Thrones: Induction by the King ~ Orikami

"Alex, do ask me why I go to such lengths for these weaklings?" said Vermillion as he walked powerfully down the hallway of the Thrones base. He had on a Victorian Masquerade style outfit on, similar to his original though more feminine in style and uses much darker colors. As usual, Vermillion also had a voice changer behind his mask that completely disguised his voice. It sounded as if someone with a dark, low voice and two people with higher more nasally voices were speaking all at the same time.
Alex had remained silent to Vermillion's rhetorical question. He was just doing his job standing along side his master.
"My Dearest Queen does seem to pick the most interesting of applicants for this organization..."
Alex had a folder containing the new applicant's information. Basically everything there was to know about them. Past, abilities, family, any sort of regrets, fears, absolutely anything Vermillion's goons could dig up. He came to two large doors at the end of this unnecessarily long hallway. Vermillion put out his hand and Alex places the folder in it proceeding to move forward and push open the large doors for him. Zarkovich had the battle room darkened and left only one light on in the very center of the room, in the spot light there was a dark chrome throne chair with a dark purple suede seat. In front of the table was a long Medieval style dinning table with one other chair at the opposite end of the table. Vermillion walked to the end of the table and took a seat in the large dark throne and set the folder down and began flipping through the files of the new applicant preparing for the "interview". Alex did follow but retreated back into the shadows and would remain there for any orders.
Vermillion had of course rigged the entire room with different intimidation tactics. He liked having a sort of fearful hold over his subjects, and first impressions were everything...
The applicants would walk down the hallway lit by torches which would open up into a large room originally designed by Vermillion himself. A staircase let up to a still pool of a black, reflective pool. There was no telling how deep the pool actually went or what the liquid truly was. the large double doors that would lead into the training facility revealing Vermillion sitting in his throne off in the darkness. The light only extended as far as the back of either chair, the rest of the room just looking like an open abyss. The doors were heavy enough to close on their own with an eerie sound as they drag across the floor. The silence would most likely be the most disturbing of the environment, for there was no sound. None. All outside noise had been canceled out and there was no echo of footsteps giving no indication of how large the room truly was. He was trying to present the image of them stepping into a completely different and dark dimension. Once the applicant took their seat one the other side of the table Vermillion would took at them dead in the eyes through his mask, they could not see him but the sheer intensity of the gaze would make them simply feel his eyes looking at them.

The twisted voice reverberated out being the only thing that echoed, giving whomever was sitting a the other end a possible idea on how absolutely vast this room was.

Arthur strode down the, in his opinion, inordinately long hallway his gaze drifting along, taking in the details as he moved. These people seemed to enjoy showing off just a little too much. They spouted rhetoric about being in place to keep a balance and destroy the corrupt, but from whee he stood, they were dangerously close to the line of becoming corrupted by their own power and influence themselves. Then again, he didn't care. The philosophies of Thrones were intriguing and if they held true, his skills would help them out quite a bit but if they collapsed under the weight of their own potential it would be exciting to be right in the middle of the story.

Sighing to himself, he continued along the path until he came to what ,hopefully, was the end.

"The genus strix... I see. I can only wonder if this is an ode to Athena and a reverence for wisdom or one concerning the old legends of blood and flesh devouring demons in the shapes of birds...I suppose time will tell..." he said aloud to himself before stepping up the small set of stairs and peering into the black depths of the pool.

He took a moment to inspect his reflection in the still waters, smoothing out a single wrinkle on the front of his vest and tugging on the ends of his sleeves before re-centering his tie. He was the perfection of an impeccable wardrobe in his black and white. He felt comfortable in such clothes and wondered how extensive this interview would become as he walked on and with a gentle motion summoned a playing card from the depths of his sleeves and pushed the gate open, careful not to leave behind a fingerprint on the sparkling gold.

As he emerged, finally, into the blackened room he refrained from glancing around but instead his gaze fell onto the furniture of the room, practically ignoring the visible man. With each step, the hair on the back of his neck rose a little higher as no sound issued from his heels. This wasn't so strange because he had a very quiet step usually until he put forth effort to stifle the sound of his footsteps, but in a room as large as this one obviously was because of the lack of oppressive, stifling pressure of trapped air, it was outlandish that no small clap of heel on wood could be heard. He appraised the table first, determining it was authentically antique, quite possibly from the medieval era. Impressively so in fact, but the chair was obviously not and a little spotty on its craftsmanship to boot. It was the only thing he could see that was even close to a cheap knockoff. Perhaps it was a slap to his face or a show of what they thought of him, either way he strolled into the light and pulled the chair back slightly, and sat down into it, finally glimpsing at the figure before him.

