Title: Black and White
Synopsis: Bagheera has applied for an internship at Mufasa's company. Someone is not too keen on having this younger and pretty stranger in their midst.
Author's note: Part of the 'Sordid Ambitions' verse but it can be read as stand alone.
Author's note II: This takes place just a little bit before 'Our Little Secret'. The only detail you need to know is that in OLS, Bagheera is already working for Khan Industries. In this story, she is applying for a job.
This is dedicated to Robin Mask and Freakuness.
She checked the lapel for what was perhaps the tenth time that day. She retraced the tips she had read in those Wendy columns her mother had clipped for her.
Take care of the skin, especially on the face because make up can only hide so much
Do not wash the face with water that is too hot or too cold as that will create unsightly capillaries
Use nail polish remover to get rid of scuff on leather
Bagheera was compulsive about any wrinkle on her suit as she wanted to make the best impression for she had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime: to be a part of Mufasa's company.
It was hard to imagine that only a few quarters ago, she was an undergrad studying the market from a glance, never really having hands on experience on the way business world works. It was a remote thing from the pages of a book or from the words of her professors who spoke of such experiences in a way one would describe a vacation to Los Cabos. Now, she was taking her first steps as being part of something grand. Some would have argued that she sold herself out and that someone as talented as she would become nothing more than a cog in a machine. It was very limiting for someone who could offer so much. While her mother urged her to take on the arts and humanities, Bagheera enjoyed liberal studies. She was quite fond of Klimt and Henri Rousseau, and as much as she enjoyed discussing the use of shades and strokes and what the artist possibly intended when they created a small crease, she also argued that a girl had to eat. Art history courses had given her a touch of refinement and bolstered her image among the elite and sophisticated circles at her university clubs and lunch socials but it wasn't in Pre-Raphaelite works that her heart was set in.
Bagheera believed in practicality and pragmatism. No one could live off of processed noodles and store bought coffee. She knew that she was destined for something bigger and with that experience, she could give back to the community that raised her.
Bagheera believed that a position within a powerful company could be used to benefit the less fortunate. There was only so much that communal living could offer. While living at home did have its comforts, it was ultimately a bubble. Now she had an opportunity to create an effect. She was given an opportunity to enrich her life and with a degree, she could offer something back to the community and she would have the proper background to support her endeavors. Change could not come about with livestock and grains. She knew that language very well. She researched meticulously before receiving her MA in business and economics with a focus on finance and a minor in marketing. She also polished her Hindi and Russian. Poverty was not limited to one language.
While she sympathized with those who were still living at home, she had her limits if they were living off of canned beans but wished to focus on their "music". There was a time and place for such frivolities but if one wanted to pay the bills, they would need capital, security.
She was a fresh faced graduate and the recession had given her very little options. She applied to a few companies based on several factors; how charitable they were, how technologically up to date they were, and the demographics within the company were amongst the key deciding factors. She had settled for the Big Two in hopes that one of them would return with a phone call. One of the companies she applied to was Pride Incorporated. She also received a call back from Khan Industries and was scheduled to meet with the big cheese on Thursday. It was like getting the winning numbers to the state lottery.
She marveled at the proud lion image that was bestowed on the lobby. The building was imposing with its lush green gardens, a fountain which resembled a grotto and a cave-like enclave that had statues of leonine figures on them. It was intimidating at first but she could not help but marvel and wonder what her future held. With enough time and capital, she too would have a home that she could call her own and she would decorate it as she pleased. Right now, her focus was on getting her foot in the door and adding more to the 'Experience' column in her resume'. They were important baby steps.
Mufasa's companionable and magnanimous nature was one reason she applied to Pride Rock Inc. As a student of economics, she read about his accomplishments in journals dedicated to charitable causes. His philanthropy was notable. He was a model leader. While some CEO types opened up an 'XYZ Cares Foundation' just so that they could get a tax break, Bagheera knew that Mufasa was altruistic from the heart.
She could tell from the interviews that she had read and watched that he genuinely cared for the health of his company and the ones who worked for him. He did not treat them like numbers but as living beings that contributed to the vigor of the corporation. They were not just gears as part of a machine but unique individuals with gifts. She could tell that he was not doing this for brownie points for political parties though Bagheera suspected at some of his affiliations. What mattered to her most was that he spoke from the heart, like a true King. When he spoke, he made you believe what he was saying. Unlike other business owners, Mufasa did not yell to get his point across, nor was he a pushover. He was a 'what you get is what you see' type, a quality that was sorely missing from in the trade industry.
