nextgenerationmarvel | A Significant Conversation (Viveca)

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A Significant Conversation (Viveca)

Stephanie Shaw had been an extremely busy woman lately, between her engagement to Marcelo, her reintroduction into the halls of power at Shaw Industries and the newfound reemergence of the Hellfire Club, her summer had not been much of the break that most students could expect. It was fortunate indeed that she had only a fraction of the sleep requirements of an ordinary person. But she had been extremely troubled about the most recent news she'd heard. The same psychopath who had brutalized her had somehow got ahold of her list of mutant-friendly employers and had already murdered one of them. She suspected that he would continue working up the list. She'd already alerted Marcelo and had almost immediately thereafter gone to Sweating Bullets as fast as she could.

There were a few things she needed to speak to Viveca about. One was an immediate matter of life and death, the other merely a potential matter of life and death. Both very important and not particularly good news. She'd fired off a text to Viveca on her way, the driver being under directions not to waste time.

I need to talk to you immediately. Urgent.

Hopefully Viveca got the text before Stephanie arrived, though it wouldn't matter much. She was going in there, and if she had to tell her the news with a customer in the room, she'd do it. Confidentiality was ideal, naturally, but it was more important that Viveca know than that others didn't. She couldn't claim they were close, exactly, but they'd developed a mutual respect that had occasionally threatened to bubble over into actual friendship.

It would be interesting finding out how Viveca took the newest developments.

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Since Viveca checked correspondence that mattered and Stephanie had made it into the 'mattered' category, she'd cleared time and space out to talk to Stephanie in private.

"Who died?" she says colloquially. Well, mostly colloquially.

"One of the other employers on my list was brutally murdered. By the same man who put me in traction for the better part of two months, to make a point." Stephanie would deliver the important information in order of urgency. "My belief is that he intends to go systematically down the list and kill the others."

All that before she even managed to sit down. "I'd love to say that was the entirety of the news I have to tell you, but I'm afraid not. But it's the most immediately dire information." She looked carefully at Viveca. She was doing a good job to keep it together, despite the fact that thinking of him made her joints ache. But Viveca's senses would likely be able to pick up the unmistakable scent of fear.

"He goes by the name Vargas. He is extremely powerful and very, very dangerous."

"I believe you," Viveca says simply and earnestly."I'm taking it seriously." e probably would even if she couldn't smell the fear, but that sure 'helped.' "But you realize I don't have an enclave to run to, and wouldn't be too keen on leaving my property unguarded even if I did. What else do I need to know?"

"I can put you in contact with the X-Men. Directly. I would also suggest keeping contact with Jeremiah at the 11th Street Shelter. Don't try to fight him by yourself." Unless Viveca had been hiding some Omega-level abilities all along, it wouldn't go well for her, despite any skill or ferocity she might possess.

"In theory I could put you under the protection of another group, but you've spent most of your life avoiding them." Stephanie took a breath. "Which leads me to the second bit of news you need to know. My father has returned from the dead and the ghost of the Hellfire Club has become a very living, very powerful thing. He's established himself not only as the Black King of the New York branch but the Lord Paramount of the global Hellfire Club. His intention, I believe, is to establish Alistaire and I as future leaders in New York.

I've told him absolutely nothing about you and if it ever comes up, I will do my best to dissuade him from any attempt to 'recruit' you. Hopefully Alistaire will be similarly respectful of your wishes."

Viveca, fairly devout in her brand of Satanism, is certainly not a joiner, but she listens to the options nevertheless, dying not being high among her goals either.

And then that part. ".....oh. .....Yeah. ... Here's hoping."

Stephanie wouldn't have described herself as a joiner, but with Sebastian alive once again and so adamant, she had little choice. A Von Roehm had a chance, even if it wasn't ideal, to avoid the Hellfire Club and its machinations. Stephanie, with her grand ambitions and the Shaw last name, had little choice as she saw it. Viveca may have disagreed, but she would have forgone enormous advantages for little benefit.

