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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Feb 2, 2020 9:03:43 GMT
Her comment almost made him laugh genuinely. Instead, he let out a few controlled, polite chuckles. “Well, my given name is Vincent, but I suppose Vince is close enough.” He said with amusement. While their relationship was professional (as were, one could argue, all of his relationships), he let this informality slide. It wasn’t as if he were her superior. Not to mention, the setting of this particular meeting didn’t exactly scream formality. Regas’ comment about his job title bothered him. It sounded like something his mother would say, or one of his sisters - though said perhaps a bit more candidly than his family would. He didn’t let this perturbation show, however. He’d learned to wear a mask and wear it well. ”One must climb the ladder, Lieutenant Regas. An employee doesn’t become CEO overnight.” Vincent respected the clearly defined stairway to success, and had climbed it step by step at a quick yet steady pace. Not even thirty and he was just over a step away from running the company. The pompous, competitive part of him that his family had ingrained so deeply couldn’t help but compare his success to Regas. She was four years older than him and what had she done? How much money did she make? He tried to shut that part of himself up, but he couldn’t stop it from nagging at him. He had a much higher salary than her, a much higher status; clearly he was superior. ”Astute alliteration, Lieutenant Regas.” He said with a hint of playfulness. ”But they really are doing their best to assure your comfort and mobility. I apologize if they had an untoward attitude. Give us the names of those you feel are treating you improperly and I assure we will do what we can to mend their behavior. We at Axin only want the best for our clients.” Despite the oppressing banality and corporateness of that last line, he said it sincerely, with gravitas and emotion - though not too much, of course. He’d trained himself, saying it over and over again in the mirror; perfecting it. One could be convinced that Axin truly did only want the best for their clients. ”I can get you a hotel if need be. There’s an excellent five star establishment with a view of the Empire State Building. I assume you’re not one for luxury, Lieutenant Regas, but it doesn’t hurt to indulge every once in a while.” Of course, luxury wasn’t an indulgence for Vincent, but a given, a requirement. Though he did understand that was not the case for everyone. ”That, or you could book your own place and contact me. You do have my information.” He noticed Regas’ expression as he relayed the company’s concerns. He expected her resistance, and listened with interest as she responded. He was somewhat taken aback as she mentioned his race. It was not something that got brought up often in business communications - though the PR team had mentioned how it would look for an African American man to be in power; it would make the company seem progressive. Those types of meetings always made him feel uncomfortable. His parents had taught him to never use his race as a crutch or a tool. He was simply human, like everybody else. Though sometimes he was violently reminded otherwise. He always tried to put those incidents out of mind, but sometimes they came back to haunt him. “I understand your point and appreciate your concerns. But as the saying goes, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m simply expressing the company’s wishes. Do with their message what you will.” It seemed she was going to ignore the company’s wishes, which was unfortunate, but he highly doubted there was any way he could convince her otherwise. Her stare only solidified that notion. It did not intimidate Vincent - he’d endured much harsher stares from his family - but it was certainly impressive, and communicated plenty. She would not budge. Her offer surprised him. It confused him as to why she’d want accompaniment to the specialists at Axin. She seemed a rather independent individual; why would she want him to go with her? Besides, Vincent was a very busy man; he wasn’t sure he would have the time to keep her company. But Regas’ resolve was strong, and she was a highly valued asset. If Vincent needed to put some time aside to go with Regas to the specialists, he supposed he could do so. ”Deal.” He nodded with a courteous smile. Lt. Isabelle Regas |
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jul 6, 2019 7:01:35 GMT
Vincent eyed Regas’ cheap beer and food. He had never been one for alcohol. Well, rather, his parents had beaten the everliving fear of mind altering substances into Vincent. They threatened him with severe punishments if they ever suspected he’d ever been anything but sober and warned him of all the negative side effects that went along with a lack of sobriety, quite a few that, as Vincent had gotten older, learned were completely fabricated, such as nerve damage and brain rot, which his mother had described to him in grisly detail, using her status as a neurosurgeon to add weight and precision to her warning. Still, Vincent avoided the stuff like the plague. Same went for cheap and unhealthy food, though his parents’ warnings about such things came more from a class standpoint than a health one (however, Vincent