The royal blue necktie felt oddly constricting. Considering he could not recall ever having worn one before, this was to be expected.

"You look cute," Melissa Rivers assured him, much to his chagrin.

"Adorable," Nicholas Williams felt some overwhelming urge to add.

"Presentable," Noin Mortman stated, with a single summary look from his polished black dress shoes to his attempts to enforce his will upon his hair using gel. It had resulted in short, thin spikes of dark brown. Melissa River's hand kept twitching instinctively towards them. Despite her own general professionalism, there was something about spiked hair on an eighteen year old megalomaniac that begged ruffling. The deadpan on Slate's face was all the warning she was going to receive, on that account.

"...Thank you for you assistance." Slate stated levelly.

He had been aware of the charity ball for weeks, naturally. Equally naturally, he had made sure that Mondragon Labs had donated to it; though mutants were invited to attend for free, and Slate would not think to insult them by forcing money into their hands for his own ticket, he would indeed order several Labs employees to attend with him, paying the full thousand dollar entry fee for humans. Melissa Rivers, Nigel Banks, Noin Mortman, the Triforce, and the LARPers would all be there. It was a mandatory recreational activity.

He had been aware of the charity ball for weeks. He had not, however, quite remembered that it was tonight.

Fortunately, his thoughtful employees had prepared a suit for him. It was gray, with thin white pin stripping. It came with a black vest to be worn under the coat, a white shirt to be worn under that, and the royal blue tie.

"I still think you should have gone with the bowtie," Charles Trigg said in all seriousness, his snerk hidden quite well in the depths of his grinning eyes.

"...The tie will suffice." The green bowtie had been vetoed. Thoroughly. "You may go ahead without me; Frank will drive me, after the meeting. It is best we do not arrive together, in any case; I do not wish it to seem as if I have brought a team of body guards."

Melissa River's hand gave another twitch towards his spiked hair. She compromised with herself by straightening his tie before she followed the others out the door, her low-backed red gown flashing adeptly around her stilettoed heels. In the middle of the crowd of suits, muscles, and cold eyes, she looked like a femme fatal not even James Bond would dare hold a tryst with. "We'll see you there, Sir. Really, you look good--watch out for Katrina going straight for that hair, though."

Slate did not roll his eyes at the older woman. Such a gesture would be both pointless and immature. Instead, he simply turned, and walked back from the entryway to the Board Room. The ball did not start for an hour and a half; there was plenty of time for an item of important business.

Tonight he met with Zephyr, the elemental with merely a moniker to his name, so far as the Lab records showed.

“Kon’ni..chi wa”

Wandering languidly through the barren corridors of Mondragon labs subversive bowels Zephyr’s gaze remained focused upon the spiral bound notebook idly clutched in his left hand, cobalt eyes skimming along the wall of oriental characters, flicking back and forth as he matched each strange design with the western definition beside it. The elementals lips moved silently; attempting to enunciate the verbiage of a language which possessed no point of reference to any European dialect within his repertoire, such a hindrance was not unexpected however; the merc had been taught world history and as such was aware that the eastern cultures had arisen hundreds of years before and utterly independent of their western brothers, if anything the western tongue should have been based off of the strange pictorial symbols displayed before him. The fact of the matter though was that history had not chosen such route, and while such knowledge served to advance the British born youth’s understanding of why he faced such an obstacle it did little to aid him in overcoming it, a detail that was beginning to irritate him. However Zephyr was nothing if not patient; he had spent the greater part of his teenage years learning to fly, and if he could master a skill most could only dream of then he’d be damned if he let this outlandish dialect defeat him.

“…watashi wa”

The elementals current interest in the Japanese tongue had been aroused by a recent encounter with another of his own kind; a snow haired sylph who, rather fittingly, had selected the soubriquet of Ghost. A most pleasant and polite young woman if truth be told, yet the girls affable manner and almost submissive personality had made her seem remarkably out of place within New York’s famously brusque character. It spoke of a foreign upbringing far removed from the individualistic American society, a suspicion which only served to be reinforced by the ingénue’s occasional slip of the tongue into a language Zephyr had later identified as Japanese. Such slips had been infrequent and the girl had always clarified moments later, however the Argus eyed elemental had never enjoyed being left ignorant during a conversation, it was a personal vexation the merc had developed during his work abroad upon finding a direct correlation between his rate of pay and his fluency in the language of his employer.

