Vacation's over. It was a good time. Little chilly. Though not as bad as home. It's gotta' be negative 10 out there, easy; and for the love of holy exemplars far and wide, what's the reason for the wind? I'm glad I'm not in it right now, I can tell you that. Anyway, I've been thinking long and hard about how to best do the next few chapters, and I can't honestly say it's been a fruitful experience. But I had a brilliant idea: give the spotlight to M's actual plan. You've seen him emerge from the shadows and strike out at his foes, but how does he plan to take the country by storm? This is how.
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Chapter 4, Dinner Party Politics
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M's Command Center, Wednesday, 5:00 PM
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A day had passed. For some, tensions had risen. For others, they had decreased. Maxim and his associates were not among those to enjoy relaxation in that time. True, it was hard to imagine how much stress could be garnered in a twenty-four hour period… but Miracle City was a tough nut to crack. And the man wanting to crack it grew more and more impatient, uttering words that would hopefully tip the scales in his favor.
"Good evening… I'm Greg Ma-… damn it."
M stared at his hair in the mirror, jabbing it with his fingers and comb as his dissatisfaction grew. Normally he would have barely given a damn… but tonight? Tonight was important. Tonight was his coming out party, so to speak. Of course, first he had to go through the normal motions. Black hair dye, colored contact lenses, and that awful suit he hated so much. But it was necessary. It was the organizations policy that if the first wave was "unsuccessful," that the second attack would begin. Which wasn't really bad in terms of success rates; if you wanted to destroy a capitalist country's ability to support itself, it stands to reason that you dominate its economy. But lord, this was the most boring way to win. He straightened his tie and stared at his reflection, all too familiar with what he saw. M hated disguising himself… that's what he had Nikolai for.
"Good evening… I'm G-."
M was interrupted by the sound of his phone, piercing the room with nothing more than the quiet buzz it generated with each vibration. He instinctively reached for his pocket, forgetting that he was no longer in his work clothes. And like any confounded phone owner, instead of immediately checking his other pair of pants, M looked around on the floor for the source of the noise. He managed to find the phone in the exact place he had left it, barely answering it in time. He would soon wish he had checked the caller ID first.
"M."
"Where is my daughter?!"
M paused to remove the phone from his ear. But just because the phone was gone didn't mean he would stop being deaf for a short time. And it certainly wasn't a cue for Carmelita Aves to stop shouting. Judging by the volume and intensity of the blasphemy she was spouting, it was not likely M could say anything to quench her anger. Instead he waited patiently for her to stop, and when she did, he was lucky enough to regain the function of his right ear.
"It's nice to hear from you, too."
"You said you'd find her!"
"No, I said I'd keep my eyes open. And to be honest, your daughter has been giving me quite a bit of trouble. I don't know if that should comfort you, but you should know it just the same."
"… Find her, M."
He kept the phone to his ear, listening to her slam the receiver on the hook on her end. After peacefully ending the call, M slipped the device into his pocket and continued managing his façade to the fullest extent. It was times like this that he wished he could switch places with Nikolai. Not just for the shape shifting, but for the general absence of bullshit like what just happened. As he hummed absentmindedly, tending to hair and suit, his mind bubbled with complex plans. First and foremost among those was what he would do about the Cuervo problem. He opened the bathroom door after that train of thought reached its final stop, hiding the smirk that wanted so desperately to pollute his stoic face.
"What was that?"
M stopped and turned… and when he saw Black Cuervo leaning against the wall just outside his bathroom, he wasn't sure if he should smile or frown. As that was the case, he did neither; his stare could burn holes in the wall, though.
"An unhappy client… nothing that can't be handled with a little smooth talk," he said, growing dissatisfied as she stared at him, sensing a certain level of bitterness behind her visor. Wait a minute… still dressed for war? "You're supposed to be getting ready."
"Right. What was it I'm supposed to do again?"
"You're going as my new assistant. Why?"
"Because that outfit you sent to my chamber makes me look like a whore."
"According to who? I was assured that that dress was exceedingly tasteful."
"For someone who goes to the prom with the intent of getting undressed, perhaps," she said with a chilling smile. She drew some degree of happiness from narrowed eyes, delighting in seeing him grow frustrated. Finally, she shrugged and started out of the room, boots clicking violently yet eloquently against the floor. "Fine. Give me an hour."
"I gave you an hour an hour ago! You have thirty minutes!"
"Not enough time."
The door was closed before he could retort, leaving him with an open mouth and a head full of angry words. Choking on those words with no outlet, M simply tossed down his uniform and started pacing. Perhaps what he had told Voltura was not a lie.
