(( I am NPCing the character of Merrick here just for continuity from Ishmael's sl in Rome. This should give some more background and outline him leaving Rome and heading for New Orleans. ))
ISHMAEL :
Once upon a time, on the North side of the city of Rome some 30 miles from the mass of the city there lived a small girl on a large estate. The estate was very large indeed and had many servants. There were gardeners to take care of the gardens and a tree surgeon on retainer. There was a boatman to put the boats in the water in the spring and scrape their bottoms in the winter. There were specialists to take care of the grounds, the outdoor tennis court and the indoor tennis court, the outdoor swimming pool and the indoor swimming pool. And a man of no particular title took care of a small pool in the garden for a goldfish named George. Also on the estate there was a chauffeur by the name of Raul, who had been imported years ago, together with a new Rolls Royce. Like the eight cars in his care he was a fine specimen. As were all those who were employed by Mr. Goldman. That small girl was perhaps the brightest spot in the enclosure that was the Goldman estate. She was a bright pink halo of activity living in a place that should have been heaven on Earth. But despite the trappings of luxury the manse was no heavenly place. Instead it was a place that hung heavy with despair and longing. That energy was palpable in its intensity. A thing the staff had often commented on when they would take their nights off to go in town to a local watering hold, get drunk, and discuss their rather strange employer. Ishmael surrounded himself by two things, those that reminded him of Rashel, and those that intrigued his power. Nearly all the employees of his business, both personal and commercial, had some modicum of psychic ability. He was a collector of the gifted. To what aim had yet to be seen, but having them close seemed to feed his own gifts in a way he couldn't explain. In his dear sisters absence he had built their empire into something even she had not yet dreamed of. With those gifted people at his command the reach of the company and of their name was even greater than before. Not a day went by that he didn't stop and think about her. In fact with each acquisition and each hostile take over he thought of her and how he might one day bring her back to him. Of course, that would only be possible with some extreme measures, but Ishmael was a man with extreme tastes who never shied away from the more indecent side of life. On the particular day in question, the day when his life would shift somewhat (though he did not know it yet), he was in the office as usual. On his mind were the thousand little bits of business he had to attend to in addition to which was the worry over the ward Linore who had recently come under his care, and of course in the background there was always that faint white noise effect that came from the buzzing hive of minds which he either controlled or monitored on a daily basis.
MERRICK:
Merrick Mayfair's work didn't have a distinct beginning and end. There was no 8 am sign-in, no 5 pm clocking out. No weekends assumed to be off, or holidays that of course she'd be away from the office on her own business for. She had always thought of her particular job as less of an occupation, and more of a lifestyle. Perhaps it was sad to some, but most everything she did was effected in one way or another by her position. First Assistant to Ishmael Goldman, CEO. It was a prestigious title (to those that knew the first thing about those sort of positions), and one that she'd worked hard to achieve. It hadn't been an act or a mask that had gotten her to this position, either. The work that she'd put forth as she'd climbed the ladder was all genuine and motivated. That attitude had helped her to adjust to the constant requirements of this job better than any training might have. There were no trips out of her apartment without all clothing and makeup perfect (even at the gym she coordinated). There was no turning off the phone for a few hours of uninterrupted Her Time, even when she slept. There was no complaining about any task put before her. If it was brought to her then it needed to happen, and she was the instrument that could bring it into being. It was that simple. And how she looked and acted reflected upon the company and upon Ishmael. Her boss may have been her friend -- her closest friend, really, if she was being honest -- but that didn't make her lax in the requirements she held for herself. If anything, caring about him made her more diligent in her tracking of what she did and didn't do. She wanted him to be his best. And for Ishmael to be his best, Merrick needed to be her best. Behind every good CEO was an amazing PA, right? Right. As she was now, headed back up the elevator, two cups of coffee in hand. There was a second assistant, sure, but some things Merrick liked to do herself during the non-crunch hours of the day. It let her get out and move around a bit, and that way she didn't have to worry about someone else messing up her or Ish's order. Perfectly straight red hair hid the small black bluetooth that was tucked against one ear, reception crystal clear even in the elevator, bright green eyes alert as she spoke to someone invisible to the camera's eyes. "Absolutely not. It's non-negotiable." Few things rarely were, but saying that always seemed to make better offers come out as enticements. Stepping off the elevator, neat black heels made their way to Ishmael's office, barely noticing how most everyone else was already gone for the day. She paused outside his doors, listening to the person on the other end, a smile that was unheard in her tone spreading across her lips. They'd bent. "Right. Have your people fax that over, and we'll see what can be done. "Ciao." A touch to the earpiece to end the conversation, and then she was knocking on the door and entering, holding up the cups in greeting. "Almost had to beat an old lady with my purse for trying to cut in front of me, but I got them." She grinned, an honest, nice expression that not many outside of Ish saw anymore. Success!
