Description: It's not an Illuminati meeting with Urien unless at least one person dies. Orders are given related to the hypothetical NESTS infestation of the schools, and G-Project's gameplan to play interference. Glory to the True Emperor.
The Illuminati; they are everywhere. Existing as a myth, the very real fact that a secret organization of very elite minds has been controlling the world's politics and governments since the middle ages is so absurd it can't possibly be true. But true it is, and they have evolved well into the golden era of information technology. America is their strongest puppet, but Japan has always been resistant; their sheer isolation meant that only in the 1800s could operations begin, and in their fall in World War 2 the takeover began in earnest. Much work still needs to be done... but that is something for the Robo-Brains to worry about. Pathetic, outdated idealologists who don't even know the feel of a woman for centuries.
Urien is another thing. He's actually devilishly intelligent, a full-fledged scientist complete with PhD, although few would imagine it to see him. An absolutely massive individual just shy of seven feet, yet built with the lean strength of a Greek adonis, he was the runner-up in the selection of a new 'head' for the Illuminati. The Robo-Brains are indirect hands, and a charismatic lead was needed. Unsurprisingly, the gentle, understanding and absurdly powerful Gill, his own flesh and blood older brother, was selected.
The G-Project is the crisis management branch, with much of the war research and development behind it. Lately, Urien had a thorough audit done, and three names were delivered to him. All were given summons by sleekly suited individuals, although two were busy; Robo-Tran will simply have the recorded event uploaded into his Robo-Brain, while Alan was not so lucky. Despite the meeting taking place literally /mid fight/, Urien stated scathingly that if he was not there, he would personally turn him inside-out. He is both very capable of this, and has done it before.
Frederick may be the only one to come in truth, escorted to the heart of a city. Within a Japanese monument, a hidden button opened a small staircase in the rear, where they descended into one of the many hearts of the G-Project. Passing by countless white-clad scientists, Frederick would finally be presented with the sight of Urien.
'Hedonistic' is a good word for it. He's sprawled sideways on a pile of cushions, clad in naught but his trademark loincloth. Two attractive females flank him, one fanning him with a giant frond -- where did they even FIND one of those in Japan -- and the other peeling grapes to feed him. Two men are speaking with him, one a local government figure, the other the lead scientist of this facility, while Urien himself flirts with the females and reads from a report now and then.
"ENOUGH." he snarls, flinging the papers in the air to rain down. "Scatter." All but the females do as demanded, while the well-tanned greek casts his eyes around.
Two others are in the room; a limp robot with a giant television for a head, with a small rotating satellite dish, and a very uncomfortable seeming man sweating in a suit. Oh -- that's Trask, the handler for Frederick and Alan, and their immediate supervisor. Probably not surprising he's here, even if it's a wonder why he seems so anxious...
Too many scientists. They're the opposite of 'his kind' of person - fussy and by-the-book, so caught up in their studies that you're almost better off talking to a wall. There's no flair in science, no passion, no drive, no---
"No nuts," comments Frederick, idly rubbing at the gauze eyepatch he's sporting over his right eye. His face is a work of art right now, with all manner of blues and blacks marring the altered topography of his otherwise trashy, American mug. Some of the scientists glower at Frederick - he simply smiles at them while he's escorted back. One assumes Blazer's opinion would be different if they were working on some kind of Captain America juice to make him less likely to get shitbeaten by gym teachers...!
The doors continue to open, Frederick continues to frown at passerby as he gets a very *real* feeling of descending from grime into some sort of sterile heaven - the fuckin' air smells like it doesn't belong in Frederick's nose. Eventually, the reason for the change makes sense in a staggering way - as they do - when Frederick passes through the last set of doors and sees the whole scene laid out before him.
Urien looks *exactly* like a fruitcake. Frederick is not at all going to say this to him, because frankly, the rest of the situation dawns on him in a rapid-fire, Tyson-style mental battery -- the officials nearby, the frond-girls fleeing him, the peeled grapes, goddamned Trask over there...
