 l |
|
[MAIN STORY]
DATE/TIME: 9:30 PM, Saturday, August 17, 2008 [CAST]
Olympus Plaza, the fancy name for the home office of the multi-faceted corporation known as the Richards Conglomerate, in the heart of Sin City itself, Las Vegas, Nevada. It had been a good year and a half since Steve had set foot inside the place, but the towering building was every bit as awe-inspiring as he'd remembered it. They were inside the main foyer of the building, which was set up as a huge, broad atrium that arced up far, far above Steve's head- a good ten floors or so, and that was before it disappeared into a metallic ceiling that separated the atrium from even more floors far above the area. The entire atrium was covered in glossy black tiles that must have cost an absolute fortune, and seemed to be focused around putting all the essential areas like desks and other rooms on the far end of the wide open space. Various chairs, tables and couches were set up throughout the atrium area- as were a few internet kiosks, vending machines, and even the raised bar area of a cafe close to the center of the room, serving various office workers who, despite the late hour, were obviously taking a break from a hard shift of work. They'd even somehow managed to set up an indoor replica of a river, gouging out a trail through the center of the atrium and splitting the tiled area in two. Carp and various other fish dwelled within the rocky water feature, which was fed from a large waterfall that cascaded down potentially hundreds of feet from some unseen water source far above. Five glass elevator tubes were installed against one wall of the atrium, stopping at various balconies before disappearing up into the ceiling and into the higher levels of the building. It was near these elevator tubes that Steve Jason and the man known as Temujin stood, their path being blocked by three men in navy blue fatigues and black berets surmounted with the blue half-circles and triangle of Conglomerate Security. Security was... tight in Olympus Plaza to say the least, and the three men checked every last person who wanted to take an elevator to the higher levels. There were even metal detectors set up in front of each tube. Steve had dressed up relatively decently for this meeting with Nestor Richards, a black suit jacket and pants covering his form with a white undershirt. Temujin, on the other hand, wore the silky blue Eastern robes he usually wore. "Alright, it looks like this ID checks out..." one of the men in berets replied, handing a digital card back over to Temujin, "Go straight ahead through the detectors, Gamma Six, and you too, Mr. Jason. Mr. Richards' office is easy enough- top floor. You'll have to go through some measures to get up there, but no worse than this." With that said, both men nodded in unison and stepped through the gap made by the security guards, making their way towards the clear glass tube in front of them. Mounted in front of them was an elevator car nestled in the tube, the various cables and winches lifting the elevator clearly visible above the platform. Most of the car's walls were glass, but there was a metal infrastructure with the usual panels, and as Steve and Temujin stepped in, a pleasant female voice piped in from speakers on the panels. "Hello, and welcome to Olympus Plaza, home office of the Richards Conglomerate. Your genial host, Nestor Richards, the Chairman of the Conglomerate, welcomes you. Please select a floor. Be advised that floors 42-48 require security clearance for access. Do not access these floors unless you have been advised to do so. Thank you." Sure enough, Temujin's finger pressed the '48' button, and the elevator began lurching upwards, accelerating upwards and giving them a good view downwards into the atrium. It was likely to be a little while before they got to the top, so Steve decided to make a little small conversation with his former co-student in the meantime, turning to regard him. "Gamma Six?" "Codename." Temujin shrugged, "You shouldn't be too surprised to hear that. You've gone by a fair share of your own." Wasn't that the truth- and Steve was hearing them all too much recently. First Temujin had called him 'Avenger' again back in Philadelphia, and then the even bigger shocker, Yui Hanahara had called him 'Shuriken' back in what was now infamously known as the Hard Knox incident. Both of those names Steve had assumed he'd left behind him, but fate had once again proven him wrong. Both names had tied back to Steve's role with this very organization, and to put it quite simply, he was more than a little nervous about the possibility of Nestor insisting he take those names- and the roles that came with them- up again. He was determined not to allow that to happen. That period was over now, and nobody could make him return to it. They were quiet for a good several minutes as the elevator disappeared up past the atrium's ceiling, replacing the view around them with office floor after