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Adriana Dionekou's Achievements


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  1. "I've grown accustomed to certain necessary pronouns," Adriana replied loftily, the ice cubes rattling in her glass as she offered the former Celtic war-goddess an expansive gesture with her free hand. "Obviously, I'd prefer more accurate references, but in the interest of convenience, and to avoid any inadvertent faux pas, you may as well consider me female. The rest of the world recognizes me as a woman, and the nature of my true identity is more easily disguised as such. Truthfully," she added lowering her voice, "as much as I loathe it, the benefits of being an attractive human female are considerable when dealing with doddering old farts and lecherous miscreants during negotiations." The suit-clad entrepreneur winked conspiratorially at Morgan and took another long drink from her scotch. To Batya, she said thoughtfully, "I had considered distractions, or some sleight-of-hand, but the simplest pretense, and the one most likely to gain us access to privileged sections of the museum, is a very, very charitable donation. This will be your opportunity to get an idea where this box is being kept, and how closely it's guarded, without arousing suspicion. It may not even be on display, which is why it's important that you are considered important enough to view it. My plan covers the first half of our little endeavor, so naturally I would expect someone with more experience in matters of infiltration and tactics to organize the second." She paused for a moment, expectation writ large on her Mediterranean features as she glanced at the door. "Ah. That will be the food, then." A small army of uniformed staff paraded into the suite, carefully distributing the meals they'd ordered in polite silence. As they departed, Hades's Agent pressed something into their hands and closed the door behind them, resuming whatever inoffensively quiet task he was about in the adjoining office area. "And if you don't like my plan," she added, levelling a mildly bemused smirk at Sunny, "you are more than welcome to attempt some fiasco of your own. I'm even willing to offer you the name of an excellent attorney.
  2. The so-called "Handsome Monkey King" was a fool, as far as Hades was concerned, and that was the only thing saving him; every king knew the value of fools, and the former Lord of the Greek Underworld was no exception. The snarky little ape would serve his purpose, and be discarded when his usefulness and relevance were at an end, as all similar tools were. Ignoring him utterly, without even condescending to glance in his direction, she instead concentrated on listening to the introductions of her erstwhile allies. Batya sounded promising, as did Gunnar, provided he could be pointed in the right direction once his key was wound. The Morrigan, however... What was she to do with a woman so obese her favorite color was probably butter? She shot an exasperated glance at the Agent, who dutifully poured her another glass of scotch. She gave the menu only a cursory glance, and handed it to him when he was finished; her seemingly omnipresent companion already knew what she wanted to order. "Hades," she intoned somewhat grimly, and despite her attractive feminine exterior, the bleak, fathomless depths of her eyes harbored something of the shrewd gravitas of her former existence. "Most recently, Adriana Dionekou, founder and CEO of Dionekos Investment Securities. The last thousand years has not been easy for any of us, I'd wager. While I'd like to say that the trappings of wealth bring me no satisfaction, I'd be lying." Here, she shrugged, and something of the flippancy she'd shown previously returned for a fleeting moment. "The trappings of great wealth bring me as much satisfaction as anything could. It's one of the few things I have left," she added bitterly, swallowing regret along with her scotch. "I know precious little about fighting or the telling of fortunes, though I'm a reasonable marksman and know plenty about the creation of the latter, and I'm generally considered bloody fucking brilliant. Also," the olive-skinned entrepreneur added thoughtfully, "modest, well-dressed, and a member of several civic groups, including most of the ones in the city I've just acquired."