"Oh, shit." Frederick coughs, mightily, and shakes his head as though clearing it. This is not the right approach. "You, uh, must be Urien."
Is it Sir Urien? Is it not? Is he supposed to bow or salute or do something else? He has been outside of the official G-Project framework for FAR too long. In fact---
"Trask, man, aren't you supposed to be, like-- didn't Kirsten tell-- right. Man. Been forever." False appreciation dawns on his features - he's trying to keep his cool, and sometimes that just means hitting the punching bag once or twice.
"Urien...?" states the huge figure. Slowly he shifts into a sit, rolling his shoulders. "Yes. I MUST be. Do you see any other fancy gentleman sitting on a pile of pillows, with the most powerful political engine being used to FEED HIM GRAPES?!" He smacks the bowl away then, causing it to crash and spill everywhere. The woman keeps her composure, hands folding over her lap.
"You are supposed to be a man of results. Although I wonder that, seeing you bruised. A... gym teacher did it?" Digging around before himself, one of the papers is plucked up and squinted at.
"He's a violent psycho." Trask whispers to Frederick. "A sadistic tyrant. Don't give him any ammunition if you want to survive."
"What're you whispering?" Urien states, suddenly pushing to his feet. He marches over towards the pair, as Blazer's lead stands straight at attention. Those eyes are locked right upon the lone good one of Frederick. "I was just telling him about--"
A sudden backhand hits Trask right in the face, and he crashes to the ground. Urien's gaze didn't shift an iota. "You. I'm asking /you./ What'd he say...?"
The robot nearby has a small bar upon it, gradually fillign up. It reads 'Connecting to: BITCH McNASTY.' Probably shouldn't let operatives select their own codenames.
Frederick is flabbergasted. This is beyond anything he could have possibly expected. Urien is well-known as being bloodthirsty, horrific, a true destroyer of men -- the list goes on. But Kirsten Geary is seen the same way, and frankly, if you look at HER, the response isn't so much 'rising terror' as it is 'rising--
Frederick swallows, nods. "N-no, I definitely do not see any other fancy gentlemen in the room, and so far as that goddamned gym teach--" Trask interrupts him - Blazer gives the man an incredulous look, which turns to a sympathetic wince when Trask is presumably backhanded into becoming a corpse. As Blazer's would-be-wannabe-handler sinks to uselessness against the far wall, the American looks back to Urien, and rolls his shoulders in a sort of apologetic shrug.
"Ah, well, you know, these, uh... these *suits*, man, they're all about _underlining_ stuff and makin' people HAPPY--" Blazer is panicking, despite the show of calm. His eyes are twitching, his lip pulls into a last-effort sort of smile. Alan is way better at this sort of shit than he is. Frederick reaches into his jacket, pulls out a box of cigarettes that has been rumpled to complete non-identification, and withdraws one, to place it in his mouth. Moments later, he's lit it, and smoke leaves his nostrils, dragon-like. He manages a deep breath.
"Anyway, he said something about you being a violent psychopath, murderous, sadistic, that whole thing, but I knew that, so..." Frederick spreads his arms wide. "Waste of breath, I guess." He looks over to Trask's body.
"Looks like a waste of neck, too-- uh, alright, alright, so, uh, anyway. You got, like, these, uh... listen. Something's going on at Gedo High. We dunno what. All the spooks are sayin' it's NESTS, and the new faculty we've seen on site kinda agrees with it, we just don't know what the fuck NESTS is doin'. R-T thinks it's like, the vaccine, but you know him, he also is convinced Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is the most important thing happening in pop culture right now. This gym teacher dick MIGHT be on the vaccine or whatever, you know? Maybe that's why he's battin' my sweet-ass around like I'm a Barbie doll."
Frederick doesn't take a step back - Urien is like a lion or something, and that's a surefire way to be chased across the savanna and mauled. He does cough, in an attempt to mask his horrified swallowing. He looks over at the screen as it loads, and manages a little smile. It'll be nice to see Alan getting his ass kicked. Good change of pace.
