Bah. This took longer than I wanted it to take. Can't be helped, I suppose.
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, only the contents of the story.
A Winner Is Two: A Survivalist Is You
Convergence
Ofdensen was, as usual, the first to arrive. He straightened his tie, combed back his hair, performed all the usual minuscule habits that had become a part of his routine before appearing face-to-face with anybody of importance. Even though most of the business would be conducted via hologram, he even popped a Tic-Tac. One thing about being a band manager of such a powerful group was that you were effectively the one in charge, but you were not the final word. This quirk of the business had shaped Charles Foster Ofdensen, and given birth to his golden rule of business – avoid appearing in charge, except to those people who already know you are. In BORED, this took Ofdensen far as well. Doing continuous business with other movers and shakers, Ofdensen had a constant advantage – when his pride was really the only thing at stake, he would gladly let it take one for the team. It was precisely because the man known as Ofdensen (when he was referred to by name at all) lost so many arguments at meetings that he so often got his way.
Solidus Snake arrived next. George Sears was the name the public knew him by, but his true name was Solidus – it had been from birth. His activities had been one surprise after another to the rest of BORED. First, the new member that they learned was representing a covert political group called the Patriots turned out to be the President of the United States. Then, he allowed a scandal involving a military base in Alaska to be publicized and resigned from public office in apparent disgrace. Finally, he broke off from the Patriots, stopped feeding them information on BORED's goings-on, and wrecked much of New York City in an act of high terrorism. All of this was very calmly explained to BORED at the first following meeting, with no preamble and no explanation beyond what he initially gave them. Although leaving the Patriots had diminished his holdings, Solidus still personally held enough sway that BORED did not see fit to eject him. This tournament, though, was a test for Sakyo's continued aptitude as a member of BORED. Perhaps it was a test for him as well.
Sakyo was the last to enter the room, the platinum-clearance meeting room at the top floor of the elevator. The Pinnacle, as it was named on the elevator. The long hair, the suit, the power tie… he looked the part of the classic eighties business exec, ready on a hair trigger to show you and your small business exactly what a hostile takeover was. He probably even did cocaine. BORED was angry at him at their last meeting, furious because the tournament had gone awry, and it had been his baby more than anybody's. It wasn't just the idea for a demon to host; tournaments were Sakyo's M.O. They were how he had made it big. He was on very thin ice with this tournament, but that didn't show in his smile; he was damn ready to show the rest of BORED why he got big – because betting his life didn't bother him at all. He always kept the option of wagering his life ready; it was just another bottom dollar. When his opponents saw just how 'all-in' Sakyo was, they tended to fold, and for good reason. Just because he often bet his life didn't mean Sakyo Valdez was a reckless gambler – he always put his full confidence behind decisions.
"You're here," Solidus said simply. It wasn't a reprimand; even Sakyo wouldn't dare be late for this. Each took their seat at a very strange boardroom table – it only had three seats, and was made of a smooth, carefully featureless black material. Ofdensen's was next to the head of the table, on the left side. Sakyo sat two seats down from Ofdensen, and Solidus sat another seat down and across the table. There was a minibar in the corner of the room; it went unused, as always. At the end of the room, opposite the head of the table, was a large clock face.
The clock struck eleven and began to chime. In response, the table began to unfold. In front of each place at the table, a digital placard popped up and displayed a name. Sakyo's place at the table displayed his name, so on and so forth; only one slot at the table was left unfilled. Behind the three present BORED members' placards, audio and video recording equipment emerged smoothly from the tables. Conversely, the same space behind the other several placards was now occupied by a speaker and a hologram projector. As each of these kicked into gear, a new member of the organization appeared at the table, until the boardroom was quickly full. Each empty space at the table, save the blank one, was filled by a full-color, full-motion, live-feed, large-as-life hologram, their every detail visible down to the movements and sound of their breathing.
"Well, it's good to see everybody's on time," the man at the head of the table said. He was a bald, clean-shaven forty-something man in a sharp white suit, with a stern, critical face. His placard simply listed his name, as no epitaph was necessary: Lex Luthor. "Now, usually we begin by going over the minutes, courtesy of Mr. Ofdensen or Mr. Shinra, but I think it's for the best if we forego that today. I think we all remember what happened last time. Instead, let me welcome our newest trial member to the table. Mr. Kotomine?"
Suddenly, the last seat at the table flickered into existence on Solidus's right. Sitting in it was a man wearing a black suit with an open jacket revealing a blue shirt, and a gold cross on a chain around his neck. He had nearly shoulder-length wavy hair that was beginning to grey. His placard flickered to life as well – Kirei Kotomine, it read. "Thank you, Mr. Luthor. I hope my membership in this exclusive little organization will be profitable to all of us."