still genuinely valued his health and physique, he had to look presentable, after all). That ‘Vince’ startled him. He hadn’t heard anyone call him that in...well, it seemed like ever. The surprise flashed across his face for a moment before he regained his composure and smiled. ”Leave it to you to call me ‘Vince,’ Lieutenant Regas.” He said amiably, though professionally. He’d forgotten about her bluntness. He was so used to professional and sanitized business meetings, someone being genuine came as somewhat of a surprise to him. He actually appreciated it. He took a seat at the table, unbuttoning his jacket and straightening his tie. Regas’ comment, though somewhat demeaning in tone, actually brought him some joy. He was important now. ”Yes, I’ve advanced quite a bit in the company since we last spoke. I’ve been promoted to executive assistant.” He said with a hint of pride seeping into his voice, though he doubted the title would impress Regas. ”One must look the part.” He added, partially as a jest, but only partially. ”We can fix the jolts.” Vincent said, jumping immediately on her complaint. ”Come into one of the research centers, we can have our specialists take a look.” Vincent did genuinely care about Regas’ comfort, but sending her to a research center would give the company’s scientists an additional opportunity to study a metahuman, and they could use every chance they could get. ”I can have them send a car to pick you up.”He paused for a second, glancing down at Regas’ cybernetic arm hidden by her hoodie before returning to her face. “I hate to say this, but I feel that I must. I can’t help but notice that you seem to be attempting to hide your cybernetic enhancements. I must request that you don’t. It’s not good for the company if they come off as something to be ashamed of, not to mention bad for the morale of fellow amputees.” He smiled warmly at her, softly, amiably, putting aside a bit of the professionalism. ”I understand the will to blend in, I really do, despite appearances. But my priority is to the company, and I have to communicate their wishes.”
Lt. Isabelle Regas |
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jun 23, 2019 7:46:31 GMT
That no was final. Vincent could tell, Dominic had made his decision and he was not going to change it. It seemed he had lost this one. Dominic’s moral code was too potent and too stubborn for Vincent’s business tactics. Luckily, Dominic was only the first in a long line of potential meetings. As if the PR man was important. No, he was simply the lowest risk. He was the bottom rung on a very tall ladder. ”Blackmail is a harsh word, Mr. Weaver.” He said evenly. Vincent didn’t like to think of what he did as blackmail. Blackmail insinuated that he was doing something wrong, immoral. He didn’t think what he was doing was wrong at all. It was simply business. He’d had this sort of tactic used on him many times. It seemed a natural part of the job Vincent nodded his head respectfully and stood. ”I understand. I thank you for your time, Mr. Weaver. It’s a shame we couldn’t reach an agreement.” He would reach out for a handshake, but he sensed that Dominic wasn’t in the mood for such a gesture and it may just come off as an insult, and Vincent didn’t want that. Despite everything, he still respected the man. He walked out of the room and down the hallway. ”Goodbye, Gregory.” He said politely as he passed him. “Oh, goodbye Mr. Maxfield.” Gregory replied, somewhat surprised. He stepped into the elevator, waiting patiently as it descended, walking out as it reached the bottom floor. He strolled out of the building, and as soon as he was shrouded in the anonymity of the crowded sidewalks of New York City, he took out his cellphone, dialed a number, and gave a short, succinct message. ”Release Courtney Powell and Rahim Nadeem’s identity to the public. Thank you.” He had to follow up with his threat, but he couldn’t play all his cards at once. He had other meetings to attend. The release would be perfectly executed, untraceable. Dominic could claim that Vincent had threatened to release this information, but it would be hearsay, it wouldn’t hold up in court. He would presumably tell his superiors, and knowing his reputation, it was likely they would believe him, which would be advantageous for Vincent. It would work well for Dominic’s superiors to know exactly where the company stood in relation to the Program. After he hung up, he called his driver. Ms. Marcell was at the building within minutes. “Where to?” She asked as he turned on his bluetooth and started answering the mass of emails that had piled up on his phone. “Headquarters. I have another meeting to schedule.”
Dominic Weaver |
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jun 22, 2019 2:50:00 GMT
This was not a location Vincent was accustomed to. Axin always flew him out on a luxury private jet (and he had one of his own just in case), he hadn’t the need nor the time for the airport terminals. Plus, it just felt...dirty. It felt poor. Not that he had anything personal against the poor. He did think they could use a bit more ambition - and somewhere in the back of his mind, in some place he wasn’t even aware of, he resented them for being what he feared he could become - but people were people, and they should each be treated with respect and approached as an equal.