"...He said what? Haha... Hahahaha!! Incredible. INCREDIBLE!! TRASK!! TRASK, ARE YOU FUCKING IGNORING ME?!" Suddenly his right arm flexes, a crackle of electricity running down it. A black wisp of aura explodes outwards into a basketball sized orb, before a magnetic CRACK causes it to fire out like a shotgun. The air billows in all directions, papers and cushions flying away. It impacts Trask dead center, before a great eruption of force leaves no question whether Frederick's official supervisor is alive. "Tell Kirsten she's promoted!! I liked her ass better anyway!!"
"But me... I'M your boss. No. I'm your GOD, as far as you are concerned. You'll never see Gill's shadow, or hear the crackling bullshit of the Collective outside four layers of sponged echoing." There seems to be far too much satisfaction in being an absolute head. "And it just so happens this 'school' situation is precisely what I'm interested in..."
Urien then walks up to the robot, and smacks it in the side of the head. "ALAN!!" The bar, amazingly, finishes filling up as if intimidated by Urien's menace. "NESTS, you say? Those neophyte bastards... the old man they used to have knew better than to step on our toes. Not even sure who's running it now. Intel mentioned he had a son, but that's it. For now. I've got G-Project scientists inside... but that's neither here nor there."
To Frederick's credit, the very second he sees a strange metallic ball materialize near Urien's hand and start screaming towards Trask, the blonde is pulling a phone out of his pocket, rattling off a quick text. It's only when Urien says 'Tell Kirsten she's promoted!' that he hits the 'send' button.
-hey, got u a promotion, stop bein a bitch about the hayato thing. sayonara-sayonara?-
"Hey, hey, whoa, I hear you. Truth be told, Urien -- this little neck of the Illuminati's in the saaame boat you are, so the further you get us away from those genius-in-a-jar bosses, the happier we are." To his credit - and perhaps prolonged life, he's quick to pull his hand out of his pocket and toss BOTH up in a gesture of 'hey, hey, whoa, i hear you' once Urien starts emphasizing - and overemphasizing! - that HE'S the new name in town.
Frederick also files 'crackling bullshit' away as a line to drop the next time he needs to sound smart and/or cool.
"Yeah, NESTS. We dunno what their angle is, or how they're getting in. Don't even know who the op-site commander is. All we've got right now is a list of recent transfers into and out of the school, and we're working on getting reasons to be there. R-T might be the best bet, since I guess Gedo needs a nurse on premises, but we'll figure out other angles. See if we can't corner the head guy, make him squeal or whatever." Fred rolls his arm, and takes another drag from that cigarette."
"But hey. I tell you what I can do - anything you need, I'll get it done. Kirsten's good, but she's got the whole damn S&O to handle. If you want us on your special operations crew -- let's break this motherfucker down, make it a ten step program. I'm pretty pissed off at NESTS too, after this whole..." Frederick touches a finger to his eye, the gauze over it.
The viewscreen finally blips on, revealing who Urien would recognize as extremely new hire Slapchop, a minor chi-user of some potential capable of creating explosions from his fingertips. More useful for industrial sabotage than combat, but still... /pretty useful for combat./ His eyes are wide and nervous behind his standard new-hire gas mask.
Alan R.B.'s voice is clearly audible: "--you 'till you love me. Boom! Big Brown. Why'd they call him Big Brown? What kind of Skype contact name is Big Brown?" Slapchop nearly drops the phone. "Goddamnit, the other way! Hit the fucking flip button and point the screen at me so I can see this guy! Big Brown. Does he know how fecal that sounds? I'll be talking in C-level cipher."
The robot head finally reveals Alan R.B., an excruciatingly handsome blonde man of average height and build stuffing a bluetooth headset into his mouth. As Urien's files indicate, he takes advantage of his freedom to not wear a uniform, dressed in an expensive deep blue shirt and black vest. He adjusts steel rings on each finger and reaches up to tug at a lightning bolt-shaped lock of hair hanging down the left side of his face as he looks, presumably, at his opponent.