ISH:
Though Rashel had been the one with the big plans and dreams for them, the one who in the end had orchestrated everything to those ends, it was not Rashel who had the capacity for doing the kind of work that was needed to keep this over large vessel afloat. She was far too great a fan of her own diversions, more a schemer than a worker, and never overly good at doing her own dirty work if she could help it. Perhaps that was why she had seen in him the natural capacity for those things which differed from herself. Seen it and put him in a position to make the most of it at every turn. Her chaotic spirit and mind for manipulation, and his good sense and work ethic had made for a powerful team. Even still in her absence he was well known to go to work at six in the morning and finally lean back in his chair with a sigh around eleven at night when the Japanese markets had closed and announce that they should just go ahead and 'take a half day'. Luckily in the storm of chaos that had surrounded him he had been able to find a partner for whom a twenty four hour work day was nothing to scoff at or complain about around the water cooler. Merrick seemed as endeared to work as he did. The fact that she also shared his fascination for the paranormal was, and had always been, a plus on the woman's resume. It meant that when work was set aside there was more work to be done in his own secret realm of interest, and she was often just as helpful there with cataloguing, training, and tracking others with special abilities like their own. Though there was really no one in the world who was quite like them. When the door to his office opened and she strolled in, coffee in hand, it was almost a relief. Coffee was a necessity to him especially in the early morning hours where he was forced to be on the phone to American business contacts who were about to knock off for the end of their day. Americans while enterprising and cut throat could be rather difficult when you were keeping them from Happy Hour. "If I were her I wouldn't be worried about your purse." There was certainly more that Merrick could do that would make a far more lasting impression on someone than the mere beating over the head a purse could give. His slate gray eyes watched her as she moved towards his desk and handed over the needed caffeine. Their fingers brushed when he took the cup from her, but there was no spark or hint of oh my god he touched me coming from her mind. It was a relief. For him there was only one woman, would only ever be one woman no matter how disturbed she might be, and the fact that with Merrick there was no uncomfortable sexual tension made her companionship all the more ideal. "Please, sit." There were several stages at Goldman Enterprises, under an umbrella name that held their interests separate in some areas. Small franchises and lucrative investments that were tucked so far beneath dummy corporations that tracking them back to him would be nearly impossible, and most of that had to do with weapons research, paranormal applications, and darker colored resale. Many a scientist had put his children through collage on the money funded by Ishmael Goldman, though none of them would truly know where that money came from. He liked to picture the world as a giant machine where only he could see it's entirety. In the states some men made wheels, in Austria they made cogs, in Japan they produced grease, and in the end each enterprise fed the giant machine he had created. The left hand never knowing what the right hand was doing, and in the end none of them cared as long as they continued making money. Proof was in the pudding as they said, and his annual sales reports proved that he knew how to keep the hungry machine in working order. And if along the way they sold weapons to Iraq while still maintaining military contracts with the United States, well, that was just good business. Certainly the Americans would understand that capitolism was a dream they had used to inspire the world. Leaning back into his seat he pulled off the plastic lid of the coffee cup and brought it closer to his mouth to blow on the molten hot liquid inside. "Let's take a side bar for a moment." Taking that first sip of coffee he could feel the warmth as it slipped down his asophagus and hit his stomach. Licking his lips to catch the bitter flavor before he continued. "Several things I'd like to address." Ishmael pressed a button on the underside of his desk and the door to the office closed them in, away from prying ears and the staff in the outer office. When the door closed there was a slight echo throughout the darkly furnished and ornate office. Then with a peeling away of his own power he used his mind to shield not only himself as usual, but expanded the boundary of that shielding to include her. A precaution since he did seem to hire more than his fair share of paranormals. "I met a man named Six....I know, it's very strange....he has traces of a very unusual ability. More I think that he isn't even aware of. He should be calling soon about a job." Ishmael had no doubt whatsoever that Six would be calling, the mans luck at finding work in the district he'd been hunting through would be slim at best. And just as a safeguard Ishmael had placed a few calls letting people under his thumb know that to hire him would be a very bad thing indeed for their own job security. Hedging his bets to make sure that the new power would be coming online. "If he calls I don't want getting an appointment to seem too simple, but don't keep him waiting either. You know how to work it." When it came to working a phone Merrick was genius. Her ability to string along a client without him knowing what she was doing was unrivaled. "Also, a young woman from the university named Polly should be calling. Her you can put right through. She won't be verified or impressed by having to wait." The difference being that Six would be calling looking for a job and therefore his apparent availability or lack there of would speak more highly of the kind of position he could offer. Whereas Polly seemed quite likely to take an immediate appointment or freak herself out to such an extent that she hid from ever having to speak to him again. That was not what he desired. But he knew that Merrick would handle both situations with the utmost care. Changing topics rather quickly he knew that she was keeping up. "How is Linore? She....hasn't come to see me at dinner for some time." It seemed these days that Merrick had more of a connection to his little sister than he did. "Tell me, do you think....she would be better off having more family around her? Someone who can see to her better, or more personally at least."
