Mer De Noms [Maurelle]

[Christian Moynahan]

And if you hate for dawn to fade
You should see the dark
-Delilah, "I Can Feel You"

Some must certainly wonder at the strange contrast between certain aspects of Christian's life. He certainly wondered at it on many occasions. Perhaps these were the effects of being in transition; from having been reaching for power and then having gained it, between living a working-class life and then rising up to a position that offered six figures. Whatever the cause may be, there were often so many discrepancies around and concerning him that he hoped it did not make him appear dishonest. Or, perhaps, it made him more honest.

Why else was it that he had come to live in a Tudor-style house with two levels and an attic, while driving a Honda Civic, albeit a new one? Why was it that the manner of his dress varied from piece to piece; how could he be wearing a fifty-dollar shirt under a two-hundred-fifty dollar jacket? He was still coming into the trappings of fortune and fame, but his old habits had yet to leave him. He would have been happy to live in an apartment if Gabriel had not arranged otherwise; he could not bring himself to buy an expensive, flashy car when he doubted he would drive it much farther than the distance between that Tudor and the Ark headquarters.

Indeed, change was often slow to come, but Christian doubted it would come for him in most ways. He did not entirely want it to come. Those things - his Honda, his older clothes, his one watch, his old briefcase - kept him grounded, reminded him not only of where he had come from, but also of how much effort it had taken to grow from there. He had seen too many men fall because they had moved too far up without looking back. Like those men, Christian had designs above his station. He was well aware of that. But unlike those men, he knew that humility, as much as connections and intellect and talent, was an integral force, one that could push one forward or thrust one back.

That was how he had come upon Mademoiselle Lacroix, he supposed. As much as studying his superiors in his past careers had taught him, he was realizing more every day that he still had much to learn about power and the many ways to wield it. Like the fashion choices he made, each step was being watched, and each step could be crucial.

He had chosen carefully for this occasion, shunning his typical dinner attire for something a bit less formal, and with a particular statement. A grey suit over a black dress shirt, his watch, black shoes, and a pink tie. It was exactly what he would have worn, minus the jacket, at Ark's town hall meeting or any such public event aside from press conferences - those required a more typical attire. As for price, this time it was the tie and the shoes that were on the more expensive end. It was the choice of colors that was more unusual, though. However, put together, and with his hair a little more neatly combed than usual, the thought the look came together well. It worked for his purposes, at least.

It was through her more up-front business practices that Mlle Lacroix had come to Christian's attention. She had been one of a hundred possible contacts he had been going through, regarding a public project, namely the specific-strain cholera treatment he and his special team were working on. He would not have paid much more mind to her over any others had something regarding her own contacts had caught his eye. To any other chance observer, there may not have been anything untoward to see there, but for one, Christian had just gone through a long list of others that should have been like her, or she them; for another, through Ark itself, both its past and its present, he was familiar with what it looked like when one had to present two different faces to two different sides. A good deal of research later, on his own time, he thought he had an idea of what was going on; and a conversation with Gabriel confirmed it.

He had invited Mlle Lacroix to meet him at Áine solely under Gabriel's assurance that she would accept - given with that certainty so peculiar to precognitive individuals. There was hardly any other place for them to meet about this matter in any case; public venues were too risky, and Christian was unable to leave Los Angeles due to his work with the treatment. Fortunately, even with little explanation on his end, she accepted, which brought everything around to the reason he was dressed far more deliberately than he would have for dinner alone, or with Gabriel and Lucius, and the reason he had drinks and the like on hand as a host should always have for a guest, and why he was now waiting patiently in his living room, tapping out a few notes on his phone as he considered things still left to do that must be completed the next day at Ark.

At the sound of the doorbell, he rose and set his phone aside, and answered the door himself. At a house of that size, one would have been forgiven for expecting a servant to open the door, or for at least a family member or significant other to do the job for him; the double garage, if not the number of rooms apparent from the front of the house, certainly suggested the presence of more than one person. And if Christian had left his car outside of the garage, as he preferred to do, the illusion might have been foiled; however, recent lessons had shown him that while his neighborhood was a quiet one, there were some unscrupulous individuals who did not mind crossing into it to do his property harm; and the necessity of having his car and his home's façade repainted and his trees cleared of toilet paper had driven the point home.

And surely, one might have been surprised to see Christian himself answer the door, but - unbeknownst to Christian, by merit of not having been fully informed by Gabriel - this particular guest had an affinity for not being easily surprised. Having had no expectations one way or the other himself, Christian greeted the small woman warmly, holding the door open for her to enter, and then closing it behind them before extending his hand.

"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Lacroix," he said with a smile that reflected in his sea-green eyes. "Je suis Christian. Enchanté de faire votre connaissance." He made a slight gesture to his left, indicating the door there, before opening it as well. "Entrez, s'il vous plait." Beyond the door was the living room, which contained plenty of comfortable seating to choose from. He had picked the living room over the dining room because, although it was farther from the kitchen than the dining room, it set a less rigid expectation in terms of the flow of conversation.

"Je ne parle pas bien français, but I thought I would try," he said with a soft chuckle, waiting for her to choose a seat before settling into one herself - if she did indeed choose to sit. If not, he too remained standing for the moment. It was that well-bred chivalry again, or perhaps a courtesy to make up for the slight disservice he had already done. The introductory phrases were not the sole extent of his French, but he felt they would be better off covering these integral topics in English. Or, at least, he would be better off. Besides, he had not said he was unfamiliar with French; he had just said he did not speak it very well. And that became true if one happened to consider his French accent poor.

"I hope I have not inconvenienced you too much by asking you here," he said, still with a gentle smile and as pleasant a manner as one would expect from a host of the classic times, when etiquette and customs were paramount. "But I do believe I can help you resolve a very trying issue you've been facing."

But he did not go on just then; with a slight tilt of his head, he indicated a doorway behind him, one which led by turns to the kitchen. "Would you like any refreshments? I don't keep a very good house, but I do have a fair amount of drinks and little snacks on hand."

[Helena Rahal]

Bad company, I wont deny
Bad, bad company until the day I die.

Maurelle was not a woman who was easily surprised, as such was she gifted with the handy ability of precognition. On top of that, she ran a fairly elaborate and intricate organization that had its ear to the ground. Information was a powerful tool to be had Maurelle knew and she did her best to keep that weapon harnessed. Be it here more legitimate rendezvous or her underground elements, Maurelle liked to be and often was the person with the knowledge and the upper hand against all her competitors.

So when she got the phone call and invitation from none other than the new CEO of Ark Industries, she felt the now unusual feeling being surprised. The invitation to visit his home in Los Angeles was especially intriguing, given that what she had read of the man did not suggest something so personable for a first encounter. Maybe it was simply a case of convenience for Christian or media exposure exhaustion, but it still was a little bit of an oddity. Nonetheless, Maurelle humbly accepted his invitation and made the according plans to make the trip from Dallas to the west coast city.

