His plasticine smile threatened to shatter as he felt the representative squeeze his hand tightly in both farewell and warning.
That smile tightened slightly despite his best efforts, and he stretched it into a full face beaming grin to disguise his displeasure.
The Gesellschaft representative whose name he did not know, whose name he would never learn, smiled back at him none the wiser, pulling his hand back and bidding him farewell in German.
Kaiser responded in kind as he watched the man turn his back to him, fingers twitching, the urge to drive an iron spike into his brain nearly overwhelming him, his equilibrium utterly annihilated. Kaiser closed his eyes and indulged himself with fantasies of the man's violent and agonizing death at his hands until he could no longer hear his footsteps and his secretary was gently rapping her knuckles on his door in concern.
"Sir? Is everything alright?"
Max nodded to no one on reflex, fingers drumming atop his pant legs.
How utterly fucking mortifying, to be so rattled in public company, in the security and comfort of his own office.
"Of course Katelyn. I was just lost in thought."
"You didn't come out for your coffee."
He blinked in disquiet.
"I kept it hot for you, but I know it might still be-"
"It'll be fine. Bring it in for me."
He could tell that threw her for a loop, the way she went quiet for a moment. This was not part of the routine.
His door opened and Katelyn(With a 'K', he mentally reminded himself in disgust) stepped into his office, carefully kicking off her shoes to as she walked across his carpet towards him. Her eyes narrowed in concern at the twitching of his fingers, but he watched the gears in her head turn in real time as she internally marked it down as caffeine withdrawal.
He wordlessly marched forward and took the designer porcelain cup from her hands in disguised hurry, raising a brow at the silver engagement ring on her ring finger.
Silver, scratched and worn down from use. Not purchased from a reputable jeweler. Possibly pawned or stolen, factoring in her now fiancee's criminal history.
The poor dumb girl was none the wiser. Worse, the simple joy on her weather face implied she was proud of the object.
He looked down at her stomach, at the small bump that bulged outward from her dress that grew less small day by day by day.
He was surprised, despite himself. "Andre proposed?"
Katelyn smiled at him, rubbing the baby bump in undisguised joy. "Just last week, right there in our bedroom."
Max hummed. "Good for you both."
"We're still thinking about names, especially because my family wants-"
Max tuned her inane babble out and scanned her figure.
Faded lines under her eyes, a homely and leathery face, her skin mottled with moles and faced circular scars hidden beneath her sleeves where needles had blown one too many veins. She'd used a moderate portion of her fairly generous salary to dress quite nicely, but she had failed to grasp the complexities of makeup and hairstyling thanks to her background.
She had cleaned up well, considering her prior circumstances, but not well enough. The child would look little like her, especially considering the father's race.
Privately, he considered that a blessing for them.
He cleared his throat to garner her attention. "Joseph for a boy. Eartha for a girl."
Katelyn paused her rant and stared at him. "Joseph and Eartha?"
"So name for Joseph Bologne and Eartha Kitt."
"Who?"
"Joseph Bologne was a French classical composer and violinist oft-dubbed 'Black Mozart'. Eartha Kitt was a famous Broadway Star and singer most famous for her song C'est Si Bon, 'It's so good'. I have found myself quite attracted to their respective musical styles as of late. I think those would be good, strong names for your child."
Katelyn gave him an indulgent, slightly bewildered smile. "I've never heard of either of them. I'll have to listen to them when I get home."
They both knew she wouldn't.
"Do so. Outside of today's little surprise, what else is on my plate for this afternoon?"
She snapped to attention art that, the answers rolling out of her mouth almost instantaneously. "A shareholder meeting at 3:00 PM, The lead clinician downstairs wants a meeting I have yet to approve at Noon to discuss funding and loosening care restrictions, and you have an invitation from the Governor to come by his mansion for dinner and some 'policy talk', as he put it, for 9:00."
"No doubt he wants me to back him for re-election. How boring. Ignore the clinician, and make sure the Vultures come by by 3:00 tomorrow instead. Leave a message for the Governor telling him I'll be there and take your lunch."