In contrast, Shere Khan did not have the warmth that Mufasa projected. While Mufasa was regal, compassionate and patient, Shere Khan was cold and distant. He saw others more as other creatures in his jungle whom he could devour if they were did not prepare his coffee properly. There were very few who had a good idea of the man behind closed doors. He was like a predator that lived in the shadows and only let you see what he wanted to see. She had an idea of who he really was and she was careful not to broach any sensitive matters unless he divulged them. If there was one thing she knew about Khan was that he would not let anyone pry anything out of him. The other party in return was expected to keep minimal about any affairs outside of business. She applied to Khan Industries because it was a sponsor to the School of Commerce at the university she attended. Two of her professors had written her glowing written letters of recommendation.
Associates of Pride Incorporated noted the young and lovely applicant waiting in the lobby. She could have been no more than twenty six and yet, she still groomed herself meticulously like a beautiful black cat. Her suit was the color of iris and it complimented her rich dark skin tone. Her black hair was tied in a bun. She had received many compliments for her hair and that she should show it off but she refused on account that she did not want to give off a 'wrong image'. Her mother had taught her manners and enrolled her in a school of etiquette which she paid for by selling peda and rasgulla from her cart early in the morning.
At last, she met with the representatives of Pride Rock Incorporated and already she felt at home. She took a warm liking to Mufasa whose paternal tenderness gave her reassurance. She was welcome. She was not just an 'ant'or a stranger that had to be treated with gloves. Even when he spoke in a normal tone, he commanded attention. He was not condescending when he spoke. He spoke to her as if she were an honored guest.
"We are so delighted to have you here!" The man with the large nose smiled.
"Please have a seat, I suppose we shall be getting started." Mufasa offered. The arrangement was so that Mufasa and Zazu sat in a panel looked at the interviewee. There was a third chair next to the company president. Something told Bagheera that she would be expecting someone else soon, judging by the full glass of water.
So many had applied and being the humane man that he was he gave a job to anyone who was in dire straits, from single mothers that lived off of government cheese to Ivy League graduates. He remembered Bagheera having brilliant marks but with all the distractions, both personal and private, he needed a bit of a refresher. He and Zazu looked over her information as if they were inspecting a new car.
They had exchanged pleasantries before studying her profile in depth.
"A perfect GPA and top notch scores on your state tests," Zazu observed with raised eye brows.
"You are a member of several community associations and fluent in quite a few languages," Mufasa noted. She was the perfect candidate for a mid-level position that required a lot of communication. She certainly was perfect for a diplomatic position in a government setting.
"Mother stressed the importance of education. The idle hands are the devil's tools, she would say," the young woman replied. Her back was straight and her calves crossed. She was an example of demure femininity. Professional yet coy. Proud but unassuming. Bagheera was modest in her humble origins.
"I see. But what do YOU do outside of academia, Miss Bagheera? Do you engage in any social activities outside of an educational setting?" The red haired man with the voice of a lion asked.
"I enjoy looking at paintings at the local museum. I also volunteer at the local soup kitchen for runaway boys," she replied promptly.
Work and obligation were as important and natural to him as breathing, but even 'The King' knew that he had to take a break once in awhile. Zazu's morning reports for one thing were not something he looked forward to but even he knew when to have fun. He found it quite amusing when his newborn son regurgitated milk onto Zazu the other day and he did not mind when the other employee's children made faces while Zazu gave his speeches at company dinners.
Mufasa shuffled more papers.
"You also won the Cabot Scholarship," he noted. Zazu looked impressed. That was a good sign, she thought for even she knew that a man of Zazu's stature was very difficult to please.
"Certainly. We played host family to a rambunctious boy from a bad home. He seemed very out of place but eventually, he came around with a little love and care. It was as if he was not of the city. There was something almost primal about him," she stated simply.
"Sounds like quite a trial," Zazu observed.
"Not really. He was a handful but he eventually behaved." She said with a smile.
"Touching," the man in the blue suit responded.
"So you are good with children," Mufasa countered. Bagheera nodded.
"Very much so. Oh, and before I forgot, I would like to congratulate you on the latest addition to your family." She replied fondly. Mufasa was beaming. She was sharp, well educated and certainly beautiful.
"I appreciate the gesture. Do you have any children?" he said warmly.