Regardless of the location, Vincent dressed his best, in a sharp navy blue tie and a well tailored black jacket, carrying a sleek leather suitcase. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but he carried himself with pride and confidence and dignity, as always, exchanging a warm smile with anyone who looked his way. The smell of cheap food invaded his nostrils and he had to prevent himself from scrunching his nose in disgust. He then berated himself for acting like his mother, but at least he didn’t show his disgust. She would’ve shown it and she would’ve done so proudly. She would make sure everyone knew she was above this, above them all. At least he was more respectful than that.
After a bit of searching, he spotted Lieutenant Regas by a cheap Chinese restaurant eating what he presumed to be food from said restaurant. She was wearing a hoodie and nursing a beer. It was obvious the attention she was getting was making her uncomfortable. It seemed she was doing her best to hide her cybernetic enhancements - as the company had chosen to call them - which wasn’t good for business, but he could empathize with her. Most people weren’t comfortable standing out in a crowd.
”Ah, Lieutenant Regas,” he said as he approached her table, smiling, hand extended, ”there you are. I know I’m not the first to say thank you for your service, but it seems only custom that I do so.” He had much to thank her for. As a metahuman under the purview of the Axin corporation, she was incredibly valuable, more than she knew. Being a living, breathing display of their technology was simply a side benefit. ”Have you encountered any problems with the cybernetic enhancements?” He asked.
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Jun 21, 2019 20:48:57 GMT
Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jun 21, 2019 20:48:57 GMT
Vincent kept an even, polite, confident smile as he saw the surprise flit across Dominic’s face, but inside his smile grew. Finally, he had something of an upper hand. It was a shame he had to pull out those names. It gave him no pleasure to play dirty like that. But all is fair in love and war and the oft forgotten business. He’d done much worse to acquire what he needed for Axin, and he’d gladly do it again. He steeled himself for Dominic’s offense. He’d heard about the man, and there was no way he was going down that easily. And boy did he have an offense. He started out slow, with a gentle backhanded insult. Then he came in subtly threatening violence against Vincent on the Heroes’ behalf. And finally, he dropped all pretense and called what Vincent did a Federal offense, at which point Vincent’s smile grew an iota; hardly noticeable, but it was there. Clearly Dominic had no idea how he obtained this information or how high his sources went. It always helped to have a senator or two (or ten) in your pocket. Dominic’s final remark showed just how deeply Vincent had gotten under his skin. It was angry, confrontational, even defensive, one could say. He was emotional, a weakness in any business setting. He obviously cared for the wellbeing of the Heroes beyond just the needs of the business, and that was exploitable. Once Dominic’s spiel was finally over, Vincent said in a calm, even tone. “Mr. Weaver, if a Federal offense were a threat to me or anyone in our organization, we wouldn’t have this information in the first place, much less use it as I just did. But as I said, this is not to intimidate, this is simply to let you know where we stand. And trust me when I say that if we must use this information as leverage, we will use it wisely. It would be an awful hassle to set up so many Heroes with new identities and I’m almost certain the Program will not be stronger for it, if anything it will come off as sloppy and easily penetrable. Besides, there’s no assurance we won’t become aware of said identities. Axin has a very large influence, as I’m sure you know.”He put on a slightly less detached tone, something more sympathetic. ”This goes beyond business, this is politics. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you’re aware of the rampant anti-metahuman sentiment that - with recent events - is simply growing. And politicians will be fast to capitalize on it. Axin has significant political influence. Agree to work with us, and we may just be able to turn the tide in favor of the metahumans.” Dominic Weaver |
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jun 2, 2019 4:39:46 GMT
The downsides of capitalism, human error. Dominic’s tone was even, but Vincent recognized the barb in those words. The message behind them was clear. ‘You have nothing to offer me.’ ‘You are not impressing me.’ ‘You are wasting my time.’ Vincent needed to change this, and change it fast. He was losing, and that was not something he would accept. He felt his family’s shadow loom over him. His sisters skipping a year or more when he only got ahead a measly semester. His parents demanding he stay in his study until he finished writing that paper, and if he didn’t get an A he was grounded for a week or more. His mother was a brain surgeon, his father a music producer, Madison a senator, Sidney a heart surgeon, Ashley a lawyer. He would not fall below them. He would prove to them that he was capable. Failure was not an option. It never had been and never will be. He needed to make a power move, and he needed to make it fast. Luckily, he had a trick or two up his sleeve. ”Will you excuse me, Mr. Weaver.” He took his phone out of his pocket and accessed the company’s private database. He scrolled through the folders. ”I’m curious, Mr. Weaver, do you know about Ms. Courtney Powell?” He looked at his phone, adjusting his glasses as if to see better, though he could see quite clearly. ”Better known as Shadow? Or how about Mr. Rahim Nadeem? I believe he went by The Hammer.” He looked back up at Dominic, the same, calm smile on his face. ”The list goes on. I know the privacy of your Heroes is important to you. It would be a shame if their information got out.” He knew only a handful of Heroes' identities, but by naming only a few, he aimed to let on he knew more than he did. Silence could speak volumes. With the rather vanilla business tactics out of the way, he had to go for something more intense. He expected nothing less from Dominic. ”My goal is not to intimidate, Mr. Weaver. I would simply like you to know where we stand. A partnership with the Program is vital for Axin’s plans for the future. I hope you would like to reconsider our offer. And don’t worry about being a Federal Agency. Axin has made partnerships with many Federal Agencies before, we are well versed in the field.”