office floor zipping past. Eventually, it began to decelerate, indicating it was getting very, very close to the top of Olympus Plaza. The feeling of pressure building up in Steve's ears overtook him, and the floor seemed to almost lurch upwards for a few moments, then finally the elevator car came to a complete halt, settling down in a more standard elevator shaft, brick and metal with the classical vault doors connecting with the elevator's doors. Neither set of doors, however, opened. "What's going on?" Steve asked, looking at the doors which remained closed. It didn't seem like any power had gone out to the lift, so it wasn't as if they were trapped in the car, it just seemed like the doors simply were not opening. Temujin chuckled then, with the look of a man who clearly knew more about what was going on than Steve did. "You've been away from the Plaza for a very long time, evidently. Conglomerate Security decided that Mr. Richards could have used a little more protection, just in case one of his enemies did in fact manage to get inside the plaza. We now have to wait for Nestor himself to check us and give us clearance before the doors will open." "We've already been padded down and buzzed through three different metal detectors..." Steve observed wryly. He didn't get any further, however, because at that moment a voice was suddenly piped in through the PA system. It wasn't, however, the prerecorded female voice from before. It was a deep voice and one with a certain level of culture behind it- not quite an accent used by residents of the United States, instead taking something more of a British tone. "Ah! Gamma Six himself. Temujin, old boy. I see you've managed to successfully fulfil the task I'd asked of you." "I have, Mr. Richards," Temujin replied, speaking to the car in particular- Steve couldn't see a microphone, and he had to assume that since Nestor somehow knew they were in the car, he'd had access to some kind of camera footage inside the car, "He was pretty stubborn about it at first, but I explained the... er, gravity of the situation and the fact he didn't really have much of a choice. Are you free now?" "Fortunately for you, I've just finished a web conference with some of our government contractors, and I have a good half an hour before another round of important meetings. One moment and I'll open the doors." "Understood." As Temujin said that, the sound of a click, like a phone hanging up, echoed over the speakers, leaving the two men to stand there for several moments. Then at long last, the familiar *ding* echoed throughout the car and the elevator doors slid wide open. What was on the other end could not really be called an office. Despite the fact that was what Nestor called it, it looked more like a futuristic laboratory, a security station, or even some kind of military command point. The room itself was in the shape of a large cylinder- and the 'roof' was a clear glass dome arcing upwards and providing a spectacular view of the night sky, and the bright beam of light continually aiming upwards from the Luxor pyramid not too far away. The room itself was surprisingly dim, and the only light sources came from dark blue lighttubes set in the cylindrical walls themselves, spreading deep blue shadows through the room. The floor was made up of cold steel plates, and Steve's boots clanked as he made his way out. The walls themselves were decorated by a soft kind of wallpaper that almost seemed to resemble carpet on the walls, and several monitors were embedded in them, showing various scenes- ranging from security images of the rest of Olympus Plaza, to street-level views of New York, Los Angeles, London and even, yes, Philadelphia. The main centerpiece of the room was the workstation of Nestor Richards, which was actually a circular area in the center of the room sunk into the floor, steps set up all around the circle to allow one to step into the station. Glass panels were set up around the circle which originally seemed to be for aesthetic effect, but upon closer view images and plans could be seem projected onto the glass. Finally, a teal blue half-circular desk was set up on the far end of the circle where a computer was set up- with not one, but four monitors, three displaying different documents, and another displaying a video image of the interior of the lift they'd just exited. Seated at that desk was none other than Nestor Richards. He was a man of medium height in his late sixties, rather thin and pale. He was bald except for a patch of white around the sides and back of his head, and a white beard covered his shrewd face. His eyes were a somewhat deeper green than his daughter's, and they had an alertness that could challenge Steve's own. He was dressed professionally, of course, in a black business suit and a slate blue undershirt with black tie. He knew Steve and Temujin were in the room before they could even speak, rotating his office chair flawlessly before speaking up. "Welcome