"Fuckin' making me take a fuckin' meeting while I'm busy. Maybe I'll ciao-ciao a steamy one in his filing cabinet. There's a Big Brown for ya."
Frederick lifts one blonde eyebrow, and gauges Urien critically. "Due respect, since I'm at arm's length, but --" He squints. "Big Brown's your Skype username?"
Oh, Kirsten likely knows exactly what sort of man she works for. Which probably now explains more than a few things. Trask was just some former police chief of a mid-level town. He had the qualifications, but that doesn't get you very far in G-Project. Only results. Well, a nice ass goes a long way, too.
Hmm, hmm. "So that principal exchange was an excuse to get into the schools...? Not a bad angle. I've always known they had an incredibly generous legal footing due to Justice. Has made it hard for the Brains to infiltrate it... probably exactly as intended. ...Wait." Urien turns away and then starts plucking up papers, looking left and right.
"This. THIS!!" He comes back, tuning out the robot getting itself situated. It's supposed to mildly pantomime what's going on the other side, in order to facilitate long distance communication. However, these rather threadbare models are not cutting edge. "That 'mandatory flu shot'. Get me one of those flu shots. Are they injecting something into the students...?" Mind controlling flu shots are the domain of the Illuminati. That would be a declaration of war.
Before Urien pauses, and then marches to the robot. He grasps either side of it, and stares directly into the camera. "I KNOW you weren't talking about ME." Alan is forced to wear a hidden earbud, so he'd be the only one able to hear what's going on at his location. "COMPLAINING about my MEETING. Turning you inside-out is not off the table, R.B.!! My clone vats could spit out a better combat specimen than you. Your mouth amusing the SHIT out of me is why you still breathe, so make sure you remember who signs your checks instead of the termination orders...!"
SKYPE VIEW: Urien is just one thousand percent up in Frederick's grill, which is why Frederick is acting like Urien is not in *FRONT* of him, but rather *BEHIND* him and just exerting all kinds of stiff willpower on him. When Urien makes his threats to Alan, Frederick is quick to march off to the left of the screen -- by the time Urien's winding down this latest stream of death-threats, Blazer is holding what remains of Trask, behind the Illuminati figurehead's shoulder. It's basically just a blackened skull/spine combination attached to a *very* durable necktie.
'He's very fucking serious', mouths Frederick.
NONSKYPE VIEW: "Get you a flu shot? Huh. That's not a bad idea at all -- why the fu-" Why the fuck DIDN'T they think of that? "--Yeah, no, that's fucking genius. They're probably trialling some kinda chemical compound to do--" Frederick spreads his arms, wide. "We can definitely get that vaccine, no problem. I'll infiltrate the schools as a janitor," and avoid the HELL out of Hayato, "and maybe see if I can't score a vial or two. Sucks we don't got any KIDS around, but.." He chews on his cigarette before exhaling another plume of smoke.
"S'all we can do, I guess." Frederick takes a few steps towards the robot Urien is currently shaking, and investigates further. What the fuck is this thing? It looks like it's scalped from one of the combat-training models he'd had to dea--
"Hey. Is this thing a combat-trainer you just slapped a TV on? How's it Skype like this? Hey, Alan! Who are you fightin' against, anyway? Is it one of the Gedo teachers? Look the FUCK OUT if it is. Fuckers hit like a truck."
Alan's opponent has clearly arrived - his eyes focus on something and he goes right into what Fred would recognize as Alan's 'sexual predator' pose - thumbs in belt, leaning forward, handsome face twisted in a sneer with one shoe tapping on his heel. "Awww, you're breakin' my heart! What's with all those clothes? Did you hear this was a school zone and get all concerned with destorying innocence? You should see the shit these kids watch on Saturday the fuck morning."
Urien starts getting loud and Alan abruptly double-takes toward the camera. Surprise... but no fear. Maybe some vague respect. "Well, hello sailor." Alan's eyes shift toward Fred's grim trophy. "That old man Trask smoking apart in the corner? Didn't like him anyway, I don't trust a man who drinks Coors."
