Back to Africa

February 20, 2017:

Morien of Umoja gives Ravager a call to work with a familiar former partner, back in a familiar place.

//Club deVile - Metropolis //

Also known as the Midtown Nightclub, Club deVile looks and operates just
like a typical higher end club. Unlike most others, this one happens to have
a secret which many never come to realize. For those fortunate enough to
have 'back room access,' deVile is also a functioning safehouse for some of
the city's villain figures.

In order to maintain this secret there are very strict rules regarding
conflict within the club proper, the last thing the owners want here is


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Morien is sitting at a private booth while some of his body guards are scattered around the club. Two of his body guards pose as tourists as they are sitting at the bar, while another two are posing as a couple in the booth next to him. Morien is peering down before slowly raising his head to speak with a server, "I am expecting a guest. Once she arrives, I do not wished to be disturbed. Morien peers over at the champagne that is chilling nearby at the table. "I think I have everything that I am going to need."

This is a place where Ravager knows the rules, considering the name and rep.

She gets back door entry considering her attire of more a 'masquerade' than a 'norm'.

Lights flicker over her silhouette, bearing the half of an eye of pale blue framed in white hair, the other of pure glowing white framed in the 'Operatic' mask. A weave of figure lined in the scale maille draws her between the beaded curtains from one room to the next, security picking up the mechanized arm-holsters that hold swords as well as heavy arms, the large blades at her back with more firepower.

Here she can come 'As You Are', but with a discretion she practiced tonight. Aside from choking the messenger blue for answers.

Limited. Let down.

Ravager appears and scans the crowd slowly, letting gaze fall to Morien with a light gesture of directive from a server.

Once she falls into the booth a drink is served, but left to perspire on its own while she watches him and waits.

"I don't know you." Flat. But the presence is enough to show interest!

"You know an associate of mine. His name is Ozymandias. He was in Africa working on assignment, and ran into an African warlord of something." Morien taps his left finger on the table, "I must confess I really do not recall all the details, but he did mention you, and my company helped out there after the battle was over with.

Morien extends his right hand carefully as he casually glances as his guards at the bar, "My name is Morien Washington of Umoja International. I was wandering if you wanted to make another trip."

Ravager pauses then, her poker face failing as the glass brought bearing her crystal clear alcohol with no rocks, is held beneath splayed fingertips. That mismatched gaze watches this Morien carefully, now while the imagery of the mission long ago flashes through her head. Ruthless, for them both, she recalls this Ozymandias, as they both bore the same lack-of-regret for their actions against chaos.

"It's hotter then balls there. I hated it." Leaning back the glass is brought to her lips and she sips.

"What are -all- of the stakes?"

"I need you to partner with Ozymandias. He had a problem in the past in going his own way in certain situations, and I really need someone who can see the bigger picture in this endeavor. Morien leans back in the booth, while his gaze rises to meet Ravager's. "It is actually he asked for my help, but since I am financed it, and helping him with recruiting, and making sure he can travel freely, and cleaning up the mess that seems to always follow people with powers."

A sly smirk appears on his face, "No offense, It just seems to be overwhelming truth. I need someone to help safeguard the people, but I also need Ozymandias wants to make sure the mission is completed. My concerns are the people that are coming on the mission with you, who might not have special powers.

Morien clasps his hands together as he sits up, but still keeps his gaze on Ravager, "The stakes are very simple. You have to retrieve some information, the information might not be accessible, or not even there. You might die, or shine a very bright light on yourself because of your actions.

Ravager listens.

Sits in silence.

Then downs the glass whole. A few shots of vodka at once only to circle as it lands on the table to settle and silence with her.

"I don't want light. Any of it. Let Ozy-mandias have it. What are you paying?"

Now the suit moans and grinds as she rocks forward, eyeing the shrewd business man with that broken gaze of wounded history. "Death is always an option. Not one I care about." Pause and a glance down.

"I need new boots, however." A gesture and one glass full replaces the empty. "Then I want the stakes, plans, goals…And we'll debate the bottom line?" But Morien meets a curious gaze, one wanting to know, and one anticipating another fight with Ozymandias.

The heat just sucks!

Morien needs help in recovery information that deals with something dealing with missing people. Morien tilts his head towards his left shoulder as his smirks widens to a full grin. "I can give you the location, and I will give you the contact information to speak to Ozymandias about joining his little endeavor, but I try to know very little about his missions. If things go very south, I rather not have to deal with any legal trouble from people love ones.

Morien leans back in the chair and he allows his gaze to leave her for a moment to observe her entire form, "Hhmm, I am not sure of your capabilities. I was expecting someone taller, but I will pay your normal rate, plus fifty percent, because you do not know me, and he mention we might have to move quickly once we have a team in place. If for some reason, if you want more after speaking with Ozymandias, I will have to talk to Ozymandias to make sure you are really worth it.

Ravager pauses when he mentions his 'expectations', and her being beneath them. A small tic comes to upper lip just beneath that bionic eye, the glass drained and then shattered before it even hits the table, within her hand.

"Do your research before you sign contracts." A recorder is held up and the feed is relayed along the lines that grant or bar people from hiring mercs now or later. Unternet is a wonderful thing aside from rep. Deathstroke's daughter is no fool.

"I can guarantee you will owe me a dine, wine, and operatic soprano climactic end with a Thank You gift card to Upscale Metropolis skyline. But first, your salary buys my dress and the weapons to suit beneath it." A flash of teeth and a sliver of glass is pulled from her palm.

"Don't insult your clients, Umoja, as I am sure me and my partner are very expendable."

Does she know who she is threatening? Nope. But that's the fun of it!

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