Much to her own fortune, Maurelle had in her employ the use of a teleporter and did not need to bother with the hassles of airport terminals. While flying was certainly an efficient and mostly enjoyable experience compared to land travel, the hassle of the terminals were simply an annoyance that Maurelle would forgo any and every time she could. There was no chance of luggage being lost, having to deal with rude or ignorant staff, nor suffer from unpleasant sorts in adjacent seats. Having her teleporter simply whisk her to her destination at a moments notice was just the better option whenever the situation allowed for it.

She had decided to opt for a business casual look for the meeting with the CEO, as she was entirely unsure what the night held in store. She had decided to not utilize her abilities to see exactly how the night played out for a change. While she knew that even if she had decided to indulge that curiosity, to make use of the power granted to her, futures were whimsical things that change at the slightest alteration of what could have happened. A simple change like arriving a minute later than intended could change the entire timeline and her glimpse into the future would become nothing more than a potential outcome rather than the intended. Also, she had enjoyed the all to unfamiliar feel of being completely and utterly surprised, it was a bit of a thrill.

A royal blue blazer obscured her peach blouse, though the ruffle at her sternum was clearly visible. She had paired the tops with matching trousers and added peach wedges just for a sprinkle of flair. Her make up was not overly done but it was not war paint like she would wear on a night out or clubbing, more subdued, something one would expect to see of a secretary. While she decided not to add any accessories to her getup, she had decided to put her hair in a fancy updo, as it suited her station. They were both heads of important and influential groups, there was a certain air of expectation of beauty in the presentation that came with that, even if her groups were less powerful and legitimate than her counterpart for the evening.

After dispensing with the unpleasantness associated with teleportation, Maurelle composed herself and rounded the corner to Christian's address. His house was unusually large for someone who lived alone, that she was entirely sure of. No wife or girlfriend as far as she had been able to find out, nor a boyfriend either if he happened to be interested. There was no serving staff either, which surprised and pleased her. She had no such staff in any of her own residences, there was a certain grounding factor in still having to deal with things like cleaning after yourself and answering the door. However, she also expected that like her, Christian was not someone who had many visitors to their residence. It was with that thought in mind that she stepped up to the door and rang the bell.

The response was quick and Maurelle could tell that he had been waiting for her to arrive, which she did not know if it was a good or bad thing. If she had kept him waiting for too long, then there certainly was the risk that she had already created an annoyance. Yet a warm welcome and one that was surprisingly in her native tongue put that concern to bed. For someone who was obviously not a natural speaker of the language, his command was not terrible. Since he had been so kind to greet her in French, she would reciprocate, her chances to use French since leaving home were always delightful.

"Un plaisir de vous rencontrer Monsieur Monyahan. Je vous remercie pour votre invitation à votre belle maison." She gave him a soft nod as she invited him, entering the house to foyer, another comfortable surprise as she half expected it to open into the living room. "Vous parlez il assez bien pour quelqu'un qui n'est pas né pour elle. And the gesture is greatly appreciated." She complimented him as they entered the living she had expected to begin with and took a seat in the loveseat in front of the backside window, crossing her left leg over her right and folded her arms across her lap, putting on a smile small as she waited for her host to take a seat as well.

Maurelle was about to say that it had been no inconvenience for his invitation when he mentioned help solving a problem that was troubling her. That did catch her attention, since all her public faces were doing well, even in an economy that was still struggling to recover from the recession of the previous decade. The only true problem that Maurelle had was one of her own making, how to dissolve the drug cartel that she had made a hostile take over as a move to solidify herself as the most powerful member of the underground west of the Mississippi. It appeared as if Christian was not as squeaky clean as the magazines would have people believe or he had a knack for exceptional subterfuge and intelligence gathering.

Rather than diving off the deep end though, he decided to continue to play the accommodating host. With an idea now of where this evening was going to eventually head, Maurelle wanted to just get to it. However it was rude to not accept a gift when offered as a guest in another's house. "Pastis or a Provencal wine if you happen to have any, otherwise water would suffice." Maurelle doubted that he would have either, but a little taste of her homeland would be a nice touch.

[Christian Moynahan]

Heaven or Hell
the cards we've been dealt
are the cards that we play

The young woman spoke French beautifully, as Christian supposed he should expect from one who had grown up speaking the language. French was something of a delicate language, in his opinion; one could treat it carefully and smoothly, or one could crush its words and subtleties between one's teeth, and turn it into a different language entirely. Christian thought he probably fell into the middle of both, but his attempt at communicating in the language did not seem to have been taken poorly; rather, Mademoiselle seemed to have been pleasantly surprised to hear him speak in it. "Merci beaucoup," he said with a wide smile, after her compliments to his home and to his fair command of French. "I'm very honored."

After their introduction in the foyer, they took up seats in the living room - or, rather, she settled upon a loveseat and he remained standing in case she did ask for something to drink. Her response had him think for a moment before he smiled and bowed his head. "I'll be just a moment," he said as he disappeared farther into the house, into the kitchen.

He had a small collection of wines. Some might consider him a connoisseur; he knew a good bit about wines, but did not have any sort of wine cellar yet, partly because his house did not have one already and partly because he had just moved to California and had been working since his arrival, leaving little time for tasting or appraising wines, even in vineyard-saturated California. That was not helped by the fact that he had taught himself every single thing he knew about wines beyond "it's got alcohol in it." His middling family had generally bought whatever boxed wine was cheapest when they were in the mood for something finer than a six-pack of beer. He had learned more than that upon leaving home, first in college (and before he was of drinking age), and then on throughout graduate school and his various careers. Gabriel and Lucius had been of tremendous help as well, though they may not have known it; he simply watched their habits when he was out with them.

In anticipation of this meeting, he had bought a bottle of wine that should have counted as being from Provence, Mlle Lacroix's place of upbringing. In truth, he had not been paying as much attention as he could have been, as his mind had been on his work on the cholera outbreak aid efforts. But the bottle he had procured did appear to be of the right type and region, upon his current inspection of it. He brought it and two wine glasses to the living room, and set all down carefully.

The wine was of the rosé variety, and of a 2012 vintage, which somewhat gave away that it was not one of the more expensive wines, but still, lightly chilled as it was, it should have had a refreshing and crisp flavor, or at least, that was what Christian was going for. Now, after pouring a glass of the wine for each of them, he took a seat, at an angle from her, close enough to have a pleasant conversation, but not so close as to invade the other's privacy. Christian was very deliberate about these things, as any slight choice or move could change perceptions and impressions. Both were important in just about any matter.

If he had read her correctly, then she had shown interest in his suggestion that there was something he could help her with. Whether she had guessed it, he could not be sure. That would wait, however. They barely knew each other; anything she knew of him, she had gotten from the media, and Fallon Daugherty had been very careful in how he had been portrayed there. All he knew of her, as well, was what he had been able to find in the media and his further investigations from there. Upon finding the initial discrepancies that suggested something below the surface of Maurelle Lacroix's business dealings, he had very carefully looked into a few things and made a few calls to verify his theory.