to the pinnacle of Mount Olympus, Steve." he greeted him warmly and humorously. Steve, on the other hand, was straight up cynical with his response. "And that would make you Zeus. What is it with people with delusions of divine grandeur and clichés?" "Well, somebody's certainly in a bad mood this evening. Are you still irate about being called here?" "I've had two of my trainees injured, I've had my friend bloodied and cuffed from lockers, I've had to deal with a walking migraine of a woman who refuses to think I'm nothing more than wrestling's version of Joseph freakin' Stalin and I have to pick... wait, I'm not going there right now. I'm seething, Nestor. So this had better be worth my time." Steve stated flatly. "It is, Steve. It is." Nestor assured him calmly, "But it seemed like you were about to say something there but you changed your mind. Are you sure you don't want to share it? Talia... indicated that there's a certain moral dilemma that's weighing down on you." "Well, I tell you what. While we're here, and while you're playing the whole 'all-knowing wise man' card, maybe there is a question you can help me with." Steve inquired. "Oh?" Nestor's brow rose inquisitively, and amusement set in on his face, "I'll see what I can do to answer your question." "I've been hit with a quandary. I don't know how much wrestling you actually watch, but I have a major match to win in a couple of weeks. The main title is at stake. The thing is, I have to commit one of my friends to be in my corner- and I mean literally, they're tied to it. It could be dangerous- they may be attacked- but more to the point, I value each and every one of them and that's going to factor into my decision. It's a two-edged sword- do I choose the person I most want on my side, or do I choose the one who can better defy the danger they're in? I have a feeling each will want me to send them in." It was a question that had been plaguing Steve for days now. Ebdon had really backed him against the wall with that suggestion, and allowing him to choose for him was... not an option. Steve had a feeling he knew exactly what Ebdon would do in that case- he'd either send in an enemy, or he'd send in the person Steve cared the most about so he could watch Ebdon try to beat them half to death. Normally he wouldn't even ask for advice, but Nestor was wise- and God knew Steve didn't have anywhere else to turn now. Nestor stroked his beard at that, a thoughtful frown crossing his face as he wrestled with the question. Then he steepled his hands and answered. "Whoever you choose, it needs to be somebody who you can truly say is your counterpart, Steve. It needs to be somebody who is your equivalent on the battlefield, somebody who will represent the ideals you stand for, somebody who you have a world of common ground and past camaraderie with, somebody who can keep you inspired and fighting hard when the going gets tough." That was hardly illuminating. That criteria could have meant any of Steve's friends. Equivalent on the battlefield could easily have meant Julian Dark- after all, Julian had beaten him once and nearly beaten him another time. Representing ideals could have easily meant Citizen Truth. A world of common ground and past- that was easy, Raziel. The two had easily known each other the longest out of the group. And keeping Steve inspired and fighting hard... yes, Steve candidly had to admit that as sappy as it sounded, the one person out of the group who could do that the best was Angel. The problem of course was that didn't eliminate any choice, nor did it elevate one above all the others. "I'm not sure that helps very much, Nestor..." Steve grimaced. "Not at the moment, it doesn't." Nestor's knowing chuckle seemed to indicate that he was expecting that answer from the start, "You haven't had any serious time to think about it. I suggest that between now and whenever it is you have to name your second, you seriously think about the people in your life who possess these qualities. Examine their qualities in full depth. Work out which qualities make the person you want the most in your corner and who that person is. You'll probably be thinking about it right until the last minute, but I suspect you'll have your answer by the end of it all. Now. Down to business." And here they came. 