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Aves Residence, 5:04 PM
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Carmelita too was pacing, worrying endlessly about one thing and one thing alone. She didn't often say what she felt about her daughter. But then, she didn't really have to. Anyone could see that she felt love for her… and this concern was all over that simple emotion, and the fear that it would be erased. Carmelita paced faster and faster, head filling up with stress and dread and every unwanted thought that came with those things. The phone rang. And within a second of that ring, she was gripping the receiver hard, lifting it to her ear with lightning speed, holding it steady despite her shaky hands.
"Zoe?!"
"… Uhm… no. Ms. Aves… how satisfied would you say you are with your long dis-?"
The receiver was dropped back on the hook as Carmelita pushed her back to the wall, staring at the room before her with slowly flooding eyes. And as she slowly slid down the wall, the once hardened villainess had to ponder a few things. Why was she being tortured? Why was she being punished in this way? And what did she have to do to end it?
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Rivera Estate, 7:05 PM
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Manny watched television miserably as he father sat lounging in his chair, reading romance novels like they had anything interesting or non-cliché in them. Manny had once thumbed through one of those novels, and though he had hit a few spots that made him feel hot under the collar, there was not a chance he'd ever pick another one up. Or so he told himself. What made this TV watching experience awful was really the way his father felt about "violent programming." He didn't raise his son to be an action movie junkie, ignoring the fact that they faced danger on a daily basis. Finally, Manny stopped his channel surfing and decided to suck it up. He hated the emphasis that television placed on being wealthy and famous and such, but hey, at least those people were out living their lives…
"We're here at Municipal President Rodriguez's annual party at City Hall, and my, would you just look at all the well-to-dos? Actors and wealthy business men from all over the hemisphere… hemisphere's the right word, right? Oh, oh! Who's this?! Who is this…?"
Manny leaned forward to get a better look at the limousine that pulled up to the red carpet, stopping with the emblem-bearing door in full view. He panicked a little, seeing the letter M centered on the image of a globe. But underneath both was the word enterprises. Enterprises?
"The studio tells me that Greg Stylex, CEO of Maximum Enterprises has just arrived! … Who?"
Maximum Enterprises? Manny stood and approached the television, watching with an ever increasing heart rate as a tall man in a black suit with black sunglasses emerged from the front of the vehicle and opened the door, letting his charge out. There he stood, smiling and waving to the clamoring masses, screaming for a reason known only to them. The flashes of cameras near and far seemed to only make him more comfortable. Manny's breathing grew tense, and he could not break his gaze from the man he saw. He looked so much like Maxim… but at the same time he didn't. It was possible, just barely, that the two were not one and the same. Possible enough for Manny to dismiss it.
"Manny, come to the table! Time for dinner."
"Alright dad."
He turned away and headed to the dining room as another familiar face emerged from the limo, gently clutching Mr. Stylex's hand. He just narrowly avoided seeing Zoe Aves on television as his date.
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City Hall, 7:20 PM
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Clean and well dressed, M led Zoe Aves gently through the throngs of guests in the Hall. Neither seemed too impressed with the sycophants around them, though M made it a point to smile and nod to any that made eye contact. Zoe looked on with disdain, smothering the urge to tear her arm away from M with the desire to complete tonight's mission as soon as possible. Although, she could also distract herself by running a gloved hand down the black fabric of her cocktail dress. Silk feels even more wonderful when you're body is used to choking combat gear. After stroking the clingy dress, she raised her hand and gently adjusted the small bun in her hair, held in place by the glittering purple and silver hummingbird comb that came with the dress. Clutching the small, shiny black purse that completed the ensemble, Zoe fancied again and again what others thought of her. She felt pretty… but still unhappy.
She whispered to him, hissing through her teeth. "Why am I doing this?"
"Come now, Zoe. Aren't you glad that I picked the prettiest young woman available to join me at this party?"
"When you put it that way…"
"No?"
"No."
"Yes, well, you know what? You're here. Please, do try to make the best of it."
Zoe almost rolled her eyes, but instead looked across the large, circular room they had just climbed a flight of stairs to reach. Filled to the brim with the wealthy and well-known, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of nervousness. When M asked her if she was up for a covert mission, and if she could act, she had agreed without much of a thought. But now that she was here… it wasn't the dress that made her not want to go through with this, or the concept that it was stupid. She was worried she'd make a fool of herself. And as they strolled casually into the mass before them, Zoe thought for a moment that this was not going to work. At all. She was torn from her mental wanderings by M's speaking, and she saw before her three older business men.
