Summary:Melody Kenway contracts Nemo for a more.. permanent job. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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People are expendable. Especially those who do not understand the personal philosphies of the person that they choose to align themselves with. Loyalty. Do not lie. Do not sully yourself with drugs and other things. Those were the key modus opperandi that Melody Kenway lived her life by. Most of the time it was because she had to.
But searching for that one, that second, that person who was just an extension of yourself took time. For there were many things that the person needed to match up with the likes of this little woman:
1. Carbon Footprint - The person must not be an avid poster on any of the social media platforms. In fact, it would be preferable if they did not have an account, yet if they did, they will not post to it as if their life depended on it. Nothing annoyed Melody Kenway more than people who post what they were about to eat.
2.Versatile - Melody wasn't searching for someone who had three PHD's in a number of fields.. but it certainly wouldn't -hurt-. It was all about the skill. Could they fight? Could they cook? Were they able to pull off a suit or a dress, or a tophat with a dresscoat? Could they tango at a moments notice and handle a gun as if they were the Mozart of Killers? Or.. could they patch someone up after delivering a precision shot that wasn't meant to kill, but to send a -message-?
3. Easy on the eyes wouldn't hurt. Especially if they were taller than her.
4. Computer savvy enough to do her job when she just doesn't plain feel like it.
Which led her to Nemo. While this man had barely a profile, he came across her desk from one of the hench back in Germany. It was a deep dive and dig, the folder impressive. Thin.. and scant. But if -this- person recommended him then it meant that this Nemo character could get the job done.
Mamak was the place to visit. Ms. Kenway didn't exactly buy out the restaurant but she made sure that no one would be in attendence for this meet. Her hair was curled to the nines, dressed down and pretty, her make-up thin. It wasn't overly done with a mass amount of colors, but she gives a great smokey eye and a winged eyeliner that would make Jeffery Star mad. Lip-gloss? Popping! And little black dress with heels that made it seem as if she were meeting someone for a date. All in all, she was cute.
But this high end Thai cuisine place had a few .. things misplaced. Guards line every corner of the room, those that were hired by Melody to keep her safe for now, champagne easily within it's bucket, something quickly chosen and dumped there.. and the menu, freshly spritzed with lysol and scrubbed down to perfection.
Nemo would have received the call if he knew where to look.
At this time. And at this place. He should walk in any minute now, or Melody would just enjoy fine cuisine on her own and start the search again.
Nemo. A suitable name for a man with no true identity, no birth certificate, not even a set of fingerprints to leave behind. Outside of the circle of criminality, he's nothing more than a rumor or a ghost. Within it, he's known as a mercenary, an unlicensed physician of the highest caliber, and a dapper gentleman to boot.
Nemo. A suitable name for a man with no true identity, no birth certificate, not even a set of fingerprints to leave behind. Outside of the circle of criminality, he's nothing more than a rumor or a ghost. Within it, he's known as a mercenary, an unlicensed physician of the highest caliber, and a dapper gentleman to boot.
He ignores far more calls than he takes, but no one ignores a call like this. Equal parts professional courtesy, curiosity, and a desire to keep his skin in one piece have brought him to the restaurant. While he always dresses well, today he's taken it a step further with a tailored dinner jacket and a slim tie held in place by a silver and diamond clasp. Matching cuff links are very much in evidence, and a dark pocket square provides a bit of contrasting color.
It doesn't take a seasoned veteran to see that something's a little off, even from outside. The lack of activity both within and without is rarely a sign of business as usual. All the same, the doctor tightens his tie and squares his shoulders, then steps in. Once he's crossed the threshold, he cocks an eyebrow at the abundance of security. "I hope you're not expecting trouble," he says mildly. A small smile tugs at just one side of his mouth as he approaches. "This is a new jacket."
The cameras were being watched. It was a strange thing, for each movement the man takes to the entrance of the restaurant, the cameras move as if they were on their own. The only evidence of this happening is Melody; who's tiny nanites light up like christmas beneath her skin. That was until the door opens.
Withdrawal was near exhausting, but she's done this for so long that she could pick herself right back up, clearing her throat as she looks towards one guard upon the left who had stared, who immediately adverts his gaze forward. But the smile that was small from Nemo was met with a wider one. One that has Melody standing from her chair with a brief scoot back, the woman two inches taller than what she normally is. "Nemo! Please! Have a seat!" She seemed kind, gentle of a sort, and one who really looks to have a good time instead of speaking business.
"Of course I'm expecting trouble. Though trouble wouldn't come from you of course. More so me and my random proclivities, if that's even the proper word for it. Please.." She gestures towards the chair again, then settles to stepping from her own, retrieving the bottle of wine that remained unopen and in ice.
"I'm not really a wine drinker. Though there was that time in Milwaukee, met a fine young fellow off of the internet. Let me tell you. Blonde hair, eyes that often change colors. He was a delight. Gave me a few mimosa's and some coffee like liquer from the bar. I stumbled back to the hotel room and couldn't remember the entire night for a week."