'Down to business' indeed. Nestor had made it clear that either Steve was going to come to Nevada, or alternatively he was going to go to Philadelphia. A statement like that meant that Nestor no doubt had something very, very important to tell him, and after damn near a week of wondering, he would finally hear exactly what he had to say. He let his hands fall by his side, eyed Nestor intensely, then began descending the steps that led straight to his workstation, standing directly opposite it. "Alright, Nestor. What do you want me to do?" "I beg your pardon?" Nestor replied innocently. "Don't be coy, old man. You know exactly why you called me up here. After a year and a half, the Conglomerate need me to do something for them. Another favor. Some kind of mission that 'only the great Avenger' can accomplish. I'm going to be honest Nestor, I'm through with it- and I know that sounds ungrateful in light of your advice, but I can't keep doing this. I've moved on." "You shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. As a matter of fact, Steve, there is no mission. But there's been something going on in this city recently that I think you really, really need to know about. As you know, I know an awful lot about what goes on in Las Vegas. What I don't see myself, my office workers see, and what they don't see, Security sees. Then there's Setsujoku-Kai, and operatives like you used to be, and there's very little in this town I don't have my eye on. There is something in this town that I think you need to know about. Regarding your adversary Pete Ebdon." Steve blinked at that. How could that be possible? As he understood it, Ebdon lived in Los Angeles, and he'd split himself between Philadelphia and Los Angeles. Was there something going on here that he didn't know about- that only Nestor's gaze, like that of Zeus from Olympus, could bring to his attention? He drew himself up and, rather seriously, asked the question. "What's going on, Nestor? What business does he have here?" "There's a church, Steve. Now, originally we didn't pay it much mind- there are so many pseudo-legitimate wedding chapels set up in Las Vegas that one more doesn't really attract that much attention. Still, I like to know what's going on, so recently I sent one of my men in to have a look and see exactly what was taking place in there. You... aren't going to like it. It's going to broaden your perspective of Pete Ebdon into a whole new depth and it's going to provide you a rather nasty look into the man. But you need to know." "What, is he going around being a semi-legal marriage celebrant in his free time?" Steve remarked sardonically. "Oh, no. This church is very much legitimate. But it's not dedicated to the Catholic faith- or indeed any religious denomination we know of, including Christianity. From what we gathered when our man took a look around at the information they're handing out there... you're not going to like this, Steve, I warn you... it's some kind of cult. And it revolves around... do I really need to say it?" "Ebdon." Steve said flatly. "Yes. They call themselves 'The Followers of the Messiah', and they are based out of a place called the Church of the Followers. As I understand it, Ebdon's taking the Messiah thing very, very seriously. It's hard to say whether or not he actually believes himself a God, but one thing is certain- whatever he believes and is preaching far exceeds the standard wrestler's delusions of grandeur, Steve. We don't know an awful lot more yet, and I'm not sure how much more of the Followers' secrets we can dredge out at this level, but a man with a cult following is a very, very dangerous one. Understand that his delusions of grandeur may in themselves make him a very real threat to you." An... interesting revelation. This would complicate things a little bit. Steve had experience with cults and those with delusions like this before, and they were... never, never good news. Perhaps his days of fencing with organizations like the Black Order and dealing with insane maniacs with delusions of godhood were not yet over. He didn't have time to continue, however, as Nestor continued. "This brings me to my second point. It's rather obvious that you need some serious preparation, Steve, and I'm not quite sure that you're yet ready. If you walk into Parental Advisory as you are now, you will be powerful, yes- but not optimal. I believe there are a few places you need to go before you can truly call yourself ready. And that's where Temujin ties into this. Steve, I think you need to go back to the two places you can truly say 'it all began' before you contend for the Platinum Championship. Two places that originally instilled your dedication to the sport, your indomitable drive, your mentality, and the flow of destiny that's taken you to where you are now. If Ebdon is as dangerous as I fear he may be, you will need to become the very personification of that- and perhaps going back to the source will help you." That took Steve aback. Back to the source? Steve knew where at least one of those places was, of course, but going back there? He'd almost considered himself past those periods of his life now, and to return seemed counterproductive. Still, there was something in what Nestor said. He needed all the inspiration and ability he could get, and what Nestor said might have been true- perhaps there was something he'd learn, somebody he'd meet, something he'd remember, something that would happen- that would finally push him over the edge to becoming the fighter he needed to be right now. "Going back to the source might help me. Might. That's a big gamble, you