"Hajim'emashta"

Rounding the final corner in the labyrinth of corridors Zephyr’s pace slowed as he approached a pair of automated doors, he had long since committed to memory the distance at which the doors would detect his presence as well as the pace at which he could move to pass through unhindered. Thus the elemental was able to gain entrance to the room which held the asinine appellation of “War room” despite never having been used to conduct such a thing. Still, the mercenary had not peregrinated to the labs for the sake of making derisive comments about the designations of certain chambers; in fact it was doubtful the elemental would ever encounter a sense of ennui potent enough to pursue such a course of action. Instead the fair haired hessian had arrived in response to a summons from his vampiric employer, the purpose for the summons had not been given, nor had the mercenary enquired as there would have been little point; Mondragon was sufficiently organized for the elemental to accept that if he had not been given further information it was because he did not require it.

Striding carelessly through the spartan environment of the formerly mentioned war room Zephyr’s cerulean orbs did not deviate from their prior position until the elemental had placed his free hand upon the back of his customary seat. It was only then that the mercenary began to lower the spiral volume and allow his gave to rake the room, swiftly taking note of the rooms other sole occupant and further noting that, despite sitting in the mans chair, the individual in question was not the parasitic immortal the hessian had been expecting. In fact if memory served the elemental correctly the character currently under his examination was one of the Kabals reconnaissance operatives, Calley was his name the last time Simon had encountered though, the merc possessed doubts regarding whether it was the boys true name, in either case the boy was something of an enigma for the elemental, switching behaviours and personalities often enough that Zephyr had not yet been able to determine whether the spy was just skilled in the aspect of dissembling or simply psychotic.

Personal impressions aside though the situation at hand had yet to be addressed; the elementals meeting had been scheduled with Antonescue after all, yet he was confronted by a somewhat elusive Kabal member who appeared quite content to assume the vampires traditional seat. “Calley,” the azure eyed hessian nodded his head in greeting as he adopted his seat, “am I to take it that you are also waiting for Antonescue?”

Ten years from now, had his life gone down a different path, Slate would have been fluent in Japanese. He would have been a Zen practitioner, and he would have been in China, leading a team of his students as World War III began around them.

It is said that when a great evil is vanquished, it leaves behind it a void. This void is what wise men fear. Towards it, larger things cannot help but be attracted.

If Hunter Antonescu had remained as the Leader of the Kabal, Slate would have co-founded Pax several years down the line, after first finishing his education at the Mansion, and going on to college for a degree in Mathematics Education. As it was?

For the first time, he had chosen to sit in the chair left behind by an immortal, rather than one further to the side. The head of the table. The leather arm rests felt perfectly welcoming under his relaxed hands as Zephyr entered the room.

>> “Calley. Am I to take it that you are also waiting for Antonescue?”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Slate's lips. "Antonescu," the eighteen year old answered, "is not coming. That is what I have called you here to discuss."

"My name is Slate Swartz." He introduced himself simply. "You are already familiar with my brother, I see. I am the new owner of Mondragon Labs and its assets, the Kabal included. I wished to inquire as to whether you would like to renew your contract under me."

For once, Slate did not have his personnel files in front of him. He had read them all, and retained much of their contents; they were unnecessary, but something of a comforting prop. Rather a security risk, however. He had been intending to oversee their destruction.

...Fortunately, Miss Evans had so graciously 'overseen' that for him.

In any case, the relevant information was this: Zephyr was one of the founding members of the Kabal. Like Calley, the wind elemental had been present on that first day when Antonescu had gathered his people together and declared that they were to be his attack dogs.

As such, his fellow brown haired, blue eyed teen's contract was somewhat out of date.

"I fear that in your case," Slate continued, "the terms of employment will be changed somewhat from what you are used to. The primary changes will be in the pay scale; your standing rate will be placed at $100,000 per year. The missions you run, however, will result in bonuses in pay that could quit easily exceed that. Missions will be running significantly more frequently than they were under the past leadership."

