03-10-2014, 09:43 AM
Damien sat amidst the perverse glamour that was the Manifesto’s Block 1. In a tailored jacket of deep blue and matching jeans with original ruby buttons which were hand crafted into the shape of gauntleted fists he looked at home amongst the nouveau rich of Moscow. He had his hair trimmed but not cut for the occasion and bold dark locks of fragrant hair framed his face and shoulders.
The price for his outfit and admittance had come from his Mexican client who had made his fortune in the tequila market. The man owned half of Mexico City to hear his thugs and prospectors tell the tale. Damien was not impressed by his client’s wealth or assumed power. Not when he was now thrust into the heart of Custody’s most wealthy.
He dismissed a scantily clad waitress who offered him a glass of rich dark liquid with a glance and a wave of his hand. Instead of his time in prison marking him as an outcast, Damien wore the mantle of luxury like a crown designed for no head but his. The women shot him amorous glances and the men nodded to him with a modicum of respect.
He had soon learned to spot the real powers in the room. They were often not the most grandiose nor the most conceited. The room trembled under the steady gazes of the quietly self-assured who needed no adornment to placate their empty pride.
Damien was one such man, although the denizens of Moscow had yet to learn his worth. He needed only the light that shone brighter than the chandeliers that hung above. He held it with a absent ease that came from years of use and confidence. Compared to his days in San Quentin where his grasp had been complete, the peaceful perversion of wealth did not demand his attention.
Damien rose from his seat as an old man in a traditional styled black suit approached. He was flanked by two suited men who scanned the room with what would seem idle curiosity. Damien inclined his head and gestured to the lounge opposite. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Osoliev.”
He waited for the man to sit before he resumed his own. “Ahh, Mr. Oakland. A curious man you are indeed. I trust you have taken full opportunity to enjoy the pleasures that I have assembled?”
The pleasures he had not sampled, nor did he intend to. They were glamorous, but lacked lustre and any true essence of pride or power. Like painted puppets who danced on the strings of their master. “This night has surpassed all of my expectations already, Mr. Osoliev.”
Osoliev smiled and waved a thin hand. "Please, call me Yulian. Damien – may I call you that? – Damien, you have excited much interest amongst the businessmen of Moscow. While others may consider you a rabid hound, I respect your bold ingenuity. I see a bright man who could go a long way. Hopefully we can come to a mutual agreement to make that a reality.”
“You are too kind, Yulian,”
Damien replied with a lazy smile. “I believe we both share the same interests. It will be a pleasure to come to an agreement. Mr. Estande will not disappoint, I assure you. He welcomes the Custody’s business with open arms.”
Yulian clapped his hands together with joy. “Excellent! I knew that he was an intelligent man. Let us celebrate! I have prepared a unique surprise for all of my honoured guests. I trust you will enjoy this, Damien.”
At his signal the two men moved through the crowd and soon the lights dimmed and the din of chatter subsided. Damien leaned back in his seat as spotlights beamed and centred on a platform amidst one of the canals half-formed and backed by a curtain.
Edited by Damien, Mar 10 2014, 09:49 AM.
The price for his outfit and admittance had come from his Mexican client who had made his fortune in the tequila market. The man owned half of Mexico City to hear his thugs and prospectors tell the tale. Damien was not impressed by his client’s wealth or assumed power. Not when he was now thrust into the heart of Custody’s most wealthy.
He dismissed a scantily clad waitress who offered him a glass of rich dark liquid with a glance and a wave of his hand. Instead of his time in prison marking him as an outcast, Damien wore the mantle of luxury like a crown designed for no head but his. The women shot him amorous glances and the men nodded to him with a modicum of respect.
He had soon learned to spot the real powers in the room. They were often not the most grandiose nor the most conceited. The room trembled under the steady gazes of the quietly self-assured who needed no adornment to placate their empty pride.
Damien was one such man, although the denizens of Moscow had yet to learn his worth. He needed only the light that shone brighter than the chandeliers that hung above. He held it with a absent ease that came from years of use and confidence. Compared to his days in San Quentin where his grasp had been complete, the peaceful perversion of wealth did not demand his attention.
Damien rose from his seat as an old man in a traditional styled black suit approached. He was flanked by two suited men who scanned the room with what would seem idle curiosity. Damien inclined his head and gestured to the lounge opposite. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Osoliev.”
He waited for the man to sit before he resumed his own. “Ahh, Mr. Oakland. A curious man you are indeed. I trust you have taken full opportunity to enjoy the pleasures that I have assembled?”
The pleasures he had not sampled, nor did he intend to. They were glamorous, but lacked lustre and any true essence of pride or power. Like painted puppets who danced on the strings of their master. “This night has surpassed all of my expectations already, Mr. Osoliev.”
Osoliev smiled and waved a thin hand. "Please, call me Yulian. Damien – may I call you that? – Damien, you have excited much interest amongst the businessmen of Moscow. While others may consider you a rabid hound, I respect your bold ingenuity. I see a bright man who could go a long way. Hopefully we can come to a mutual agreement to make that a reality.”
“You are too kind, Yulian,”
Damien replied with a lazy smile. “I believe we both share the same interests. It will be a pleasure to come to an agreement. Mr. Estande will not disappoint, I assure you. He welcomes the Custody’s business with open arms.”
Yulian clapped his hands together with joy. “Excellent! I knew that he was an intelligent man. Let us celebrate! I have prepared a unique surprise for all of my honoured guests. I trust you will enjoy this, Damien.”
At his signal the two men moved through the crowd and soon the lights dimmed and the din of chatter subsided. Damien leaned back in his seat as spotlights beamed and centred on a platform amidst one of the canals half-formed and backed by a curtain.
Edited by Damien, Mar 10 2014, 09:49 AM.