Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors
Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2013 6:07 pm
Weasel settled back into his armchair. "Drove them away. Past tense."
He paused for a moment. "You wanna know why I do what I do? Both for my boys and Winter's? The Dragons are why. I know a lot of the scaly fuckers just wanna live out their lives honestly, I know a bunch of 'em don't hold us in contempt. I have precisely zero beefs with these types. I'm holdin' the fuckin' line for the mortal outfit for the same reason Fatass Doherty's holdin' the line for the mortal Joes and Janes who don't give two shits about how I get my contracts or finance political parties.
I'm holdin' the fuckin' like because of outfits like the Five Hundred. Do you honestly think their head honcho's declared himself? How do you think a bunch of Chinks and Japs manage to put their differences aside like that and strong-arm Russian Rednecks into being part of a sniffing operation? That shit takes a mind that's been lookin' at us skitter about for more than just a couple decades. That kind of outfit runs on blood that's thousands of years old. Dragon blood, most likely."
Another cigar pull. "See, folks here only see the cutesy and cuddly side of Oriental dragons. Them folks who look like Falkor, from The Neverending Story, more or less. Big, fuzzy, Zen as all shit, mellow as Hell and so fuckin' nice they'd make Mister Rogers pass for Charles Manson. The truth is, there's dragons from the East with as much greed in their veins as the Wyrm.
When New York was attacked by the Dutch to try and reclaim it, they ignored Rhode Island and Hope. Why? Because these were human interests, and they were focused on trade counters and fuckin' animal pelts. If dragons had been helmin' that attack, Hope would've eaten it. They want power. They want control, and I know enough to know a frickin' Nexus is just that. Pure power, pure control. Not 'cause they've got projects or goals - not like me, the rest o' the Commission or Shield. They just want it. No fuckin' reason why - it's in their blood."
His cigar-holding hand gave a little toss. "Fast-forward to now. All the Nexuses we know are occupied. There's no way for any practitioner to grow more powerful than your average Archmage, plugged into one source at a time. What you can do, though, is send an emissary. Send someone who'll take control in your name. Shen Long's pushed back Watatsumi a buncha times, but he's one guy. One old man with a bunch of hyper-motivated pseudo-martial artists and only one decent heavy-hitter.
As far as anyone knows, the city has one tippin' point. One line o' defence, because we ain't Hong Kong. Doherty doesn't want my cash? Well, sucks to be an average taxpayer, then - we can't fuckin' afford an Exosuit division. The only thing we can afford is conscripting registered supes and supernaturals into a sorta paralegal force. Shield."
He shrugged. "That puzzle's pretty obvious ta me. Take out Arch Holden, take out Bucky Wallace? You take out the team's thinking head and its heaviest goon. Past that, killin' gruffs and selkies, Drifters and humans with shitty telekinetic powers is gonna be child's play for the Five Hundred.
That, in the meantime, brings us full circle. Why does Shield want to hire you? You just answered your own fuckin' question, missy. Archie Holden is sizin' you up, considerin' you for a formal interview. Considering his line of work and considering what you can do, do you honestly think he woulda shown up in front of your doorstep, all tie and tails and tophat?"
Another grin and chuckle. "He needed to see. I think he still needs to, honestly. You've done what; escort some fuckin' mechanical loser to a Clank shop and kick the shit out of a fuckin' bear? That's bullshit, and he knows it. He's preppin' the stage, the same way he tested me by getting my ass in front of a Grand Jury. He doesn't give two shits that you've killed supernaturals with extreme prejudice, Jameson - he's a fuckin' spy. Do you honestly think his own slate's clean?"
He shook his head in amusement again. "Check out the Hiram Tamerlaine books. They're mostly required college bullshit for serial novel studies and crap like that, but they're pretty much a fictionalized account of the guy's life. You and I don't know a third of what he pulled down South, during Secession. If you think you'll honestly shock him with your sword and your excessive force and your being a slightly flaky Aug, think again. He's killed more guys in more diverse ways than my best fixer-uppers ever fuckin' will. Whatever you've done, whatever you can still do - you're what Shield needs in a good Special Response instructor. That's why you're being poked and prodded."