As with his knowledge of wines, he had taught himself how to find out anything he wanted to know, how to monitor persons and other entities of interests, and how to keep all of that infiltration and investigation quiet. Most of it he had learned in college and put into use as a middle manager at a couple of his past jobs. It helped to know not only his competition and what moves they might make next - and what their weaknesses were - but also his own employees and contacts, which were trustworthy, and which had dangerous Achilles' heels, and which were planning to move against him or the company he worked for. It had proved useful several times over for all of his employers.

Then, once he had been added to Ark's ranks as its CEO, he had mentioned to Gabriel Constant that he had learned of the man through his own channels, which - as Christian would later learn - happened to be a regular practice for that man as well. At that time, Gabriel said nothing of it, only issued a challenge: Find Gabriel's weaknesses. The next day, after having spent the past twenty-four hours in an exhaustive and thorough search of Gabriel's past and present, Christian had said weakly, "You don't have any." Gabriel had smiled and given him another twenty-four hours. This time, Christian looked at the same data from a different angle; the next day, he said to Gabriel, "You have three." He then gave Gabriel three names. Gabriel had chuckled and commented that he and Lucius had chosen well.

It was also true that not everything Christian did was completely honest or upright. There was the matter of the cyberkinetic, of course, and some other projects he had some relative influence in. Favors owed favors. He had contacts high and low; some in the American government, some in the American criminal world, some within the Mafia, some within various police departments. Some influential friends in the European Union, some friends of a differing sort of influence in Mexico and Venezuela. Information and materials had to come from somewhere, after all - and nowhere was that more true than at Ark. Already many of those contacts had proven most helpful to him.

He glanced out of the reinforced glass doors that led out onto the back porch for just a moment before returning his attention to Maurelle. "It's quite something, isn't it?" he asked, speaking as much to himself as to her. "You climb the ladder of success until it brings you to the top, and suddenly you realize how different the vantage is from on high than it is looking up from the bottom. I certainly didn't see a two-story house with acacia and cherry trees from down there." He chuckled dryly, but smiled; the difference was telling. Specifically, it was telling a story Christian had left fully unexplained, all wholly by design. If, again, his findings had been correct, she most likely shared a similar opinion.

"That's beside the point of the point, of course. Merely a passing observation." He reached for his glass of wine and took a sip from it. "I suppose I should preface our conversation by expressing my apologies if I have been too presumptuous. Not everyone wishes their more… personal matters to be known, much less for assistance in them." He turned the glass in his hand, his gaze on the light-colored wine for a moment, as though inspecting it, or merely watching it move. "My perceptiveness has made others uncomfortable, or so I've been repeatedly been aware of. So please, if at any point I cross any distressing boundaries - or if I already have - feel free to make it known to me."

[Helena Rahal]

You carry on like a holy man pushing redemption
I wont even mention the reason I know

Maurelle gave a nod as Christian excused himself to seek the refreshment he had offered her. Maurelle wondered if he indeed have either Pastis or any of the wines from the region she grew up in in France. With Marseille being more or less the capital of Provence, she had sampled many of the wines that came from the region, even outside the well known three or four that were typically exported. A sip, if not the look, of the wine would be all she would need if Christian choose to serve her wine to see if he had indeed had something of her childhood on hand.

In the meantime, she studied his household as best as she could from the loveseat. It seemed very modest for a man who commanded his salary now that he was at the head of one of the most well known companies in the world. It was as if the estate had been gifted to him rather than he had procured and decorated it for himself. That or he was a far more down to earth person than she had anticipated, which would be interesting if true.

Very few men of power came from entirely humble beginnings or were quite down to earth as they tried to portray if they did so. Most came of some sort of means, even if they only saw themselves as part of the lower classes themselves. Such was the benefit of living in Western society, you were gifted with certain means that millions in other places of upbringing could only wish for. While it did nothing to diminish their climb for power, for the success that they crafted, it simply meant that they often lacked the perspective Maurelle thought was needed of people in positions of power.

Maurelle knew that she to did not come from entirely humble means, her parents had been well enough and then she had been taken in by Marie. Through her youth, she never wanted for anything, but both her parents and then Marie had made her have to work for her desires. Nothing was simply gifted to her on a silver platter for merely existing, there were tasks and chores, goals she had to reach to have what she desired. Now that she ran her organization, she saw the benefit of it all, she had not become entitled, it had given her the drive to do whatever she needed to in order to achieve her goals.

Christian returned with a pair of goblets, each filled with what appeared to be a rose wine from a first glance. It was not an expensive sort of wine and that further intrigued her, it was the sort of wine a middle class family that wanted a bit of classiness but lacked the funds would opt for. His choice had gone a long way in saying more about his upbringing than his modest home already had. Perhaps their stories were not all to dissimilar, though she was hesitant to assume that completely just yet.

"Thank you." She said as he handed her the drink and took his seat at an angle from her rather than across. Maurelle wondered if that was deliberate, as a seat across could be seen as confrontational or trying to assert dominance. It was subtle and frequently unknown clues that people provided to their intent and attitudes, such was the wary thing of the subconscious. At a side seat, he was not directly opposing her nor attempting to enter her space, but was not far enough away to seem aloof either.

His eyes danced across the glass like looking not through the glass itself but to a different time in his life. Perhaps reminiscing about some former home or even lover that he had shared residence with, either seemed likely. It was his words though that brought a new level of understanding and made her more confident in dealing with the man, as it seemed her assumptions were correct. He did not come from extraordinary means and had needed to climb the ladder to reach where he was professionally and personally.

"A view is more often than not provided by the backs of people who will never in their lifetime get to appreciate it. It is for those who do get the view to savior it and remember where it is their majesty has come from." Her words were soft, as not to have him think she was insinuating any ill dealings for his part. Merely it was words of wisdom that she had learned through experience and learning from her own tutors, one did not destroy the foundation of ones own home.

The apology caught her off guard though, showing ones hand and then apologizing for it was certainly uncommon. It did not surprise her to hear that his mannerisms had made people uncomfortable in the past. The unexpected often had a way of putting people into odd moods and that was often let off in being uncomfortable or confrontational. People were wary of the unknown, even if it was something as innocuous as simple as a different etiquette.

"Some would say boundaries are made to be broken." Maurelle gave him a wry grin and took a sip of the wine. It was cheap but it was from her homeland and crisp as if relatively new. Christian would need to expand his collection of Provencal wines if they were to have many more meetings at his residence. "It is also said that it is rude to decline assistance when it is offered, as it is a gift. While I do not like that my activities have been found out, I am impressed that you have been able to do so. I bear you no ill will, for I would investigate you myself had I been the one to invite you to my residence."

That was quite the truth. A person's home was their castle, it was an inner sanctum where one was supposed to feel the most at peace and secure. Inviting undesirable elements into it was not something that would be a good idea for just about anyone, much less the CEO of Ark. That he was able to uncover her activities and the problem that she was attempting to rid herself of merely meant that he had excellent means to his vetting.