Really? A mask? Oh today was going to be fun...

As the three fold voice's echo faded, Arthur fought to prevent his face from taking on one of exasperation.

"I will humbly accept your welcome but I don't think it necessary to iterate my name because this is an interview and a test of sorts. You are already undoubtedly aware of my name and if you are not, then I must say that you should not be issuing this examination nor an interview for such a prestigious organization. You have already gathered the research on me and found it satisfactory enough for me to be here. So let us not entertain the idea of anything else and get to the important portions of this so as to not insult each other."

Aahhh, so this one has a little bite to him. How very grand... Vermillion thought to himself as he flipped through some files on the man silently.
"My my, what a young witty soul you have." after the simple comment he went back to flipping through papers.
"Hm, a very predicable life it seems you have lead. Dead mother, magical father. Such a modern tragedy." Vermillion was treating this whole thing like an actual business interview. Simply looking at the death of his parents as rather minor inconveniences. Being as old as he was, and with how old he may become, checking up so often on a child like this would be entertaining. Like tuning into a television program you enjoy every week.
"And what is this? Mafia battles?" Vermillion looked up from the papers with a fake interest behind his expressionless mask."You do like taking risks, don't you?" There was a moment of silence as Vermillion placed all of the papers back into the manilla folder and moved it aside.
"Truth being. We have not called you here in order to interview you for a position in Thrones. You are weak, your abilities have no purpose for us. I can name unpaid inters with more promise than the likes of you."
Vermillion was only speaking from his point of view, there were positions to be filled and he did meet the criteria so by rule he needed to be interviewed. Their Queen is the only other individual whom Vermillion viewed as an equal. In reading this man's past the information on the mafias that he dealt with were strikingly similar to the ones whom he had controlled way back when. It would make sense based on the reports that he got back hearing that some of his gangs had been done away with by some young individual, though he originally paid no mind as they were minor group and were not bringing in the revenue he desired. In hindsight, this kid did him a favor removing the mod. Saved him from having him to do it himself, or rather sending someone to do it for him. Vermillion didn't like to get his hands dirty. But since this child was young and simply bursting with energy he thought he might throw out a small bit, just to see how he would react.

Orikami regarded the expressionless face of his interviewer with a similar mask. No trace of feeling pervaded the contours of his visage as the other man continued, cycling through some of the papers, reading, undoubtedly re reading actually, information on him. He began to wonder just how thorough their research could have been when the answer provided itself.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call my story a modern tragedy really. People die every day, why would a mother or father be immune to the fate that awaits all of us? I'll agree that it was potentially predictable given that fact, that she would die. As for my father's...abilities, with the plethora of superhumans on the planet, it's almost safe to assume one in 5 people possesses some sort of power. Now his demise, that was obvious to anyone with a modicum of foresight," he replied, his gaze meeting the man in the mask's without wavering.

As the man continued on his own, Arthur remained silent as the reference to mafia battles was obviously a ploy to show the depths of their information, and therefore rhetorical. But the rest of his words were clearly part of the test and what a fun test this was going to turn out to be.

"That, sir, is clearly a bold faced lie. I'll readily assume that you and your time are not fully expendable, which would mean that you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for a purpose. Even though you have orders to see to me, you're either here to interview me or assassinate me or detain me. There are barely any other possibilities. I do not need another person to reaffirm my power. You would be hard pressed to find an individual with my talents or even the potency at which I can use them. Few individuals also possess my skill set as a, for lack of a better word, criminal. I believe i asked that we not insult each other any further here, did I not or would you prefer that we lower ourselves to the level of laymen and banter back and forth with insults and name calling?" he rebutted, bringing his hands up onto the table before him, resting his elbows lightly on the wood and bringing his hands together, lacing his fingers together.

"And further, your second remark is also a lie, or at best a half truth. I am rather thorough in what I do and I always have been. I'm positive that if what you just said was true, you wouldn't even remotely resemble a human being any longer because I tracked down every member of that organization and ripped them apart. If you were even slightly involved, it would have been from some administrative level well beyond the ground level that that group was. You didn't carry out the action and I doubt you made the call to have him killed either. And even if you did, I made my peace with my father's death years ago. Closure is a glorious thing. Now please, continue."