"Gentlemen. Good to finally meet you all in person."
"Mr. Stylex."
"Please, Bernardo. Call me Greg. I'm sure first names are appropriate at this stage."
"Yes, of course Greg," Zoe watched with a raised eyebrow as the businessman named Bernardo turned to his colleagues, gesturing to M without obviously knowing what was going on in the world today. "Jose, Leo, this is young Mr. Greg Stylex, CEO of Maximum Enterprises."
"Gentlemen. A pleasure to meet you both." M shook their hands one after the other, smiling confidently until he felt Zoe squeeze his arm. He turned his head enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye, then smiled again. "Ah, where are my manners. This, gentlemen, is Zoe Aves, my personal assistant. A very promising young woman."
She allowed each businessman to take her hand gently, curtsying ever so slightly. The one named Leo held her hand a little longer than the others, smirking curiously. "My my, you certainly do recruit early on, don't you Mr. Stylex?"
"Not usually… but Ms. Aves displayed an impressive level of tenacity and adaptability not seen in most of my older employees. She originally joined as an intern, but after proving herself time and time again, how could I say no?"
Zoe stared at Leo as he stared at her, noting that he wasn't making eye contact. Zoe became more aware of her dress's dynamics than before when she surmised he was admiring what was visible of her cleavage, and she extracted her hand from his grip so that she may turn and face M, crossing her arm across her body to grip the other, eclipsing the view. Sensing her discomfort, and possibly her hidden rage, M smiled and clapped his hands once.
"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. Jose, if I may address you by first name, I do hope that you get back to me soon about the acquisition."
The nod he received was not a happy one, but M smiled just the same, leading Zoe away once again through the crowd. Once they were a safe distance away, Zoe turned her head enough to see Leo continuing to watch her, narrowing her eyes viciously.
"What was that?"
"I'm buying them out."
"What?"
"You didn't know? Miracle City has suddenly become a very bad prospect for investors, what with all the serious crime… good thing I'm bringing fresh money to the table."
"I see," Zoe replied quietly, looking at all the possible victims in this room. How many of them even cared about what was happening to the city? She started to wonder if things could ever get better. "Why do you need me here again?"
"Arm candy, Zoe. I need someone pretty standing next to me to make me appear less creepy. What sort of impression would I make if I was wandering the room by myself?"
"Oh, so you're using me."
"I'd expect the same from you."
This got a smile, but little more. Just the same, M was glad that she was loosening up. After all, the first rule of party-going was to have fun. It felt like an eternity before they reached their target, and M waited patiently for Municipal President Rodriguez to acknowledge him after talking to another guest. The short, pompous fool at first frowned when he looked upon M, though lightened up when his hand was offered.
"Municipal President Rodriguez. Greg Stylex. Again, thank you for the last minute invitation."
"Ah, yes, Mr. Stylex. Thank you for the last minute donation. I'm sure our… opera house fund will be successful thanks to your generous contribution."
"Of course," M replied, turning his gaze to the target: Geraldo Maltin, wealthiest drug lord in the Miracle City area. There were rumors that his cartel extended as far south as Brazil, and as far north as Texas. That was a lot of potential junkies. "I'm sorry, but who is your friend?"
"Oh, not at all," Rodriguez said with a smile and friendly gesture. "This is Geraldo Maltin, a personal friend. He also donated to the opera fund."
"Mr. Maltin…"
M extended his hand again, shaking the drug lord's with a strong grip. The man just oozed corruption, though M wondered if he was the only one who could feel it. The white jacket and trousers juxtaposed the black silk shirt he wore under it, insulting the uniformity of the socialites around him. M liked this man, but at the same time couldn't stand him. Deep down, he knew the hatred would win out, because it had something to gain.
"My. Stylex," he said with a thick accent, "I'm… sorry to say, but I don't know much about you or what you do…"
The silence the fell over the group was uncomfortable, and all eyes were on M, who only raised an eyebrow. He smiled before answering. "No need to apologize. Many people are unfamiliar with my company. It's still growing in this part of the world. Now, to put it simply, we're an investment firm."