  3. Scion Profile: Hades Real Name: Hades Aliases: Adriana Dionekou Former Pantheon: Dodekatheon Calling: Investment securities broker Nature: Autocrat Attributes Physical: Strength - 2 Dexterity - 3 Stamina – 3 Social: Charisma - 4 Manipulation - 4 Appearance – 3 Mental: Perception - 3 Intelligence - 4 Wits – 3 Skills *Academics 3, Animal Ken , Art 2, Athletics 1, Awareness 3, Brawl 1, *Command 4, Control 2, Craft , Empathy 1, Fortitude 1, Integrity 3, Investigation 1, Larceny , Marksmanship 4, Medicine , Melee 1, *Occult 2, Politics 3, *Presence 4, Science , *Stealth 4, Survival 1, *Thrown 2 Other Traits Epic Attributes: Stamina 1, Charisma 1, Manipulation 1, Perception 1, Intelligence 1, Wits 1 Birthrights: Followers 3, Guide 2 Boons: Arete (Command) 1, Darkness 1, Death 1, Earth 1 Knacks: Stamina: Solipsistic Well-Being, Charisma: Charmer, Manipulation: Overt Order, Perception: Unfailing Recognition, Intelligence: Know-It-All, Wits: Social Chameleon Willpower: 6 Legend: 0 (2) Virtues: Expression 2, Intellect 3, Valor 2, Vengeance 3 Health: 7 Dodge DV: 2 (3 with Legend 2) Parry DV: 1 Unarmed (2 with Legend score) Join Battle: 6 Movement: Walk: 3yds. Run: 9yds. Jump: Vertical, 3yds., Horizontal, 6yds. Climb: 1yd (2 with Legend score) Swim: 1yd (2 with Legend score) Soak: 3B/2L (4B/3L with Epic Stamina) Armor: Armored Clothing (Miguel Caballero suits, http://personalbodyarmor.com/, stats based on Bulletproof Vest per ST): Soak +2L/2B, Mobility Penalty 0, Fatigue 1, Tag B Weapons: Desert Eagle: Acc +0, Dam +5L, Rng 50, Clip 7, Spd 5 Equipment: Wealth beyond avarice. Creation Log: Bonus Points: Dexterity 3 (4pts), Perception 3 (4pts), Command 4 (1pt), Stealth 4 (1pt), Presence 4 (1pt), Integrity 3 (2pts), Marksmanship 4 (2pts) = 15pts Experience: Date Trait/Exp. Type Rank Gain/Cost Balance 05 August 2011 XP Award for Preludes - +25 25 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Art 1 -3 22 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Brawl 1 -3 19 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Control 1 -3 16 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Investigation 1 -3 13 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Melee 1 -3 10 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Survival 1 -3 7 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Art 2 -2 5 24 August 2011 Ability increase: Control 2 -2 3 24 August 2011 Virtue increase: Expression 2 -3 0
  4. "I am not" came the acerbic reply, utterly void of her earlier flippancy, "treating anyone, as you so eloquently put it, 'like shit.' What I am doing," Hades continued, "is rapidly losing my patience. Time," she elaborated, glancing around the room as she paced out a slow semi-circle, "is money. Time is also power. Both are being squandered right now." Fixing her gaze intently on Batya, the wealthy businesswoman added, "Both of the questions you've asked have already been answered. We have roughly two hours, twenty minutes at this point to board our plane, which is the only non-stop flight to Atlanta, and Priceline doesn't handle private charters. Now." Clapping her hands, she surveyed the room once more. "I'm leaving. I have some more loose ends to tie up. I'll either see you all at the airport, or I'll send you a postcard when I claim the box. Thank you, Mister Broder. I'll be in touch." With a half-bow to Auric and a cursory, off-hand wave to the others, Hades strode out of the bar with an expression both grave and ominously fierce. Her Agent followed suit, neutrally expressing his wishes for those assembled to have a pleasant evening. Click to reveal.. (OOC) I realize Hades isn't playing "nice," but it's not her style; she doesn't know these people, or even trust them. She's built an investments empire, and isn't accustomed to repeating (or, generally, even explaining) herself. It's nothing personal, I promise, so please don't take offense!
  5. The look of scorn in Hades's eyes as she peered at the former Monkey King penetrated like a depleted-uranium shell. Something wholly, genuinely unpleasant lay coiled in the depths of those stygian eyes, and for a long moment, the only sound she made was the faint hiss of an exhalation. Abruptly, she blinked, glancing surreptitiously at her watch before returning her gaze to Sunny with a neutral expression. "I'm terribly sorry," she said with what might have been a patronisingly apologetic smile, gesturing vaguely at the right side of her head. "But I'm a trifle deaf in this ear. Please, speak a little louder next time." "My dear... ah..." Clearly, the name had escaped her, perhaps due to her apparently bottomless glass of scotch, but she forged ahead anyway. "Lady. If they do not know what is going on, I shall be very. Put. Out." A meaningful glance at her Agent merited a shrug and a slight incline of his head toward the door. She sighed; the warning throb of an impending headache pulsed between her eyes. "You, all of you, are the consultants. That is how you'll get the chance to figure out where the box is, and how we're going to claim it. Is it fool-proof? No. Fortunately, we're sure to have at least one fool to test it for us," she quipped dryly.