Sebastian would not have accepted one of his heirs leaving the fold.

"... I'm sorry that I don't have better news to deliver. If there's something I can do to help, I will. On either front. Threatening Alistaire. Or, if absolutely nothing else, treating you to all the alcohol you choose to imbibe."

"I appreciate it. I really do. And... I think we could both use a drink." A pause "What's this Vargas guy's issue, anyway? Just want to attack all your business interests?"

"No. He's on a holy crusade of sorts against mutants. I suppose I represented a problem he needed to deal with. I suspect he's involved somehow with the Purifiers, but he's always operated on his own." She absently rubbed her elbow. She'd been told by Mr. McCoy that while she would otherwise make a full recovery, she'd probably have minor pain issues with her joints for the rest of her life.

"I couldn't agree more. Drinks at Langudoc?" It was her restaurant, legally, so if they wanted confidentiality, it was the best place to get it. It also had the advantage of having rather sophisticated anti-surveillance technology installed in it, which had come directly from her fiancee, so it had no Shaw links at all.

"Heavy-hitting mutant purifiers. Well that's.... special. Well, at least I've got a teleporter on call for emergencies."

She nodded emphatically. "Languedoc sounds perfect." She'll grab her jacket nad lock up.

"That could be very useful." She wished she'd had a teleporter. Though most likely Vargas would have slain him or her before they could even use their abilities. He'd moved insanely fast.

Languedoc had once existed as an establishment for the wealthiest of the wealthy, one that dabbled in secret and illegal menus. But since Stephanie had acquired it, it'd taken on a new life as a bit of a hotspot for the well-heeled youth population, those who liked the "danger" element of an establishment that hired several mutants. Including a chef who had what he'd euphemistically told Stephanie were "food powers".

But they were headed upstairs, to a private bar. They'd have to pour their own drinks, but they were also completely private up there. If food was desired, they could send for it. Once upon a time, ortolan and other forbidden delicacies had been served there. But today, it had become a fallback space for Stephanie to have truly private meetings with other people or to be rented to people who desired the same.

The bar was lavish and packed with all manner of drinks and mixes, both elaborate and simple.

"All right. The works. Not that I'm into the bird's-tongue end of things. But yeah." Viveca immediately steps up to start pouring. "You?"

"They used to serve songbirds here, not too long ago. For me, though ..." Stephanie moved up to open up a safe under the bar with a key and pull out a bottle of limited-edition Louis XIII cognac, one of only five hundred made. She had three in the safe.

"You're welcome to join me." Stephanie said simply, pouring herself a generous snifter. There weren't many people she would offer the libation to. The only other person who had tasted it was Marcelo.

A fangy grin. "You don't have to break out the antiques just because our joint business stuff may technically kill me. But thanks. Just a little. I want to leave room for Mr. Walker."

Stephanie poured her a good-sized finger of the libation and passed it towards her. The drinks poured, the Louis XIII went back in the safe. She'd switch to something else if she decided to have more than a drink or two.

Well, there were about two drinks in her glass.

"On the positive side of things, I'm engaged. Finally made the man an offer he couldn't refuse." She showed her ring-bedecked hand to Viveca.

An appraising look at the rock. "Nice. Wish you had more space to enjoy the situation. Less traction." Less Hellfire, too, but with this much on Stephanie's plate, Viveca doesn't want to rub that in just yet. She vaguely heard of tact once.

"Believe me, I've had enough of traction to last me for a very long time. You cannot believe how painful and inconvenient having your wrists, shoulders, hips and knees dislocated is." Stephanie took an appraising sip of her drink. It was delicious, a virtual infinity of subtle and bold flavour notes. Something to be savored.

She probably drank altogether more of it in that first sip than was proper. "Believe me, I would love little more than to go back to a few months ago, where the company was as good as mine and I was much freer. Not about Marcelo. The other things.

But one cannot live in the past."

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A Significant Conversation (Viveca)

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