11-29-2017, 02:48 PM
The rest of the week had been filled with meetings- always more meetings. The consulate was still new enough and he was still relatively unknown- other than his name and position- to most people, that so much hands on was required. What he expected, his leadership style, tolerance of initiative, all were things that they did not know. In truth, he himself would very likely change over the next year as he got to know his team, their strengths and weaknesses, initiative and complacency. He would weed out the bad, shore up the good, and create a team that truly anticipated his will, a fluid and living thing, with him at the head.
It was what Ascendancy had done- all great leaders did it- those who truly intended on being effective. Fear had its uses. Of all people he knew that. But fear only motivated as long as the threat of discovery was imminent. Obedience and devotion due to a shared ideal- that was the sort of loyalty that functioned at peak efficiency.
The fact that the vision he presented to them might not be completely honest was completely beside the point.
In any event, the evening had wound down enough that he was finally able to break away early. He felt energy stirring inside him- excitement. The beginning of the week still sat foremost in his mind. Dr. Zayed and the promise of her work. It had felt thrilling to expose a bit of himself to her. Not even Ascendancy had seen- or shown any interest- in his work. Synergy being what it was, he was very optimistic about what they might discover. While he played the dilettante, he had no intention of not being part of what she worked on. Knowledge was power. Which was true enough about Jensen. Sanjay would begin to lay the ground work there.
And there were others in the registry that excited him. Some of whom he was surprised had exposed themselves and their particular abilities so fearlessly. Yes, excitement coursed through him.
But it was time to let himself go. Malik could smell the energy in the air. It was intoxicating. A shark smelling blood. Marcus could imagine this was what a virgin bride might feel on her wedding night, after months or even years of anticipation.
After some research, he'd opted for a rather simplistic form of disguise. Computer Vision Dazzle specifically broke up facial features using make up and hair (usually as a wig or extensions), obscuring the symmetries and facial markers that Facial Recognition algorithms depended on. For actual live humans, he also had a bit more help. Context mattered, for one. No one would expect the Consul Marcus DuBois to be out and about where he was heading. Then too, other than to those in the right position, his face was still not very well known.
He felt more than a little foolish, applying the silver makeup to one of his cheeks. The wig containing the the white streaked with purple fit snugly on his scalp, the one extension dropping down just off-center of his face, cutting across one eye and partially obscuring his nose bridge. The rest of his clothes where also of asymmetrical cuts and angles, colors and material, complete with black jeans and combat boots that went all the way up the calf. He was thankful there was still a bit of chill in the air as the thermal layering undergarments were also necessary to obscure any thermal imaging readers. It had taken some shopping in some of the more eclectic shops to put everything together.
And he'd rented a rather cheap hotel room- the kinda that was still cash oriented and pay by the hour- briefly using his Force disguise. Much easier to leave a place like that garbed as he was without eliciting notice than his Kremlin apartments.
Perhaps it seemed like overkill. But as the saying went, care and long life went together. After this, he was going to have to really focus on his Tau Algebra. A way to adjust his weaves so that no one could see them now seemed more important than ever. And not just for his hunts. That complex conjugate....that was the key. He just needed his own Mobius function to convert his knot equations Dowker notation using Jones' polynomials to clean complex numbers.
But not today. Not now anyway.
Checking himself out one more time, Malik smiled. Not so outlandish as to completely standout here in the largest city in the world, filled with people from every country and part of every culture and tradition and ethnic group and social affiliation. But it was enough. More than enough. The hair across the eyes would take some getting used to, but that was ok.
His heart now beat quickly, in anticipation of the hunt. The streets were quiet as he exited his room. The smell of trash and wet streets filled the air. Spring in the slums. Not his final destination. Merely the starting point. Where Fate took him was anybody's guess. He walked quickly to the nearest subway station and made his way down into the bowels, feeling the chill slip away as exhaust and internal heat fought the elements. A few homeless people skittered here and there but he ignored them. They were never his prey. Not deserving enough, not by a long shot.
No, he wanted something special. Probably he would never find someone like the man they called the Butcher. That had been sweet and for a moment a reverie came over him, the smells and sounds filling his senses as the man begged for what he had denied so many others.
No, nothing so sweet, he thought sadly. Still, prey was prey. And who knew what the night held. For a while he sat on the train, filled with the Force so his senses extended out into his surroundings, quietly observing the passengers. Any number of prospects presented themselves. An old woman sat quietly, sickly sweet perfume or body spray emanating from her like a cloud. It wasn't the smell that peaked his attention. Well, not just that. Beneath the cloying smell was the odor of soiled garments. That could have just been an accident, of course. Her clothes were threadbare and worn. What caught his attention, though, was the bruising on her face, caked on makeup attempting to hide it. Old people were prone to accident, it was true. But perhaps there was more. Perhaps an abusive caretaker.
