing more terrified as he replied, [color=tomato][/color] She paused to allow him the moan that escaped his lips. [color=tomato][/color] She didn't give him a chance to respond, just stood up and walked out of the room, Sonya trailing behind her. She gave it a few moments, to be out of hearing range of the door, even though the room was sound-proofed, and then burst out laughing. Even Sonya cracked a smile. [color=tomato]“Oh, [i]merde[/i] it was hard to keep a straight face! He looked like he was going to crap himself at any moment!”[/color] “Yes, Miss Forge, it was quite funny. But you have another event today. And you still have to get that email to the client in Paris.” [color=tomato]”Ahhh, no rest for the wicked.”[/color]