06-23-2014, 03:47 PM
Marcus watched himself in the mirror as he manipulated his tie using a flow of air. It took his concentration, but he needed the practice, needed to become more dexterous with the Force. Tonight was going to be one of the most important nights of his life. He felt the anticipation burn in his stomach. Ascendancy would speak at the Christmas dinner party and even mention him as the latest Sigma. The last few weeks had highlighted how prestigious an honor that was, as people looked at him with curious eyes. He was a foreigner, an American, and black. Three reasons some of those in power might be skeptical of him. But to be accepted as a Sigma was the beginning of a powerful career, one that Ascendancy himself sanctioned. Malik smiled. It was hard not to think of this as an anointing, of sorts, though he knew that he had to keep that thought in a dark secret place. He had observed the running of the palace, the casual and professional rivalries and jockeying, and marveled at how efficient it kept people, how it channeled ambition. These were deep waters and he needed to keep his wits about him at all times. Somehow, though, eventually, he would get Ascendancy’s attention. Every day here cemented his desire to learn from the man. But until that day came, he would continue to apply himself to learning everything he could- the ins and outs of power, the dynamics, the methodologies and propaganda.
Currently, he was working in the Communication Consulate. He was impressed to see all the tools that the CCD had at its disposal for controlling the flow of information; the ocean that broke into branches and then rivers and rivulets, streams, finally to trickling capillaries that fed not just every part of the mighty empire but also the world. The flow itself was a powerful tool, allowing the government to flood a region with news and entertainment to mask an event or trend; to choke off an area for the purposes of building up resentment, purposelessness or dissent. He realized that over the years, that had been a primary method of getting other nations to join the CCD of their own free will- they thought, never realizing how they had been manipulated into it.
He now understood why there were two Consulates devoted to communication, propaganda and psy-ops. And Alexendrova and Bykov’s relationship made more sense. It was really one operation with two arms, each complementing the other, doing far more together than if they had been apart, or worse, at each other’s throats. Ascendancy must have been very careful in his selection of those two, given the influence those departments had. Malik smiled, remembering their conversation. Alexandrova had been testing him about his ideas of center nations. That was what their Consulate did, creating both the sense of superiority and idealization of the CCD itself as a center nation, as well as fed the edge nation mentality to those countries that were not, breeding insecurity and dissatisfaction. He was thoroughly impressed at how well it worked in the US. He had sensed the edge nation’s feelings in his home country- had himself felt them- and yet never suspected how much of it was being enhanced by the Consulate. More than ever, he was glad to be out of that place and here where things mattered, where things were being done that he understood and whole-heartedly believed in.
He gave his tie one last tug with the tread of air. He always used a double-windsor so his tie would be a perfect triangle. He hated the single, with its lopsided knot. It looked so sloppy. Then, for good measure, dimpled the center of the tie into 2 wrinkles just below the knot. Perfect. Tonight had to be perfect. Not just because of Ascendancy, though. No. Things had changed in the last few days as word from the troubles down in DV came back. Not the fighting itself. That was just another example of the chaos that grew out of a poorly run government, especially when irrational sensibilities governed the mentality. If ever a region needed more informational control that was it. You’d not get the older generation of course. They were too far gone. But the younger…There was an interesting thought there, one that he’d need to think about further. Maybe even talk to others in the Consulate.
No, what concerned him were the tales of magic during the battles. He’d listened quietly, piecing together facts. There were precious few, many of them seeming fantastical. One man facing down an entire army and laying waste to it? Or was it a building? The stories changed. But behind it all, Malik knew the truth. Other Force users were out there and had discovered their power. Were perhaps more powerful than him. He’d have to take of that part himself. He didn’t know if there was a limit to his strength, but he’d already noticed that his weaves had gotten brighter and thicker in just the last few weeks. It was logical. He’d been using the Force almost exclusively for every day simple things, things he normally did by hand. Just as he had been repeatedly working out with weights and training a few days a week. He’d noted improvement there as well. Floating the jacket to him on a thread of air- he had to let the other thread go first, a limitation that was increasingly irritating to him- he put it on. He could only do one thing at a time. That could prove very dangerous, especially with other Force users around. From the stories he’d heard, he could only assume they were using many weaves at once. Of course, it could just be exaggeration, but he thought not. It didn’t make sense that you couldn’t use more than one weave at a time. The Force elements were always there in infinite supply. So it had to do with the mind, then.
The idea of stronger Force users bothered Malik greatly. Now, more than ever, it was imperative that he keep himself hidden. And that he identify other threats, aside from Pyotr. He’d started with the man, but it was slow going. His need to be embarrassed was a hugely irritating obstacle to overcome. In frustrated desperation after Pytor failed yet again to find the Force, Malik had told him to take his clothes off all the way to his underwear and then stand on the balcony. That had done it. Finally. He was then able to show Pyotr the 5 elements of the Force and how they could each be used by themselves. He wasn’t going to show him more complex weaves yet. And even then, only a small number of them. It was slow going, but Pyotr finally got a small puff of air from a single thread. Marcus could see the thread clearly, just as he could back when he was teaching Andre. That was the danger. Threads and weaves were visible. When Pyotr held the Force, there was a definite sense of menace in the room. Since Marcus knew where it was from, he automatically fixated on Pyotr. But if he went into another room, the sense faded. So it had a range. But if he was in sight, Malik could see Pyotr’s weaves clearly, even when not holding the source. At least at this distance, he could. A snakey conduit of air was not going to cut it. He had to hide the things he did.