"Mr. Kotomine requested membership in our organization in exchange for the myriad services he has provided for us, and I reviewed his file and found that accepting his application would very likely be for the best, for all of us. Any objections to this arrangement?" Lex was responsible for BORED as it stood today, and his leadership had been consistently excellent. There was no reason to object to his judgment; nevertheless, one came up anyway. Ofdensen gave a ghost of a smile; the man in the second-highest position on the board had earned it partially because he wasn't a yes-man. He earnestly disagreed with Luthor at every opportunity, and Lex was smart enough to keep somebody close who could play devil's advocate to his views.
"Yes. DOOM objects to this man's membership!" Across from Ofdensen, a man in a metallic mask, matching armor, and a green cloak pounded his holographic fist on the table. Although he never took his mask off, he had elected to show respect to the table by lowering his hood, revealing well-groomed brown hair. The man most commonly known as Dr. Doom was not, strictly speaking, a doctor of anything, so he had settled on having his placard read King Victor von Doom, which was technically more accurate. Ruling a small European nation, as well as being a brilliant inventor like Lex Luthor and a mid-level wizard, Doctor Doom was an asset to the organization on several levels. "He has no large fortune, no powerful empire in business or politics. His abilities and personal fortune, though impressive by normal standards, are relatively quite modest. Why are we allowing him in?"
"Don't forget, Doctor, that I also hold a place at this table despite my lack of fortunes. Why, I don't even have ten million US dollars to my name." Across from Kirei sat a tanned man with blue eyes hidden behind glasses and platinum blonde hair in a long, elegant style that draped down one shoulder. He wore a fine, blue-grey European suit with a pink, ribbon-esque bowtie. Kristoph Gavin, said his placard.
"You are an exception, Mr. Gavin, as I'm sure you already know," said the man sitting between him and Sakyo. He was tan and dark-haired, of unidentifiable ethnicity, with sharp features and shrewd eyes. His broad form was clad in a bright orange suit and red tie. Giovanni (according to the All-Knowing Holo-Table) leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. "Your talent as an attorney is impeccable, to the point where it's worth more to the rest of us than any fortune. Why, I'd be surprised if there was a country whose legal system you were unfamiliar with."
"We're drifting off-topic," Lex said. "Kirei Kotomine is not experienced in leading large corporations or nations, but he is a shrewd man with a head for plans, and he can give us inside access to the Holy Grail wars. I'm sure I don't need to remind any of you of the potential power of a wish engine." The table was silent. "I'm giving Kirei this position on a trial basis, but it's an expression of confidence. Shall I put it to a vote?"
Doctor Doom was silent for a moment. "Objection withdrawn, given that it is a trial basis."
"Excellent. Any other membership requests?"
"Yes," Ofdensen affirmed. "Uh, Mr. Gates has requested membership…"
"Bill Gates?" Luthor snorted dismissively. "Maybe when he stops giving so much to charity."
"Er, Michael Eisner has applied again…"
Sakyo laughed. "Please. With inflexible business plans like the sixty-five episode rule?"
"He just needs to go die," Giovanni agreed, rubbing his eyes. "Anybody else?"
"No, but, uh… you should hear this. Oprah has sworn vengeance on us, and has already attacked our holdings in north Africa and the West Coast of the 'States."
"Her funeral," spoke the only woman at the table. She was a very old woman, but not unhealthy-looking, with a head of silver hair done up in a heart-shaped style and a very frilly green dress that gave her the appearance of fatness. She looked very unpleasant today, as usual; the facade of doting matriarchy she kept up in public was unnecessary at this table. Her placard named her as Mom, and she was a lifelong industry mogul who ran Mom's Friendly Robot Industry. She had more business experience than any combination of half of the rest of BORED, and besides that she had an army of robots. "You boys don't worry your pretty little scalps about Oprah, I'll jam a wrench in her minge."
"Fantastic," Luthor said with a small smile. "Now, I think what we all really want to hear news of is the tournament, and we didn't install an underground T3 line leading out from the island beneath the ocean floor for nothing. What do you guys have for us?"
"As you can see from the live feeds, there are over two dozen Contestants," Sakyo reported with a smile. "A handful have already been eliminated, and our nine talented Enforcers have only minimally needed to become involved. The ratio of planned to unplanned Contestants falls near the projections and well within safety parameters. Viewership is in the tens of millions worldwide. At this point, the controversy only breeds further interest, and our involvement is untraceable except for those few who actually watched a Contestant be abducted. They're also all being tracked to make sure they behave."