MERRICK:
She had spent years with Ishmael and fancied that for a man with a great depth of secrets she was a lucky party of one who had access to most of them. Though not all. In her secret (or not so secret) inner mind she had to admit that the mystery of his mysterious younger sister Linore and his departed sister Rashel grew daily into something that she was dying to know more about, but she never pried. Merrick knew her employer well and knew that he would only unveil the little gifts of his personal affairs with time. Their conversation went in the same vein as usual for awhile and she made mental notes as well as some jottings on a pad to remember the names and appointments that he mentioned. When the conversation veered to more personal things she glanced across the large desk at the somber man across from her. His slate gray eyes made her power leap up in her throat and she could feel it running through her veins like lightning jags. "She's a teenage girl Ish. You don't have a lot of experience in that area but trust me rebellion and not liking your guardian is all par for the course." Tapping her pen against the edge of her small steno pad she bit at the edge of her lip with tentative teeth. "You'll be gone to the States on this business trip for awhile right? Why don't you let me stay with her....we can do some bonding. Maybe then I can get a better idea of where she's coming from." His trip to the States wasn't unusual. Ishmael was often winging back and forth from one edge of the earth to the other either on company business or his own personal arrangements (though usually it was a combination of both). This time however he had not given her a definitive return date and that alone had her as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Of course he would always be close at hand thanks to the technology his company had created mixed with other less scientific methods. Ishmael was never out of touch with her, not as long as his mind was ticking. "You'll see, by the time you get back she'll be settled in and everything will be perfect." If she could take Ishmael under her wing and help support the dark stoic man then surely she could handle one teenage girl for a month or so...right? Sipping at her coffee she looked over the rim of the cup at him, curious about why he was letting such a simple matter trouble him so with more important business on the table.
ISHMAEL:
"You're right of course." He had been staring through her, not at her. His pupils dilated as they fixed on microscopic empty space and saw the vision of Linore who looked so much like a mixture of himself and Rashel at that age. It was troubling and though he had his suspicions there was only one person left alive who could confirm them. Seeing Rashel before leaving Rome had crossed his mind (every second since he had planned this trip), but in the end he stayed away. He had people checking on her, those whose minds he could watch her through, but he had never risked going any closer than that. Not yet. Not until he knew that she could be tamed. Letting his eyes refocus on her face he smiled but the expression didn't reach into the stormy depths of his gray eyes. "I know that you'll attend to everything in my absence." With sleek movements that were the essence of economy of motion he pushed back from the table and rose from his chair. "I'll keep in touch and you'll have executive authority over everything here until I return." He saw Merrick stand as well and lean across his desk to hit a button that would alert the worker bees of the outside world to have all in readiness for his departure. Like a well oiled machine his household would be pulling a car around, calling ahead to make sure the private jet was awaiting him, and making sure that all his baggage was loaded. Sometimes he found comfort in the impersonal authority he held over his staff. The world functioned much more efficiently when people leapt to your beckon call. One hand held his coffee, the other tucked nonchalantly into the pocket of his gray coat as he moved with Merrick towards the doors to the office, his mind triggering the mechanism that would open them as they emerged. "As I've said, I'm not sure when I'll return. This is a project that I wish to see through to its completion. I have nothing but faith in your abilities during my absence." As they stood in the outer offices he turned towards her and gave a slight nod in lieu of goodbye. Ishmael Goldman was not a man who was loose with his affections or even with his pleasentries. That nod was all that was given and then Merrick blended away into the bustle of the office workers as he moved through the estate and towards the car that awaited him. Before climbing into the backseat he paused, leaving Raul standing there holding the door open a moment longer as Ishmael turned his head upwards to peer at the window behind which Linore's room was hidden. Somewhere inside he could feel the stillness of her sleeping mind and he wished her peace and comfort until his return. Hopefully he would return with answers and perhaps a solution to a puzzle that had been troubling him for some time. Would New Orleans hold the answers? He could only hope so. Without another glance at the manor he ducked down into the car and took his seat, phone out and conducting business before Raul could even get the wheels in motion. The world continued spinning and commerce raced on regardless of the whims of one man. He would not let a single thing escape his grasp. Not again. In exactly fourteen hours he would arrive in the Garden District of New Orleans where a small staff had already prepared a temporary home for him in the Garden District. That would be his base of operations for the weeks to come. He would scour the minds of the staff first, gripping them tightly in his control so they would be no more than puppets as they went about his directives. The house was where he would wait for word of his experiment. Somewhere out there was a creature who was about to become his guinea pig and see if there was hope of having his sister back, of returning his lover in a more pliable and amiable state. If that could be accomplished then there was nothing in the world that would stop him from attaining it. Any life was worth sacrificing, even that of the unwilling victim who even now was being made into Ishmael's personal robot.
-- Edited by ISHMAEL GOLDMAN on Tuesday 21st of June 2011 12:07:35 AM
-- Edited by ISHMAEL GOLDMAN on Tuesday 21st of June 2011 12:09:03 AM
