Chapter 2: Opening Moves

A dark drawing room: its carpet, thick and luscious; its walls, oak, polished and dusted daily, festooned with countless ceremonial weapons. A unique painting of three women hung above a grand, roaring fireplace, the room's only source of illumination. Before it were four of the most, if not the most, influential men in entire world (all of whom, to judge from the green jackets, had won the PGA Masters Tournament at some point), reclined in luxurious armchairs, discussing matters of global importance.

"So," said one of them, "how about them Giants?"

He was met with a stunned silence.

"Has all that brandy finally gone to your head?" asked another, in an icy voice.

"It has not!" said the man, swirling a glass of brandy. "It's on the agenda, right after 'The IMF' and before 'Lunch'!"

"Is it meatloaf again?" asked a man with a signet ring. "That gives me gas."

"We know, oh, how we know," said a man with a cane.

A servant entered silently, bearing a covered tray, and whispered a message into one of the men's ear. He nodded. "Put him on, then, Alphonse."

Alphonse the butler (1) uncovered the tray, revealing a speakerphone and a small sheaf of photocopies, and left, again silently.

"This isn't lunch," noted the Ring-Bearing Man.

"No, it's our man in France, Brefford," said the Guy with the Cane. "He has important news, it seems."

"Brefford," scowled the Brandy-Swilling Man. "He always has news. How much does he know that he doesn't tell us, I wonder?"

"You're just paranoid," said a bearded man. "There is nothing that goes on in the Soldats that we do not know about."

"I know," said the Brandy-Swilling Man. "But sometimes I get the feeling that that wily old man is the only one of us who really knows what's going on in this chaotic world of ours, or what to do about it."

"Shaddap and drink your brandy," said the Ring-Bearing Man. "Put him on, already."

The Guy With the Cane pushed a button on the phone. "Yes, Brefford?"

"Gentlemen," said the aged voice called Brefford, "I have urgent news."

"We gathered such; what is it?"

"If you would all care to look at the fax I sent over?"

They passed the photocopies around, and did so. "How did you get this?" asked the Guy with the Cane.

"A contact of mine intercepted it en-route to a safe-house managed by those loyal to Lady Altena. At great cost, I might add. It appears Altena has set Chloe in motion again."

"Can you be sure of its authenticity?" asked the Fellah with Facial Hair.

"I am. The handwriting, the parchment, and the seal are all Altena's. Plus, it was written with grape juice."

"Altena," said the Guy with the Cane. "What is she up to this time?"

"I'm not certain, but whatever her plans, we have to ready a response. Every day, Altena moves closer to the realization of her mad dream: Le Grand Retour, the wholesale upheaval of the Soldats, and by association the entire world. Her power waxes, and in no small part due to the actions of Chloe, her most trusted lieutenant. Gentlemen, we cannot let this opportunity pass us by. We know where she is, and we have the advantage of surprise. Strike now, and we can eliminate her, and disrupt Altena's plans completely."

"Are you certain this is part of her plans?" asked the Brandy-Swilling Man.

"Altena, in everything she does, acts with a singleness of purpose, and she has passed this trait on to her servant. This move has doubtlessly been years in the making; it may seem obscure and unusual to us, but to her it is but another step in her grand scheme of things. With Chloe in motion, it is only a matter of time before Altena's next stroke falls."

"Yes, I know that," said the Brandy-Swilling Man, "but couldn't we be overreacting a bit here? I mean, 'Pick up a litre of milk from town,' that sounds pretty innocuous to me!"

"None know how that woman's mind works," said Brefford, gravely, "perhaps not even she herself. She moves in mystery, thinks in riddles, speaks in metaphor. There is no telling what this message means, or what Chloe will be doing in the town in question. But can we afford to pass up this chance?"

"And besides," added the Ring-Bearing Man, "do you really think Altena would send a candidate for Noir to do her grocery shopping?"

"Well, there was that unusual 'Trial of the 50-Per-Cent-Off Sale at K-Mart' incident a few years back."

"Regardless," said Brefford, "we must act. With the group's permission, I would like to authorize an immediate strike."

"A strike!" said the Brandy-Swilling Man. "Are you mad?"

"If the other factions find out about this…" murmured the Fellah with Facial Hair.

"Ah, but they won't, you see," said Brefford.

"How, exactly?" asked the Guy With the Cane.

"We'll send Jarvis."

"Jarvis…'Overkill' Jarvis? You are mad!" said the Brandy-Swilling Man. "Last time we used him he sent out 30 men, a fully-armoured tactical squad, and a tank! And that was to deliver a note! He thinks a nuclear device is subtle! He's dangerous! He's an idiot! He's --"

"— Expendable," noted Brefford.

Realization dawned. "Ah," said the Guy with the Cane. "Plausible deniability."

"If he fails, we will say that he overstepped his authority and paid the price. If he succeeds, we will have eliminated Altena's most dangerous piece, and we can silence him at our leisure."

"I don't know, I don't know, it's all so risky…" The Brandy-Swilling Man drained his glass in one swig.

"Jarvis may be stupid, but he's also well-connected in that city. That makes him valuable. And you seem rather set on killing him. I recall some friction between the two of you as of late, as well," noted the Fellah with Facial Hair.

"Secrets need to be kept," said Brefford, "and should he survive this, he'll have one. We wouldn't want him to let it slip accidentally, would we?"

"Yer a viscous bah-stard, Breffy," slurred the Brandy-Swilling Man, "and thah's why I loves yah. Wow, thisizzz some quality shi —"

"There he goes again," said the Ring-Bearing Man, as the Brandy-Befuddled Man tumbled from his chair. "Wasn't that his first drink today?

"Can't hold his liquor, that man," said the Fellah with Facial Hair.

"And isn't it lunchtime?"

"Hmm, yes, yes it is; Alphonse must have fallen asleep again," said the Guy with the Cane. He pushed a nearby intercom button. "Alphonse? Alphonse! Wake up, you lazy ass!"

"We really should replace him," muttered the Ring-Bearing Man.

"Can't," replied the Fellah. "He's union."

"Um, gentlemen?" said Brefford.

"What? Oh, yes. Proceed with your plan, Brefford."

"Thank you." He hung up.

"And now, lunch," said the Ring-Bearing Man.

"Alphonse!" bellowed the Guy with the Cane.

(Footnotes)

1. Not the same one from the previous scene, although they came from the same temp agency (Alphonses 'R Us).