"Not yet but at some point, I wish to have a brood to call my own," she gestured in a calm manner. She knew that she would make a good mother one day but it was a calling that was a few years ahead of her. She understood the importance of nurturing a child over spoiling them. She knew the significance of discipline and self control over indulging them, unlike most parents today.
"Married?"
"Still looking," she said dimly. She was not quite over the hill but she had heard about that 'biological clock'. She was no longer twenty three and she knew she had time. She just disliked being reminded about that little factoid.
"Now tell me, how is it that a young woman such as you does not have time for herself?"
"I do, actually. I spend it by giving back to others."
She was almost an enigma. She came with full recommendations and a CV that would make a Cambridge graduate green with envy but she still had this untouchable aura. There was something about her both Zazu and Mufasa could not place. That was not a bad thing. It made her look mysterious.
"Such a shame that a young woman such as yourself has an empty dance card," Mufasa was subtle but Bagheera caught the….invitation. She took it as a compliment and nothing more. He was certainly handsome and charming. She knew how much foundation she would need if she wanted to look presentable and not trashy. Her mother always stressed that a woman should wear a dress that was tight enough to show off that she was a woman but loose enough to show that she was a 'lady'. She never went overboard with cosmetics and preferred just a touch of concealer and 'natural' tones for the eyes. Mufasa's eye for such detail was sharp.
That would certainly explain why there was a high percentage of female staffers.
"My studies and workload are demanding," she said with a smile.
"Perfectly understandable. We take pride in our professional image. In fact, just the other day, we had to turn down an offer from two…..unsightly gentlemen looking for a loan." Zazu replied.
"Really? Well, I suppose I should not be surprised. You are a pristine model for how a company should be run." Bagheera said warmly.
"Let's just say that they were not our 'type'." Zazu said with an emphasis on our last word that gave off just a tint of disgust. "But you do not have to worry about that.
She already felt that she fit in like a panther in the jungle but she knew that it was important that she should not count her eggs before they hatched. Just at that moment, a door opened. Scar's appearance suddenly made it go sixty degrees below zero.
At last, Bagheera set her eyes on the other half of Pride Rock Incorporated. It was hard to imagine that she shared the same blood as the man sitting before her, even more surprising still, how they differed so much in philosophy. While she had managed to impress Mufasa and his aide with her profile, there was still one more challenge that she had to overcome. The most difficult obstacle now wore pointy heels with nails to match, had hair black as oil and a twenty three inch waist.
"What kept you, Scar?" Mufasa said with a tense tone.
"Oh, do pardon my tardiness, dear brother but I was managing some accounts. Apparently one of your employees missed an important note in QuickBooks 101." She said as she sat down.
"I hope you were not too rough on them. Mistakes are common. A small reprimand and that is all that is necessary," her brother replied.
"Not when the decimal is off by a couple of spaces, big brother." Scar said in a darkly sarcastic tone. Her tone was smoky, her eyes slanted but piercing. Her tongue was biting.
Bagheera gazed at the woman as she made herself comfortable on the swivel chair next to Zazu. She wore a deep red suit which was fitting for her domineering and fiery personality. Bagheera could tell that there was not a friendly bone in her body. While she understood that there were pressures in ruling a 'kingdom', there was something about Scar that gave off a sense of perpetual bitterness. She understood that having a high position meant that there were many demands, deadlines and meetings but that did not explain why Mufasa was in such a generous and kind mood while she was the polar opposite. She was so cold that she made the ice caps on Pluto feel like Calcutta in April. She was sure that Mufasa had his bad days. Anyone with such a big responsibility would have to deal with pressure but something about Scar told Bagheera that the other woman's disgust was not just limited to an employee's careless mistake. This was not 'normal' stress. There was something deeper. It was clear to Bagheera that Scar had an imbalance of pitta in her body.
Bagheera then took note of the deep pink gash across her eye. She was trying to be careful not to stare but it jumped out at her like a battle wound. She was not sure if that would be admirable or if Scar's mark was a result of something far more sinister. It was as if all of what Scar was feeling manifested itself onto that mark, an imperfection onto an otherwise stunning profile. Apart from the blemish, Bagheera could see that she was quite beautiful. She wore designer suits made from the finest material, she also had carefully crafted hands but perhaps what stood out the most was the eyeliner she used that outlined her jungle colored eyes.
"Nonetheless, you disrespected our guest by being late!" Zazu said in a bitter tone.