"If I may, I do have a question I would like to ask you before we begin to talk business." It was a very important question, one she always intended to ask any and all potential allies if given the chance. It helped her truly understand the character of whom she was making her bed with and if they were worthy of her association.

Maurelle waited hesitantly as he mulled the request and wondered if she had overstepped her bounds as the guest. However as he conceded to her request, she had an internal sigh of relief, as it was a question definitely worth the asking. "My question is, how do you treat those who work for and under you? What do they mean to you, what does the organization you now run mean to you? Not as an organization itself mind you, but of the people who work for it, who rely on it for their livelihood."

[Christian Moynahan]

So you step outside
And you search for a way
To get back what you had
To amount to anything
-Codec, "Horizontime"

To all appearances, the wine Christian brought out and served was acceptable. Maurelle thanked him for it and took some small sips from it, with no complaint about it nor praise for it. It was enough; unless he had chosen incorrectly and she was only humoring him, in which case he would greatly prefer to be told instead. He preferred to learn from his mistakes, but he could only do so if he knew what they were. He would ask about it in a moment, he decided. "You're quite welcome," he said courteously in response to her thanks.

He knew he had a tendency to speak his own thoughts without reason at times, especially when he was looking to pace the conversation rather than get to the main topic immediately, as now. Perhaps it was a byproduct of having lived alone for so long. That practice had not begun with his move to California, but had been the case since he graduated college and thereby stopped living with dorm-mates there. That had been… more than a decade ago, he almost hated to think. He had wanted to hang on to his youth, but time had not given him that option, and even though he was still in top physical shape and had several more years until he could be called "over the hill," he still missed his twenties. Overall, those had been good years.

He preferred to live alone, although it was more difficult in a home as large as Áine; previously he had lived in various apartments, all small. He'd had a penchant for talking to himself at times back then as well. Sometimes he needed to hear a voice, even if it happened to be his own. His friends and coworkers called him and visited him on occasion, certainly, but overall, it was just him. That had given him an odd bit of character, he thought sometimes.

As she spoke, in response to that comment so far removed from his actual purposes, he considered her words, imagined them in practice. Which backs had he climbed upon to get to where he was? It was not a question of whether he had, he knew he had. But who was it that he had used? Had it been his coworkers, or his neighbors? Perhaps his relatives? Everyone, he decided, unsure, but he knew his ambition had never allowed him to give way no matter who had tried to stop him in his climb. He had known what he wanted and gone for it, all opinions save his be damned.

Yet he had never forgotten where he had come from, or what it had been like to fight his way upward from his modest upbringing, or the people who had helped him along the way. He gave a slight nod. "So often we forget, and it destroys them, or us." It would have been unkind to let his own success taint those who had helped him attain it, much less to leave them in pieces financially or even emotionally. It was too easy to do, however, and while Christian did not think that had ever been the case with him, he knew he had been pushing forward too far and moving too quickly, "reckless abandon" indeed, in his bid for success as soon as he could get it, at any cost. He would not be surprised to find he had left some broken branches in his wake.

Her next comment made him chuckle softly, though. "Just so," he said, but the sentiment ran deeper than that. He had a tendency to push boundaries himself - his own, primarily, but also those of others. As he had mentioned, that habit tended to bother most of the people around him. Certainly, everyone had a particular boundary that simply was too much, but with Maurelle, he thought perhaps that if she had one, it would not be easily found or broken. That gave him some comfort in what he had invited her here to discuss.

He was glad to hear that she did not take offense to him having researched her and found some of her less forward dealings. She was not pleased by it, but he certainly understood that; he would have felt the same way in her place. And he felt a sort of pride in her compliment that she was impressed that he had found her out.

"I have no reason to reveal my findings to anyone else, and neither do I have any wish to. Your information is safe with me. I give you my word." The bit about 'his word' was one he uttered often, and actually meant about half the time. This was one of the times where he meant it, though; he had no reason or wish to cause her or her reputation or her business harm, and never had. He had been careful to avoid leaving any sort of data trail as he had looked into the matter.

She had a question first, though, and he hesitated for a moment, not wondering whether he would allow the question - he certainly would - but to wonder what it would be. Was it something about him personally, his private life, his own under-the-table dealings? Something about Ark? He was often asked how much of what he said about turning Ark around was true. It was a fair question, but one he was tired of answering. It seemed he still had a good deal of proving himself to do to the public.

"Of course," he said at some length, addressing whether she could ask the question. The simplest route to satisfying his curiosity, after all, would not be to guess, but to hear it directly. That meant he would have to answer it, whatever it was, but, while he did not want to begin his acquaintanceship with Maurelle with any lies, he was not averse to doing so if he did not like the question or felt the answer to it would not fit his plans at the moment.

The question unfolded itself plainly. It was a good question, an excellent one, in fact, and certainly a fair one for her to ask in this situation. She had no idea yet that the reason for this meeting had nothing to do with Ark Industries, but the way one treated his peers and subordinates said much about a person's character at any rate.

The nature of the answer was what threw Christian. The answer that immediately came to his mind was one he had considered in pieces scattered over time, but never so succinctly, and never in one word, as he had thought of it just now. The implications of that one word were enormous. In it, he had abandoned hope in one instance, and bestowed it in another, at the risk of being hurt again by the latter as he had by the former, a risk he had not been aware of, but one, he now knew, he had already chosen to take, a very long time ago. One word.

"They are my family, Mademoiselle Lacroix," he said quietly, even more quietly than he had been speaking before, his voice having a naturally low and soft timbre that never quite left it unless he was projecting it. He had set his glass down on the coffee table before them and was now leaning on the arm of his chair. He knew he would have to explain further, and he would, but a large part of the necessary explanation would not be given. He was certain she did not know what had become of his original family, his blood relatives, and he did not feel that was a subject to broach now for any reason at all.

His family remained in Roanoke. Occasionally he sent them holiday cards, and called them for his parents' birthdays. They were still in the same house he had grown up in, in the same careers they had held throughout his life - as they lacked the money to retire, and he had yet to decide whether he would give them anything to help them to that end - and his sister continued to lead the same unexceptional path everyone in their neighborhood did, and which he would have had his singular drive for success not pulled him out of that downward spiral. His sister had apparently declined to attend any form of higher education and was working as a convenience store attendant; by twenty-two, she had gotten pregnant twice, and miscarried twice. None of it was good enough for Christian. He did not understand why they did not aspire for more, or why they thought so little of his own aspirations.

But it seemed he had chosen elsewise. He had found others who were much more understanding and like-minded, who did not mind helping him up or at least giving him the opportunity to do so himself, and who, indeed, wanted to be part of his journey, and wanted him to be part of theirs. They were smart, they were driven, they loved to explore and they wanted to change the world. They were everything he ha d wanted his family to be, and lacked all the malignant traits his family did have.