Dominic Weaver |
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May 29, 2019 20:01:59 GMT
Post by Vincent Maxfield on May 29, 2019 20:01:59 GMT
Dominic was still oblivious to his true intentions, which was good, but he was by no means making this easy. Vincent expected nothing less. Most business meetings went down easy. His smooth voice and unwavering confidence could sell almost anything. Dominic was obviously more intelligent than to be won over by such surface level presentation. Vincent needed to offer something of substance. And it looked like a simple PR stunt wouldn’t cut it. ”Fair point, Mr. Weaver, although I’m certain spun the right way, we can deliver the message of heroism rather than violence. Let’s put a pin in this idea for now, I’ll let you think over it.” Connecting Heroes to the military would a great first step for the Axin Corporation. Once associated with them, it wouldn’t take a hard push to integrate them, and once integrated, the government would surely offer them as fair game for Axin’s scientists do with them what they will. Sure, there would be the issue of powers competing with weaponry, but that would be a temporary complication. As Vincent offered, the company would arm the metahumans with specialized weaponry, further spreading their brand. He smiled. ”Let’s put our cards on the table, shall we?” he began. ”The Axin Corporation has money, and it has an awful lot of it. Now I’m certain those aforementioned research facilities and government and corporate think tanks have offered you money in the past, but that certainly doesn’t diminished its value. What the Axin Corporation aims to do is associate its brand with your Heroes. Like it or not, they are an up and coming competitor in the weapons and armory field, a force of nature, if you will. The Axin Corporation, rather than competing, would like to form a partnership. We are willing to offer you a large sum of money in exchange for having your Heroes brandish our specialized weaponry. It’s a winning situation for us all, Mr. Weaver.”The joys of capitalism. Anything can be bought. Dominic Weaver |
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May 15, 2019 22:51:36 GMT
Post by Vincent Maxfield on May 15, 2019 22:51:36 GMT
So the game begins.
”I’m sure we do.” Vincent replied, understanding the man’s meaning behind his words. That was the cornerstone of any business meaning after all, finding the meaning behind the words, and being able to communicate a hidden meaning yourself. And in this instance, hiding the true motivation of his words behind as many layers of meaning as he could muster. It was an art, as complex and beautiful as a Botticelli.
Vincent saw that look in Dominic’s eyes. Dominic held all the cards. It was Vincent’s move. His turn to show his worth, to lay his cards on the table.
“What is technology but a product of our nature? But semantics, Mr. Weaver, semantics.” He said, waving a hand in dismissal.
”I understand the rather delicate relationship metahumans have with the public. But let me offer an alternative perspective to your proposed scenario. The Axin Corporation has a very good relationship with the United States military.” As in the Axin Corporation had quite a bit of sensitive information about the military’s activities. ”What would be wrong with associating your Heroes with our country's heroes? They are, after all, the very definition of people who want to do the right thing. We could easily set up some PR events linking the Program to the military, not in an aggressive manner, not highlighting the proverbial ‘forces of nature’ wielded by our men and women in the service and by your Heroes, but rather something far more peaceful and patriotic. Perhaps even set up some public meetings with politicians,” who the company had invested in heavily and also held some sensitive information about, ”get them to say a few choice words and phrases, pass some favorable bills. What I’m suggesting, Mr. Weaver, is something more akin to brand affiliation. As a PR man, I’m sure you understand the importance of such a thing.”
