11-10-2017, 11:21 PM
The blink of a light, and Nikolai swiped his hand through the signal. A video opened and the round face of one of the administrative staff appeared. The man was in his upper fifties and had wavy hair thick with gray. The barest hint of a beard touched the point of his chin. His cheeks were heavy with weight, the skin loose around his jaw as he spoke. "Ascendancy, Mister Danjou has arrived. Would you like me to show him in, sir?"
Ismail aged poorly the last ten years Nik knew him. Thankfully, age had yet to touch himself and the blessing of immortality again crossed his mind. The man waited patiently as Nikolai felt his eyes roam the myriad other open screens around the holo-image of his head. Jacques Danjou had been on his schedule since this morning. He'd had a summary of the man prepared for hours, but hadn't an opportunity to review it yet.
"Five minutes then show him in."
Nikolai responded and the video closed. A sweep of his other hand minimized the entire system, from which he recalled the summary.
Originally from Aubagne, currently residing in Casablanca. He rose to the rank of captain in Legion Premiere, descendants of the French Foreign Legion pre-Custody. The death of the company's entire leadership team left Jacques the sole surviving member of sufficient rank and qualification to assume command. Since then, acting as CEO, he made certain that all of his successes in battle were captured by media in some shape or fashion. From the local news coverage in Nigeria to reporter-coverage of his rescue of a Woman's College. Most recently, the exclusive coverage by an American independent reporter named Lawrence Monday in Sierra Leone. As successful in business as on the field, Nik crossed his arms and studied the eyes of his picture. What were his intentions? A lot of coincidences led to his sudden rise to Legion chief-executive. Everything since was carefully orchestrated to show the world his capabilities. When their forces were the only option available in Mecca, Nikolai had been forced to call upon their arms, and at quite the price too. How much did Jacques know going into DV of the civil unrest? Did he incite inflammatory tensions in DV as he did in Sierra Leone, only to miraculously salvage everything in the end?
He was quickly sweeping northern Africa into his control. With this young man at the helm, Legion Premiere was toppling war lords and folding governments. Intelligence was hard at work monitoring the Legion's progress but doing nothing to hinder it. Meanwhile, analyses attempted to decipher his ultimate endgame. But in all the analysis and pattern recognition, nobody thought to simply ask him his intentions. He was beginning to show enough momentum to be taken seriously. Especially as his trajectory across Africa was leading toward a volatile Dominance as it was.
The man that entered was clean-cut, freshly shaven and young. Oh so young. Nikolai minimized the remainder of his screens - little boxes of light that collapsed to the desk in front of him. A quick trio-tap on the desktop pulsed the lights to dim glows, effectively shutting out the world and obscuring the most technologically advanced office in the world. They were left with the antique woods and heavy curtains of Russian antiquity.
The Ascendancy rounded his desk to greet the CEO. They were near to height and deceptively appeared near the same age. Danjou had the precision of a military-man's attire, an innate talent that Nikolai lacked but that his stylist was certain to impress. His own suit was a rich, warm black with a subtle sheen of silk woven in the thread. The style was timeless, as was the man himself. There was a youthfulness to Jacques missing in Nikolai. His hair was nearly styled. The Arcus band had been replaced since his fight with Regus. The metal now encircling his head was formed from rare metals pulled from the Imperial Treasurery. Rhodium gave the sleek points settled around his temples a glossy reflection. Platinum and ruthenium hardened the band to such a point that adding further energy from the Power only made the band more resistant to the outside elements. It was osmium that gave the silvery metal a blueish tint upon the slightest angle of the eye. None would ever know but him, but each component of the band was pulled from about twenty different pieces from the treasurery. Russian luxury was reknown, and the coffers of the tsars were once very deep. The land was brutal, but from it came the most rare and valuable pieces of the earth.
As if the Arcus Band was not enough of a reminder of Jacques' location, a beautiful orange and black crescent was laid into the wood paneling, the same symbol that adorned Nikolai's lapel. As he offered a hand in greeting, he gestured that Jacques fully enter the room as power brimmed to life. Waves of Aether pushed the door closed on their own accord, something his staff was used to observing. Foreigners, less so.
"Bonjour, indeed."
He replied, hiding his distaste at the use of a language harkening back to another age. Instead, he gestured that Danjou could sit. Nikolai leaned against his desk, meanwhile, without retreating behind it. "Welcome to the Kremlin, Mister Danjou. I trust your transit was uneventful."
Propriety aside, he tried to put the commander at ease, if only by releasing the power and removing the darkness hovering around his countenance when it coursed his veins. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person. Allow me to extend my gratitude yet again for your valiant efforts in Mecca. You saved Custody lives, and for that I am grateful."
