Nine Lives


kazimir_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif sierra_icon.gif

Scene Title Nine Lives
Synopsis Kazimir moves the Work ever forward, but finds the newest member of his flock is more resourceful than she originally let on.
Date November 12, 2008

Belvedere Castle, Central Park

Constructed from the same stone as the Vista Point which supports it, Belvedere Castle seems to rise out of the earth itself. The miniature Gothic castle is easily visible from a distance, courtesy of both its height and the American flag fluttering from the turret's pinnacle. Its windows overlook views of Turtle Pond, the Delacorte Theater, and the Great Lawn. The interior, however, is anything but Gothic; the halls on both floors are filled with telescopes, microscopes, paper-mache birds, skeletons, and feathers, all laid out as parts of an interactive exhibit. In the Henry Luce Nature Observatory, visitors can borrow binoculars, notepads, maps, and guidebooks with which to study the wildlife of the park.

With the sky cast amidst a shroud of slate-gray clouds, mid-day in Central Park seems more like late afternoon. The clouds hang heavy in the skies above, threatening to release rain in the coming hours. The wind is still, letting what scant few leaves cling to the nearly stick-bare trees to remain in place for a few more days, at least until the first snow starts to fall. Here at the Belvedere Castle, though, the gray skies are joined with old and worn stone, crumbling blocks of masoned rock that reach up towards the sky in a scaled down representation of medieval architecture.

The castle courtyard has seen better days. The pavilion that shields the flagstone courtyard from the elements is missing shingles on its pitched roof, the wooden post and beam supports are faded and grayed, some plastered with propaganda dating back to the election. A large section of the courtyard floor is spray-painted with graffiti on top of graffiti, displaying an orange and red bird with wings outspread, lettering in white proclaiming, RISE UP.

"…Siebzehn kanister, die von den morserabschußrampen abgefeuert werden können. Jede von ihnen sollte in der lage sein, zu einer flussigen unze mit einem zerstreuten verbreitungsystem zu halten." A tall and thin man dressed in a heavy black overcoat with a gray fur collar stands with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, head canted to one side. He paces across the courtyard, addressing a much older man of somewhat thicker frame, a man standing with his shoulders squared and hands set upon the steel wolf's head of a cane.

"Annehmbar." The response from the much older man is understated, giving a slow nod of his head. The two converse freely and openly in somewhat terse German. Behind the blue-eyed Kazimir, stands his dark-haired and stoic enforcer, Sierra Heart, privy to only the words of the conversation, but not the details.

"Ich kann sie am monatsende haben. Er kostet ihnen funf tausend fur den satz. Sieben tausend, wenn sie die morserabschußrampen auch wünschen." The thin man states quietly, looking over his shoulder, then back to Kazimir. His eyes narrow slightly, posture indicating he's expectant of something. Kazimir's response is slow to form, one brow raising in thoughtful consideration.

"Abkommen. Ich kaufe die träger, die sie die ausrustung innen außerdem liefern." The old man runs his thumb over the notch on the brow of his cane's head, back and forth, and the thin man cracks a hesitant smile, then steps forward to hold out a hand as if a handshake would seal the deal. Kazimir narrows his eyes, looking down to the hand, then up to the man. The shake of his head is the only sealing of the deal he'll receive.

Sierra wears a long trench coat that flows along her sides, a dark set of sunglasses over her eyes, today her hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail and she remains as that ever alert body guard for Kazimir. The soldier says nothing, her job taken seriously as she stands a few feet away .. close enough to hear, or intervene if necessary.

This meeting does not go unobserved. From around the corner of the pavilion, Odessa peers out with wide, curious eyes, fixated on Kazimir and him alone. Fingers flex nervously where they grip the side of the structure as though that somehow causes her to blend in more fully with it. Either the woman has been shopping, or someone did so on her behalf, because she's no longer clad in the blood-stained sweater dress she wore previously. Her feet are still encased in the same terribly impractical high heels she arrived in, strapped around the ankles in wet-look red leather, but she's dressed sharply in a black slacks, a crisp white dress shirt, a black vest and a matching tie. While it's warmer than her last ensemble, she still shivers against the chill carried on the wind.