"The other change comes in titling, as it were; am I correct in believing that Antonescu named you his Second in Command?" Slate paused for confirmation, or rebuttal. "I am reserving that title for someone who shares similar views to my own, I fear. As I understand it, however, the title never resulted in much difference to your employment, in any case."

"You may, of course," Slate offered reasonably, "ask any questions you may have, before you make your decision."

Hopefully the decision did not take too long. He did have a party to attend, after all. It would be the first time that Katrina met both Calley and himself at the same time.

Seated adroitly within the not uncomfortable confines of the board rooms revolving chairs Zephyr’s azure eyes had once more drifted down towards the exigent contents of his emerald bound volume, given the presence of a fellow team member many would have taken the elementals move as discourteous sign of dismissal. Such an interpretation however would only be partially correct, as indeed most interpretations are. On the one hand the taciturn mercenary had not journeyed here for the purpose of conversing with one of his nettlesome peers, no the hazel haired hessian was currently in attendance at the labs because his employer had deemed it necessary to meet. On the other hand though Zephyr’s limited contact with Calley had led the elemental to believe that the boy was much like himself when it came to social intercourse; avoiding the role of speaker in order to favour the role of silent watcher and thus listener. Only when the young healer played the fool did he freely engage in any form of dialogue which, more often than not, proved to be little more than pointless palaver.

"Antonescu is not coming. That is what I have called you here to discuss."[/color]

Calm cerulean eyes, which previously had been shifting back and forth over the contents of the spiral bound text, abruptly froze; remaining fixed upon the last line of kanji, which were displayed merely as “本当”. A simple collection of strokes and dashes which were still all too meaningless for the elemental, the translation however caused the slender hessian to a raise a brow in a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“Indeed?” The word was read aloud from the book before him, however there would be no reason for Calley to believe the statement had not been addressed to him; the mercenary’s voice had remained calm yet there was no denying the question tone in the hessians response. Had his fellow Kabal member been observing carefully though the boy may have noticed a slight upward twitch upon the elementals lips moments before the green text was closed with a soft snap[/i] and an inquisitive pair of cobalt orbs rose to meet the figure in the leather chair.

"My name is Slate Swartz. You are already familiar with my brother, I see. I am the new owner of Mondragon Labs and its assets, the Kabal included. I wished to inquire as to whether you would like to renew your contract under me…"[/color]

Zephyr’s head tilted slightly to the side as he took in the newly proclaimed Slates words; had the boy not been so austere in his delivery the elemental would have likely disregarded the entire announcement as a puerile prank, a typical act of tomfoolery that Calley was rather fond of. As it was the hessian could not be certain as to the truth of his supposed superior’s statement, the mercenary was aware that Antonescue’s presence had been somewhat lacking as of late however from what he knew of the egotistical immortal the man was not one to easily relinquish power. The vampire had no issues hiring others to oversee facets of his operations but the parasitic mutant customarily drew the line when it came to surrendering any aspect of his sovereignty. For Slate to suggest that he now possessed ownership of Mondragon would mean that Hunter had washed his hands of labs and had no further reason to continue funding its operations, yet from what Zephyr knew of Inghams work the chief scientist was far from completing any of his experiments. Simply put, Simon could see no reason why Antonescue would willingly part with what was essentially his command center in NY.

“..I fear that in your case, the terms of employment will be changed somewhat from what you are used to. The primary changes will be in the pay scale; your standing rate will be placed at $100,000 per year. The missions you run, however, will result in bonuses in pay that could quit easily exceed that. Missions will be running significantly more frequently than they were under the past leadership.”[/color]

The hessians azure eyes abruptly narrowed as his apparent employer disclosed the new terms of his contract, terms which essentially reduced him to less than a tenth of what he had been earning previously and, completely coincidentally, caused the elemental impression of the somber man before him to drop by several degrees. Zephyr was a mercenary, ergo he worked for the highest bidder, which for the past few years had been the Kabal. This wasn’t to say that the elemental never accepted outside work, the brown haired hessian simply ensured that it never conflicted with anything related to Mondragon. If indeed Slate was the new proprietor of the labs than he should have been aware of this arrangement, such a drastic cut however led Zephyr to deduce that either newfound leader of the Kabal had no wish to retain his services or, that Slates supposed acquisition of Mondragon was not entirely true.