He once again glances back to his opponent. "Sorry, doll, I have to make this quick. I hate multitasking." Fred mentions trying to score the vaccine and Alan nods in response. With that, things get a little hard to follow. Alan seems to lose visual coherency and then simply /dissolve/ into a rain of tiny sparks. Slapchop squawks audibly, camera quaking as he jerks toward the real Alan several feet away in a loose boxing stance, already moving at an insanely fast speed toward Satsuki, a young Japanese girl in traditional samurai wear, hakama pants and jinbaori top. The blonde blurs even further, swinging a hook from a yard away and flickering /past/ her with clear impact.
"I don't know, some little samurai chick. I don't think she goes to /this/ school, she's too... traditional." He turns as he slides along the grass, looking right at 'Ginko Himura's' backside, visibly disappointed. "Fucking hakama pants! How can I tell how nice your ass is in that bullshit?! Anyway if I was gonna be zeroed out I think I'd've managed it a while ago." His eyes flick briefly toward the camera. When did he get a cigarette? "You don't see people with as much juice as me everyday and you know it!" He half-smiles, one eyebrow quirking up. Cocky bastard.
"We're the fucking Illuminati. If NESTS can infiltrate the school, then so can we. You!" He points at Frederick. Does he know his name? There's no way to either confirm nor deny that. "You will be a janitor at Gedo High. And you!!" The robot is shaken hard. "Potential corpse. You are the new SPORTS COACH of TAIYO HIGH. I'll have these strings pulled like a damn garrotte around a neck by Monday. Got it? I want to know whether these Principals are NESTS or not. Robo-Tran better get his ass ready to be a DOCTOR, too. Because he'll be Gorin High's new HEAD NURSE. That principal might have been kicked out, but we'd better sniff out all of our leads."
Watching the television, Urien sneers in amusement. "Haha." Apparently he's forgotten about killing Alan now. Still, that wild swing up and down will eventually be the downfall of him. But probably not today. "I want a list of all potential NESTS operatives. It's possible the principals aren't them. It's possible it's not fucking NESTS at all. Moment you think you know something is when you are most vulnerable. And yeah. This is a fighting robot. So what? We're trying to produce something like the Mishima JACK series. So far, not good. So we're also seeing if they can have televisions on the head."
Urien then slugs the robot in the midsection, sending it flying. The video that Alan sees is probably horribly disorienting as the robot spins head over heels before thumping into the wall and crumpling down. It then turns over and runs back like some retarded puppy trying to play fetch, despite sparking, smoking, and being heavily dented.
"Shit's gonna start getting done now. You three are mine. You need to know. There's two worlds; the world where smarts and a silver tongue get you by. And the world where strength and results let you see another day. Guess which one you are in. You waste my time, you let me down, I'll turn you into a smear, just like... heh. I already forgot his name."
Frederick frowns at the mention of Coors. Coors is a goddamn fine beer. He's opening his mouth, about to say something to the defense of Coors, when Urien lunges forward and COMPLETELY FUCKS THE ROBOT RIGHT UP. Wordlessly, Frederick drops Trask's skull to the ground, where it shatters like so much carefully-moulded ash. The blonde frowns - that's a shitty way to go - but looks back to Urien as though his life depends on it.
Because it does.
"Alright. JANITOR at GEDO, got it. Hopefully they're just givin' out vaccines, but you know, if they ain't..." Frederick brushes a finger against his nose, sniffs quickly. "I'm not above makin' it work out. Said it yourself - ends justify the means. Nobody's gonna worry about a nurse gettin' roughed up or whatever." He watches the TV robot start attempting its new life as a dog. Commiseration flashes across his face as a series of twitching frowns and hastened blinks.