"Impressive," Giovanni admitted, "although these numbers so far will barely make up for the overhead. If we want to make up for the first tournament's fiasco, you'll need more viewers than this."
"The numbers are still rising," Solidus confirmed. "We only have very rough estimates as to when they'll level out, but it looks promising."
"How are we doing with the Interpol attempts to root us out?" Ofdensen asked. "If they find us, they won't be able to stop us, but our anonymity will be in danger."
"You're all safe for now," von Doom confirmed. "Interpol has been tied up because of some seemingly unrelated troubles with the likes of DOOM."
Ofdensen quirked an eyebrow. Some people just never got used to Victor referring to himself in the third person. "I take it the issue with the, er, Polish assassin taking out a member of your family is simply a distraction, then?"
"Affirmative. As far as the rest of the world knows, Latveria is merely posturing and trying to garner attention to itself."
"There is one security issue," the man sitting between Doctor Doom and Mom warned. He was a handsome middle-aged man with slicked black hair, a mustache and a black eyepatch, garbed in blue military attire. Since Solidus's resignation from office, the number of heads of state at the table had been reduced to two. Doom was one; Fuhrer President King Bradley (so sayeth the Table) was the other. "It's very unusual, but... a rowboat disembarked from southern California some time ago. It made it all the way to Honolulu, and since then has made a beeline towards Grand Cross Isle. In fact, it would reach the shield by early afternoon. Normally, I would hold confidence in the shield, but... well, you should see the man in the rowboat."
Sakyo paled a bit as a three-dimensional mug shot appeared via hologram over the empty end of the table. "Who is that man? Those scars... what's he been through?"
"My apologies," Bradley said with a wry, slightly embarrassed smile. "I forgot he's more recognizable with the mask on. Let me switch this contraption to the other picture..." This time, the mug shot showed a red-and-black mask that covered the entire head, featureless except for white eyepieces.
Sakyo went paler still. "Deadpool?"
"Indeed." Bradley's right and apparently sole eye swept the table. "The most unpredictable man in the universe is heading for our little pet project. I think we can all agree this is a massive problem. What's worse, the spectral energy filter on the satellite camera showed that the rowboat contains a massive supernatural power source of unknown origin."
"My files indicate Deadpool only keeps firearms, a few swords, and a personal teleportation unit on hand," Giovanni said with a frown.
"I've met him myself, and your files are accurate," Kirei confirmed. "If he's packing something unusual, we have to assume he knows you're there."
"Deadpool is supposedly cursed to be undying, correct?" Solidus smiled. "He sounds like a perfect subject to test the full extent of Operation Black Lotus."
"That's not a bad idea," Ofdensen agreed. "Is the control panel up at the main headquarters yet?"
"No," Luthor grumbled. "There was a labor dispute - it will be finished in forty-eight hours. The one at Grand Cross works, though, doesn't it?"
"It's behind your seat in this very room," Sakyo confirmed. "I haven't had the opportunity to test it, but Solidus had one of his highest-clearance men run a full diagnostic on it just yesterday."
"Anybody opposed to using the Lotus Eater on Deadpool and whatever artifact he's got?" Lex asked. Nobody was. "Alright. Do it as soon as the meeting is over. Now that that's settled... I place three billion on the Joker. Anybody care to bet against that?"
"I'll see your three billion, placing my money on Cho Hakkai," Sakyo said.
"I'm betting on Nathan Hale," Solidus announced.
"Ban!"
"Ginger!"
---
There was nothing but sun and salty sea in all directions. Well, that and the occasional beer bottle left in the boat's wake. It was a modest boat, too, a small rowboat with a half-assed coat of red paint and two benches for seats. Currently, it had one occupant, and the rest of the watercraft was weighted down with the few beer bottles that hadn't been consumed yet, flyers printed on colorful paper, various firearms and explosives, and a large sealed jar of what appeared to be fine-grained dirt. The occupant was a mercenary in a red-and-black spandex uniform that covered him completely, with two katanas crossed on his back. He had been rowing the boat with his arms, but he had tired of that and tied the paddles to his feet instead. Now he reclined on the uncomfortable wood of the boat and partially pulled up his mask to drink a bottle of beer, as he had more or less once every hour since he left Honolulu. "Seventeen bottles of beer on the wall," he sang in a voice like a nail gun on a chalkboard. "Seventeen bottles of beer..." he finished the bottle, rolled up a flyer, and stuffed it inside. "Take one down, pass it around..." the flyer read 'How's my delivery service? Call me at 1-800-555-MESSAGE-IN-A-BOTTLE' He chucked the bottle over his head and into the ocean behind him. "Sixteen bottles of beer on the wall. Damn, I've gotten far. I started with a thousand!"