She left and he watched as others got on or got off. A mother with her child. A man and his girlfriend. He kept waiting for that thing, that something that would jump out at him, call to him. The lure to bring the Angel of Justice out and into their lives.
Nothing. Gradually, as the night wound down, Malik began to seethe with frustration. Nothing called to him. He was finally free, in the open, out on the hunt, and yet it was all so banal. The frustration began to morph into rage, the caged animal free and demanding satisfaction.
He needed someone now. The thought of settling sickened him, but the need could not be denied. There. Three men his age, sitting and joking, occasionally bumping other passengers. In his mind, he saw maliciousness. Jocks. Punks. He imagined slights. The bullying they perpetrated. The arrogance and entitlement. The date rapes they laughed about as notches on their belts. Their entire lives stood before him, imagined and whole, and he had decided.
Almost. He would follow them at least. Let the hunger build.
He stepped off the train when they did, though keeping a distance. He'd been in the back and the shadows on the train, ignored for the most part. They shouldn't notice.
At one point, they turned into some restaurant with bar attached to it. His mouth turned down. It was not a dive. Not a place for fights and form boorish behavior. Still, he would follow. He dropped the Force. He didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. As he knew from the registries, there were too many Ascendents about.
At the bar, he sat, back to them but watching through the mirror. The various tables vied for his attention and he sampled their conversations one at a time, each one a different flavor on the tongue.
One did catch his attention. Carefully his shifted his gaze. An elegant manicured man sat with an attractive woman. The man dripped with arrogance as he claimed some now meaningless title. Interesting. The whole system of lordships and hereditary positions had been abolished decades ago. Did he think to impress her? Might as well claim to be the Raj of India. But in a moment, the condescension dried up, as if he knew how he sounded.
Thoughts of the young men vanished as Malik watched., fascinated. There was an artifice to this man. He recognized it. It was his own, after all. They continued their interaction until the man clumsily dropped his drink and commotion ensued. Malik's eyes narrowed. The man's body was between the woman and her drink. And Malik saw the delivery, so practiced and quick.
A slow smile spread across his lips. He ordered a drink to sip- rum. He had his target. He wanted to be fresh. And to take his time watching his prey.
It was what Ascendancy had done- all great leaders did it- those who truly intended on being effective. Fear had its uses. Of all people he knew that. But fear only motivated as long as the threat of discovery was imminent. Obedience and devotion due to a shared ideal- that was the sort of loyalty that functioned at peak efficiency.
The fact that the vision he presented to them might not be completely honest was completely beside the point.
In any event, the evening had wound down enough that he was finally able to break away early. He felt energy stirring inside him- excitement. The beginning of the week still sat foremost in his mind. Dr. Zayed and the promise of her work. It had felt thrilling to expose a bit of himself to her. Not even Ascendancy had seen- or shown any interest- in his work. Synergy being what it was, he was very optimistic about what they might discover. While he played the dilettante, he had no intention of not being part of what she worked on. Knowledge was power. Which was true enough about Jensen. Sanjay would begin to lay the ground work there.
And there were others in the registry that excited him. Some of whom he was surprised had exposed themselves and their particular abilities so fearlessly. Yes, excitement coursed through him.
But it was time to let himself go. Malik could smell the energy in the air. It was intoxicating. A shark smelling blood. Marcus could imagine this was what a virgin bride might feel on her wedding night, after months or even years of anticipation.
After some research, he'd opted for a rather simplistic form of disguise. Computer Vision Dazzle specifically broke up facial features using make up and hair (usually as a wig or extensions), obscuring the symmetries and facial markers that Facial Recognition algorithms depended on. For actual live humans, he also had a bit more help. Context mattered, for one. No one would expect the Consul Marcus DuBois to be out and about where he was heading. Then too, other than to those in the right position, his face was still not very well known.
He felt more than a little foolish, applying the silver makeup to one of his cheeks. The wig containing the the white streaked with purple fit snugly on his scalp, the one extension dropping down just off-center of his face, cutting across one eye and partially obscuring his nose bridge. The rest of his clothes where also of asymmetrical cuts and angles, colors and material, complete with black jeans and combat boots that went all the way up the calf. He was thankful there was still a bit of chill in the air as the thermal layering undergarments were also necessary to obscure any thermal imaging readers. It had taken some shopping in some of the more eclectic shops to put everything together.