He smiled. ”All I ask in turn is that you invest in some of our weaponry. And I assure you, this won’t be relegated to a simple AR-15. We can create weapons that will work in tandem with your Heroes’ powers and be perfectly PR friendly. The Axin Corporation can be quite creative.”
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on May 5, 2019 9:01:26 GMT
Vincent took Dominic’s hand firmly, professionally. Vincent’s father had coached him in the art of handshakes from a young age. Not too tight, not too loose, with confidence but humility, and under no circumstance should he do more than three pumps. Dominic’s reciprocated the handshake quite impressively. The man was clearly professional and greatly self-assured. This was going to be a productive meeting.
Vincent matched Dominic’s smile and obeyed his gesture, taking a seat in one of the chairs, smoothly unbuttoning his suit as he did so. He noticed as he sat that the furniture was of rather poor quality. Was Dominic a function over form sort of man? He didn’t seem the type. It must be the Program’s resources he was using. It wouldn’t surprise Vincent if the Program put more of its finances in the Hero side of things than its office decor.
”Well, Mr. Weaver,” Vincent began, ”I believe we can help each other.” He smoothly, subtly moved the chair slightly closer to the desk, closing the distance between appointer and appointee, putting them on a more even level. This was Dominic’s home turf after all. He needed to assert himself. ”The Axin Corporation is dedicated to the protection of the people. Our goal is to maximize safety and security for everyone, regardless of race, creed, gender, sexuality, ethnicity, or nationality. I believe you here at the Program have a similar worldview.” Vincent smiled warmly. ”What I’m offering, Mr. Weaver, is a partnership. I believe your Heroes combined with our weaponry could be a powerful force of nature.”
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Mar 28, 2019 5:23:03 GMT
Vincent exited the vehicle. ”Thank you, Ms. Marcell.” He said gratefully, giving his driver an earnest smile before closing the door behind him.
He looked up at the building, back straight, suitcase in hand, a smile on his face. He was looking forward to this meeting. He’d done some background into Dominic Weaver. He’d heard a lot about him. The definition of a self-made man. Came from a working-class family, built himself up from nothing. No fancy college, no college at all. He now owned a sizeable company that had more than doubled since the Event. Nowhere near the size of Axin, but it was admirable. He’d worked his way to the top on charm and charm alone. And that was something to applaud.
This meeting was a big risk. He’d set up the meeting under the guise of a partnership, and he’d have to maintain that guise throughout. If Dominic Weaver caught a whiff that there was any ulterior motive, that could destroy Axin’s relationship with the metahuman community. The peril had his blood pumping, it put him on edge. He had to admit, it was exciting. It had been a while since he’d encountered a real challenge. He’d silenced his phone and turned off his bluetooth. He needed all his attention focused on this meeting.
He walked confidently into the building. Vincent made quite the impression with his well tailored suit and shiny suitcase. He walked with pure self-assurance. He made the impression of being an important person without giving off an iota of self-importance.
He walked confidently up to the secretary. ”Hello, I’m Vincent Maxfield. I have a meeting with Mr. Weaver.” He said warmly, but with distance.
“Top floor. Elevator's to your left.”
”Thank you.” Vincent smiled. He made his way to the elevator, pressed the button to the top floor, and waited patiently as it climbed up the building. Finally, he reached the top, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He stepped out and walked toward what he assumed to be Dominic Weaver's personal secretary.
”Vincent Maxfield. I have a meeting with Mr. Weaver.” he repeated.
The secretary pressed a button and spoke into an intercom. “A Vincent Maxfield to see you Mr. Weaver.” He heard a voice come out the other end end of the intercom, and the secretary nodded. “You can go on in. He’ll be on the third room to your right.”
”Thank you- I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Gregory.”
”Thank you, Gregory.” Vincent smiled. He walked down the hallway. Third room to his right. Confidently, he opened the door, not with force, but smoothly, respectfully. ”You must be Mr. Weaver.” Vincent said, closing the door behind him and walking up to the man in the room. He held out a hand. ”Vincent Maxfield. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled, friendly, but with professional distance.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jan 6, 2019 22:15:42 GMT
”I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiled, covering his inner embarrassment at the stupidity of his mistake. He most certainly didn’t need Máire’s advice, he’d more than learned his lesson. Everything hurt, and he found there was a distinct pain in his side that grew worse with every breath. They must’ve hurt his ribs. Hopefully they weren’t fractured, but even so, there wasn’t much he could do about. He’d learned from his mother and Sidney that the best thing for a rib injury was rest and relaxation. He didn’t think anything was broken besides his nose, but his body still hurt like hell.