The mercenary’s hostile gaze faded slightly as his thoughts turned to the latter option, Antonescue had been silent for some time, almost more than a year really. Zephyr himself had seen little point in questioning his vampiric employers lack of activity, provided that his money was deposited on a timely schedule the hessian was more than content to receive something for nothing. Simply because he had turned a blind eye however did not mean others had necessarily done the same…

"The other change comes in titling, as it were; am I correct in believing that Antonescu named you his Second in Command?"[/color]

Shaken momentarily from his internal machinations Zephyr’s gaze sharpened as he swiftly replayed the question and nodded in the affirmative and then shrugging at Slates proceeding response, which for the most part proved to be quite accurate; the elemental had never really utilized his authority as his second in command, indeed he had never actually accepted the position Hunter had simply bestowed it upon him after the Paragon episode. Had the hessian been given a choice in the matter though it was likely he would have declined, authoritative powers were all well and good but they always tended to be coupled with annoying things, such as responsibility.

As Slate concluded his monotone allocution and opened the way for any questions Zephyr took a moment to deposit his spiral bound volume within the recesses of his jacket before placing both elbows on the table and brining both hands together in contemplative pose just above his chin. After a few seconds of silence however the elemental raised his head a small, but humourless smile as he began speaking.

“This is quite a lot to take in I must admit, it’s clear that you intend to implement quite a few changes, not least of which involves reducing my pay, however you have yet to provide me anything which validates your claims, specifically that of ownership. I sincerely hope that you able to do so otherwise I would, theoretically, be obligated to remove you for attempting to subvert Antonescue’s operations.”

The less than subtle ultimatum had not been delivered as one would a threat, the mercenary’s voice had remained level, almost disinterested, as though he had merely commented on the weather. The hessians eyes however belied his supposed indifference for the azure orbs never once left his companions face.

The young Kabal leader's answer was spoken with neither hesitation nor flustering; their conversation on the weather was merely continuing, as it were.

Slate gave a reasonable nod. "Fair enough. I will reschedule this meeting for next month then, if it does not inconvenience you. I presume that the halting of your pay will be sufficient evidence for you?"

As to the threat on his life: he really did not mind. Already, this encounter was off to a more civilized start than his one with Ms Evans.

“If you wish to go without my skills for such a duration I could find similar organizations to work for. Such action is not truly compulsory though; if you could summon an immortal to confirm your position, by his own words or his carcass I would gladly admit your standing.”

Such concise eloquence. Such nondescript facial features and physical tells as he spoke. One could hardly have dared the wind elemental to be more concise and to the point in his reply.

Slate's fingers itched to close a file that did not exist: thank you, Miss Evans, for seeing to that. Instead, he simply attempted to meet his fellow brown-haired, blue-eyed teenager's gaze.

"Mr Zephyr," Slate stated simply, "this organization is changing. While mercenaries are still valued, they no longer form its core. That privilege is to be saved for those who share my goals, as opposed to those who share my wallet. It may be that I am judging you unfairly, but I highly doubt you are one of the former. To be frank, while your credentials are impressive, I have no particular reason to pay you as highly as your former employer did, and several reasons not to. First and foremost amongst them is that I wish to reduce the ludicrous amount of money that Hunter Antonescu paid for his employees to do nothing. You yourself did indeed run missions; you were one of the few, however. There are many people on the Labs payroll who simply sat around, watching their bank accounts grow fat as the 'immortal', as you say, drifted from his investments. As such, I am moving more towards a per commission system of pay, for mercenaries such as yourself. Assuming you run missions regularly, it is not inconceivable for you to either meet or exceed your former salary cap."

"As to the immortal," Slate continued matter-of-factly, "he is neither dead nor consenting of this. Neither has he attempted to stop me. Nor, at this point, do I believe he could. If he returns, I have full intents to defend what I have claimed. I do not in any way ask that you help me, should such a case occur; I simply ask that you refrain from giving your aid to him. That particular commission will yield high rewards."