know, and it could be wasting valuable seconds. And I don't have time to up and disappear right now, I've got Drake Benjamin to worry about. But alright, enlighten me, Nestor. What precisely do you think I need to do? And how do you tie into it?" "I'm sending you to Perth, Steve." Nestor informed him, "The grand opening of Club V.I.P is taking place very soon as I'm sure you know, and for some bizarre reason Dougy McNamara and Justin Jones have decided the place must serve Bundaberg Rum. Given it's an Australian drink, Dougy has decided to take it upon himself personally to return home to secure a contract. You're going with him." "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Steve cut Nestor off right then and there, "Maybe I need to reclarify something with you, Nestor. I'm not doing any more of your dirty work. You want someone to accompany Dougy, get one of your lackeys to do it." Nestor sighed melodramatically, "It's a pretext, Steve. You need to go home before you contest this match. There are things there that you will need to learn and conclusions you much reach. But if you were to just up and go, it'd look rather suspicious to your enemies. I'm giving you a reason to go. I don't actually expect you to do anything for me once you're there. But you'll get to tag along with Dougy on our personal carrier of choice rather than have to fly a commercial airline. This isn't me demanding you do another favor, Steve. You've done far more than enough for my enterprise. This is me thanking you by helping you on your quest." He slid a card across the desk to Steve, "The flight's a little way off yet, so you don't have to worry about disruption to your match this week." Perth. The Sunset Coast. That was the first place Steve had thought of when 'back to where it all began' was mentioned. His home- and a place he hadn't been in close to two years now. It would be good to get back and see everybody again, and truth be told, there were certainly things back home that would inspire him and remind him of who he truly was. It had served as the pool of life that his wrestling persona had sprung forth from, and maybe, just maybe, it'd strengthen him- or unleash something new. He nodded at that. "Alright. I'll go. And I'm satisfied by your assurances that there'll be no tricks and no funny business. What's the deal going to be? Are you going to have some of your guys follow me around or interfere or something like that?" "Oh, no. We're not getting involved. Not with the discovery of the Followers, not with your trip of discovery, nothing. We may keep track of you to get you to where you need to go, and you can get our aid if you need it, but we will not be interfering. But with that said, I'm afraid that as per Conglomerate protocol, a codename is in order." "Oh, for God's sake. I'm not going by Shuriken or Avenger again!" Steve protested, rising up to his feet at that and almost preparing to make his way towards the elevator. Had this all been a complete waste of his time, a lure just to get him back under their employ? Even though they hadn't stipulated it, a codename that they assigned him was symbolic of their power over him, and he was so past that now it wasn't funny. Nestor, however, continued calmly. "No, no, hear me out. This time, I'm going to give you the choice- to symbolize your freedom from the Conglomerate and its associates. In the past, you first answered to a name the Setsujoku-Kai gave you- Shuriken. Then you answered to a codename we gave you- Avenger. But this time you answer solely to yourself, and so it is fitting that you choose your own codename that we will refer to you by." Nestor smiled and leaned back in his chair, "I'm serious, Steve. This time, it's all you." Choose his own codename? That had been a decision Steve hadn't expected to ever hear. And to be honest, it was one that he found rather difficult. What in the world could he want to be known as? 'Unkillable'? That was an attribute, not a name. 'Stinger'? Please, those days were so far gone Steve was amazed some people even used the name. And there weren't a lot of others that would really have fit, Steve ruefully had to admit. Then inspiration, as it so often did, hit home. There was one historical figure who Steve kind of saw himself in the shoes of right about now. This person had lived and died so long ago that most people probably hadn't even heard of him, but much like Steve, he had set out to forge an empire and one man was trying to stop and suppress him every step of the way. Much like Steve was facing now, a titanic battle and clash of wills was about to take place between both men- and if Steve had it his way, he would follow the man's example as despite all odds and despite what a large number of people were saying, the man defeated his enemy soundly and became the first ever Roman Emperor. He looked back over his shoulder at Nestor, then voiced the name of that role model so to speak- and his new codename. "Octavian." 
|