"They are the people I trust the most, the people I look up to and admire, whether they are my superiors or my staff. There is nothing I would not do for them." He was looking at her, an intensity in his eyes, giving away the passion he felt on the subject and, by association, the truth of his words. "I have been fortunate in having the opportunity to work with outstanding thinkers, people who don't consider 'ambition' a curseword." The briefest of smiles played on his lips before returning to their solemn expression.

"I have trouble thinking of myself as a CEO, in truth. I would much rather be in the laboratories and in the field with my scientists and researchers, and I join them whenever I can. We learn together, we come to know each other better. Sometimes they teach me things, and sometimes I teach them. Usually it is the former." Now he broke into a real smile, and chuckled softly. "They are my family, the cousins and brothers and sisters I would have asked for. And Lucius and Gabriel are, quite possibly, the older brothers I never had."

For a moment, he glanced down and sighed. "It is difficult to strike the right balance between being close and being the boss. When I have to exert my commands over them, I try to do so both as a boss and as a peer, with an understanding of what it is I am asking them to do, but using the authority afforded me as Ark's leader to ensure that they do it, and do it correctly. The difference is delicate."

He picked up his glass again and took a sip from it, his gaze lingering on Maurelle as he cupped it in his hands afterward. "And you, mademoiselle?" he asked quietly. "What are you to your staff, and they to you?"

[Helena Rahal]

I've got a little red bow
And I bought it for you
Cause I know you're not fair

Maurelle would have been pleased with his barely audible answer to her question. In a single word he had answered the question far greater to her liking than he could have known. There was a brief and small smile on her face as that single breath from him confirmed what she had already began to suspect. However it was entirely one thing to say the words that she had wanted to hear, that would quench her desire to know of his character. Yet it was the way he answered that had left little doubt to the sincerity of his words for Maurelle.

All the same, Christian seemed intent to elaborate further on how Ark and its employees were his family. There was a quaint but odd smile as he mentioned his fortune in finding like minded individuals to work with, at the mention of ambition. There was a story there to be sure, one that she suspected held quite a bit of emotion for the way he acted around it. What it was, Maurelle could only begin to guess, as ambition was often seen as a good thing, so long as it was not made in reckless maneuvers.

It was something that Maurelle stored away for later or another time. She was curious about what would drive that sort of statement, what experiences must have been in the past. There was many avenues to go about it, if she so desired to do so covertly, though it would undoubtedly be a challenge. If he had been able to vet her so thoroughly, then cracking his own personal history would be something of a chore, not so easily done during a first meeting.

The rest which followed was merely the natural progression from what she had already seen and surmised. Maurelle did not need to be a telepath to be able to read the clues that Christian presented in his household, his tone and way of speaking, and his entire body language. She had a knack for picking up the tiniest of details and creating conclusions that were often spot on the money, a bit like a mentalist. She merely thought herself quite a bit clever and more observant than the ordinary person.

And quite expectedly and how she expected, Christian turned the question she had posed back around on her. She knew that as soon as she had asked the question of her counterpart that they would like to know the same of her. It almost made her chuckle and she would have if she had not wanted to come off as rude or aloof herself. Instead she took a sip of the wine, pleasant enough as it could be, and enjoyed the taste reminding her of life growing up in the southeast of France.

"Well monsieur Moynahan, it is quite a bit the same as to you and yours truthfully. Our numbers are fewer though than Ark and even the same people who partake in our profession, as I like to run things a bit hands on." It was mostly true, at least as far as Maurelle saw it. While her employees counted in the hundreds, what she considered her true organization numbered around fifty or so employees. Of those fifty, twenty-four of them were part of her strike force, separated into two teams of a dozen each. With their powers, abilities, and backgrounds, they could handle just about any situation that they could possibility encounter.

"I suppose if they are my family, then I am their mother. I provide the means for them to do what I require of them. I protect them when they need protecting, discipline them when they disciplining, and offer them enough leeway to achieve their goals without holding their hand through the process." It was how she had set up her organization, so that if she had ever found herself captive or even dead, her organization would continue on. She wanted the best of the best but she did not want merely obedient dogs, she wanted agents who could think on their feet and react to unforeseen outcomes. It was something that she had been trying to put into her latest agent's head, even if they took it a bit too far and improvised too much when she desired their obedience. Such was the fine line that her operatives walked, which might have been reckless to give them such a leash, but it produced the results.

"I care for them the best that I can, lead them where and when I need to. Unlike some in this walk of life, I find that making messy examples out of others is not good for business and is quite counterproductive to the ends we are attempting to achieve." There was a sly grin on her face now. How many times had she been in a situation where other mob or gang leaders would have had someone killed for their failures, opposition, or insubordination? Instead, she opted for other means than the removal of assets that could be put to use in some way or another, usually some form of public shaming. Calla had already discovered this not once but twice in her short employment history, but neither lesson had brought her any harm. Her punishments never made the punished any the worse for the ware, but rather a touch of humility and lessons learned, or so Maurelle believed.

There was also the mention of her goals, which she doubted that even Christian in his research would have been able to identify. Not many did and those that did find out her goals had an inability to understand the difference between what she wanted and what they thought she was looking to achieve. Maybe that was because others were shortsighted or maybe Maurelle simply had a perspective that was unique to her vision. All the same, she decided to stop herself there, for although she liked Christian thus far, he was not going to be privy to her inner desires and end goals.

"At the same time, I know that despite how far I have come as a person and leader in these short years, I still have much more to learn in both regards. It is why I continue to serve as Marie van Kleij's personal assistant, she is a very peculiar and interesting woman, as is her family. I continue to find myself learning and improving myself every time I am in any of their presence, even if they themselves are unaware of their assistance." Helena, as she now fashioned herself, had proved an interesting charge to look after and Marie a very interesting tutor. Fortune had smiled upon her that she had come into their acquaintance and she had done her very best to take advantage of that fortuitous circumstance.

"We weave very interesting webs as we take our walks in life. Each string has the potential to lead to disaster or glory." The interconnections that the world had was amazing and how interesting it became when one string of life found itself connected to the other...

[Christian Moynahan]

Creatures seem to scream and fade
Shadows bleed and the locks will break
Questions we could never solve
As answers in darkness evolved
-MS MR, “Ash Tree Lane”

While Christian was well aware of how much he talked sometimes, he was not quite sure where that habit had come from. He had not been a quiet child, but he did not remember having been a chatterbox. Then again, he had been living on his own since his last year of college which had been - he shuddered to think, once again - nearly twelve years ago. Living alone for so long might have bred that habit in him, as not hearing a human voice four hours and sometimes, when he was between jobs, days at a time, might have led to him simply talking to himself and not realizing it. He was often teased about liking to hear the sound of his own voice, but it wasn’t that; it was needing to hear his own voice, simply out of habit.

As for his age, why should he be shocked or disturbed by that? He was almost thirty-four, but he was a CEO of a megacorporation that was part of an even larger megacorporation, he had a small but close group of friends, he was on his way to being independently wealthy, and he was well studied in a number of disciplines, as well as innovative enough to be considered a genius. With all that in consideration, and certainly in comparison to other aspiring businessmen of his age, why should he feel so unaccomplished?