He paused for a moment. "You wanna know why I do what I do? Both for my boys and Winter's? The Dragons are why. I know a lot of the scaly fuckers just wanna live out their lives honestly, I know a bunch of 'em don't hold us in contempt. I have precisely zero beefs with these types. I'm holdin' the fuckin' line for the mortal outfit for the same reason Fatass Doherty's holdin' the line for the mortal Joes and Janes who don't give two shits about how I get my contracts or finance political parties.
I'm holdin' the fuckin' like because of outfits like the Five Hundred. Do you honestly think their head honcho's declared himself? How do you think a bunch of Chinks and Japs manage to put their differences aside like that and strong-arm Russian Rednecks into being part of a sniffing operation? That shit takes a mind that's been lookin' at us skitter about for more than just a couple decades. That kind of outfit runs on blood that's thousands of years old. Dragon blood, most likely."
Another cigar pull. "See, folks here only see the cutesy and cuddly side of Oriental dragons. Them folks who look like Falkor, from The Neverending Story, more or less. Big, fuzzy, Zen as all shit, mellow as Hell and so fuckin' nice they'd make Mister Rogers pass for Charles Manson. The truth is, there's dragons from the East with as much greed in their veins as the Wyrm.
When New York was attacked by the Dutch to try and reclaim it, they ignored Rhode Island and Hope. Why? Because these were human interests, and they were focused on trade counters and fuckin' animal pelts. If dragons had been helmin' that attack, Hope would've eaten it. They want power. They want control, and I know enough to know a frickin' Nexus is just that. Pure power, pure control. Not 'cause they've got projects or goals - not like me, the rest o' the Commission or Shield. They just want it. No fuckin' reason why - it's in their blood."
His cigar-holding hand gave a little toss. "Fast-forward to now. All the Nexuses we know are occupied. There's no way for any practitioner to grow more powerful than your average Archmage, plugged into one source at a time. What you can do, though, is send an emissary. Send someone who'll take control in your name. Shen Long's pushed back Watatsumi a buncha times, but he's one guy. One old man with a bunch of hyper-motivated pseudo-martial artists and only one decent heavy-hitter.
As far as anyone knows, the city has one tippin' point. One line o' defence, because we ain't Hong Kong. Doherty doesn't want my cash? Well, sucks to be an average taxpayer, then - we can't fuckin' afford an Exosuit division. The only thing we can afford is conscripting registered supes and supernaturals into a sorta paralegal force. Shield."
He shrugged. "That puzzle's pretty obvious ta me. Take out Arch Holden, take out Bucky Wallace? You take out the team's thinking head and its heaviest goon. Past that, killin' gruffs and selkies, Drifters and humans with shitty telekinetic powers is gonna be child's play for the Five Hundred.
That, in the meantime, brings us full circle. Why does Shield want to hire you? You just answered your own fuckin' question, missy. Archie Holden is sizin' you up, considerin' you for a formal interview. Considering his line of work and considering what you can do, do you honestly think he woulda shown up in front of your doorstep, all tie and tails and tophat?"
Another grin and chuckle. "He needed to see. I think he still needs to, honestly. You've done what; escort some fuckin' mechanical loser to a Clank shop and kick the shit out of a fuckin' bear? That's bullshit, and he knows it. He's preppin' the stage, the same way he tested me by getting my ass in front of a Grand Jury. He doesn't give two shits that you've killed supernaturals with extreme prejudice, Jameson - he's a fuckin' spy. Do you honestly think his own slate's clean?"
He shook his head in amusement again. "Check out the Hiram Tamerlaine books. They're mostly required college bullshit for serial novel studies and crap like that, but they're pretty much a fictionalized account of the guy's life. You and I don't know a third of what he pulled down South, during Secession. If you think you'll honestly shock him with your sword and your excessive force and your being a slightly flaky Aug, think again. He's killed more guys in more diverse ways than my best fixer-uppers ever fuckin' will. Whatever you've done, whatever you can still do - you're what Shield needs in a good Special Response instructor. That's why you're being poked and prodded."