Bagheera could feel Scar's acid green eyes pierce into her. They were almost like daggers but she composed herself. She could feel the other woman judging her, as if she wanted to make her regret for stepping foot inside the glass doors. She was like a lion protecting her territory. She could almost feel a growl emanate from her throat.
"Then forgive me for wanting to keep the health of this company on high priority," Scar said in a deep breathy tone. She sat down and eyed Bagheera with tense eyes, eyes that bespoke negative energy. They felt like needles piercing into her soul. The woman in blue sat calmly and mentally calculated Scar's body language. She wondered how she would be able to get on the other woman's good graces, if she had any at all for that was like trying to hug a cactus plant.
Narcissistic, proud, and secretive were just a handful of some of the characteristics Bagheera was able to feel emanate from Scar. Something about this woman seethed with nothing but resentment, as if something had been unfairly taken from her and she wanted others to be punished for the crime, but Sshe knew better than to judge someone based on first impressions. Perhaps there were reasons as to why Scar gave off such vibes but she knew that it was not in her place to ask questions as everyone was entitled to some privacy and dignity, no matter their history.
While there were some stark differences between the two, just as there were also some similarities. They were both women working in a man's world, they both had more less the same complexion, Bagheera have a just a couple more shades on Scar. They both were also well educated and mannered. Bagheera knew that if she were to be given an opportunity by Mufasa, working with Scar could either mean that her tenure here would be a living Hell or she would escape with minimal damage. Bagheera made a mental note to limit her contact with Mufasa's sister to a minimum and only unless she had to.
"I have not properly introduced the two of you, Scar this is Miss Bagheera. She is our guest and I was telling her about the various opportunities for growth within our little family." Mufasa said finally, his honey tone slightly lessening the tension in the place. Ultimately it was like putting a band aid on a hatchet wound.
"I see," Scar hissed bitterly. Bagheera noted how fitting it was that her long nails looked like retracted claws. There was something about this woman that told her that she was holding onto something bitter which would explain her lack of warmth. Not that she expected her to be a carbon copy of her brother but a little more cordial behavior would have been appropriate.
Unlike her brother and the company's majordomo, she was not as welcoming. She was diplomatic and asked the appropriate questions (What did you specialize in? What can you contribute?). Her queries were as pointed as her nails and her ambitions as bare as her teeth. Bagheera handled her questions like a true professional.
"Why did you apply to the company?" Scar said sharply.
"I see it as a model of industry. It stands out as a beacon. Other industries thrive on churning out their products while breaking the backs of their workforce. From what I have seen, Pride Incorporated does not allow for such practices." Keep it short, simple and sweet. Her mother made her practice these tips when she was still in grammar school for she wanted to fashion her daughter into a respectable young woman.
"So you applied because of the comforts it offers?" Scar said in a icy tone.
"I see it as an ideal mold for how other industries should follow. The services and products are top notch, the image is pristine and as an outsider, I can see that you and your brother's machinations have brought forth a most fruitful venture." Bagheera stated simply. She was careful not to correct Scar or say 'no' for she knew that these types of personalities would see that as a direct challenge.
"Yes. Rome was not built in a day." And its history wasn't bloodless. "So you aren't a complete dolt, I see." Scar wrote down in her notes. Bagheera wondered if she wrote down far more offensive words next to her name.
She wanted to be diplomatic and friendly. She wanted to believe that the other woman's anger was just a mask and that maybe, just maybe they could reach a connection or a stalemate, anything but this frosty association.
Bagheera had heard of Scar's talent for rhetoric and legendary black tongue.
Bagheera recalled a quote in an interview Scar gave for La Boheme' that gave her insight into the other woman's mind. The issue specialized in "Women and Business"". Scar mentioned how Cesare Borgia and Septimus Severus had to be Draconian in their rule so that they would restore order. Although she admired her from afar, she was not to keen on some of Scar's politics. While Scar had a more punitive view on human nature, Bagheera was more forgiving. She was more Lockean in her views.
Mufasa took note of the tension.
"Would you please excuse us, Miss? I have to have a special talk with my sister."
Mufasa gestured for Scar to follow him into an adjacent room. Scar followed without complaint.
"Macaroon?" Zazu offered.
"Why are you doing this?" Mufasa growled.
"Excuse me?" Scar said dimly.