"Right now, sir?"
Max smiled at her. "You can save the rest of the coffee for yourself as well."
She beamed at him in absolute reverence, like he'd given her the day off instead of forty-five minutes to herself and some shitty coffee. "Thank you sir!"
Max waved a hand in dismissal and watched her walk away, his smile never fading. How refreshing she was. Recruited through an outreach program that reached out to local rehab centers and homeless shelters, she'd clawed tooth and nail through withdrawal, abuse, and the vitriol of her compatriots to see through the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity she'd been granted.
After all, being a billionaire's secretary had its perks.
She was utterly unremarkable in just about every single possible way. Not clever, not pretty, not educated. The only noteworthy thing about her was her memory, which was all he really needed her for in the first place.
He preferred her just that way anyway, her unfortunate taste in men aside. She did as she was told, never asked any bothersome questions, and would never forget what he'd done for her. She looked at him as if he were the second coming of Christ himself, as well she should, for only Christ himself would have considered hiring her for the job as she was initially.
But he knew there was potential in everyone. All one had to do was cultivate it, guide it, and shape it in the way you desired.
He sighed.
If only his son were less stubborn than her.
He looked back down at his watch. 11:21. Almost nine full fours of 'downtime' he would use for anything but.
Max trundled off towards his desk and sat back down in his chair, sipping his lukewarm coffee as he fished out a burner phone from his desk drawer and dialed Bradley's newest number.
It rang a full fifteen seconds before Bradley picked up.
"Am I good yet?"
'Was he good yet.'
"You nearly gutted a child you dumb fucking animal, and the first thing out of your mouth is 'Am I good yet?'"
Bradley was nonplussed. "Well?"
Kaiser pinched his nose. "She was just spotted on patrol this morning. There have been no news reports about the fight or an injured Ward, nor any marked increase in PRT activity. Our moles in the PRT haven't heard or seen anything out of the ordinary and no inquiries have been made. It's as if it never happened. You are free to to go."
"How is that even possible?"
"I don't know. I don't care. Just don't screw up like this again, or I will personally deliver you to the PRT nailed to a cross. Do we have an understanding?"
"Easy, hombre. Don't threaten me with a good time, cause I'll take you on any day."
If anything, his mad dog seemed more excited than upset by his threat.
"It wouldn't just be me, you know. You haven't exactly made many friends in your time as my right hand."
"Come one, come all. T'fuck you doing threatening me, anyway? We both know you'd never give me up and we both know exactly why."
He hummed.
"Something wad up your panties? Is Kayden being a cunt again? Or was it little Theo being a bitch like he usually i-"
He stood up. "You will not speak of my son that way again if you at all value your life."
Bradley laughed. "Easy, easy. I'm being serious here, what's up?"
Max slumped back down in his char with a sigh, lips thinned.
"Come on, it's not like I don't know about all your dirty laundry anyway."
He would concede that point. "A Gesellschaft representative spoke me to today."
"They do that every two weeks anyway, so what?"
"They spoke to me inside my office."
Bradley went quiet for a moment. "Oh."
Max smiled. "Yes. 'Oh.'"
"What did he want?"
"An explanation as to why Brockton Bay isn't mine yet. An explanation as to how Lung and The Merchants are still alive. An explanation as to why I haven't forcibly conscripted unaffiliated white capes in the city or driven them all out yet. An explanation as to why I haven't killed Faultline and her crew of 'freaks' yet. An explanation for why I haven't involved Medhall in our drug dealing enterprises and racketeering efforts. An explanation for why I haven't been as 'productive' as my late father."
"Don't they normally call you about that shit?"
"Yes. But evidently, I've frustrated them enough these past few months they sent one of their own disguised as an investment banker for a wealthy German client who wished to invest in my company. I did not know about it until my secretary phoned me that a man was wanting to speak to me outside of my office. She had no idea how he got in."
"How did he?"
"I haven't the faintest clue myself. The camera footage showed no one walking in or out of my door, taking the stairs, or the public elevator, or my private elevator. It's as if he appeared and disappeared out of thin air."