”I am indeed.” He retorted. He was a man of means and money, he would be remiss if he didn’t pay her back in the best and perhaps only way he found suitable. Especially since he was going to have to share her identity with the company. Not that he would feel particularly guilty - business is business, there is no guilt in business - but there was the small and unavoidable part of him that would feel some measure of wrongdoing turning her into just another asset.
Vincent licked his cracked lips, tasting blood. His lip must’ve split open. At Máire’s suggestion, he looked behind him to see the man laying on the ground, head split open, slowly getting smaller as they walked away. ”That’s true.” He said almost listlessly, but still with undeniable confidence. ”Thanks to you.” He said, looking back at her.
”Of course.” He responded. ”I apologize if I touched on something personal.” The company would no doubt discover her powers on their own. He was simply hoping to expedite the matter. That, and we would like to know the value of an asset before he took the time to offer one up. Still, any metahuman would make a very valuable asset, no matter what the power.
Vincent chuckled slightly at Máire’s mention of their jobs, but quickly stopped as his nose pulsed with pain. ”Yes, I exercise admittedly purely for health and aesthetics. You seem to have a much greater purpose to keeping in shape.” He replied.
Vincent simply smiled as Máire mentioned her family. Despite the admitted dysfunction, she seemed to have far less strings attached to her parents than Vincent did. ”Who is your employer by the way? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” Máire seemed to keep things somewhat close to her chest, and he didn’t want to dig too deep and make her uncomfortable, but he was genuinely curious who she worked for and why they might someone with skills like hers.
“I'm executive assistant for the Axon Corporation.” He stated plainly, though with unmistakable pride. “You probably haven't heard of us, we're not particularly public.” He started to relax as the buildings became somewhat less disreputable. ”Thankfully I’m not missing a particularly important meeting, but nevertheless I can’t arrive like this. In my business, appearances are everything.” He tried turning on his phone again, to little avail. ”If my phone worked, I would call and explain the matter. Could I use yours?” He asked. ”If you’re not comfortable with that, I understand. Maybe we’ll find a shop that’ll let me use their phone.”
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Dec 26, 2018 1:53:28 GMT
”Well, you certainly show it.” He commended in response to her statement about her experience. ”I should invest in a bodyguard.” I muttered, more to himself than Máire. Wouldn’t that show his family. Madison most certainly had bodyguards, but Sidney and Ashley didn’t, neither did his parents. Wouldn’t that show them how important he was, wouldn’t that elevate his status; he was vital - and rich - enough to afford and require bodyguards. He could just imagine the looks on the faces when he had someone escort him to their house next Thanksgiving. He’d definitely have to put that on the itinerary.
”Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve done me a greater favor than anyone has in a long while.” He replied. ”It’s only common courtesy that I repay you.” He couldn’t imagine this debt go uncollected. An eye for an eye goes both ways.
Vincent followed in step with Máire, walking with confidence, although, if one looked closely, they could see his eyes shifting nervously back and forth. Vincent had always been proficient at looking like he knew exactly what he was doing, it was a skill he learned from a young age. He always held his head high, with a small, relaxed smile on his face. Even in the tensest of interactions, he spoke in a smooth, even tone. But this experience had truly shaken him and his facade - just barely - had cracked. It made him supremely uncomfortable.
”Thank you.” Vincent said as he graciously took the red handkerchief and pressed it tightly against his nose. He had two surgeons in the family, he knew how to position it to stem the bleeding. He had to tilt his head backwards somewhat and pinch his nose tight. It looked somewhat awkward and, well, undignified, but it’s not like there were many people around to witness his embarrassment, not that he acted embarrassed. No, he acted like he’d done this a million times. Confidence, as always, was key.
”That’s true.” He retorted to her evaluation of his tie, ”Although I can’t imagine looking any worse than I already do.” He answered jovially as a thin red line of blood slithered down his forehead, past his eye, down his cheek, and dripped onto the ground.