  6. Just to clarify, in Hades's last post, I'm not trying to railroad anybody! She's just very, um, decisive. Yeah, we'll go with that. If anyone else has better ideas, or other suggestions to move the game along, please let me know and I can either edit or respond accordingly in-character!
  7. With a subdued, eerily synchronized 'click' from their booth, two laptops were briskly closed as Hades and her silent companion prepared to depart. "The Michael C. Carlos Museum, at Emory University, has one of the most extensive collections of ancient art and artifacts in the region. The Four Seasons is less than four miles from campus, in addition to other amenities and distractions downtown," the olive-skinned woman stated with the practiced ease and confidence of those accustomed to privilege... and negotiations. "Five rooms, two cars. Our flight leaves in..." Her dark eyes flicked briefly to the sleek watch on her left wrist. "Two hours, twenty-seven minutes. Got a killer deal on Priceline. Thank you, Mr. Shatner. Anyway!" She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "My team of consultants and I will be paying the museum a visit under the pretense of a sizable charitable donation, recommended by my accounting staff. Said consultants will have plenty of opportunity to, ah..." "I believe the phrase is, 'case the joint,' sir," her Agent supplied helpfully in his crisp, professional monotone. "Ah!" She snapped her fingers, brightening as suddenly as if she were Archimedes in his bathtub. "Yes. To... case the joint, while I'm talking business with whatever curator or director comes scurrying out. We'll have to get you all something business-appropriate to wear, of course." The woman's stygian gaze scrutinized each of them in turn, lingering longest on the rough-looking Norseman and the impressive bulk of the Morrigan. It wouldn't be easy, but... Well, money might not buy happiness, but it could by a damned good tailor. "After business hours, the real work can begin." She turned to Broder, one dark brow raised in inquiry, and then scanned the room once more before addressing those assembled. "I assume there aren't any other pressing matters that can't be resolved in transit?"
  8. "My legal department?" Hades replied, audibly incredulous. "Aphrodite's tits, man, they're the best money can buy!" After a moment's consideration, the fallen lord of the Underworld added circumspectly, "Ah, my legal team, that is; she's all natural. Catchy slogan, though." There was another pause as she finished the last of her scotch, a crystalline tinkling and a muffled sigh of contentment accompanying the final sip. "...and that's precisely why we'd never find the contract, or a paper trail leading to it. No, no," she muttered, waving her free hand in a dismissive gesture Broder knew was implied even if he couldn't see it. When Hades spoke again, however, there was no hint of distraction in her voice, and even the affectation of casual skepticism was underscored with a keen and incisive edge. "I would be very interested, however, in hearing of your plan to break a curse that hasn't wavered in the intervening centuries." Ahhh, Pride. "And just who, old friend, will be joining us? I do hope the location for our little clandestine rendezvous is appropriate; perhaps an abandoned warehouse near the docks? A decommissioned missile silo? Ohhhh, let me guess: an empty cargo container on a trade vessel just offshore?" The bitter mockery slicing through the phone was enough to leave a faintly toxic aftertaste even on Broder's tongue as a millennium of failure, regret, and soul-crushing disappointment spilled freely from Hades's lips. It was enough, he knew, to drive even a god a little mad... and Hades was somewhat more than "a little." "I'll go," she said more neutrally, weighing her options. Her brothers and that frigid cow had to go. Could Broder really pull some act of divine prestidigitation to make it possible? After a thousand years, Hades doubted it, but this little proposal might provide a distraction from the monotony of conference calls. Besides, she mused, it would be worth it to see whether or not others of the Fallen truly lived up to the moniker. "You haven't disappointed me yet, Broder, so consider this my RSVP. Just tell me where, and when."
  9. It was rare that the fallen Lord of the Underworld took "personal" calls, much less from anyone not intimately involved in the operation and administration of her business. That Broder had been so direct in contacting her piqued her interest, however, and she accepted the phone from her constant companion with only a moment's hesitation. If Auric Broder knew about the theft, there must be some angle she'd missed; Hades would have to reassess her estimation of the situation's magnitude, or at least the ripples it was causing. "Mister Broder," the entrepreneur all but crooned into the mouthpiece as she crossed her feet on the ottoman, half-empty glass of scotch in hand. Solicitously, her Agent moved to the suite's landline to order another bottle from room service. "What an unexpected pleasure. It's been far too long, and I have so missed our little chats." Hades paused, taking a long sip of the frigid amber liquid before continuing. "Shall we continue with the pleasantries," she asked, feigning a tone of diffident disinterest, "or shall we get straight to business?"
