Topic: DCH ? Let the Games Commence

Mr. Howe · Date: 2008-05-04 19:37 EST

((Authors' Note: This scene takes place after the "Adapting to the Situation" thread. Time constraints force us to publish quicker than may be easier to follow. Our apologies.))

Into the den of the Dragon again....Alain walks down the hallways of the law firm's strange headquarters and tries not to think about the non-Euclidean layout while he makes his way to the office of Mister Howe. The cigarette dangling from his lips provides some comfort, his puffs on it spaced out but still rhythmic, giving him something to think about other than the tug of greed and power-hunger on his mind in this dangerous and evil place...

Voices carry from the interior, they greet Alain as he steps inside the warehouse. Howe's voice is recognizable and familiar. The other voice however is of the female persuasion. The voice is cultured, polite yet with an edge of harsh emotion, yet too low to for Alain understand what she's saying. As Alain draws closer to the airless room at the end of the hallway the situation within seems to be reaching an erupting point.

"You do what I tell you, that's the deal, bitch. You don't argue. You don't talk back to me. Understand"! I don't care if you don't like the tasks I have assigned you, should have thought about that before you signed the contract, baby cakes." Howe snarls evilly, yet he doesn't seem angry. Instead he comes across as if this is routine; something he has done frequently.

"Yes, sir," the unknown girl says, but there is an edge of steel to her voice that speaks volumes of her personal distaste for what Howe is asking of her. Whatever it is, it isn't something she willingly wants to do.

Alain stops a few feet short of the office door, holding his cigarette low and off to the side, leaning a touch to listen. His tie is loosened, his revolver holstered out in the open - this particular pistol is not inscribed with any symbols that would betray the anti-demonic potential of the bullets within.

When Alain peeks around the corner inside the room, he sees Howe lounging in the overstuffed chair he tends to prefer with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigar in the other. He is looking at a willowy blond-haired girl sitting demurely on the sofa. She's wearing a black dress, very plain and tailored to fit to her slender body. Her legs are crossed at her ankle and the black patent leather high heels are angled more for modesty than comfort. Sadness haunts startling blue eyes and even with only a quick glance Alain could see she's distressed.

"First things first, sweetheart, you're going to have to dress better than that. You look like your heading for a funeral. That isn't gonna fly here in Rhy"Din, there are a lot of great looking sluts out there to distract the few men the city seems able to draw. You got yourself some steep competition. Here," Alain hears movement and a soft gasp from the girl. "That's enough money to fill the Governor's bitch's closet. Put it to good use. You can do that this afternoon. I'll have Guthorm take you to the Marketplace. I hear there are a couple of trendy shops."

"Yes, sir," the girl says quietly, yet again, Alain can hear that edge to her voice.

"Ahhh, I think we have company." Howe smiles towards the doorway where Alain is lurking. "Detective, good news I hope" Won't you come in and join us" You simply *must* meet my new assistant, Ms. Jefferies."

A soft, muffled gasp comes from Ms. Jefferies as both of the room's occupants now gaze at the door.

How the demonic attorney had known Alain was there is a mystery, but the deeper mystery is how long had he known Alain was there"

Mr. Howe · Date: 2008-05-04 19:38 EST

Part II

The detective, as always, keeps his cards close. He doesn't remark about his presence being mysteriously known to Mr. Howe, and if there's surprise, he doesn't show it on his face. He enters the room and says to Mister Howe, "Excellent news." And then he turns to take a look at Ms. Jefferies....and finds his eyes linger, for reasons he's not fully sure of.

A slight cut leaks blood from Lisa's cheek and a pile of money lay scattered in her lap, untouched. A small streak of blood lingers on the edges of several newer looking bills. To Alain's trained eyes it appears as if Howe had thrown the wad at her and hard, perhaps even with the intent of doing her harm. The currency seems to hold none of her interest however. No, her attention is locked on the Detective. She doesn't smile to Alain; she stares at him with an odd haunting sadness in crystal blue eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes, I was reviewing the orbs from the inn just this morning, Mr. D"Mourir, I must say interesting stuff." Howe smiles pleased at Alain, he seems to be gloating over something, but he doesn't seem to want to share what that might be. He gestures for Alain to join them with the hand holding the cigar. "Please, sit, be comfortable. Care for some refreshments?" Howe turns to Lisa, smirking, "Don't just sit there; introduce yourself, baby cakes. Tell the handsome Mr. D"Mourir how happy you are to meet him."

Lisa glides to her feet gracefully, like a dancer. The money falls to the floor like paper butterflies, ignored by the girl as she steps towards Alain, her right hand extending. "Hello, Mr. D"Mourir, I'm Lisa Jefferies and yes, I am sure it is a pleasure to meet you." She sounds sincere and when she smiles her face lights up, enhancing her natural beauty. Yet there in those blue, blue eyes lingers a profound melancholy as if her soul has been tainted by tragedy.