"It is always a pleasure to do business with you, Niklaus." Kazimir's rough tone of voice switches back to English as he cracks a smile to his erstwhile business partner, "Mister Monroe will be the one to pick up the delivery, as Klein was informed. He will have payment, in cash." The blonde-headed silhouette in the periphery of Kazimir's vision has been there long enough, he wagers. Blue eyes flick over to Sierra, brows tensing, and he nods with his head over to where Odessa is eavesdropping on the meeting. An unspoken, but clearly understood request — go get her.

"Meeshter Volken," Niklaus' accent isn't German at all, it's Russian. There's a strange discontinuity to that, when he finally starts speaking in English, hands still tucked into the pockets of his jacket to try and stave off the bitter cold. "It iz a pleasure to continue my femily's business vit hyu. My father sends hiz besht vishes, und danks hyu for you continued sopport." He smiles a bit thinly, "There iz vun more matta though, Meeshter Volken. The shipment; vy are hyu vishing it to be brought op through Venezuela? It vould be cheaper to — "

"That is not any of your concern, Niklaus." Kazimir's eyes quickly lift up to the bald-headed Russian, narrowing for a moment. "Tell your father I wish him a speedy recovery." The words have no true emotion behind them, no concern or care. They are terse and final, as if adjourning this meeting.

Sierra notices the observer about the same time as Kazimir. She turns away from the meeting and the receiving of equipment. Her fingers drop to her sides, one hand moving to her coat pocket, her step is steady and sure she approaches Odessa, her stride confident. The distance is closed and the woman clears her voice "Move away," says a crisp confident tone, the woman close enough to be just enough of a threat on the woman's personal space. Her right hand rests in her jacket as she gives a breath of a chance for the woman to indeed move before she moves further.

Odessa doesn't miss the nod in her direction. With a gasp, she shrinks back and goes dashing around the corner, the heavy sounds of heels running on flagstones lasts only a few moments before it would appear that the woman simply stopped. By the time Sierra reaches where logic and audible cues dictate the doctor should be, however, she simply isn't there. It would appear nobody had to tell her twice to move.

Kazimir's eyes flit around the pavilion, then narrow. He shoots a stare back to Niklaus, "We're done here." The Russian doesn't need to be told twice. He rolls his shoulders forward, head tilting to the side as his eyes settle on Kazimir in the midst of a silent nod. His retreat takes him across the phoenix-styled graffiti underfoot, and down a wide set of stairs to the park beyond. Kazimir follows him with blue eyes, then immediately snaps his gaze back to Sierra, where the dark-haired woman stands in the spot where Odessa should be.

"Doctor Knutson," Kazimir states flatly, and it would seem he's familiar with his would-be spy. "I would recommend not trying my patience. Your Gabriel isn't here at the moment to keep you out of undue harm." His cane taps on the flagstone floor, eyes lifting up to the rafters of the pavilion, then back down to Sierra, one motion of his hand making a clear indication of another order — circle the pavilion.

Sierra swears slightly as she draws her firearm and enters into a stealth mode. She moves quietly her breath caught in her chest the heart pounding in her ears, as she rounds the corner Odessa teleported on her. Hunting something with strange abilities is difficult at best. She strains herself to listen, her eyes sharply scanning the area for any sign of movement or sound.

After a while of watching Sierra circle around the pavillion, Kazimir taps his cane on the flagstone floor beneath his feet, grumbling loudly, "She's gone." Blue eyes divert to the wooden posts that hold up the roof, "I believe a lecture to Mister Gray may be in order." His pale eyes divert to Sierra again, narrowing slightly. "Bring the car around, we're going back to the warehouse."

November 11th: Clusterfuck
November 12th: God, That's Vile!
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