This story was told as cool and even as she poured, though that smile retained upon her face. "So, more for you if you want to imbibe. I'm a clear fan of iced water after that little fiasco. But, trust you found your way here without issue?"
Aka..
Were you followed.
A slender hand gestures to his glass, along with a nod. Then, without missing a beat, Nemo slides behind his hostess to assist her with her chair. Once she's seated, he slips back around to his side of the table and makes himself comfortable. "No trouble to speak of," he confirms. Which doesn't necessarily mean no trouble at all.
His statement is left to hang in the air for a moment while he considers his counterpart. "Milwaukee, eh? Sounds like you had a lovely time. I've never been. I go where the work takes me."
The expression on his face can best be described as politely curious, though it's hard to ignore the fact that he's surrounded by a modestly sized army. He takes a sip of the wine and makes a small, approving noise. "Mmm. That's very nice."
"You think?" Melody asks as she pours. She tops his glass off nicely, as if someone trained to be a hostess or a maitre'd would do. "It's like Beirut this time of year. At least three people die a day, some by getting shot in the head while driving in their cars. Worse than Chicago, really."
Sadly, a true story.
Though, once the pour was done, she moves along with Nemo, smoothing her dress down as she settles into her chair, offering a tight smile as he settles into his. She already has her glass of iced water, which was sipped with a straw.
"Glad you approve." She gestures her hand towards the table as the first course is served, pad thai noodles, dressed up to look like something out of a Gordon Ramsey porn novel. "Speaking of work, Mister Nemo, you have a very impressive resume. And I would like to take you under my employ. Though, there are a few things that you'd have to do that would take you out of the general description of what you've seen so far." She begins to jab at her food, no real intention to eat, but her skin slowly begins to glow. It wasn't a full glow, just little tiny lights underneath the skin, some that often times move around like shooting stars.
Melody of the Lights.
But instead, this was her searching. Scanning his cellular device, turning off the little communicator and checking for bugs. Even erasing the tapes in the backroom so that no one, save for staff and ownership, would know that they were there..
But.. in that searching she found something odd. Something that makes her frown just a little. But she doesn't bring it up, not now.
"Fascinating…" the doctor murmurs as he observes the light show.
And then…
"Wh—What was that? Did you hear that?" Nemo doesn't seem entirely sure that what he just experienced was a sound. For a moment it was as if his artificial brain had fallen asleep, then woke up to pins and needles. The sensation is something between the exhilaration of a stimulant and a set of fingernails scratching across his hard drive. It's foreign, almost-but-not-quite invasive, and it takes a moment for him to master himself. Once he has, he clear his throat. "Ahem. Pardon me. I think I had a bit of a reaction to your little show."
Fingers steeple as she watches him. She provides no answer; the only sign of life is the little light show that she produces. The lights were in her eyes as well, lightening to brown hue, the iris a pure white, all which stare him down in pure curiousity. Now this was something that was not found in the file.
"I see." Melody says, letting up on that hold. It was a little too intimite for her tastes, but the fact that he has a brain like no other she's met yet (save from her father), piqued her interest. Enough to consider him hired right there on the spot.
"It's fine!" She chirps out, her smile brightening as she takes a sip of her water again. Now she was going to indulge in her pad thai, "Tell me, Mister Nemo. About your skills. I really haven't decided if you're worth hiring just yet. And I'm sure you've questions of me, no sane man would walk into a contract blind."
Now that he's regained his mental footing, Nemo's eyes narrow slightly. He gives his counterpart a long, lingering look, though it's the look of a horse trader sizing up potential stock. "Fascinating," he repeats. "Yes, the work. I'm always amenable when it comes to hearing offers from potential employers. You've seen my file, I trust." It's more statement than question. "I specialize in covert operations and unconventional warfare. I'm a capable combatant, if it's not immodest to say so, and a highly skilled physician with an interest in the sciences. I'm also a competent pilot and I'm fairly good with electronic devices in a pinch."
It's a very quick summary of an extremely long resume. There are rumors about Nemo's true age, though no one can seem to decide if he's much older or younger than he actually looks. Either way, he seems confident enough when it comes to listing his areas of expertise. "I know you well enough by reputation," he continues. "Everyone does. There's no shortage of strapping young men who can carry a gun, so I doubt you're looking for another soldier for your little army of no-necks. What is it you want from me, miss?"
Melody listens, though it's nothing that she hasn't read before. It was a decent resume that she was glad to have, a pilot, however, was something she didn't know he had a licsense for. Perhaps she overlooked that part. The food was pushed aside as another course was served. His untouched food was taken away along with hers, which was soon replaced with some meat dish filled with rice. Melody doesn't dig in, but she takes her fork to carefully move it around the plate, smiling towards the private server as they leave the main floor of the restaurant.