"Freaky. We thinking a Stranger?"
"I'm thinking it doesn't matter one whit what powers he may or may not have. His presence alone was threat enough. They wanted me to know that they could have a man in my office or in my home or at Kayden's apartment any day at any time, and there that there is nothing I could do about it. That I can't trust my security or my employees or even my powers to keep me safe."
"Why are you even dealing with them in the first place?"
"Because my father put himself in their debt. A stupid thing to do. Quite possibly the worst choice he had ever made besides aligning with them in the first place. They come to my office and dare to give me orders. It's humiliating. It's absurd. But my hands are tied. They could have us both killed on a whim by tomorrow if the answers I give them tonight during our bi-weekly phone call do not satisfy."
Kaiser smiled bitterly. "I'm not quite even sure how to mollify them, truth be told."
"Not even with your 'famous' way with people?"
Kaiser snorted. "Perhaps I if I at all knew anything about the 'people' even running it. You don't seem to understand. The Gesellschaft is not a gang. It's not even an organization like The Elite, not truly. It's a society, true to its name. A multinational, multipolar conglomerate that sees governments rise and fall on whim and whimsy, that can trade in fissile material and conventional firearms in equally easy measure. There is no head to cut off, no manager to speak to, no names to any faces. What little James has divulged to me implied each 'Cell' responsible for geographic regions and specific countries around the world can run semi or perhaps even fully independently of whatever leader is running it, so there isn't even a body to wither and die were there a head to cut off in the first place."
"So you're fucked, that's what you're saying?"
He rejected that premise on principle. "No. Never. There's a way out of any situation. Nothing is ever hopeless, not ever. I'll find a way."
He had to. It didn't matter if it took five years, or ten, or even twenty, and it didn't matter how many he had to kill or how many of his own died along the way. He would be free of them.
"Is there a way I can help you find it?"
Yes. "By staying out of trouble and doing as I command."
Bradley huffed in amusement. "Jawohl, Mein Führer."
Kaiser rolled his eyes and hung up the phone, and Max put an iron spike through its SIM card with a tired groan.
He took a sip from his now cold coffee with a small smile and dialed a number on his personal phone this time.
It rang only once before Theodore picked it up.
"Sir."
Max bristled at the heat in his son's voice. "Theodore. I was wondering what you would like to do tonight. I know our last few outings weren't your necessarily your choice of venue, so I thought maybe we-"
"I'll be busy tonight sir."
What.
"I said I'll be busy tonight, sir. I'm sorry."
He did not sound it.
His smile withered and froze in place. "But it's Saturday."
"I know."
"But its Saturday" He repeated, uselessly, uncomprehendingly. "It's my day with you."
This was not how it worked. This was not how today was supposed to go.
"Saturdays are our day, Theo, w-"
"I know. But Kayden wanted to take me out tonight and I said yes."
His lips thinned, peeling back to reveal his gums, a rictus snarl adoring his face. "It is Saturday. I have visitation on Saturdays."
"I know. But I've already made plans. I'm sorry." His son repeated.
He made to answer, only to see that his son had hung up the phone.
Theo had hung up.
On him.
He could not comprehend it.
Theodore did not do that to him. Theodore did not disrespect him.
No one did.
He wanted to hurl his phone across the room, to indulge that spiteful rage that beckoned him so seductively, promising him release, catharsis.
Instead, he shelved it.
Took a few deep breaths, and put his son out of his mind, the rage, the disrespect, forgotten.
He turned on his desktop and readied himself for some day trading and market analysis.
The first thing he saw when he booted up Google was a news article about a shootout that had happened overnight near Theo's neighborhood involving the Empire-88 and The Merchants that had left six dead, two of them being bystanders, one of whom was a young woman.
"Ah."
Suddenly, his son's reticence made sense.
/
The meeting next with Taylor and his phone talk with Gesellschaft is split up into a second part to be released soon+2 weeks or tomorrow. We'll see which.