  10. "Sir," the Agent began once they were airborne, "we should discuss our strategy for-" "Yes, yes," the CEO of DIS replied, sighing as she slumped back against the padded seat, ice clinking in her glass. "The priority is, of course, getting my money back. We also need to determine who had the audacity to take it, and whether or not they're already on someone else's payroll." Her constant companion arched a blond brow ever so slightly. "You're considering the possibility that hiring the perpetrator would negate the need for them to steal, or at least put them in a position to be under constant observation." "Absolutely correct, as usual," Hades smiled, an expression that would have been mildly unsettling to any outside observer. "That's... rather a lot of money, and I want to know where it's going, and why, and if the naughty little cur who got their hands on it can be bought. Something like hiring one of those, ah, those computer people, Agent, what were they called, again?" "Hackers, sir?" "Hackers, yes! Like hiring one of those hackers to oversee data security." Hades paused for a moment, sipping her scotch as she considered something. "We did that already, didn't we?" "We did, sir," the Agent confirmed tonelessly. "He recently filed for independence from his parents to avoid them leeching off his paychecks for their mortgage." "Ah!" She brightened at that, chuckling delightedly and taking another sip of the amber liquor. "Smartest fifth-grader I know. He'll do well, I think," she mused. As the brief, companionable silence became something deeper and more prolonged, punctuated occasionally by the sound of a quiet feminine snore, the Agent of Hades quietly opened his laptop and began researching Solis in earnest. Everything must be ready by the time they reached Los Angeles.
  11. A long and uncomfortable silence reigned in the spacious office, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of its owner's short, impeccably manicured fingernails on the desk. Her gaze was fixed on a point somewhere above Saul's head, and miles distant from Seattle. Suddenly, and without warning, she slammed an open palm on the polished wooden surface and rose from her seat. "Well, then, Saul m'boy, you have it! Act! Legally, and with my approval!" When the startled and beleaguered auditor only stared at her with wide rabbit eyes, she frowned, waving her hands. "Go, go! What are you still doing here? Go get my laundered money!" As Saul fumbled with his briefcase and his dignity, she spun about to regard her Agent. "Ah, and that reminds me. My dry cleaning needs to be picked up. And see that my private jet is ready! I'm going to Los Angeles." "Sir, we don't have a landing strip," he replied calmly, seemingly nonplussed by her sudden outburst. Nodding thoughtfully, she amended, "Then ready my private helicopter! I want to be in my private L.A. by this afternoon." "Sir, I'm afraid that we haven't made that particular acquisition as of yet," her constant companion reminded her. She was halfway to the bronze elevator doors before she paused, regarding him somberly over her shoulder as Gunderson struggled to push the call button before she reached it. "Names. Get me the names of the people responsible and make it happen." "Sir, they have a government-" With a brusque wave of her hand, she dismissed the Agent's argument. "That's never mattered before, now, has it?" They continued to go on like that as they stepped into the waiting elevator, leaving Saul Gunderson, bean-counter, to stare after them. When the doors closed, he could only sigh in relief.
  12. The grand figure, an implausible sum for all but a few of the world's financial elite, would have elicited a number of reactions from anyone else. Tears, shouts of rage and disbelief, suicidal exclamations or threats of homicide might have filled the handsome, spacious office littered with priceless antiques in the way that middle-class housewives collected porcelain figurines and mass-marketed bric-a-brac. The very chair in which Saul seemed about to wet himself was once owned by Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, a fact which was not lost on the dour-looking woman seated behind an enormous hand carved desk. There was a brief pause following his stammered admission, a moment of heavy, foreboding silence in which the CEO of Dionekes Investment Securities glowered at the pudgy auditor, her dark, stygian eyes boring into him with the precision and relentless malice of a dental implement. "And where, precisely," she inquired silkily, almost conversationally, "has it gone? Money, Saul... may I call you Saul?" She continued, without waiting for an affirmative response. "Money does not simply 'vanish' into thin air. It must come from somewhere, and it must go somewhere." Another brief, infinitesimal pause, those dark eyes flicking surreptitiously toward the man to her left before settling again on the red-faced lackey. "Three years is a very long time, Saul. Don't burden me with the details of why it's taken you this long to catch up, just tell me where the problem is, and why it's still a problem, and not a footnote on my morning memo next to, 'picked up your dry cleaning and hired another valet.'"
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