And he'd rented a rather cheap hotel room- the kinda that was still cash oriented and pay by the hour- briefly using his Force disguise. Much easier to leave a place like that garbed as he was without eliciting notice than his Kremlin apartments.
Perhaps it seemed like overkill. But as the saying went, care and long life went together. After this, he was going to have to really focus on his Tau Algebra. A way to adjust his weaves so that no one could see them now seemed more important than ever. And not just for his hunts. That complex conjugate....that was the key. He just needed his own Mobius function to convert his knot equations Dowker notation using Jones' polynomials to clean complex numbers.
But not today. Not now anyway.
Checking himself out one more time, Malik smiled. Not so outlandish as to completely standout here in the largest city in the world, filled with people from every country and part of every culture and tradition and ethnic group and social affiliation. But it was enough. More than enough. The hair across the eyes would take some getting used to, but that was ok.
His heart now beat quickly, in anticipation of the hunt. The streets were quiet as he exited his room. The smell of trash and wet streets filled the air. Spring in the slums. Not his final destination. Merely the starting point. Where Fate took him was anybody's guess. He walked quickly to the nearest subway station and made his way down into the bowels, feeling the chill slip away as exhaust and internal heat fought the elements. A few homeless people skittered here and there but he ignored them. They were never his prey. Not deserving enough, not by a long shot.
No, he wanted something special. Probably he would never find someone like the man they called the Butcher. That had been sweet and for a moment a reverie came over him, the smells and sounds filling his senses as the man begged for what he had denied so many others.
No, nothing so sweet, he thought sadly. Still, prey was prey. And who knew what the night held. For a while he sat on the train, filled with the Force so his senses extended out into his surroundings, quietly observing the passengers. Any number of prospects presented themselves. An old woman sat quietly, sickly sweet perfume or body spray emanating from her like a cloud. It wasn't the smell that peaked his attention. Well, not just that. Beneath the cloying smell was the odor of soiled garments. That could have just been an accident, of course. Her clothes were threadbare and worn. What caught his attention, though, was the bruising on her face, caked on makeup attempting to hide it. Old people were prone to accident, it was true. But perhaps there was more. Perhaps an abusive caretaker.
She left and he watched as others got on or got off. A mother with her child. A man and his girlfriend. He kept waiting for that thing, that something that would jump out at him, call to him. The lure to bring the Angel of Justice out and into their lives.
Nothing. Gradually, as the night wound down, Malik began to seethe with frustration. Nothing called to him. He was finally free, in the open, out on the hunt, and yet it was all so banal. The frustration began to morph into rage, the caged animal free and demanding satisfaction.
He needed someone now. The thought of settling sickened him, but the need could not be denied. There. Three men his age, sitting and joking, occasionally bumping other passengers. In his mind, he saw maliciousness. Jocks. Punks. He imagined slights. The bullying they perpetrated. The arrogance and entitlement. The date rapes they laughed about as notches on their belts. Their entire lives stood before him, imagined and whole, and he had decided.
Almost. He would follow them at least. Let the hunger build.
He stepped off the train when they did, though keeping a distance. He'd been in the back and the shadows on the train, ignored for the most part. They shouldn't notice.
At one point, they turned into some restaurant with bar attached to it. His mouth turned down. It was not a dive. Not a place for fights and form boorish behavior. Still, he would follow. He dropped the Force. He didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. As he knew from the registries, there were too many Ascendents about.
At the bar, he sat, back to them but watching through the mirror. The various tables vied for his attention and he sampled their conversations one at a time, each one a different flavor on the tongue.
One did catch his attention. Carefully his shifted his gaze. An elegant manicured man sat with an attractive woman. The man dripped with arrogance as he claimed some now meaningless title. Interesting. The whole system of lordships and hereditary positions had been abolished decades ago. Did he think to impress her? Might as well claim to be the Raj of India. But in a moment, the condescension dried up, as if he knew how he sounded.
Thoughts of the young men vanished as Malik watched., fascinated. There was an artifice to this man. He recognized it. It was his own, after all. They continued their interaction until the man clumsily dropped his drink and commotion ensued. Malik's eyes narrowed. The man's body was between the woman and her drink. And Malik saw the delivery, so practiced and quick.
A slow smile spread across his lips. He ordered a drink to sip- rum. He had his target. He wanted to be fresh. And to take his time watching his prey.