"You don't gotta, I mean -- the robot was doin' a good job! Why's it gotta be good at takin' a hit? It's a TV on legs, man!" Frederick's already backing away from Urien, briskly spinning on a heel and sort of fast-tracking it towards the door. He pauses-
The pause probably saves his life, since he is RUDELY leaving URIEN--
--and looks back to Urien, lips pursed as though about to ask a question.
Hey. Boss. I'm gonna stop by G-Project's R&D on my way out, grab somethin' from the prototypes. Dunno how you do things with recruits here in Tech-Land, but we let the weapons pick our boys out in S&O - fuckers keep messing with my hammer. Lemme borrow one of yours?
Frederick *sounds* like he's asking a permission, but he's really not. He saw a piece on the way in, and it's simply a fact of its being there that it's gonna be gone by the time Frederick's left.
Alan blows sparks off his fist, which doesn't really make sense. "Hey Fred, if you don't wanna get your eye poked out, don't go into the gym teacher's office during lunch break. I mean, dressing like that, yer fuckin' gagging for it." When Urien issues his orders, Alan grimaces sharply and gives him a flat, unimpressed look. "That's a pretty broad portfolio and a little bit outta my wheelhouse. You sure about that, boss?" Cipher C: Taiyo has a lot of coaches, and Alan's bad at not getting thrown out os schools.
He's distracted. Slapchop whips the camera over to show Satsuki moving in on him after muttering... his blood pressure? The girl seems particularly flat, emotionless. She seems tense for a reason not directly related to Alan's 'ways'. "Hey, I know how they roll around here. Sex that uniform up a bit. Let's get some thigh cutouts, a tighter top. Or are you just..." He stage whispers off-screen, "...a bit undeveloped?"
He's back on camera, frowning cartoonishly at Satsuki and passing a hand up and down in front of his chest. No curve. He then makes a move but is apparently struck solidly, flying forward and barely keeping his clothes from being stained by the dirt. His expression is different when he recovers, a shark's grin. ""Whoa-HOH! That wasn't chi, you little minx! Kitty's got /those/ kind of claws!" He looks directly at the camera. Whoever he's dealing with, it's a Psycho Power wielder, and one the Illuminati doesn't have on the books.
That is when Urien punches the robot. Next time they can see it, Alan looks... disappointed.
By the time the robot is back, Alan has stepped it up. The two can hear him muttering irritably, "Strength and results...". He is chopping a hook punch down at Satsuki, electric chi just erupting out of his body, pouring out of his eyes and mouth, a one-man science museum. There's thunder in his voice for his next comment, giving it a completely undeserved gravitas: "Don't rough up a client without me gettin' a crack at 'er, Fred. You know how I feel about twosies."
Cipher C: Please don't kill someone before Alan can get her drunk, Fred.
"Did I say you can leave?" is Urien's first response to that. He then turns towards Frederick, flexing his fingers. His flesh darkens for a moment all the way to his forearm, before a slow, twisted smile creeps across his face. It's apparent he just went from deciding to kill him, to changing his mind. The reason is pretty simple. "I already commissioned you a new weapon. My dogs get the best leashes." He then pulls out a small controller from /somewhere/, pressing a button. A metal tube pops up near the disarrayed cushions, before Urien wanders over. Pressing a button, it slides open...
Revealing a massive sledgehammer with a few buttons on it. It looks heavy even for a man of Frederick's considerable build, but Urien plucks it out as if it were made of paper mache. "Check this." Flicking a switch, each side of the hammer suddenly /sprouts a chainsaw/. "This button turns them on..." Another switch, before it begins to rev like an engine. "And you twist the handle to adjust the speed." Rotating it, the engine begins to roar like a banshee, smoke billowing out from the mechanical hammer. Before he hurtles it towards Frederick. Yes, with both of the still-running chainsaws going wild. "If you don't like it, as if I give a fuck." If nothing else, he got to throw it at him. That made it worth a dozen scientists and three hours of engineering time.