He extends his scarred right hand to take hers, pausing to just feel it a moment as if he can make meaning of her sadness....and then a squeeze, his bright blue eyes meeting hers. His betray none of his sadness, none of his burden....they suggest only there is a mystery behind this man. "Please....call me Alain." There is only the suggestion of a smile on his face, unable to smile any wider in the face of such beautiful tragedy. He releases her hand....and turns to Mister Howe, sitting, and hoping secretly he can catch up with Miss Jefferies before she leaves.

"I've made contact as you asked," he grins to Howe, better able to fake his emotions to this wicked man. "All that remains now is for you to arrange a meeting - and I'm sure, as you observed, I go by the name of Marcus Alexander Shade in these dealings."

Howe, who had been watching the pair of them with that gloating expression plain on his face, turns a pointed smirk on Alain. "So, you come into my home stinking of that c*nt and the first thing you say isn't: "oh, by the way, I've spent some intimate time with Belial", no. But something about making contact and you taking on a new persona"! Have you lost your mind" Or did you seriously think I wouldn't notice" Alain, my"boyo, let me open your eyes to a few major details. I ain't human, I can smell the last time you took a bath, I can tell that Ms. Jefferies here thinks you are attractive because of how wonderfully wet, juicy and aromatic it's making her. Don't fuck with me son. What"! You plotting against me and my partners with that abomination Belial, or is there some other reason you didn't want to bring it up?"

As Howe is speaking, Lisa quietly returns to the sofa. She kneels down and begins to gather the bills up. She doesn't look at either of them. Instead she keeps her eyes on her task and says nothing. With the money in hand she stands and drops it on the coffee table. A declaration perhaps to inform Howe she doesn't need or want it. She picks up her black handbag and starts to make her way towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going, baby cakes"! Sit down. Since Alain is here, I'm going to have him take you to the Marketplace and get you a room at the inn." Howe turns back to Alain. "You can also settle my bill at the inn when you drop her off." No, he's not asking, he's telling. A glance back at Lisa, "Park your ass right back on that sofa; you can leave when I am done with Mr. D"Mourir here."

Lisa does as instructed but blue eyes flash with anger and her body language screams how badly she wants to spit in Howe's face. Whatever Howe holds over her, it's got to be big.

"Now, back to you, boyo; why don't we start this conversation over, yes" And you can begin by telling me why you stink like that bitch Belial." It's a statement not a question.

Alain is perfectly silent - he's long since learned to let Howe finish before he makes his strike, and so, he does. He enjoys his cigarette, apparently paying more attention to it than either Howe or Lisa. At last, once Howe asks, he says, "Because you wanted her murdered. How do you expect me to murder her, or otherwise arrange for her death, unless she trusts me?" He looks up from the ashtray as he taps his cigarette over it, and adds coolly, "Unless our last conversation has escaped your memory already, Mister Howe. You pose a problem for me, I find a solution, you should know that by now."

Howe snorts beady eyes hard on Alain. "Listen to me boyo, I want you to tell me every little detail. Understand" I want to know how you managed to get so close so quickly to someone I know a hell of a lot better than you obviously do, Mister Dicktective." Howe is suspicious. Yes, something is up and Howe knows it. He's seen the image orbs from Saturday night in the inn. He knows damn good and well Alain bumped into Belial and that later he tripped her so that she fell against him.

"So, boyo, you got orbs for me" Can you prove to me how you managed to accomplish this" Maybe you can tell me where Belial's WestEnd house is, eh' Or the times she's likely to be at home, away from that fucking stronghold Onyx" Or is it that you didn't really get close to her at all" Maybe you're lying to me and you set things up to just make it look like you're getting close" Is that it, son, you having problems with that bitch' Problems a man-whore like you doesn't want to admit' Aww, might it be wounding that manhood of yours?? Beady eyes dip to stare at Alain's crotch significantly.

Mr. Howe · Date: 2008-05-05 18:22 EST

Part III

Lisa says nothing. She sits on the sofa staring daggers at Howe. Her arms are crossed, her ankles are crossed and she couldn't look more uncomfortable. Lisa gives Alain a sympathetic smile when Howe's attention shifted so pointedly to Alain's lower torso. She feels very sorry for him, but he seems capable of handling himself. She gets confidence off of him and a hint of something else, something familiar. He is rather handsome and with the thought comes a hot blush. Lisa quickly looks off towards the other side of the room, at nothing in particular and begins to fidget.

"I'd have to be using fucking orbs all the time, wouldn't I, and that's just not something I fucking do," Alain retorts....and then rubs his fingers through his hair, as if Howe's words have hit too close to home. Finally he folds his hands in front of himself, and admits, "She's putting up a bit more resistance than I thought she would. I ran into her at that bloody tea place, Teas 'n Tomes, and she seemed receptive at first..." He stares at him.

"She was playing me; she wouldn't let me get far. The fucking bitch was playing me, and I aim to make her hurt for it." Anger rolls off of Alain in hot waves, a depraved and vengeful rage, a veritable delicacy for any demon, and he glowers across the room at Howe. "Can we do that?" He takes a sharp drag of his cigarette.

Lisa is taken aback by Alain's sudden and totally unexpected change of demeanor. She cringes with each word he speaks, as if his anger were a whip flaying at her flesh. She drops her eyes to the floor, folding her hands in her lap, almost as if she is pretending not to be here.