Maurelle’s responses were just what Christian had wanted to hear. They shared a perspective on how their staff should be treated, and what that staff meant to them; and also that there were better ways of managing poor behavior than the messy business usually undertaken by the heads of criminal organizations. Her comments on that, however, just happened to bring the conversation right back to where it was meant to go.

Christian knew that Maurelle’s businesses had several different facets. Part of it was above ground, perfectly legitimate and successful as well. The other part was not quite the same. Maurelle had taken command of the drug cartels and ran the biggest operation of its kind west of the Mississippi, with the Johessmans controlling the rest of the country from their base in Atlanta. He knew of the Johessmans’ activities as well, including how they were expanding their influence throughout the Caribbean and Central America, although he was not clear on their motives for doing that yet. But he was aware that the Johessmans considered Maurelle an indirect ally through the person of one Helena Rahal, who was under the official protection of Maurelle and the unofficial protection of the Johessmans. What mattered the most, however, was that Christian knew what Maurelle’s plans, or at least what her wishes, were for the cartels she commanded.

He had not found that information in any database or info dump. It had not been available in paper form nor in electronic. He had simply taken what he knew about the underground dealings and matched them against what he had gleaned about her personality. Now, having met her in person, and having heard her speak of her staff as her family, Christian was certain his theories would prove true. There was still the chance that she might reject his offer based on pride or any other such thing, but Christian had little to lose in that respect. He had already told Maurelle that he had no intention of doing anything with the information he had, and he meant it. If Maurelle found that insufficient, then… well, he could defend himself very efficiently.

He reached for his glass of wine and sipped from it briefly. If this particular variety and vintage was any indication, then Maurelle’s home region made quite excellent wines. “Then let’s hope this string brings us to glory,” he said quietly, in a tone that should have been accompanied by a chuckle, but was not. This was one of Christian’s serious turns, but it was suitable, he felt, given the subject matter he wanted to discuss.

“You care deeply about those you keep close to you,” he said, which might have been an unnecessary observation, but for this woman, who seemed to prefer keeping her inner thoughts and emotions close to herself and blocked to others, it might have been somewhere between revelatory and annoying. He hoped it was closer to the former. “For their well-being, and their safety. And, unless I’m incorrect, you also care for society at large, to the extent that they affect you and yours, at the very least.”

He was coming around to his point now; he never quite went straight to it, but explained what he meant before he said it. Another habit he had picked up from somewhere, but this one he suspected was from his childhood. “I hope you’ll forgive me for having nosed around so much, Mademoiselle Lacroix. I know that, were I in your position, I would have been somewhat put off by these circumstances. I assure you, however, that I mean this in the best of ways, or what I hope will be the best of ways.”

Christian leaned back and absently ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass. “You are the leader of the largest drug cartel in the country, having gained that position by deposing the leaders of the several smaller cartels that had previously littered the area. Yet while lesser individuals would have exulted in that position and milked the power for all it was worth, you want to dissolve it, quietly and without bringing harm to yourself or to those around you.”

He placed the glass on the table and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I believe I have a few possible approaches which may not have occurred to you just yet. Sometimes an outsider’s perspective is helpful.” He glanced up to meet Maurelle’s gaze. “If you will allow me to, I would like to help you rid yourself of this problem.”

[Helena Rahal]

I'm ready for the
Bright lights, high life
Everyone is feeling right
Keep it poppin' all night
We are ready for the
Throw down, show down

Maurelle let her hosts attitudes dictate her own and chose not to grin as he whispered his hope that this string would lead to glory. It was not in her best interest to ever see the strings she followed to lead to the ruin that was possible. The world and others may have wanted her to be brought down a peg, to see one of her ventures turn for the poorer. Maurelle however had quite different ideas on what was to happen with any and all of her ventures and none of them involved failure when it could be avoided. It was only because of Christian's lack of a grin that kept her from having one herself at the sheer idea of seeing a string of hers to ruin.

What he said next was quite a reach for a man who barely knew her at all. While he may have had her vetted, have seen what she was a part of on both the face and underhand of the world, and even gotten a bit of a view of her personality, he was still reaching with his assumption. Maurelle leaned back and clasped her hands together and waited to see what else Christian would tell her about herself and how good of a prognosticator he would turn out to be.

His apologies and body language seemed to indicate that he was finally getting around to what he so blatantly hinted at earlier. It was ultimate why she was here if he was taking such care around the subject matter she surmised. A possible fix to her problems he had said earlier before moving swiftly to another topic, as if that was a fork in the current to be tracked back to and taken after exploring the others. Maurelle was the guest and had let Christian lead their passage to where it went but it was time to get on with why she had been summoned to his residence with the invitation.

His information was mostly correct, she did own the largest drug cartel, but not in the country even if its influence was felt from Maine to California. It had all been located south of that hotly contested border, at least the base of operations. Her own rise to power had displaced many gangs, mafias, and other arms of the cartels in the States but it had been her decapitation strike that brought her the cartel alliance into her fold. A hostile takeover in the business world, if one was to make such allegory.

That however was not on the cards, not now, as it seemed she had a choice to make regarding those holdings. It was a secret known only to herself, her strike teams, and one certain man now living in the comforts of Hawaii what her ultimate plans with the cartels were. After all, the money that the alliance brought had indeed served a good purpose, it funded projects in weeks what Maurelle would have needed months before to accomplish. There was money in the trade that had even left her a bit in awe and second guessing her decision to abolish it.

However it was a poison and if she did not remove the poison, it would look to undo all she hoped to accomplish. Maurelle was no fool, she could not single handedly cure the citizenry of America of its addiction. That left her with the only other option, to take over the means of that addiction and destroy it and let them suffer through the detox until they passed through it all. Oh it would be messy indeed but the world would be better for it, if the likes of cocaine, heroine, pcp, and other powerful drugs never again hit American streets.

"Do you know how the handshake first came about Mr. Moynahan?" Maurelle said with a blank look on her face and her eyes looking as if searching Christian's eyes for some sort of weakness, for him to flinch. "It comes to us from an archiac time, when lords did not trust one another to meet one another with honor. So the handshake was created, to show that you were unarmed and meant good will to your fellow nobility."

Maurelle let her facade go and this time smiled pleasantly as she picked up her wine glass and swirled it in her hand. "You've invited me into your home, given me drink, and treated me to pleasant conversation. I would hazard to say that the proverbial handshake has been made, wouldn't you?" Her lips curled up even more as she let the words sink on her host before speaking again. "I make no promises to use whatever solutions you may be concocting in that mind of yours Mr. Moynahan, but I would not have gotten to where I am today without at least hearing out alternate theories on the best way to proceed forward. Let me hear what you have to say."

