Brave New World

Mr. Strange: How much longer?

Fatigued and seemingly inattentive, the voice calls out inquisitively. The man calling out sits loosely in his favorite chair. With red leather cushioning and a wooden frame, it looks as heavy and as thick as it is. The chair is position towards the window, for which in this instance, was the entire wall, looking out in the fields, somewhere in a reclusive abode. The rest of the room was very copious in size, with not much all in it other then an adequate amount of designer art pieces to match a rather subtle white room with fireplace positioned more or less for looks then functionality. The speakers continuously rang with the sounds of classical music. From the doorway, a gentleman stepped in sporting dark vest with a subtle blue tint over a white dress shirt complimenting a bow tie of a similar color to the vest and matching slacks. In left hand, he carried a bucket full of ice, chilling a bottle of wine. As he approaches the man who called, he sets his bucket down with the utmost care on a side table next to the man's chair, pulling the bottle out to uncork and refill a half finished glass. The man casually lifts his hand up. The servant corks the bottle again and places it back in the bucket. Straightening himself up, he faces out towards the window, hands casually behind his back with legs spread a bit to an "at ease" position.

Damon Raffaelo: The paper work has been taken care of, your contact will meet you as you depart later around three in the afternoon. You will arrive in the Americas under the guise of Romanio Del Rosario. I trust you do not need to be debriefed on this persona due to your prior experience. Regardless, I've taken the liberty to packing bits of information that you may find useful should you choose to review it during the flight. Everything else for your trip has been accounted for. If I may be so bold as to say sir, I suggest retiring for the few precious hours before the flight. I hear sleep is all the rage down in the Americas.

At a closer inspection of the man giving orders, it is clear from the bags under his eyes he had not have sleep in quiet a while. Despite this, he presented himself well. He wore a cream colored dress shirt with black suspenders strapped over. Unlike Raffaelo, his collar was buttoned down. He kept his left arm leaning on the arm rest, with his hand resting on his face while his other hand was tapping his finger on his black slacks in anticipation. His hair was slicked back neatly. He appeared to be deep in thought.

Mr. Strange: Ms. Valentino finally passed late last night...

Damon sighed a bit, knowing his advice was thrown out the window. Strange was fixated on the last girl still. As Damon began to speak, the loud speaker ended the song and another began, Schuberts, Ave Maria.



Raffaelo: How was she, sir?

Strange shifted and crossed his legs. With a deep sigh and clearly still in deep thought, he continues.

Mr. Strange: Disappointing. Beautiful, elegant, and even an interesting power.... but overall disappointing...

Raffaelo: What went wrong, sir?

Mr. Strange: No personality. Only interesting on the outside. No deep emotional connection beween either of the lives she lived. Jumped into vigilantism like a trend because she caught a Metagene somehow, to which I still am left with not nearly enough subjects to explore the "how".

The servant turns his head to Strange.

Raffaelo: Does it even matter? Her life, that is? Once she's doomed to go under the knife, does it even matter what she's done?

It would appear that Strange's attention had been snapped. After flinching from the remark, he turns his head to stare right into Raffaelo's own eyes. With sincerity he speaks.

Mr. Strange: Of course it does. The metagene... it only carries a fraction of what makes the people I examine interesting. The lives they lead... The personalities crafted from either a their peers acceptance or rejection... The things they want and would trade their souls over. It matters. It's always mattered. To me when I close the final chapter in their life, I review the entire book. It is my eyes that can see how things would have gone differently. I can see the differences they could have made or the personal changes they could have went with. I want to see what conditioned these souls into what they are as I bring their story to a close. I did not end Valentino or the others out of anger, out of purely my own desire to examine the metagene but, rather document them down to the finest detail. I see.... art... in even the simplest people... and they don't even realize the beauty in even their most mundane actions. I'm entirely upset when I run into people who have no real cause for what they do other then them simply having the ability to do so, much like Ms. Valentino, unfortunately.

His words gave Raffaelo a pause. He caught his servant off guard which was a rarity. Damon had been with Strange since the beginning. He was more or less grown to serve this man.

Raffaello: I don't... See quite what you see in these people, sir. I do however, believe your taking a rather large chance in involving yourself with the people in the Americas.

Mr. Strange: The danger seems rather enticing, really.

Raffaello: To mix yourself up with the Dominus, though?

Mr. Strange: They're not even the one's I'm worried about. Not one bit of the metagene courses these veins of mine and money does quite a bit of talking. America.... Is a cesspool of filth. A nation that dumbs down it's populace by poisoning their minds with the media, poisoning their bodies with their food, and poisoning their souls with ignorance. Then there are the meta's the run rampant, the power struggles over certain groups, the crime rate. No, I'm more worried about a stray bullet then Dominus. It almost sickens me to go to such a place that is so culturally dead. Still... There is work to be done.