The fact that that answered nothing did not stop both Maltin and Rodriguez from nodding. The last thing that they wanted was a lengthy economic lecture, which was just the way M wanted it. Lies are hard to feed to people who actually want to know the truth. M glanced at Zoe, who in turn glanced at him. When they locked eyes, M gently gestured towards Maltin's date, a tan young woman wearing a defiant smirk. Zoe smiled and nodded, not once breaking eye contact to acknowledge her. They had been over the plan time and time again before this moment, so she knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Unfortunately, that when didn't come for a while. So instead of fulfilling her mission, Zoe was treated to boring small talk and implications of corruption for some twenty minutes, occasionally glancing at Maltin's date as she sipped on her wine. She smiled when the woman had finally succumbed to her body's needs. The young woman excused herself and departed to the powder room, with Zoe watching her lead the way. She certainly knew her way around City Hall… and as time passed, Zoe kept her path fresh. After a couple minutes, she let go of M's arm.
"Excuse me… I must powder my nose."
Zoe weaved her way through the crowd, scowling a little and doing her best to focus. She had little knowledge of the geography of the building beyond what she had seen, but luckily it was an intuitive layout. She found her way to the ladies room, and once inside, she glanced under the stall walls, seeing only one set of legs. Locking the door behind her, Zoe made her way towards the mirrors, seeing Geraldo Maltin's date applying lipstick. She stood at a sink herself, keeping one sink between them.
"Anyone else in here?" Zoe whispered.
"No."
"… Good. Now, my boss, Mr. Stylex, wants in on your boss's business."
"That's cute," the woman replied, gently laughing as she flicked her hair, admiring herself in the mirror. "Now, why don't you just tell your boss to go f-."
"Wrong answer."
Before the woman could call out, Zoe's hand was on the back of her neck, pushing her against the mirror hard enough to daze her, but little more. Pressing her head down to the sink, Zoe extracted a pen from her small purse and pressed down the top. She pulled away the shoulder strap of the woman's dress and stabbed the pen tip into her shoulder, pressing down on the top again. She gasped a bit, trying to regain her footing, though soon felt very much relaxed from the mild toxin introduced to her system. Her breathing slowed a bit, and that's when Zoe retrieved a small tape recorder from her purse, clicking the record button.
"Now… please do tell me the location of your boss's home. If you do, I'll give you this."
Zoe withdrew one last item from her purse: a small vial containing a substance that looked very much like cocaine. And upon seeing this, the young woman's eyes lit up. Zoe returned to the ball room with a smile on her face, practically humming as she returned to M's side and took his arm. He smiled back at her and continued his conversation, though now Maltin began to look concerned.
"Where's Ivonne?"
"Is that her name?" Zoe responded, letting her smile fade. "I'm afraid I didn't see her… but I didn't really check. Sorry."
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Maltin Estate, Thursday, 12:30 AM
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"I was worried you wouldn't need me after all…"
"Now now, there's no need to fear. I always have work for lovely ladies."
"Oh, you're too naïve."
"… I need you to destroy everything and everyone at this location."
"Oh… everyone?"
"I need an example to be made of them. So, feel free to use your imagination with the display."
Geraldo Maltin's customized Hummer pulled up the dirt driveway to his less than modest estate, scowling brutally as they went. Ivonne, it seemed, went to the restroom to literally powder her nose. Scandalous was a word for it; how dare she sate her addiction in public? What was worse was that whatever she used was low quality. Nearly five hours, and she was still deathly ill from the side-effects. He had half a mind to dump her out of the car half-way down the road… but the human side of him was attached to her. The Hummer pulled to a stop outside the mansion, and he was the first one out, despite having the men paid to open doors for him. He was much too upset to waste time on that. He took one by the shoulder.
"Take Ivonne up to her room. Keep a watch on her. If it looks like she's dying, get Marco to look at her."
"Yes sir."
Geraldo watched his man take Ivonne into the house, but did not immediately follow, instead gazing at the fountain in the courtyard's center. It always relaxed him, which was good considering the stress of the situation. Once he was calm, Geraldo walked through the open doors of his mansion, nodding to his men as they greeted him. This was always the worst part about the drug business. Using the product was so risky with cocaine. He found his way to his study and sat in the Italian chair behind his desk. He did love all that the business gave him, though. As he sank into the cushions, he let sleep gently overtake his mind, and his stress was even further pushed from his thoughts. But it all came rushing back when the sound of gunfire filled the air, soon followed by the sound of screaming. Geraldo stood quickly and looked out his window. He saw the flickering of the guns shooting, but nothing else, and it was curious that his men were vanishing within the night without return gunfire. He turned when his door was forced open, seeing one of his panicking underlings.
"What's going on?!"
"It's-!"
They were both caught off guard by an explosion behind Geraldo. He fell to the floor as glass and wood showered gently over him, and he pushed himself up off the floor when he heard a brutal cackle. Looking through the gaping hole in his wall, Geraldo Maltin's eyes went wide before a second blast of green energy sliced open a hole in his chest.