[Christian Moynahan]

Delicate in every way but one (the swordplay)
God knows we like archaic kinds of fun (the old way)
Chance is the only game I play with, baby
We let our battles choose us
-Lorde, “Glory and Gore”

No one, especially not Christian, would deny that Christian had a flair for the dramatic. A small reveal here, to draw in just enough attention to keep his audience interested, then a dallying into other topics for an air of mystery and suspense, and then a return to the main topic. He did that in public often; a shade of it had found its way into his first press conference, and a more pronounced form of it had appeared in the town hall meeting that followed it, and was now presenting itself again for Maurelle. He could have gotten straight to the point, of course, but where was the fun in that? how would he have learned anything more about the woman he was proposing to help? This was not all business, after all; contacts of any sort were always helpful, but also those on a bit more of a personal level.

He was watching her carefully, just as she was watching him. As he described her position with the cartels - as much as he was aware of it - he studied her reaction. There was something fairly unexpected there, and it threw his plans somewhat off course. He was correct in thinking she wanted to do away with the cartels - but he had not realized how much she was tied into their funding. With that consideration, he made up some alternatives on the spot. It was nowhere near easy, but it was far from the most spur-of-the-moment decision he had ever had to make.

The moment she mentioned the handshake, Christian knew where she was taking the discussion. He was not familiar with the details of its development, but he did understand guest right. He found it odd that she should mention it, as he had no plans to harm her and had not shown any such intention thus far. But he nodded as she explained the history, without flinching or giving any expression save one of interest. “Naturally,” he said easily, before lifting his own glass to his lips and taking another long sip from it. The fact that he did not intend to harm her, he believed, did not need to be said. If she already knew, then there was no reason for him to state the obvious; if she did not, then that placed him at an advantage. Either happened to be fine with him.

“I only wish to present my ideas to you. If you find them at all useful, then by all means, use them; if not, then I would not expect you to put them into practice. There is hardly any use in acting simply to appease someone or stroke an ego. Particularly not mine.” He already thought highly enough of himself that it actually made him humble. Others commenting on being able to see what he felt within himself was a compliment of the highest order.

“I must admit,” he said, leaning forward briefly to place his glass on the table, “that I am now aware of a circumstance which I had not been cognizant of when piecing together my ideas. I’m now trying to take that into account.” His gaze remained on her, watching for any and all responses. He prided himself on being able to read others well; it had gotten him to places of esteem and into the esteem of others as well. It had also created enemies, but those were always easy to deal with.

He tilted his head very slightly. “Unless I am mistaken, you have been using the funds from those operations to supplement your own, more benign initiatives, and would be somewhat at a loss if that stream of revenue was ended. That is what has put you at a crossroads.” He propped his elbow up against the arm of the chair and rested his head against his hand, but continued to watch her. “And that is what I failed to include in my plans.” He paused for a moment and frowned briefly.

“The money, then, should be the focal point. It would be easy to have it redirected to you via a network of offshore accounts. Having only one is inadvisable, as it might draw too much attention to you, this time from the governmental side. Yet doing so might make your inferiors wary, and begin to suspect you. That means you’ll need to move quickly.

“I was going to suggest turning the separate branches against each other. That, however, might take too long. You are more familiar with the structure of the cartels than I am, of course, so you may still consider it a viable course to take. Another option I was considering was to initiate an outer conflict. The Johessmans, for example, have plenty of reach and more than enough firepower to subdue the Mexican cartels and absorb the American ones into their own. That might be given the Johessmans too much influence, however, which may not be an inviting prospect.” He shrugged. “From what I know of them, they care for the drug trade about as much as you do. They simply see it as a means to an end.”

He pursed his lips. “But then, again, there is the funding problem. We’ll need a fresh approach for that. I was thinking in terms of the production side, but there are others on the supply chain that would serve your purposes better if you wish to keep the revenue flowing.” He ticked off his fingers as he counted. “We have the producers, the shippers, and the consumers. Disrupting the production would result in no money. The shipping, then. Where does it all go? Who, exactly, would notice if the products in question went somewhere other than the usual?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. “The consumers, possibly, or at least their connects. But, as with anything, there are options.”

He pursed his lips for a moment. “Let the producers make their drugs. Collect them as usual and send them on to the dealers. Accept the money and tuck it away safely offshore. Meanwhile, what makes it to the dealers isn’t necessarily what was shipped to them. Placebos, perhaps, or reasonably convincing facsimiles. Or perhaps the shipments keep find themselves interrupted. Any of that can be easily arranged.” He shrugged loosely. “As can be the silencing of anyone who may just be bright enough to catch on.”

The fingers on the hand that supported his head fluttered briefly. Quietly, he added, “I’m sure you know that even if you do destroy the drug trade regarding your current holdings in it, more will form in the space you leave behind. It’s simply a function of supply and demand. There will be a demand, and from that will be born a fresh supply… and it will be impossible to kill the root of that demand.”

[Helena Rahal]

I wont last long
In a world so wrong
So say goodbye
As we dance with the devil tonight

Maurelle was now finding herself amused that there was something about her and her situation that Christian had not foreseen. At least, until he started to explain himself and what he thought was the mistake in his calculations. It amused her greatly that this mistake was actually no mistake at all, though she was not going to interrupt him as he presented her with a grand set of ideals. The whole of which suddenly gave her a very grand idea indeed, one that had completely escaped her before this meeting.

"Would I miss the money that the trade brings into my organization? Oh I sure would, anyone would miss a multibillion dollar part of their business suddenly going under. But, money is just money, and while it empowers some, it holds no true power on its own." She did not feel like she needed to elaborate further upon that. While the blow to her finances would mean that she would have to cut back on a few things, it was not a money flow that was not needed. And power did not come from money, it only had power because people believed that it did.

A part of his grandiose plan though that did interest her was the point about the Johessmans. They were supposedly allies of hers, it was well enough known that it was something that Christian would not have missed in his vetting. So when he backed off from something giving that family too much power, it sparked her interest greatly. There was other things going on here besides just what was best for her, it dawned on her that she and her influence, her power was now a piece on a chessboard she was not aware existed. Most intriguing to her indeed.

"Your idea has merit, I give you that but I think I may have just discovered a new plan of action, far greater than this. For you are right, so long as there is a demand, there will always be suppliers. I am but one woman, I can not stop the drug trade alone, not even with my organization." She leaned back and gave him a look to see how he took it.

Regardless of what he thought, she went on though, just to make things clear. "I am not attempting to do so either out of some good moral deed or anything of that nature. Drugs are a nasty business, they are responsible for more deaths than people realize or the public is even made aware. I am not in the business of seeing unnecessary bloodshed. Besides, without drug gangs, I can expand my organization far easier."

A placebo, it should have come to her sooner. It would take time and a great deal of organization in order to do it, but it was possible. Some false alliances might have even needed to be made, but if she could eliminate the majority of the drug problem in the Americas, well the sky was the limit for her. There was no limit to what she would be able to do if she exerted her influence to its greatest abilities.

"Dream big and shoot for the stars Christian. For even if miss, you're still in space." She let out a chuckle and gave him a grin of pure joy.