”So you’re a meta.” He commented nonchalantly, although inwardly his heart sank. He knew he’d have to offer her up to the company as a potential candidate. She’d already had the misfortune to trust him with her full name. He’d just have to repay her before they potentially scooped her up off the street. ”What’s your power, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked.
He laughed good-naturedly at her comment about his punch, although he found his laugh hurt his nose, so he kept it to a minimum. ”I just happen to work out a lot. I’ve dabbled in some kickboxing before, not competitively, I just work on the punching bag. I simply try to stay healthy.” He responded. ”I never dreamed of using my exercise for violence.” He explained.
"That sounds lovely.” He responded to her offer to take him to a tailor. He had his own personal tailors that he went to, and, judging by her fashion and personality, the places she shopped at were far from what he was accustomed to, but his New York tailor was very far from where they were currently stationed, so he happily accepted her offer.
Deciding to make some small talk as they walked, he asked, ”That accent, are you native Irish?” Vincent dealt with many types of people from all over the world, he was very proficient at recognizing and understanding different accents, but if didn’t take an experienced man such as himself to identify her accent.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Dec 25, 2018 7:39:17 GMT
Vincent smirked slightly at her comment on his punch as he was straightening out his cuffs. ”You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever struck a person.” He replied. ”I must admit, I have mixed feelings.” Violence was wrong and undignified, his family taught him that the only worthy battles were those fought with words. Still, revenge felt oh so very sweet. ”Although, and forgive me if this sounds rude, but I can’t imagine this was your first rodeo. You did very well.” He complimented. ”I can’t thank you enough. Sincerely, I may owe you my life.” That thought scared him for a second. He really truly could’ve died. But he didn’t. That was in the past. He was alive and somewhat well and all he could do was look to the future.
”Thank you.” He said as the woman handed him his glasses and his phone. He slipped the glasses on. The right lens was definitely cracked, but otherwise they were in working condition. His phone, however, hadn’t fared so well. The screen was cracked beyond repair, and when he tried to turn it on, he was greeted to a quick flash of color before it turned off again. Oh well, he could easily buy another one. Luckily, they hadn’t had a chance to get to his wallet.
”Máire Reid,” he met her firm handshake with his own, ”I owe you a great debt Máire.” He smiled gently at her. Indeed, he needed to repay her one way or another. Luckily he had more than enough resources to do so. He thought of just taking her to an bank - he rarely carried any cash on him - and handing her a thousand or two, but that seemed a little crass. He would have to think of some other way to repay her.
He offered a little apologetic smile at her inquiry. ”In all honesty, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to a meeting, however, it looks like that’s no longer an option. I cannot arrive looking like this.” He looked down at himself. His suit was torn, disheveled and bloodied. That, and he had several wounds on his head and his nose wouldn’t stop leaking blood. Once again, he wiped away at his nose. ”I’d be more than happy to have you escort me out of this area.” He accepted graciously. ”Do you happen to have anything I can use to block the bleeding from my nose? If not, I suppose I can use my tie.” He looked down at his tie, disheartened. It truly was a fantastic tie, but it was already ruined, a bit more blood wouldn’t tarnish it any more than it already had been.
”And, if you don’t mind me asking, are you a metahuman or simply a fantastic fighter? Or perhaps both.” This was a dangerous question, not one he was sure he wanted to answer to, but it was for the company. That, and his genuine curiosity.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Dec 24, 2018 8:29:26 GMT
Vincent wasn’t used to pain. Mental pain, yes, he’d been under acute mental stress his entire life, but the worst physical pain he’d ever endured before this point was went he got his wisdom tooth removed. Compared to this, the wisdom tooth was nothing. Eventually, he was reduced to a curled ball of a man on the sidewalk, knees tucked under, hands over his head, waiting, praying for this to be over. He could just imagine his parents scolding him for how pathetic he looked, how undignified, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
He barely noticed the appearance of a fourth person. He could just make out the exchange, it sounded like a woman. There was a loud crack, and then the beating ceased. Vincent turned his head to see one of the muggers lying on the ground, bleeding heavily from the head. He tentatively uncurled himself to see the woman facing the two remaining muggers. His ears were ringing, but he could hear her threat. It seemed the other two muggers were sufficiently intimidated.