Until he learned to do that, though, he’d be very circumspect. He practiced his Ether flash-bang again and again, seizing the Force, throwing out the weave, and letting the Force go. Again and again, he practiced, getting faster and faster, until finally, he could do it in a single second. He hoped it would be enough. He was going to need to use it tonight. The Hall where they had the dinner would be filled with powerful people from all over the empire. If ever there was a place for other Force users to be, that would be it. He would have to be very careful, though. This was a dangerous risk he was going to be taking.
Malik took a deep breath and calmed himself. He was a Sith Lord. He’d be careful. But the way of the Sith was always going to be dangerous one. Especially here at the center of power.
Currently, he was working in the Communication Consulate. He was impressed to see all the tools that the CCD had at its disposal for controlling the flow of information; the ocean that broke into branches and then rivers and rivulets, streams, finally to trickling capillaries that fed not just every part of the mighty empire but also the world. The flow itself was a powerful tool, allowing the government to flood a region with news and entertainment to mask an event or trend; to choke off an area for the purposes of building up resentment, purposelessness or dissent. He realized that over the years, that had been a primary method of getting other nations to join the CCD of their own free will- they thought, never realizing how they had been manipulated into it.
He now understood why there were two Consulates devoted to communication, propaganda and psy-ops. And Alexendrova and Bykov’s relationship made more sense. It was really one operation with two arms, each complementing the other, doing far more together than if they had been apart, or worse, at each other’s throats. Ascendancy must have been very careful in his selection of those two, given the influence those departments had. Malik smiled, remembering their conversation. Alexandrova had been testing him about his ideas of center nations. That was what their Consulate did, creating both the sense of superiority and idealization of the CCD itself as a center nation, as well as fed the edge nation mentality to those countries that were not, breeding insecurity and dissatisfaction. He was thoroughly impressed at how well it worked in the US. He had sensed the edge nation’s feelings in his home country- had himself felt them- and yet never suspected how much of it was being enhanced by the Consulate. More than ever, he was glad to be out of that place and here where things mattered, where things were being done that he understood and whole-heartedly believed in.
He gave his tie one last tug with the tread of air. He always used a double-windsor so his tie would be a perfect triangle. He hated the single, with its lopsided knot. It looked so sloppy. Then, for good measure, dimpled the center of the tie into 2 wrinkles just below the knot. Perfect. Tonight had to be perfect. Not just because of Ascendancy, though. No. Things had changed in the last few days as word from the troubles down in DV came back. Not the fighting itself. That was just another example of the chaos that grew out of a poorly run government, especially when irrational sensibilities governed the mentality. If ever a region needed more informational control that was it. You’d not get the older generation of course. They were too far gone. But the younger…There was an interesting thought there, one that he’d need to think about further. Maybe even talk to others in the Consulate.
No, what concerned him were the tales of magic during the battles. He’d listened quietly, piecing together facts. There were precious few, many of them seeming fantastical. One man facing down an entire army and laying waste to it? Or was it a building? The stories changed. But behind it all, Malik knew the truth. Other Force users were out there and had discovered their power. Were perhaps more powerful than him. He’d have to take of that part himself. He didn’t know if there was a limit to his strength, but he’d already noticed that his weaves had gotten brighter and thicker in just the last few weeks. It was logical. He’d been using the Force almost exclusively for every day simple things, things he normally did by hand. Just as he had been repeatedly working out with weights and training a few days a week. He’d noted improvement there as well. Floating the jacket to him on a thread of air- he had to let the other thread go first, a limitation that was increasingly irritating to him- he put it on. He could only do one thing at a time. That could prove very dangerous, especially with other Force users around. From the stories he’d heard, he could only assume they were using many weaves at once. Of course, it could just be exaggeration, but he thought not. It didn’t make sense that you couldn’t use more than one weave at a time. The Force elements were always there in infinite supply. So it had to do with the mind, then.
The idea of stronger Force users bothered Malik greatly. Now, more than ever, it was imperative that he keep himself hidden. And that he identify other threats, aside from Pyotr. He’d started with the man, but it was slow going. His need to be embarrassed was a hugely irritating obstacle to overcome. In frustrated desperation after Pytor failed yet again to find the Force, Malik had told him to take his clothes off all the way to his underwear and then stand on the balcony. That had done it. Finally. He was then able to show Pyotr the 5 elements of the Force and how they could each be used by themselves. He wasn’t going to show him more complex weaves yet. And even then, only a small number of them. It was slow going, but Pyotr finally got a small puff of air from a single thread. Marcus could see the thread clearly, just as he could back when he was teaching Andre. That was the danger. Threads and weaves were visible. When Pyotr held the Force, there was a definite sense of menace in the room. Since Marcus knew where it was from, he automatically fixated on Pyotr. But if he went into another room, the sense faded. So it had a range. But if he was in sight, Malik could see Pyotr’s weaves clearly, even when not holding the source. At least at this distance, he could. A snakey conduit of air was not going to cut it. He had to hide the things he did.
Until he learned to do that, though, he’d be very circumspect. He practiced his Ether flash-bang again and again, seizing the Force, throwing out the weave, and letting the Force go. Again and again, he practiced, getting faster and faster, until finally, he could do it in a single second. He hoped it would be enough. He was going to need to use it tonight. The Hall where they had the dinner would be filled with powerful people from all over the empire. If ever there was a place for other Force users to be, that would be it. He would have to be very careful, though. This was a dangerous risk he was going to be taking.
Malik took a deep breath and calmed himself. He was a Sith Lord. He’d be careful. But the way of the Sith was always going to be dangerous one. Especially here at the center of power.