The Kabal leader's hands were crossed in his lap. There they had started, and there they remained. "If you would like to negotiate further, you may. If you would like to cut your ties with Mondragon Labs, now would be the time. You will face no repercussions for it."

Cold cobalt eyes remained fixed upon the form of one Slate Swartz as the slim singleton carried through with his almost callous commentary and at points Zephyr was sorely tempted to roll his eyes; whatever else the boy might claim it was clear social skills were not his strong suit, either that or the monotonous magnate was purposefully attempting to rouse the mercenary’s ire. Throughout the meeting thus far the twins’ pose and tone had varied not one iota, his body language speaking of indifference and almost boredom. A more irascible personality might well have taken offence to such a dismissive guise, the elemental though prided himself on his ability to maintain a level head, Slate may have done little to form a favourable impression thus far but the hessian had no intention of allowing his slight distaste for the boy cloud his thoughts. The ironic part in all of this was that if Simon were Slates position the mercenary would likely be implementing the same alterations simply because they made sense on a logical level; Antonescue had wasted a large sum on ensuring that his own private guard dogs remained loyal to no one but himself. Many of the Kabal, the elemental included, would have been satisfied with lower starting salaries, with events being what they were though Zephyr was facing the prospect of his salary falling from five million to a mere $100,000 and although Slates intentions of mission compensation were intriguing the elemental was rather partial of the aphorism “A bird in hand is worth two in the bush”.

Despite his personal misgivings however the elemental maintained his silence, drawing upon his own reserves of patience as he waited for Swartz to conclude, hopefully answering a few of the azure eyed hessians queries in the process, specifically the present status of his past parasitic employer. If Antonescue truly had withdrawn then Mondragon would be a different environment, one that would possibly need to be reassessed in order to determine its suitability, for although there was much the mercenary was willing to do for money the slender aeromancer did have his limits, starting world war three was one of them; what use was a fortune if you had nothing to spend it on? The hazel haired hessian highly doubted that the lean teenager possessed such a drastic objective but in either case the elemental was intent on learning his potential employers goals, if for no other reason than it would improve his ability the inexpressive boy.

Those that say patience is a virtue are often times only half right, in the case of this meeting however the adage was all too true, by keeping his peace and allowing Slate to speak unhindered Zephyr had been given either an answer or an opening to each of his questions which allowed him to follow up rather nicely.

“Addressing your points in order, I’m afraid I can neither confirm nor deny the alignment of our goals until you share your own. My own ambitions are rather simple, indeed I daresay you can already guess what they might be. In regards to my pay,” a despondent sigh caused the elemental to pause momentarily, “you are asking me to sacrifice a salary of five million in exchange for $100,000. Regardless of your compensation scheme I am still looking at an initial loss of 98%, it is only natural that I be reluctant to accept such a change, however if this truly is a negotiation I am willing to acquiesce to such a cut in exchange for other possible benefits.”

Breaking off briefly to allow to allow the doppelganger a chance to contemplate and either accept or reject the proposal Zephyr’s eyes narrow with a malicious light as he gives voice to a quandary which could cause quite the confrontation. “Finally, you mentioned that Antonescue’s absence has allowed you to essentially appropriate Mondragon labs, for the purpose of conjecture, what would prevent me from doing the same?”

In truth the last thing the mercenary wanted was a position of responsibility, although the additional funds were tempting Simon knew himself well enough to acknowledge that his lack of interest in business/management would only cause the labs to stagnate and eventually loose what technological advantages they currently held. No this final question was simply a means of testing the determination of one Mr. Swartz, to see how he react and, depending upon his response, whether or not he was capable of defending himself.

>> “Addressing your points in order, I’m afraid I can neither confirm nor deny the alignment of our goals until you share your own. My own ambitions are rather simple, indeed I daresay you can already guess what they might be.”

Baby blue eyes showed the barest hint of amusement. “I have my suspicions. I suspect, somehow, that you do not have an interest in the same goals as I do. Fortunately, I do not expect my employees to believe what I believe; I do not even expect much loyalty. All I expect is that when I assign a mission, it is completed. That is what I will pay you for.”

