[[ Danika, Morven, MV, Marcus -- any of ya'll Kremlin types are welcome to jump in otherwise it'll just be a solo rp ]]

Durante had contacted the Inquisitor. And before the man disappeared off the planet he'd mentioned the boy god wanting to share information.  

Angelika sent the boy a private secure text

I am Dr. Woźniak an Atharim scientist. You mentioned to the Inquisitor the tunnels? and help?

His response was not immediate but it came in just as the nights started to get dark 

Dr. Weston and co await you at a secret Kremlin facility.

It was cryptic, but it gave her a who and a place just not a why or when.  She supposed it didn't matter.  And scheduling an appointment wouldn't matter one way or the other.  The Kremlin was a big place, and the front desk was the most logical place to start.

She looked the average business woman.  Nothing fancy, nothing too strict, but business like.  The suit was tailored to fit, she did not look like the nerdy scientist she preferred to walk around like.  Today was all about impressions.  And not dying.  It was a dangerous avenue to undergo, but she doubted that they'd kill her on the spot, she after all had never killed a single soul unlike others -- and Durante walked these walls -- he was a hunter, a killer... exceptions to be made.

At the front desk she smile though it was forced. "My name is Dr. Woźniak. I was sent by a young man, Nox Durante to meet with Dr. Weston.  It is about a project down in the bowles of the city."

Continued from: Beggars (Market district)

They both had errands and agreed to meet up for their respective needs. Grym wasn’t the kind of girl that went shopping with another girl, for car parts or shoes. She procured the necessary piece that she found online, and negotiating a good percentage off the top price too. Which meant she had enough cash to front a night out.

The place she recommended was a basement bar off Pushkin Square, Pod Mukhoi, which was Russian slang for tipsy. Off a back alley there was a set of concrete, narrow stairs leading to a rackety door. The neon sign above was broken, such that the P was dark, leading the name to look more like Od Mukhoi.

On Thursday nights the place was busier, mostly with locals, but a tourist or two wasn’t unheard of. Grym pushed the door open, but the sun was still up and the bar was mostly empty.

An older woman well past her prime was leaning against a wall, broom crooked in her elbow while she tapped away at a Wallet in her hand. She wore a leopard print top with a bulge of fat squished out the sides where it had ridden up above her hips. Her hair was pulled back, a mix of old black dye and unfinished roots. Her legs were bare below a mini skirt, and she wore black knee-boots.

She glanced up when the door opened, looking annoyed by the early customers.

*throws confetti*

Meeting the Atharim channeler had been exciting and lackluster once Allan got past his initial reaction.  Much of polish had worn off when the Ascendancy had questioned his motives for wanting to join them in the tunnels.  And doubts crept in. But the awe of the world unknown still pulled at Allan.  He eagerly awaited the meeting with his leader later that evening.

Still in uniform Allan made his way to the Ascendancy's private chambers. No time had been given and Allan would wait as long as necessary for the man to allow him entrance into his private affairs. There were rumors of his relationship with the US Congresswoman, and now that they were separated by oceans those rumors had not ceased only changed in directions.  Allan held no stock in those rumors anymore than he had with others around the compound.  But he had listened none-the-less.

Allan wondered about the book or knowledge on offer.  Where did the Ascendancy get it?  How did he know about the Atharim? Why did he put so much stock in the boy who could channel, when he could obviously end the man's life with just as much ease.  Trust was not something to be given lightly.  He was a proclaimed enemy of channelers -- yet he was one.  The dichotomy was deafening in Allan's ears.  How could he do both?  Be both?

Allan knocked on the entryway door and waited for his mentor to answer.  There might be just a handing over of the book or a long night full of conversation.  With the Ascendancy, Allan never knew.  But no matter what it was a joy to spend the time with the man.  So much better than his own father.

Today the Ascendancy announced the reveal of a new global construction plan. The CCD will build an interconnect, submersible tube structure that will connect the continents to each other. Through the thousands of miles will course vactrains, which use vacuum pressures to allow magnetized trains to travel at incredibly fast speeds due to the lack of air resistance. 

Imagine a 45 minute train commute that carries workers from London to New York. These trains have the capability to travel up to 5,000 miles per hour. Initial plans will begin with a travel speed closer to 1,200 miles per hour. The ride is expected to be as smooth a ride as traveling through space. These pipes are planned to traverse Australia, Asia, Africa, South America. Immediate plans to connect to North America have not yet been solidified.

Seven approached the beautiful, glowing mansion that was the home for the Bottom of the Cup Café. As he crossed the street, the smell of glorious foods waited on the air like the swampy bayou he imagined was the inspiration. He smiled to himself and strolled confidently into a soup of music, smoke, and noise that spilled into the garden and covered porches.

He was dressed for the venue, having read reviews that set his expectations about the interior of the café and its patrons. He yearned greatly to meet the proprietress, and only the best would do to present oneself to a Queen.

He wore deep blue slacks cut slim to the leg. An azure shirt was tucked in at the waist and worn with the top three buttons splayed apart. At the neck glittered a necklace. The pendant was a long, silver tusk. Most gloriously, he wore a tailed jacket printed with large blue and purple hydrangea blossoms. His eyes were colorfully bright against the blues, as if the color ran from his irises into the flower petals.

He smiled as he entered, pausing naturally at the front station.

“Good evening, I have a reservation.”

“Under what name?” asked a young man.

“Seven,” Seven said.

“Like the number?” he responded quizzically.

Seven nodded. “That’s right. Like the number.”

Hi all, what board is best to post in the Bottom of the Cup Cafe?  Rowan, do you prefer one location over another? E.g. Greater Moscow vs Place of Enlightenment? 

Going to start a thread there shortly. Anyone is welcome! 

Location: Bottom of the Cup Cafe 
Timing: 8:30 pm reservations for dinner
Who: Seven and possibly Xander (as an alias) and who knows!