"Reputation, yes. Though most often balk at the fact that they see a black woman running the show." She states, with a shrug of slender shoulders. "Though truthfully, I'm biracial. I just identify." She winks. "But no. That's not what I want. And I don't want someone that I can groom one day and hand my business and connections off to. For this specific role, which I think you are a good fit for, is personal."
She takes her water, sips, then refills the glass, sloshing it everywhere.
"These men?" She gestures around. "Contract. Bound to me by loyalty and some by fear. Some that are curious and others by lust." The men don't move. How could she make them scared of her, is anyones guess. "I want a person who can challenge me. Who can hold my secrets. Who is loyal. A confidant and someone who can risk his neck and life. And with my connections, your skill.." She makes an 'explosive' gesture, "The world is my oyster."
She considers this, her gaze flitting to the sky as the lights within her eyes and skin die down. "A William Ryker. Season One and two."
Almost absently, Nemo takes a bite of this new dish. Halfway through his second chew he pauses, then resumes more slowly so he can better appreciate the morsel. When he's finished with he, he takes another sip of his wine as he studies the young woman sitting across from him. Then, unable to contain himself, he lets out a short, quiet laugh. "You need a Number One? Very well, I can appreciate that."
He dabs his lips with a soft linen napkin and tilts his head a fraction to the side as he considers this. "You make it all sound so delightfully intimate." Rather than coy, his tone is businesslike with a hint of amusement. "Driver. Guardian. Escort. Adviser. I'm capable of these things. What are the tasks that you feel will take me out of my comfort level?"
Well, it was a test of his age. And it seemed that he passed it, though she was sure he could be older. The technology of his brain was finessed, new, but still a bit behind and it told a story. One she could easily find out without him telling.
"It could be. I'd tell you all my secrets, especially if you need to know." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. And finally, she dips into her meal. She doesn't answer, but she does nod her head in agreement, glancing towards the opposite wall again, where the guard wasplaced.
"I don't know." She says as if she were bothered. "Torture, murder, blackmail, arson, grand larceny.." Her hand waves as if the answer was all encompassing. "..nothing that will happen after a fine taste of Chef Vivaldi's New York Strip and rosemary potatos. He makes this sort of burger that's encrusted with gold. Which, by all intents and purposes was made to put money in his pockets because it tastes like pure shit.." She was carrying on. "But nevermind that. Sometimes you'll be put into the spotlight to speak for me. Hell, they may even think that you are me. But the way you're handling yourself right now." She curls her fingers, then kisses the tips. "Magnifique!"
"One tries, but it's nice to be appreciated." The doctor gives a deep nod, almost an abbreviated bow. "Well, I'm honored that you'd consider me for such an important role. The narcissist in me loves the idea that of all the candidates in the world, you chose to interview me."
Now he inclines his head and swirls his wine around in his glass as he ponders. "It is, of course, an appealing offer. There are a few things you should know, though. I have no moral compunctionsor scruples to speak of, but I do believe that torture has never been a reliable means of extracting information and is ultimately self-defeating as a means of control. Clearly, I have no problem with killing when the occasion demands it, but I find murder to be a fairly permanent and heavy-handed way of addressing problems. So long as I can trust that you don't use those two tactics lightly, we should get along swimmingly. After all, I'm a doctor, not a dementor."
"I never really did say that I would use torture to extract information, did I?" Melody asks. In fact, her brow shoots up, and with a lean forward, she snatches the bottle of wine from it's place to refill the cup. Once the bottle was replaced, the food was as well. This time with a chocolate lava cake, fashioned and formed to bundt. "There are other means of extracting information than torture. I look at it as a last resort, especially if I want pretendy fun-times.. more on that later."
"But you're allowed to have your hang-ups. I do have other people to do the job, though since you -are- a doctor and your hand could come in.. well.. handy."
She looks at the bundt cake incrediously, almost angry, but she thankfully doesn't take it out for the staff. "Hong! Come box this up please! I do have someone to deliver this lovely cake to!" She calls out.
"Miss Mayweather. Lovely old lady. She was one of those types who'd clean the concrete just to peel a potato. Fascinating, how she does it. The mashed potatos that she made afterwords were to die for. You'll have to meet her sometime." She lets out a happy sigh, then gestures. "I assume you have a tailor already else you wouldn't be so dapper. But I'm going to give you a new means of communication, a car. A place to live, which possibly would be me once I settle roots in. But, how do you feel about the Waldorf in Astoria tonight?"
"The Waldorf is always lovely, of course," Nemo agrees. Who wouldn't? He nods agreeably when it comes to the bullet points of tailoring and transportation. Best to leave torture on the back burner for the moment. "Audi and Mercedes both make very nice executive cars. Stylish. Heavily armored. I'll look into it."
As the desserts are being boxed, he stands and moves to pull back Ms. Kenway's chair for her. Then he somehow manages to lookwell-mannered as he demolishes the better part of his glass of wine. Once he's set it aside, he offers his arm. "You, of course, are lovely as well. I adore the heels. Jimmy Choo?"