He slowly stood up, his legs were shaky, but he managed. He quaintly dusted off the shoulders of his torn and disheveled suit. ”Before you go…” He said with perfect composure. He grabbed one of the muggers by the shirt color as he was running away, pulled the mugger towards him and punched him square in the nose. Blood went flying as the bone broke clean in half. He let him go and the mugger ran away, hands over his face.
That felt good. Vincent spent hours working out, and it seems they’d finally paid off. He never dreamed of using his specially toned muscles for violence, but here he was. Immediately, he turned towards the woman. He wiped away some of the blood gushing from his nose and straightened his disheveled and loosened tie. ”I must express my gratitude. I fear I would’ve suffered far worse had you not come along.” He told her sincerely in his deep, velvety voice. It truly amazed Vincent sometimes how quickly he is able to shift to business mode, no matter what the situation. ”Would you mind handing me my glasses? I’m sure they’re cracked, but I’m afraid I’m quite blind without them.” Indeed, the world was little more than a blur without his glasses. ”Vincent Maxfield, by the way. It is more than a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What might your name be?” He asked.
Outwardly, Vincent kept his composure, but inwardly, he was shaken. He’d never been so vulnerable before. He knew this encounter would have some long lasting repercussions, both physically and mentally, but he’d put those off for now. At the moment, he needed to gather his belongings, and more importantly, properly thank his savior.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Dec 24, 2018 5:24:18 GMT
New York.
It seemed like he visited far too often. He’d gotten tired of the bustle of the city and the people and oh god the traffic. Why did all the important people have to live in the city. Couldn’t he meet a world leader in the countryside for once? He was feeling more irritable at the moment than he’d felt in a long time. He was used to high stress situations, and was more often than not able to stay rather zen in any given situation, but right now he couldn't help but bounce his leg up and down in the back of the luxury Porsche he was riding in. Karla Black was his driver today. She was an older woman with wavy salt and pepper hair that just reached her shoulders. She typically wore a smile, but this smile was morphed into a tense, straight line across her face. The knuckles gripping the wheel had turned white. They were surrounded by a chorus of honks and screeching tires. They were moving maybe three inches a minute. Vincent checked his watch. At this rate they were going to be more than late, they were going to miss the meeting entirely.
”Excuse me, Miss Black,” He smiled politely, leaning forward in his seat, not an iota of his annoyance showing, ”do you think we could take a different route? I don’t think this one’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
She smiled back at him in the mirror, but her smile was tight-lipped, tenser than normal. “We could, but it would take us through some pretty shady areas.”
”Let’s do that.” He replied without pause.
“Are you sure?” There was evident worry in her eyes.
”Yes, I-” He was rudely interrupted by a sharp honk to his right. It made him flinch, but he quickly recovered. ”Yes, I’m sure, I really can’t miss this meeting.” A bit of his haste was creeping into his voice.
“Of course, Mr. Maxfield.” She responded.
”Thank you.” He leaned back in his seat. Karla slowly creeped up to the next turn, and once there made a sharp right. They started moving at a much faster pace, and Vincent let lose a little, reserved sigh. They were going to make it after all.
That thought, however, disappeared as the streets slowly became clogged again, and once again they were inching down the road. Vincent looked out the window. He could see their destination from where they were, a large skyscraper made of glass. He could easily make it there on foot far faster than the pace they were currently going. He unbuckled his seatbelt. ”I’ll get out here.”
“Are you sure, it’s pretty sketchy around here, especially this time of day.”
”I’ll be fine.” Vincent assured her calmly as he stepped outside. ”Thank you for the ride, Miss Black.”
“No problem,” she responded. “Be safe out there.”
”I will.” He promised, smiling gently before he closed the door behind him.
He began fast walking down the sidewalk, not really paying attention to his surroundings. He was answering emails on his phone as usual, responding to calls on his bluetooth. He didn’t stop to think that a well dressed individual such as himself with a fancy watch and the latest iPhone would ever be a target.
That was a mistake.
He didn’t see the first punch coming, as it came from behind, but it knocked him flat on his face, the phone skittered out of his hand. He then felt a kick, straight to his abdomen, then another kick on his back. Someone lifted his head and slammed in into the concrete, he heard a crack as his nose fractured. With a surge of adrenaline, he was able to pick himself up off the ground and saw three individuals, they were smiling, laughing as a fist flew into his face, knocking his glasses off and sending him falling to the ground once more. Vincent was by no means a weak man, but he had no training in self defense. He was completely outnumbered, helpless, and in great need of assistance.
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