"Don't play coy with me, Scar. You despise her." The red haired man huffed dimly. He knew that Scar's penchant for envy was unrivaled. It was one thing that she felt 'usurped' for not having the job he had. He noted how she kept distance from others, especially females. The only one she even remotely spoke to was Sarabi and even still, there was distance. He could 'tolerate' those habits but disrespecting a guest was crossing the line. He knew that there was only one way to rectify the problem.
"I just don't like letting in outsiders into our little playground, brother." Scar replied before lighting a Capri.
"A healthy company cannot survive if we do not let in new talent." Mufasa said in a reassured manner. He knew that she would take that comment as a 'lecture' but anyone with business sense knew that it was an important note in the basics of running a company. This was one reason why Mufasa felt that he had earned the privilege of running his 'kingdom' while Scar was designated to a lesser post. She did not know how to talk to others. She always had to make them feel small, cry, or insecure.
"Rubbing salt to my wounds?" She let out a dispassionate moan.
"Stop it. I have some things I need to tend to and I am going to ask you for a favor."
"And if I refuse, brother dear?" Scar said with a puff.
"Then I will tell everyone about how you were garnishing from the company's bonus fund, which by the way I have been taking care of with one of my own accounts." Mufasa stated simply.
"Bastard," she sighed. He always had his ways in which he would checkmate her. Given her mood at the time, she would either challenge him indirectly or she would ignore him.
In the opposite room, Zazu and Bagheera were entertaining one another.
"A.N.A?"
"No."
"Coconut Villa?"
"I am afraid not. It is Black Market/White House," she smiled.
"I was close!" Zazu declared. Bagheera gave out a small but generous laugh, a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere from a few moments earlier. As much as she took her job and her studies seriously, she was surprised to find out that there was more to the 'King's' aide than a stifling attitude and a penchant for ties with a plumage print.
He was impeccable with his taste.
"I don't go there often but I find their designs have a certain flair to them."
"Oh, yes, very much so. Mind you, I mainly shop there through the catalogue."
Zazu had taken a liking to her. If it were up to him, she would be started next Wednesday on an intermediate salary. She was respectful, kind and she had taste.
Just then, Mufasa and Scar appeared.
"Unfortunately, I am pressed for time Miss Bagheera but I have made an arrangement."
Bagheera looked piqued.
"My sister will show you around the company corridors. She will give you a taste of what the company has to offer."
"That would be wonderful." Bagheera exclaimed. Deep down inside, Bagheera was not sure if she wanted to remain in close contact with someone like Scar but the optimist in her said that this would be a good opportunity to get to know the other half of the company in a more intimate setting. Though she had an idea of Scar's personality, preferences and politics, she knew intuitively that there was always more to a person than the image they projected. For now, she had to put on a mask. Meek and respectful. Let her talk. Speak when only spoken to and ask questions sparingly. She was the guest and she was in someone else's home.
"I'm ecstatic," Scar sighed while she looked at her nails.
"Be sure to offer her tea or coffee." Mufasa noted before he gestured for Zazu to leave. "It was a pleasure meeting with you. I am sorry that I had to cut the interview short."
"It's no problem at all. I understand that there are pressures in ruling a kingdom. Oh, and do give Sarabi my best!"
"If you need anything or if there is any trouble, just ring one of the associates." Mufasa gave Scar a subtle gesture with his eyes. Touch or hurt her in any way and there will be consequences. "Zazu, those reports?"
"Yes, sire."
"Come along," Scar gestured with a pointy finger. Bagheera followed closely behind her. She tried to remain poised and straightened her back. She did not want to challenge Scar but she wanted to show the other woman that she was not afraid of her just because she had a few years on her. She was not a schoolgirl to be taken advantage of.
Scar towered Bagheera by a few inches and even with heels, she walked with grace and the finesse of a cat. She looked back at the younger woman and offered her a small semblance of a smile. It was subtle. Bagheera felt as if it was her way of saying 'I have you in my grasp now'.
She was ripe prey.
The Vice President was in a terrible mood this morning on account that she noticed a slight jowl on the side of her mouth. It was a blemish to her otherwise pristine image. She took exquisite care of herself by watching her diet, drinking fine teas and having her rest.
She was tenacious just as she was beautiful. She carefully crafted her image the way a painter added shades and colors to their latest piece. But now, like Dorian Grey, she could feel that power slip. It did not help matters that there was now this up and coming usurper threatening to topple her. Scar knew that she had to keep a close eye on this one. Not only were her breasts perkier or her derriere firmer but she had no fine lines. There was no evidence of stress on her face. Given enough time, Scar knew that she could break her but she also knew that there was more to this wunderkind in blue than a pretty façade and a top notch profile.