>> “In regards to my pay, you are asking me to sacrifice a salary of five million in exchange for $100,000. Regardless of your compensation scheme I am still looking at an initial loss of 98%, it is only natural that I be reluctant to accept such a change, however if this truly is a negotiation I am willing to acquiesce to such a cut in exchange for other possible benefits.”

Slate inclined his head; a nod, of sorts. His baby blue eyes stayed level on the air elemental’s own gaze, if the man chose to meet it. “It is quite a drastic reduction in pay, if you chose to view it as such. For myself, I view it as this: you are no longer dealing with Hunter Antonescu. Your contract, along with every other employee of the Kabal and Mondragon Labs, was terminated on the day I took command. What I am offering now is not a pay reduction from five million to $100,000; it is a salary, in place of your lack of one. If you prefer, we could treat our future dealings on the standard terms by which you deal with your other employers, and dispense with the retention fee entirely.” If $100,000 on top of the bonuses was not enough to ensure the elemental’s brand of loyalty, then Slate was not opposed to allowing the man to revert to the state in which Antonescue had found him: a mercenary. A mercenary could perform missions just as well as a Kabal member, and at a significantly cheaper cost.

He settled his hands on the arms of his chair, comfortably. “I am open to some negotiation,” he said, levelly. “Your last recorded salary with Antonescue was three million. What did you have in mind, for your contract with my Kabal?” It was an invitation for the man to answer carefully. Perhaps the files were merely outdated, and he had indeed been earning five million. Perhaps. Noin Mortman would be awfully displeased to have her night at the ball ruined by a phone call to check the accounts, however. Really, it would be much better for all parties concerned if the two brown-haired, blue-eyed teenagers sitting alone at in the Mondragon Labs Board Room could merely be… honest.

>> “Finally, you mentioned that Antonescue’s absence has allowed you to essentially appropriate Mondragon labs, for the purpose of conjecture, what would prevent me from doing the same?”

A smile twitched at the corners of Slate’s lips. It was true that the air elemental was strong. In all likelihood, he could kill Slate long before the security staff could come to his aid. Mondragon Labs could never be taken by mere strength, however. Its buildings, perhaps, but not its soul. “Because you, Zephyr, “ Slate explained, in the simplest terms, “are no psychic.”

Regarding his interviewer with an expression of apathy Zephyr permitted himself a moment to blink as he processed the unexpected accusation settled within Slates response. Once his mind had rendered the words though, and the implications behind them, a subtle smirk crept over his features as a sense of amusement and satisfaction welled within the hazel haired hessian. It seemed that Swartz usurpation of the labs was not quite so complete as he might claim, either that or the clones recent governance policies had caused his staff to become somewhat inept. In either case it demonstrated the fact that the tedious twin’s management of the facility was not yet perfect, the boy was still capable of making mistakes and the mercenary found this slight schardenfreude to be quite satisfying.

With the elements of a smirk still present upon his visage Zephyr began his response, speaking in a condescending tone as he sought to educate his would be employer, “Three million was my starting salary Mr. Swartz, and it came with a provision stating it would increase should I prove to generate results. Once I was promoted to second in command Antonescue deemed that I had done precisely that and my salary was raised 40%.” Permitting himself a moments pause the elementals mien took on a slightly lighter, almost overly polite tone as he continued, “It is strange that labs administration would slip on such an issue, I have never known it to happen in the past, however I am certain that this is an isolated incident and not at all a reflection on new management.” With the less than subtle vituperation delivered the hessian’s tone became staid as his voice darkened in subtle annoyance, “In either case though I would recommend that you double check your records, finance is a matter I take seriously and I expect my employers to do the same.”

Falling silent for a time Simon allowed his words a moment to sink in, so that he might judge the boy’s perceptiveness; for while his retort had contained an almost puerile jab to the youth’s ego the elementals final words had also carried his answer to the monotonous clones offer. Hopefully the new Mondragon owner would prove astute enough to spot both the former and latter, otherwise the hessian would be left rather disappointed in his decision.