[Christian Moynahan]

Have you got color in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the tide that sticks around like
summat in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you’re in deep?
-Arctic Monkeys, “Do I Wanna Know?”

As Christian had thought she would, Maurelle confirmed the fact that she would miss the money from the drug trade, but that she could do without it; she could manage, as her power did not evolve from those funds; she was not in it for the money. He nodded as she explained her stance on the matter. Indeed, although society seemed to think otherwise, power did not male a leader; it was simply a means to and end, and never an end.

He offered a few different plans, and watched her reaction to them. She looked thoughtful, and seemed to be drawing some conclusions of her own. The eyes were the windows to the soul, as it was said; and it was here that Christian looked, not afraid to hold her gaze. What was going on behind those eyes, in that mind of hers? Surely she was analyzing Christian’s words, weighing them considering their possible outcomes. She seemed interested, at least, and that was a very good sign.

What caught her attention the most, however, and somewhat to his surprise, was his comment regarding supply and demand. If anything, he thought she would take offense to that. It was a flaw in her design, after all, a realism that could not be ignored and that Christian felt must be at least brought up. But she took his comment well, and paid it due heed.

From that comment, she drew up her own plan. That meat Christian had been of some help, and he was glad for that. She was somewhat alone in her fight, and even the help of the eight - truly nine, he knew - Johessmans, and both sides’ contacts, they could not eliminate the hunger and need that a significant portion of the nation possessed. That was where her new idea began, he thought. Which of his ideas had struck a chord with her, then?

A wide smile graced her lips. Christian smiled back, albeit with a little less joyfulness. It was not that he did not share her excitement - he did - but his mind was elsewhere, calculating again, readjusting for different circumstances. Besides, he had not called her to his home simply to spew out ideas. His hand was not fully played yet.

He used a moment in which he sipped his wine to study her further. Whatever route she - or they - decided to take would require careful thought and planning. Any missteps could result in unwanted consequences, such as bloodshed. Christian, however was hardly inclined to cause any sort of violence, being a quiet but very firm pacifist, and he would do anything he could to avoid such potential fates. A placebo would have to be potent enough to fool even the most discerning of users, yet without the negative side effects and, over time, less of a dependency. Synthesizing such a placebo would be difficult and potentially take time.

Fortunately, Christian was very good at that kind of thing.

No one had ever measured Christian’s IQ. Lately, though, he was beginning to suspect that it was higher than he normally would have guessed. His mind had a capacity for monumental amounts of information, which had led to him being at the top of his class in college, where he had studied many different disciplines but settled on engineering, then done the same in business school, then led his peers in every field he had worked in afterwards.

One of those fields had been biomedical engineering. He had studied his superiors and their work, simply because he had wanted to learn about it. He always wanted to learn about everything. And then he had done their work, except better. Then he had gotten bored and moved on, in most cases; he had found a challenge in the propulsion engineering field, and Ark itself was so varied that he doubted he would grow tired of it anytime soon, especially given how hands-on he was as a CEO.

Whether Maurelle was aware of his background, he was not sure, but, at the very least, it merited mentioning. This was the crux of their meeting: he had very much wanted to assist by offering his ideas, but Christian was very rarely a charitable man, and even less altruistic. He had something to gain from this arrangement as well. Not money, however, nor favors. Not information with the intention of using for blackmail or incriminate her. Certainly nothing material.

He just wanted a challenge.

He leaned back in his chair with a smile that bespoke a touch of mischief. “You may be aware,” he said, “that I am a biomedical engineer, among other things. I gladly offer my assistance, if I can be of any assistance in your endeavors. I am absolutely certain that I can design any necessary placebos much more efficiently and accurately than my peers in that field.”

After setting his glass to the side, he gave a tilt of his head and folded his hands. “Before you ask, I want very little in return. Just as you do, I wish to see an end to the drug trade with as little violence involved as possible. If I can be a part of that change, then so much the better.”

He smiled. “And I also want to help simply to see whether I can pull it off.”

[Helena Rahal]

So I let go watching you turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I'm not
But I'll be here 'cause you're all that I've got

Maurelle marveled at her own ambitions, they were haughty and higher than they had ever been. It was a glorious and most majestic of things, shooting for the stars the way that she now planned on doing. Oh she knew that any misstep along the way could send this house of cards that she was building falling down. Yet that was part of the thrill, part of the sense of accomplishment if or when she succeeded at this endeavor. The risk was high but every thing that had an ample award almost always came with as ample of a risk for failure. Fortune was made on the edge of a knife.

Where her insights, her stratagems, her coup de graces came was anyone's guess. She never had a formal education, not in the sense that most people would come to expect of anyone with her sort of power. Universities and colleges she had not graced, hers was the living and learning off of experiences. It was not the conventional education but it was the one that had served her well and had brought her into her own, to this place of power she crafted as her realm.

Christian seemed to be reading her eyes, her movements, and her body language as a whole. It appeared what he was reading had interested him but he was not sharing the same joy that she was feeling. Instead, there was a passive look about him, as if he was trying to maintain a sense of calmness. Perhaps Christian was a stoic, some who found success in the business world were, leaving there feelings behind for being cold and unmoved by the appeals of others. It would not surprise her if this was the case.

However as he spoke, she realized it was not a man who was remaining calm, but one who was trying to calculate new paths to take. It amused her, not because he did so, but to see someone who was as equally concerned about having all their angles covered as she was. Maurelle had not only back up plans but she had back up plans for her back up plans and emergency plans all the same. Some thought it was overkill or even a dose of paranoia, Maurelle thought it was simply being well prepared for any eventuality that could unfold from any given situation.

His offer was generous and it was too good to come for free, she knew better than to assume that. So as it appeared that Christian was coming around to the cost of his assistance and involvement in her grand scheme, she was prepared to match whatever his price was. The price could have been in the millions and it would have been a fair bargain, such was her desire to be rid of the trade completely. Her reign needed no availability for chaos like the which drug gangs and cartels could create or their victims.

She was stunned though as it was no price in currency that Christian was asking for, he was asking for something far beyond what simple money could buy. She sat sit still for a moment, thinking over what had just been offered to her and the price of it. She even took a sip of the wine he had provided just to pause for a few seconds more, time was a very precious commodity in itself.

"I think we are beginning to understand one another Mr. Moynahan." She said, patting her lips dry with a pocket handkerchief before placing it back away. She placed her hands on her knees and gave him a soft smile. "I look forward to seeing what your brilliant mind could come up with. Do not let time be a factor, I have suffered these people for years, I can suffer them a bit longer if it means I will ultimately achieve my goal." Maurelle could be patient if it meant ultimate victory.

Maurelle saw more than that though, she had found herself a very unexpected ally in Ark's new CEO. Perhaps more than that, she might have found a friend, or at least someone who was on her same level. Their dealings in the future were going to be quite intriguing it would seem, the mobster and the businessman, what a quaint partnership indeed.

FIN