Alain's reaction seems to please Howe immensely. He sets the cup aside, trays the cigar and slaps his hands together rubbing them gleefully. "Yes, we can do that. But you have to find a way to get close enough for us to accomplish it. If you can't do it yourself, son, you need to find somebody who can. Belial is a bitch; you best watch your back with her. If she smells me on you no doubt she'll attempt to use you. But we can use that against her too." Howe doesn't bother to explain, he switches topics instead. "Now, tell me this excellent news. I assume you were able to contact your 'serial killers?" Have you been able to get us a meeting date?"

Alain rubs at his brow a moment, as if still stressed by the Belial problem - and on a level, it's true, he is. "Can I get a drink?" he says, looking up and around, eyes falling on Ms. Jefferies. "Whiskey double, Lisa, that would be lovely." He's a bit cool and short, and turns his attention back on Mister Howe.

"I've had....shall we call it, extensive contact with Miss Krysira Clayborne, leader of the Black Wolf Guild, who is a part of their group. She has her followers leaving graffiti now - namely the mark of the Temple of Bha'al." He manages a smile. "I'm sure they have big plans. As for a meeting....I'll see how many I can get to go to....hmm. How does Dickies' sound" No image or sound orbs, no information brokers, no one important ever goes there. We pick a deep dark corner and talk business."

Lisa glances up at Alain, her chin lifting as anger flashes across her beautiful face. She doesn't respond but she does stand and move to the wet bar. Presenting her back to both men, she busies herself with pouring Alain's drink request.

Howe nods as Alain fills him in on the news. "The Temple of Bhaal; yes we've had dealings with their like before. Rather a likable crowd, with their love of murder and blood. Dickies" is fine. I do a lot of *shopping* and dining there. Yes, you do that; set up this meeting. But, son' Make sure I ain't wasting my time. I want the head honcho not some two-bit half-wit thug looking for a bump up in their station. Understand"!"

Alain smiles thinly, rather wickedly, and says in reply, "You'll get the Queen of Murder herself." He leans to put his cigarette out, hand held out to accept the drink from Lisa once it's ready. "My sources have informed me their leader is probably a woman....Interesting twist, that." He clears his throat slightly.

"Is there anything else you need done?"

Mr. Howe · Date: 2008-05-05 18:24 EST

Part IV

Lisa glides back towards the sofa and Alain with his drink in hand. She slaps the glass into his hand but she doesn't look at him. If she is paying any mind to their conversation it doesn't show. Her expression is intentionally empty leaving her unreadable, whatever she's thinking she's keeping it hidden. She returns to her previous seat quietly. It is almost as if she is intentionally casting herself as part of the background.

"The Queen of Murder," Howe says smiling, "I like that. You plan on fucking your way into her too, boy?" But Howe's tone is surprisingly light and teasing. "Yes, I need you to deliver a package for me. I want you to take this to Sid." Howe reaches inside his interior jacket pocket and pulls out a small glass jar. He tosses it to Alain fully expecting the man to catch it or get hit in the head with it, depending on what Alain chooses to do. "That there is Pecca. It's a powerful drug that does wonderfully vile things to the Elven population. It's Sid's best friend and her worst addiction. I want you to hand deliver it to her. Don't tell her it was me who sent you. But?" Howe pauses as beady eyes narrow on Alain, "I want you to convince her to use it. Besides, you were the one who said you had to have her. Sid on pecca is a voracious whoring slut. Just make sure she uses it, I don't care what the pair of you do after she does the junk."

The detective's reflexes are lightning fast; his hand swipes through the air and snatches the jar. He flips it once and cradles it in his lap, inspecting it. "Pecca....Huh." He looks up at Howe and grins. "What's this stuff do for mere mortals?"

He sets it aside and knocks back his drink all at once, gulping it down and gasping. Out of habit, the empty glass is set down upside down. "The bitch is in heat, it won't be a problem." He looks over at Lisa. "I've got work to do - you ready to go?" On the whole, his tone with her is pretty condescending. He rises from his seat and loosens his tie.

Howe snorts at Alain's question. "Pecca don't do shit to mortals, son. But if you want something else, why don't you ask Belial?" Howe looks between the pair, those beady eyes coming to a rest on Lisa. "Just remember, you do your job and you do it well, everything will be square. You fuck it up or open that pretty little mouth of yours for anything other than a blow job' I will kill you myself, up close and really personal. Understand?"

Beady eyes move back to Alain. "I need you here on Sunday. I have a list of things I expect you to bring with you. It's there on the desk. Before nightfall, Alain, Sunday; do not disappoint me." His tone brooks no argument. He waves a hand in a shooing motion. "You two get outta here. I have more important business that I need to attend to now."

Lisa stands when Alain does, purse clutched before her, still refusing to look at either of the two men. She nods mutely to Howe but doesn't bother responding. She simply moves past Alain towards the door even before Howe dismisses them. She steps out into the hall and continues making her way towards the front door. She doesn't seem to care if Alain is following, nor does she seem to be keeping a pace intended for him to catch up.