Bagheera followed Scar through the halls and various corridors, admiring the architecture and modern furnishing that gave the company a chic look. Mufasa's second in command looked back at the protégé and gave her a knowing glance.
Perhaps isolation was not the answer. Perhaps there could be a more fruitful venture if she could groom the younger woman into something more. She was not a complete idiot which meant that she could not groom her into one of her acolytes, but she was not spineless either. She had a working brain. Scar was still not completely sure how Bagheera fit into her plans and goals. With just a few words, Scar would find out whether she could either be her closest confidante, or someone on her hit list down the line.
"So where else have you applied to Miss….?" Scar arched her eye at the younger woman.
"Bagheera is just fine," she retorted.
"Perhaps if we were a more casual company but for now, we use formal names." The taller woman replied darkly. Scar was lowering the drawbridge. She wanted to study this specimen in a more intimate setting.
"Very well, it is Kapoor," Bagheera said finally.
"Ah, of the moon," Scar noted.
"Correct," Bagheera said with a slight tone of appreciation. She may have dressed like a trophy wife but Scar was no fool. She was well read and educated. "And your name 'Pride'. It means a lot of things. It must be a proud name to carry." Bagheera said trying to bridge the distance between the two of them. They did not have to be best friends but she also did not want ice between them.
"Yes," Scar sighed with a smile.
"'Pride' as in a group of lions which is fitting…." Bagheera began.
"Or 'elite', 'glory', or 'jewel'." The woman with angular features said proudly.
"That as well," the younger woman stated simply. She did not wish to give the other the wrong impression that those traits were negative. Anyone with a name like hers and Mufasa's would be proud to have such a surname but at the same time, she was not completely taken by surprise at how Scar saw herself. There was a thin line between confidence and narcissistic.
"It is said that names have power. Do you agree?" She and Bagheera stopped in front of a mahogany door. On it was a latch which was attached to a lion's mouth.
"I believe that there is truth there, yes. A name can represent something." Bagheera tried to be civil. She knew that one shade of disagreement and Scar would grill her as if this was the Inquisition. But she was not going to leave her with simple answers. She wanted to show the older woman that she was not an idiot fresh out of school and that she could carry an adult conversation.
"Is that it? You went for an education and have probably written a thesis or two and that is the best you can do?" Scar said in a condescending tone. Wonderful. She was now going to test her by asking her pointed answers. Bagheera believed that she would answer from the heart but she knew that she had to refrain from turning a response into a speech.
"Well, some names are practically synonymous with royalty and power: Kennedy, Tudor, Gupta, Borgia, the list goes on and on…."
"But can a person be forever tied to their name? Can anyone ever escape such a title?" Scar asked pointedly.
"I believe so. A name is but a label in the end but it is the actions of the individual that either enhance or disintegrate it. It is ambition that defines us." There were many examples in history where an individual soured the name of a mighty dynasty. Likewise, there was always someone who made a difference and enhanced their standing with their actions. Their names were synonymous with their actions.
"Ah, ambition. It is one of my favorite words" Scar smiled. It was what separated the powerful from the weak. Ambition was that fire that created and molded the finest of leaders and most revolutionary of ideas. Scar epitomized the word. She tolerated Mufasa on account that she had to move her chess pieces carefully. She had managed to make her new nephew become dependent on her. She bought him toys and coddled him when Sarabi was busy with her women's club and ventures. The process would take a few years but thanks to early training, she had mastered the art of delayed gratification. She knew that the fruits of those labors would be sweet indeed.
"Yes," Bagheera nodded.
"I too believe that names alone do not define us. They are but tags designated to differentiate us and it is our actions that classify us down in the history books. A name is how we are remembered, but it all comes down to drive."
She remembered that day after she got her mark on her eye. That was the day she stopped being Taka and the day she became Scar. Taka was impatient, brooding and petty. Scar was ruthless and calculating.
Bagheera nodded. It made sense. The most notable figures in history were not sitting around playing cards and drinking cognac. They did something. They challenged the status quo. Bagheera wondered why such a privileged woman would want to talk about such 'revolutionary' ideas when she probably drank Shiraz for happy hour and ate caviar that was imported from the North Sea. She dressed in the finest of clothes and yet she spoke like a Libertine. Perhaps there was more to this woman than she originally believed.