Unwilling to remain taciturn for more than was necessary Zephyr considered his next words carefully as he focused on maintaining an affable affectation. It had become apparent to the mercenary that negotiations were not in his favour; for one Slate, unlike Antonescue, deemed the elementals ability’s to be useful but not crucial to his goals. Such an attitude automatically placed the boy in a position of power for no matter what decision the hessian deigned to make the apathetic twin only stood to gain; either in the form of a lower paid retainer should Zephyr accept or through a cut in costs should the elemental refuse to continue his work for the Kabal. It was an undesirable reality but one that the elemental could work with, after all there was more than one form of compensation and while Simon did traditionally prefer monetary reparations he was willing to consider other avenues, especially given the nature of Mondragon’s resources.

“When I worked under Antonescue, my position granted me access and authority over many areas of the labs, however there were certain departments which superseded that power. Primarily the scientific research and development division headed by Dr. Ingham. I have, in the past, requested that the doctor use the resources at his disposal to work on a few personal projects of mine. Unfortunately Ingham is not the most altruistic of individuals and each of my requests has subsequently been dismissed, should my term with the Kabal continue I would like my proposals to become his priority.”

It was admittedly something of a gamble, Ingham was one of Mondragon’s greatest intellectual assets and as such his time was a valuable commodity. However unless Slate had commissioned the gaunt professor for his own purposes Zephyr saw no reason why his request should be denied; after all with Antonescue gone there was no call for the doctor to continue his biological engineering and so the man would need a new directive, something the elemental would be all too happy to supply.

As the social discourse progressed and the conversation turned upon the mercenary’s less than veiled threat the hessian was somewhat taken aback to see a ghost of a grin upon Slates features as the boy delivered what was perhaps the most intriguing piece of information thus far.

“Because you, Zephyr, are no psychic.”[/color]

“Indeed?” The elementals tone was skeptical and slightly contemptuous; indeed the attitude was reflected in the hessians expression; a single raised brow and a slight shift of the neck which caused the azure eyed merc to look down upon the Kabals latest leader. Zephyr’s cynicism may have been unwarranted but if the mercenary had interpreted the clone’s words correctly he found it rather unlikely that Slates mutation, if indeed he possessed one, lay in the manipulation of the mind. Although such a power would go a long way towards explaining how the youth had managed to arrogate the labs it was not the perfect answer. For one, if Swartz’s powers truly were potent enough to command the entire facility then the hessian failed to see why they were even negotiating his pay. The fact that they were however indicated that either the boy was lying or that for some reason was hesitant or possibly unable to apply such an ability to the elemental himself.

In any case Slate’s response had been equivocal at best and even though the elemental had hinted toward his acceptance of the tedious twins contract the hessian no reason not to dig for more information. “I assume you can prove this?”

The man’s first comments were met by a simple accepting nod; if such was true, then it was his own error for not having Noin give him the printed list of each member’s current pay. The three million written upon Zephyr’s original contract was exorbitant enough that Slate had—foolishly—assumed that the immortal would have abstained from giving the man a raise during the mere two years he had been employed by the Labs. If Slate’s fellow teenager was lying, then stopping now to confer with Noin would simply back him into a corner. Zephyr’s hackles were already raised from the pay cut; there was no need to poke him with sticks until he bit.

No need over that issue, in any case. The next one, however, would be unavoidable.

>> “...Unfortunately Ingham is not the most altruistic of individuals and each of my requests has subsequently been dismissed, should my term with the Kabal continue I would like my proposals to become his priority.”

“Ah,” Slate replied. To the Lab’s regular employees, that ‘ah’ was beginning to speak volumes. “I am afraid I cannot grant that request, for two reasons. The first is the broadest; I am in the process of ridding this place of Hunter’s skeletons. His methods and mine are worlds apart; as such, I have no need of these ‘covert’ projects of his. From now on, all projects at the Labs will be of the sort that have nothing to hide from any prying eyes. If your projects fall into that category, then I will consider giving you access to another development team. Unfortunately, my more specific reason is this: I have already re-assigned Doctor Ingram to other projects.”

>> “I assume you can prove this?”

