Seeking Rogues for Secret Reasons (Steampunk)

Subject: Seeking Rogues for Secret Reasons (Steampunk) Mon Aug 27, 2012 1:17 pm

It was Thursday night again, much like plenty before. The paper was well-worn, kept in her purse and read time and again. In her deepest heart, she never imagined or desired to return to this place...not that she had seen it from the outside. The directions were clear; this had to have been the exterior of where that dining room was. She shivered, and not from cold, as all her morals shrieked in her head. This man was mad...he wanted to turn back time in an impossible dream, by any means necessary. Here she was, looking to take lessons from a madman. What was she thinking?

She closed her eyes, a simple silver ring popping into her mind. Zack...the man with metal under his skin. The man who trusted her with a deep, dark secret and burdened her with a purpose she was not yet ready to fulfill. Her metallurgy had only been performed on a small scale...she needed practice, and safety to continue practice without interruption. Saving the city from L.A.W. rested on her shoulders...not in its entirety, but enough to make her worried and fatigued. Enough to know that she was counted on to break their armor, to open the gates for others to end them. Even, potentially, Zack himself. She wiped a single tear out of her eye at the thought...the thought of killing a man who actually understood her, one she held dearer than most anyone else she met.

There was one other who understood her...yet in a completely different respect. A descendant of a family friend...the very same madman behind those doors. Likely the sole person in the world who knew who she really was...someone who called her by her birthname, one unheard in over a century. Perhaps she was going mad, too...but what if she could save the city twice in her actions? Free Mr. Grennan of his delusion whilst gaining the skills to assist in stopping L.A.W.? What would her other acquaintances think...? Would they forgive her temporary assistance to him? Her seeming foray into delusion and evil deeds? Would they understand...? Did that matter now? She needed help...and this was the only place she felt like she could turn. Her heart pounded in her chest, hand trembling as it raised to knock on the door.

Lord, forgive me...

"So... she came back" Steampunk muttered, watching the security camera.

Steampunk left his study, walked down his metal spiral staircase, and up to the front door.

Before she could even knock, Steampunk had opened the door.

"Welcome."

Victoria visibly jumped, recoiling a few inches at the sudden opening of the door. She hadn't even knocked...was he expecting her? A glance around set her straight...she had at least been around this age long enough to recognize a security camera. Even if it was decked out in a manner similar to the masked man in front of her.

"Th-thank you," she answered, dropping curtsy. "I have come to negotiate the terms of my employ with your organization." There was hesitant resolve in her gaze as she looked at him again. She lacked the fervor that a normal applicant would have, replaced with the resigned necessity of aid. She gave a hurried glanced past him, not particularly liking the mask portion of it but recognizing that she would likely wind up in one herself.

"May I speak with you inside...?" She asked, looking around. "I find these surroundings disturbing; it was a trial enough for me to walk here as a lone lady."

"Of course... how foolish of me to ask a lady to walk the streets alone. But you must understand the secrecy of these things."

He led her inside, up the stairs, past his study, and into the dining room she had been in upon her initial arrival.

Taking the same seat he had been in when they first spoke in that room, he adressed her.

:Now what do you need to ask?"

Victoria followed him up the stairs, taking a passing glance in the study before pausing momentarily at the threshold to the dining room. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of memories, but she steeled her nerves and took a seat in the very same chair as before, hands clasped to hide her nervousness at being there again.

"I have little to ask," she answered him quietly. "As I mentioned prior, I consider this more a negotiation. I am willing to offer you my abilities and assist you in return for a few considerations on your end. My primary needs are my security and opportunity to develop and hone my skills. Simply fashioning jewelry is no longer satisfactory. Both of these seem intrinsic in assisting you, as your company and your resources will amply provide me with those needs."

She took a long breath, resting her clasped hands on the table rather than on her lap as she continued. "The negotiation will likely be concerning the following. First, I am not here under duress. Should I decide to leave your Society, I must be allowed to do so under agreement that I shall keep your secrets safe. Second, and this may be more difficult...I am hesitant about engaging in combat. I know little to nothing of others' secret lives, and I would hate to inadvertently harm a friend. In addition, I am afraid I am quite incompetent in that area of expertise."

After a moment of letting that sink in, she spoke one final time. "If these are satisfactory conditions, then there is nothing to discuss. Otherwise, you may speak your amendments to the bargain."

"That is understandable... however, I do request that if the chips are stacked against us... I will ask you to engage in a fight. But if all goes according to plan, this will not be necessary."

He held out his metal plated hand.

"Are we in agreement?"

Victoria nodded, a grin gracing her for the first time in his presence. "If that is what you desire, then I do hope you shall do me the service of instruction in more than the most basic of fencing." He held out his hand, covered in metal as it was, asking for her word. With slight hesitation, more for the odd sensations she'd feel from his metal than anything else, she daintily took his hand.

"I am sure we shall work most pleasantly together, Mr. Grennan. Where shall we begin?"

"First is getting you acclimated to the living conditions"

He handed her a magazine.

"In here, you will find authentic articles of clothing from your time period. Choose anything you want. My company will cover all expenses."

He grabbed a rope and pulled it.

"Speaking of which, when my grandfather passed... he left me everything. Including his young butler, whom is now an elderly man. Oh Spencer!"

A man in his twilight years walked in carrying a tray.

"Yes Sir."

"This is Ms. Ashmore. She will be staying with us. Follow her directions like you would follow mine."

"Very good sir."

Living conditions...? Victoria found herself faced with a magazine and a butler before she could as much as gather a thought together. She hadn't considered that possibility...what did this mean for her apartment? Was she expected to move in? How would she explain it to her landlord? She gave a quick curtsy to Spencer on complete autopilot before taking up the magazine.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Spencer," she said, clearly a little overwhelmed at how quickly things were progressing. Had he been planning on her return? So many questions, and for the moment absolutely no answers. "I suppose, if I am assuming properly about his statement on living conditions, I may be required to move. Is that correct...?"

"Correct.Do not worry about your previous living conditions. My men will take care of moving your personal items from your apartment, and work the conditions of the premature end of your lease."

He had been planning this. He had done his research... and done it well.

"You know where I live...?!" Victoria asked, somewhat indignant about his apparent stalking. They were going to move all her things, terminate her lease for her...this clearly seemed more staged than she ever would have guessed. There was a small part of her that wanted to scold him for such rash and inappropriate actions, but that hardly seemed proper for the first day. In addition, she wanted to collaborate with him, not be hostile from the start.

"That is quite a relief...I never would have been able to do all that heavy lifting on my own," she answered, pulling the magazine out from under her arm. "I suppose I shall take some time to peruse my wardrobe options, Mr. Grennan. May I be directed to my future abode...?" She stomped on those vague feelings of unease and regret of her decision. She could not have those now, not with his blocking of any easy exit. She would have no apartment now; all her things were to be moved there. It seemed he wanted to replace a portion of her wardrobe with something that fit the motif.

I feel...I can almost compare myself to a doll, she thought to herself, looking through the first two pages. Dressed, posed, and with my house arranged according to another's whims...just what have I gotten myself into...?

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