Scar opened the door to what looked like a Suite. It was some sort of conference room but it was not designed with a modern flair found in a home furnishings catalogue. The room had a far more intimate touch to it. It had an African theme. It was like that throughout the floor. There were only touches and nuances that gave a touch to the family's history. It was like a heraldry that boasted the clan's successes. It was part museum and a centerpiece for the family's accomplishments. A reminder of where they came from.
Scar introduced her to a showroom that was entitled 'The Savanna Plains'. The look was quite fitting in that there was certainly a 'pride' that ran the place. There was a print on a frame in one area, a tribal case in another, a zebra skin in a third enclave.
"It is lovely," Bagheera said warmly. She could not help but admire the rich tones of oranges, browns and yellows that accented the various places. Images of various family members and past presidents resided in one long hallway, giving Bagheera a sense of the proud history. She was walking through a walk in album of a mighty and fine dynasty.
"I always felt that my brother was always a bit excessive in his…tributes," Scar said as she ran a finger down the frame of one of her ancestors.
And there was that hint that Bagheera suspected. It was just as good as any confession but she dared not broach the subject further. The question now was why did she dislike her brother so much?
"In what way?" Bagheera asked. She was careful that her tone was not accusatory but rather one that was curious. She genuinely wanted to bridge that gap between herself and the other but at the same time she wanted to know why someone who could be so privileged could be such a primadonna.
"Going back to what I said earlier about names. Names give us a sense of history, an identity. A sense of tradition. Families are like the stars but I believe that it is not through the heavens where our successes and trials are born. It is through ambition and teeth." Scar prodded her on. Scar knew that underneath the professional veneer was someone who wanted to her approval. If Scar wanted her to join her little circle she would have to pass a series of tests and jump through quite a few hoops. So far the impression she got from the younger woman was one who was intelligent but sheltered, compliant but quiet. She still was not completely sure as to how she saw this woman other than the fact that she was so frustratingly vague, almost as if she read her words from a script as a way to get on her good side.
"Yes, agreed." She was not going to pick a fight. She wanted to see what Scar's intentions were.
"What if certain traditions were meant to be….broken?" Scar said in a breathy sigh. She opened a cabinet that contained several bottles and an ice box.
"I-I suppose that would be a good thing, especially if the status quo calls for a change."
Scar beamed. That was a good sign.
"You are boring me," She cooed. Bagheera cleared her throat.
"Well, say for example the Old Regime in France. It was practically an outdated mode and the people rebelled for change. Traditions uphold ideals and culture but every now and there, there must be change." Bagheera explained. She wanted to be as prim and proper as she could. She did not want a two hour long debate on ethics.
"Is power a bad thing? Should the lower classes run amuck with just a crust of bread and fleas in their hair?"
Scar pulled another card from her sleeve. She was not going to criticize her family's company or family history. True,there were ruthless owners that needed to be exposed for taking advantage of the poor but that did not mean she saw all company owners as like that. Some gave back through philanthropy and charity. Not all of them were evil.
"No, I don't believe that at all. I do believe that there needs to be a sense of order. It is preferable to chaos. I don't believe that only one such person can hold power. That would be a dictatorship. There must be some sort of order so that a community can be healthy." She applied that belief in her professional and personal life. It was the basic rule of dharma. She could never live like a vagabond and she never completely understood why some chose to live the bohemian lifestyle. She knew someone like that and while he had a heart of gold, he also had no sense of duty. Baloo was always like that and as much as she cared for him, he could be so laid-back that it was frustrating.
Scar was intrigued but not completely impressed. Anyone who took a course on the Enlightenment could parrot whatever the philosophers penned down but it was something else when it was put into practice.
"The obligation of subjects to the sovereign is understood to last as long, and no longer, than the power lasteth by which he is able to protect them." Bagheera stated finally. It was a quote.
Someone was paying attention in History 201.
The woman in red offered the other a seat and began to mix a cocktail for the both of them. Bagheera did not think that it was wise to drink on the job but she knew that it was rude to refuse a drink from the hostess. She gave Bagheera a Grasshopper while Scar made herself a Greyhound.
"Impressive. So I take it that you believe that birth right does not entitle one to such gross benefits." Scar said before taking a sip of her drink.