Vermillion just shrugged and took out a pen, he then brought the folder back in front of him and scribbled a few notes down. They had absolutely nothing to do with the interview, just a couple of comments on things that he wish he would change for the next meeting he might hold for this, and a coupe or grocery items he needed Alex to fetch for him later. Finishing his notes he put his pen back away, stood up from his chair and moved it just to the left of the table and sat back down very casually. And suddenly from the darkness an enormous broad-sword was thrown like a Frisbee across the table by Alexander. Aiming to decapitate their new member, of course the intent to kill was there however if this individual had any sort of skill he would easily be able to avoid or at least protect himself from this attack. Before the sword even made contact Alex bounded from the shadows landing in the middle of the table and ran forward. Depending on the reaction of Arthur he would continue with some close range attacks or retrieve his sword and continue attacking with that.
All the while Vermillion sat in perfect posture in his chair to the side of the table watching the even take place. Hopefully he would be able to keep up with Alex at close rage as the information shows that he seems to be more of someone who prefers to enter conflict from a distance. Not that Vermillion could blame him as he rarely entered conflict at all. His personality and speech were ideal for what they were looking for. He was commanding, analytical and had a flow to his word structure that could pass for someone much past his own years. However, knowledge in the field of combat was not something that can be taught. Having skill and talent were two completely different topics and seeing if he could hone both of them in a form of proper elegance that was to Vermillion's standards was the ultimate goal here. Of course, Alexander's attempts were only preliminary, the true test was yet to come.

Arthur sat calmly with his hands resting on the table for a moment as the man, actually, was it a man? There was no particular indication tat his was a masculine figure other than the slight way his clothes hung on his body. The figure had hardly moved since Arthur stepped in the room...

So to confirm or deny his suspicions, he slowly sat back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together as the figure picked up the chair and moved it to the side and sat back down. It was this action that lead Arthur to decide it was certainly a man, simply one that had a more feminine quality to him in movement and action...perhaps one that had actually experienced the period of time his outfit had come from. An intriguing thought that was swiftly interrupted by a whirling sort of noise as a blade, no a slightly oversized greatsword, came spinning into the light over the table.

Orikami was a little sad that he didn't even have the time to sigh as he flicked his hand toward the weapon and a single playing cad flew from within his sleeve and soared through the air turning upwards in a way that almost seemed natural until it halted in mid air and met the sword like a tiny wall of iron causing the blade to collide with it before clattering to the table's surface. As the sword fell, however, the assault was not yet over as the man who undoubtedly owned the weapon had leapt into the light as well and landed on the table in such a way that Orikami actually felt a twinge of annoyance. Where was the grace and didn't this person know that the table he was using like a catwalk was an antique and rather irreplacable?

Ori stood up swiftly as the man started to sprint across the wooden surface. He took a moment to kick his chair to the side causing it to slide into the darkness off to his right, the same side the figure issuing the test was watching from actually.

"Hey now, that is an antique. Get off the table," Arthur ordered as he used his left hand and normal plain sheet of paper came into being from within his sleeve once more and moved towards the knight? The sheet crumpled itself as it flew and as it did it increased in velocity as it became less aerodynamic but more of a blunt item. The paper ball however was like a canonball in Arthur's control and possessed the force of one as well as he directed it to strike the man in center mass. The intent was to hurl the man backwards off his feet and off the table.

"I'll gladly trade blows with you. But the furniture need not suffer," he quipped as he stepped to his left and waved his right arm again and several sheets of paper flew out and folded themselves into a full sized bastard sword. Several excess sheets fluttered to the ground off to his side as they were not used in the construction of the weapon. He might not have looked it, but he was every bit prepared to defend himself.

At least the boy has good taste in my wood work...
Vermillion was in fact the individual who had crafted the table, which is mostly the reason as to why he was not concerned about its safety. Alex had been properly informed on the boy's abilities so he was well aware that a simple piece of balled up paper was in fact a deadly weapon. Vermillion's bodyguard picked up his sword, ducking down to avoid the ball of paper. Still in motion, he flipped forward over Arthur aiming to connect his sword with his back to knock him up against the table with the flat side of his sword. Following he would sweep low at his feet and continue around to slash at his mid section.
Vermillion on the other hand was sitting in his chair with his face propped up against his fist as he watched the show. Caring not if Arthur or Alex were watching he got up from his chair and walked away into the darkness. He was going to the other door that led out and back around so that he could approach the conflict from behind the two. Alex knew what was happening though hopefully Arthur would thing that he got bored with the test and simply got up to leave. Vermillion quite liked downplaying his future subordinates, make them feel as unimportant, useless, and powerless as possible...