Once Alan gives his own response, Urien cracks his neck to the side and returns his attention to the damaged robot. "All you need to do is talk like you know what the fuck you are talking about and get mad if anyone states something different. Berating players is half of the act. I doubt anyone but you could pull this off. You don't look like a pathetic enough dog to go to Gedo like Kruger over here. You only need in long enough to get access to school records and information. Being there longer is a perk." In other words, Urien doesn't seem to give two shits if Alan walks in and gets fired, as long as he accomplishes the primary mission.
And then Urien palms the head of the robot, twisting before hurtling it down to the ground backwards. It crashes, the screen exploding outwards in a wash of fire and smoke, glass crackling all around. "Now go. Meeting's over." This last audio would reach Alan before a heel crunches the rest of the robot into metal scrap. Urien then snaps his fingers to the girls, taking one in each arm as he begins to make his way towards one of the hallways. Someone'll clean up the messes he makes... as always. The lions always have peons scuttering beneath. It's only natural to be served.
Urien tosses a pretty badass hammer at Frederick. The thing weighs, easy, three hundred-plus pounds, but the glory of hammers is that the weight's all concentrated in the -head-. The weapon's handle flips end over end spiraling smoke like a downed fighter jet -- and Frederick catches it in both hands. He immediately lurches forwards, struggling with the new weight, but the weapon does NOT touch the ground, nor do either of its... unique... chainsaw appendages.
Immediately, Frederick thumbs one of the buttons.
"~~HERE COMES A HUGE DIPSHIT~~" plays over a speaker set somewhere into the hammer's head. Frederick's expression goes from *straining* to *frowning*, and he thumbs another button, successfully recalling the sledgehammer's CHAINSAW FUNCTION. He sets the thing's head on the ground, regards Urien for a long moment. He purses his lips, chews on the butt of his cigarette for a moment, considering.
"Hilarious. Alright. I like it. We'll see how this thing works out. Robo-Tran's got the best shot at the vaccine, but if nothin' else I'll try and corner Gedo's principal, get some information. Maybe scoop the vaccine if I can. Kirsten's got our numbers if you don't, so she's as good a bet as any at gettin' in touch, boss."
Frederick hefts the frankly *massive* hammer over one shoulder, and makes his way out of the room, even as Urien's female attendants wander in. He smiles to both, winks to the one with the bigger tits, and seems to realize whose bimbos, exactly, he's hitting on. His pace quickens, just a little bit.
Super-mode Alan's chopping blow hammers Satsuki. The samurai girl reels back and shakes her head - a line of red from her blasted nose splashes across the phone's camera lens and the two Illuminati can hear Slapchop mutter, "Aw, fer chrissakes!" Alan looks subtly different, colder and crueller inside his tornado of power. Alan doesn't like humorless people, and Satsuki isn't rising to any of his barbs. "Sorry about your nose. Good luck getting a date to frost out - I think I did 'im a favor. Fuckin' late bloomer."
While Urien is talking with Fred, Alan is observing Satsuki carefully, apparently thinking. Fred knows the man is way smarter than he looks and acts - honor roll in high school, almost-perfect test scores. Another thing that keeps the Illuminati from disposing of his bullshit mouth. He mutters once Urien is addressing him: "I always know what I'm talkin' about. A. B. C. A, always, B, be, C, closing, cobbling, Always Be Cobbling." It's distracted, though - his next line is more for the benefit of the bronze man than his opponent: "Not quite the Killer Bee, are you? What a co-fucking-inkydink."
Shadaloo is interesting in the schools as well, apparently. Things were so much simpler when it was just red vs. blue.
Slapchop completely fails to follow Satsuki's technique but it catches Alan completely, earning him a giant sword-slash, his blood all over the place. "This shirt cost more than this school's entire lunch budget!" Right as he's about to lose his cool, however, Fred hits a button on his hammer.
Alan starts laughing, and stops with a groan of pain.
Right there is where Urien crushes the camera, which might be unfortunate - Fred doesn't usually get to see Alan eat shit.
Log created on 02:53:18 12/07/2014 by Urien, and last modified on 07:09:23 12/07/2014.