"Not at all." It was then that Bagheera pieced together some idea of what made Scar tick. There was an intimate portrait emerging but it was still murky. The talk about family and names was abstract but it was obvious to her now that this was a far more personal issue, something that ran deep in Scar's veins. She dared not to say it out loud. She had a vague idea but it was like a cloud. There was certainly a shape that was beginning to form but she was not quite sure what. Nor was she sure she wanted to know.
Scar studied the other woman intently and carefully. The only thing they had in common…to an extent. Ultimately, Scar was not interested in who she was as a person. She just wanted to find out the weaknesses of the other, where she stood, what her beliefs were, what she was allergic to.
"To make it so that power was limited to one person would be tyrannical. A healthy population cannot thrive. There has to be a revolving door. Look at Cuba and Egypt." Bagheera said finally.
"Decades of denial will do that to some." She chinked her glass with Bagheera's. At last, that long sought after connection.
"But I suppose if the family is good and is beneficial to its population, I see no reason for a coup," Bagheera offered. There were family dynasties that were beloved. Of course, no family history is without its cracks but there is a reason why certain names are associated with the 'Golden Age'. There was a reason why names such as the Guptas stood out in the history books.
"Then what say you when the sordid history was merely bleached out and bowdlerized? What say you when an emperor who restored an empire to its glory banished his own granddaughter because he was embarrassed by her checkered history or when someone kills the bastard children of his enemies because he wished to cleanse the slate so that he may write his own history?"
"I don't believe that it is in my place to judge a figure from history by using our contemporary laws. What is most important is that he created a beneficial and healthy society, regardless of what went on in his personal life. That did not affect the general populace."
"Even if he committed sins in his personal life? How peculiar, Bagheera." Scar said sharply.
"Stalin was said to be a loving grandfather but look what he did to the people." Bagheera countered.
"But that is deception. The public has to know the history of their leaders. Should be the people be lied to when they follow a lamb when in reality it is a wolf in disguise?" Scar asked pointedly.
"It is not deception when it has no effect on the populace. I am not saying be ignorant but since when should a politician or business owner's sexual proclivities be my concern?" The young woman shot back.
Scar's eyes narrowed. She took another sip of her drink. Bagheera noticed that the sip was a little longer than previous ones. Something told her that her tone may have had something to do with it. She had to fix that.
"I did not mean to come across as strongly as I did. My intention was not to create debate." Bagheera proclaimed meekly.
"It's perfectly fine. I enjoy a lively discussion with someone who can hold their own. It is certainly better than small talk with the drones a few floors down." Scar said silkily before offering more drink to Bagheera.
"He who deceives will always find someone who will find himself to be deceived," The green eyed woman said nonchalantly as she shook her glass.
"I suppose that is true. The populace is not always wise in its choices. It is easier to be spoon fed than to chew the facts for some." Bagheera observed.
"Some prefer a beautiful lie to an ugly truth."
"Most men certainly do," Bagheera said cheerefully. "It doesn't take long to figure them out."
"Very true," Scar nodded.
Scar chinked her glass with Bagheera's.
The mood between them had changed. There was still tension but a hint of mutual respect was beginning to appear. Though they did not exactly exchange twitter handles, there was at least some semblance of peace between them. She did not expect to be invited to future lunches or end up on her Christmas list and that was fine. She preferred it that way. Even if Scar was an ice queen, narcissistic and passive aggressive, Bagheera had to admit that she was beautiful, classy and elegant. She was definitely a 'Shere Khan type'. Mysterious, profound, secretive.
As Bagheera walked away from the building that housed the Pride Rock Corporate offices, she glanced up at the windows where she and Scar shared a moment. She went in knowing very little about Mufasa's other half. As she left, she came out even more confused than ever in spite of the fact that she had a conversation with her. All that talk about names, power, and deception. It seemed like a test that her professors gave her. Perhaps that was how Scar was supposed to 'interview' her.
Or perhaps was there something far more personal that the other woman almost admitted and she wanted her to pick up the pieces but because she failed, she withdrew her offer of friendship, or at least her version of what friendship ought to be?
She had a feeling that this would not be the last time that she would see Scar.
She recalled the quote about deception. Scar never really divulged as to who she was. Then again, she did not expect her to be direct with her either.
"Everyone sees what you appear to be, few really know who you are."
I hope you enjoyed it. I am having a lot of fun with this series and will continue to create more when the time permits. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to leave it in a review or PM. I don't bite. My next piece will focus on Scar and her nephew. Stay tuned!