Deadpool sat up and looked ahead, noticing a queer event in the ocean. Up ahead, the water (which had become increasingly turbulent as the weather began to sour in the last few days) was disrupted, flowing up and against a barrier which apparently wasn't there. The water level was even slightly lower inside. It was obviously an invisible wall, although people unused to the extraordinary wouldn't understand such a phenomenon. Deadpool was not unused to the extraordinary. On the contrary, he could be tracked for miles on the sheer abnormality that leaked into his footprints.
The mercenary's grotesque mouth twisted into a smile. "I'm getting close... now I can speed up on drinking the beer! Sixteen bottles of beer on the wall... what's that?" Deadpool dropped the bottle of Foreign Beer brand beer he had been about to uncap and picked up the jar instead, pressing it to his masked ear. "What's that? Break the fourth wall? ...That's so evil! No, my friend, the time is not yet right." He gently set the jar down and patted it. "Sixteen bottles of beer on the wall, sixteen bottles of beer!" Suddenly, the invisible wall that lay ahead flickered and disappeared, signified by the water rushing in to equalize. "Hey, they're welcoming in. I guess I'm on the VIP list!" He took another chug of his drink and adopted a terrible French accent. "'Ave you a reZERvaSHON?!" He asked indignantly. "Why yes," he replied in his normal voice, "It's under 'KICK YOUR ASS.'" He switched voices back to the French one, although now it was more Spanish. Or maybe Italian. "Right zis way, SER." Back to his normal voice. "I do love being famous."
Finishing his beer, he sped up his foot-rowing, only to notice a shimmer as the barrier returned. "What the hell's going on?" He was now within throwing distance of the barrier, and he took the opportunity to lob his bottle at the dome in a high arc. There was a sound similar to a gigantic bug-zapper as the bottle shattered against the force field. "Hey. Hey. Hey! Hey! Hey! HEY!" He continued on like this for a few minutes, ending with "HEY! PUT THE SHIELD BACK DOWN, I WASN'T THROUGH YET!" He sighed and lay back on the boat, only to see something that made him blink. "So that's why it's so hot down here... there are two suns. Wait, that one's growing bigger... oh, I get it." He blinked again, and pulled his mask down. "Shit." Lurching to his feet, he grabbed the jar of dirt as the light bearing down on him grew more and more blindingly bright. With a grunt, he tossed the jar as far as he could into the water, where it immediately began to sink. He crouched to dive after it with a scream of "ABANDON CHEAP-ASS RENTED ROWBOAT!"
That's when the beam hit.
End of Chapter
At last, BORED is revealed in their Table layout:
Head: Lex Luthor- DCAU version
First Row: Doctor Doom - Main universe version (right), Charles Foster Ofdensen (left)
Second Row: Rufus Shinra (right), Fuhrer President King Bradley - Manga version (left)
Third Row: Mom (right), Sakyo Valdez (left)
Fourth Row: Solidus Snake (right), Giovanni - Anime version (left)
Fifth Row: Kirei Kotomine (right, trial member), Kristoph Gavin (left)
These are the current members of BORED. BORED has many past members, although their headcount remains consistently between 10 and 15. The organization is at least two generations old, although they weren't always as powerful as they are now. Shinra Sr., Lionel Luthor, and Giovanni's mother Madame Boss are all former members (yes, I know Lionel Luthor isn't in the same canon as the DCAU Lex, but I'm rolling with that). Stay tuned for the revalation of the true nature of Operation Black Lotus.
Mom's betting on Ginger. I have no idea who bet on Ban... Kirei and Kristoph can't afford to,so it's not them. He seems like Doctor Doom's kind of guy.
Deadpool is only pretending to pollute the ocean, btw. Pollution's for fools, kiddos. Also, he brought a thousand bottles of beer as his only source of sustaneance because he can't die from either starvation or alcohol, and rowing to an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean is time-consuming. He brought fortune-cookie-esque messages to slip into the empties because hell, why not? But he's not corking them, so nobody will ever see most of them. He presumably brought a GPS, but it must be in his hammerspace right now. Lastly, he brought a jar of dirt because... I'll leave you to speculate. He's got a jar of dirt!