“I assume I have no desire to,” Slate replied, simply. He had not called the air elemental in to perform parlor tricks for him. “We are here to discuss your contract, not my abilities.”

Am aggravated sigh escaped the elementals lips as the monotonous mogul delivered yet another distasteful rebuttal, ‘it would seem that today is not my day’. Events had proceeded to go from bad to worse the moment the reticent mercenary had set foot within vacuous boardroom, beginning with the drastic cut in his pay and then continuing with the rejection of the hessians alternate compensation proposal. It was starting to appear as though the meeting would become a complete loss, a prospect that failed to sit well with the airy elemental. Every situation possessed a silver lining, although admittedly some were notable than others, there was something to be gained from these negotiations, something he could use to his advantage, if only he looked hard enough.

“…His methods and mine are worlds apart; as such, I have no need of these ‘covert’ projects of his. From now on, all projects at the Labs will be of the sort that have nothing to hide from any prying eyes.”[/color]

In spite of his own irritation Zephyr found his interest drawn by his employer’s precise choice of words, for if they were interpreted literally then one could infer that Slate desired to utterly abolish any and all offensive projects within the labs. ‘Surely he’s not that foolish.’ Considering Mondragons area of expertise revolved around biological and chemical weaponry such a prospect would effectively cripple the labs productive output and spell virtual financial suicide. The facility would have no means of revenue and would therefore become wholly reliant upon its existing equity which would itself be reduced to almost nothing as a result of the proposed alterations.

Any other institution under such circumstances would be forced to file for bankruptcy as their liabilities overwhelmed their assets. If Slate truly had taken possession of Antonescues finances though then the boy could keep the company afloat by granting Mondragon the necessary funds to stay afloat, the costs would be exorbitant by today’s standards but would do little more than dent the immortals reserves. Still, to completely recreate a well established facility simply for moral appearances…

‘It can’t be that simple. Who in their right mind would overtake a company purely because of their ethics?’ The absurdity of the notion notwithstanding the elemental found himself unable to dismiss the possibility entirely, it simply seemed to correspond with the proclaimed psychic’s persona, or rather his lack of such. The youth came across as mechanical and thus working on absolutes of right and wrong was a concept that lent itself greatly to the clone’s image despite the lack of supportive evidence.

“If your projects fall into that category, then I will consider giving you access to another development team. Unfortunately, my more specific reason is this: I have already re-assigned Doctor Ingram to other projects.”[/color]

“How considerate of you, what are these other projects; if you don’t mind me asking?” The mercenary’s tone was distant, almost aloof but retained enough civility to be within polite bounds. There was little in point in being overly pretentious or hostile, such behavior would only grant minor short term benefits and gain the hessian nothing in the long run. Still, the undercurrents of annoyance were proving difficult to dispel; the few designs which the elemental possessed had been contrived for less than benevolent purposes and were unlikely to gain approval from the Kabal’s new leader. ‘If I discard its offensive capabilities the suit should pass muster, its primary function was transport after all.’

“I assume I have no desire to, we are here to discuss your contract, not my abilities.”[/color]

The elemental shrugged his shoulders in an indifferent manner as his employer bluntly refused to demonstrate his purported gift. Zephyr had not truly expected the youth to be very forthcoming about his talents but it would have been convenient had the banausic clone acquiesced to his request. The question had cost him nothing to ask and thus the mercenary was not overly concerned with the somewhat disappointing, albeit expected, response.

“A pity, a demonstration would have been useful. Returning to the topic at hand however I suppose my next question regards the perquisites of my employment. I assume that I am still permitted access to the same training facilities, vehicles and basic amenities that were afforded to me during Antonescues time however I am curious as to whether you will continue the immortals policy of bestowing charitable donations towards both the New York Mayor and NYPD.” The aforementioned contributions had permitted Mondragon to operate at will without fear of investigation or reprisal at the state level, a convenient side effect of this though was that the licit immunity had extended to members of the Kabal, allowing them to act with impunity providing their actions were discreet.

"Speaking of policies though could you inform as to what yours are? After all I can hardly be expected to act efficiently if I am unaware of your long term goals.”