Pleasantries aside, given that he paid this man his own personal money to save said lives, he continued. "What brings you and your Legionnaires to Moscow?"
His eyes fell to the prosthetic hand.
Ismail aged poorly the last ten years Nik knew him. Thankfully, age had yet to touch himself and the blessing of immortality again crossed his mind. The man waited patiently as Nikolai felt his eyes roam the myriad other open screens around the holo-image of his head. Jacques Danjou had been on his schedule since this morning. He'd had a summary of the man prepared for hours, but hadn't an opportunity to review it yet.
"Five minutes then show him in."
Nikolai responded and the video closed. A sweep of his other hand minimized the entire system, from which he recalled the summary.
Originally from Aubagne, currently residing in Casablanca. He rose to the rank of captain in Legion Premiere, descendants of the French Foreign Legion pre-Custody. The death of the company's entire leadership team left Jacques the sole surviving member of sufficient rank and qualification to assume command. Since then, acting as CEO, he made certain that all of his successes in battle were captured by media in some shape or fashion. From the local news coverage in Nigeria to reporter-coverage of his rescue of a Woman's College. Most recently, the exclusive coverage by an American independent reporter named Lawrence Monday in Sierra Leone. As successful in business as on the field, Nik crossed his arms and studied the eyes of his picture. What were his intentions? A lot of coincidences led to his sudden rise to Legion chief-executive. Everything since was carefully orchestrated to show the world his capabilities. When their forces were the only option available in Mecca, Nikolai had been forced to call upon their arms, and at quite the price too. How much did Jacques know going into DV of the civil unrest? Did he incite inflammatory tensions in DV as he did in Sierra Leone, only to miraculously salvage everything in the end?
He was quickly sweeping northern Africa into his control. With this young man at the helm, Legion Premiere was toppling war lords and folding governments. Intelligence was hard at work monitoring the Legion's progress but doing nothing to hinder it. Meanwhile, analyses attempted to decipher his ultimate endgame. But in all the analysis and pattern recognition, nobody thought to simply ask him his intentions. He was beginning to show enough momentum to be taken seriously. Especially as his trajectory across Africa was leading toward a volatile Dominance as it was.
The man that entered was clean-cut, freshly shaven and young. Oh so young. Nikolai minimized the remainder of his screens - little boxes of light that collapsed to the desk in front of him. A quick trio-tap on the desktop pulsed the lights to dim glows, effectively shutting out the world and obscuring the most technologically advanced office in the world. They were left with the antique woods and heavy curtains of Russian antiquity.
The Ascendancy rounded his desk to greet the CEO. They were near to height and deceptively appeared near the same age. Danjou had the precision of a military-man's attire, an innate talent that Nikolai lacked but that his stylist was certain to impress. His own suit was a rich, warm black with a subtle sheen of silk woven in the thread. The style was timeless, as was the man himself. There was a youthfulness to Jacques missing in Nikolai. His hair was nearly styled. The Arcus band had been replaced since his fight with Regus. The metal now encircling his head was formed from rare metals pulled from the Imperial Treasurery. Rhodium gave the sleek points settled around his temples a glossy reflection. Platinum and ruthenium hardened the band to such a point that adding further energy from the Power only made the band more resistant to the outside elements. It was osmium that gave the silvery metal a blueish tint upon the slightest angle of the eye. None would ever know but him, but each component of the band was pulled from about twenty different pieces from the treasurery. Russian luxury was reknown, and the coffers of the tsars were once very deep. The land was brutal, but from it came the most rare and valuable pieces of the earth.
As if the Arcus Band was not enough of a reminder of Jacques' location, a beautiful orange and black crescent was laid into the wood paneling, the same symbol that adorned Nikolai's lapel. As he offered a hand in greeting, he gestured that Jacques fully enter the room as power brimmed to life. Waves of Aether pushed the door closed on their own accord, something his staff was used to observing. Foreigners, less so.
"Bonjour, indeed."
He replied, hiding his distaste at the use of a language harkening back to another age. Instead, he gestured that Danjou could sit. Nikolai leaned against his desk, meanwhile, without retreating behind it. "Welcome to the Kremlin, Mister Danjou. I trust your transit was uneventful."
Propriety aside, he tried to put the commander at ease, if only by releasing the power and removing the darkness hovering around his countenance when it coursed his veins. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person. Allow me to extend my gratitude yet again for your valiant efforts in Mecca. You saved Custody lives, and for that I am grateful."
Pleasantries aside, given that he paid this man his own personal money to save said lives, he continued. "What brings you and your Legionnaires to Moscow?"
His eyes fell to the prosthetic hand.