[Fiction] Focus Consulting's "Nova Inaugural Ball"

[HyperFocus]

David “HyperFocus” Giadello fidgeted as he watched his guests arrive. In personal media suite adjacent to his office he paced nervously, his eyes and attention flickering across dozens of different monitors. Etiquette would normally demand that he be there in person to greet his guests. David had decided however that the psychological edge gained by observing the behavior of his early arrivals in the converted lobby of Focus Consulting outweighed this minor incourtesy.

He had no doubt in his staff’s ability to entertain. In fact, many of them had worked as hard toward Inaugural Ball as he had. It was only one of many parties being thrown in Washington that night but as the unofficial “Nova Inaugural” it was the place for the Quantum powered to rub elbows with the truly powerful. Although Obama was expected to make a brief appearance Focus consulting had officially stayed out of the presidential campaign. David preferred to limit his involvement to state and congressional campaigns. Presidential campaigns attracted the kind of attention he would prefer to avoid, for the time being. He wasn’t, however, unpleased with the result and had made significant gains for his agenda across the board this election cycle. Virginia had legalized gay marriage, medical marijuana had passed in three more states and he had put into place a Secretary of State in Missouri that he predicted would be in a particularly vital position in the 2020 election.

As he watched his guests arrive Giadello was monitoring several other situations. Developments in Kashmir, Poland’s making waves in the EU parliament, and a troubling Utopian “police action” in Tacoma, Washington. If he were being honest with himself, David would admit that he was putting off his hosting duties. He excelled in social situations of course, but they were too confined, too leisurely. He often had to resist the urge to divide his attention (and provide opinion) among several conversations at once. It was well within his power but people found it…off-putting.

David sighed, adjusting his collar one last time before he exited his “monitor womb”. He couldn’t deny it any longer. The celebrities he could care less about. Guests like Maddox Jolie-Pitt were only around to lend the ball a hint of baseline glamour. The guests had reached critical mass and the arrival of former president Randal “The Fireman” Portman had clinched hit. As a personal elevator whisked him down to the lobby he practiced the breathing exercises an Aberrant friend had taught him to calm his nerves. Almost any nova with an interest had been invited and there was no telling who was going to show up. There we a lot of variables outside his control tonight…

He gritted his teeth, dreading and relishing the challenge. Then he exited exactly as he calculated Portman would be passing by the elevator door with his hand already extended, smile blazing. “Mr. Portman, so glad you could make it…”

As he entered into a passably interesting conversation on one of the former president pet issues (new voting technology) he divided his attention and extended his other senses across the lobby. Portman was a known quantity. It was those unexpected variables this party was intended to bring out of the woodwork that were truly held his attention tonight.

((So, there’s a setting. A way to introduce my character and let you expand on whatever your characters practical political concerns may be. David will be fliting about, as he does, and I’ll narrarate a few other story events as the evening progresses.))

[Pandora]

There were many more beautiful novas in the world, and even a few who were smarter, but few who combined attractiveness, intelligence and presence quite the same way as the nova called Precious. Her high heels, little more than bronze straps around the foot and ankle with a golden buckle, made a woman who was already tall as a supermodel able to look over an average-sized man's head while her dress, a confection of bronze and golden silk and lace with an asymmetrical back-laced bodice that glittered with tiny glass beads and mirrored chips, hugged a shapely figure and showed off long legs. Her blonde hair was gathered into her typical topknot, pinned with vintage bronze hairsticks capped with dangling glass beads and filigree pewter metalwork, and a magnificent necklace made in a similar style encircled her swanlike neck. Creamy-skinned and blue-eyed, Regan McLaughlin was a striking woman, and dressed to impress.

Full lips were curved in the enigmatic, possibly sardonic, half-smile that seemed to be her trademark. Though mostly famous on the European scene, the second bastard daughter of Wilhelm von Gradenberg, a notorious rake called 'Black Willie' in noble social circles, had derived a certain amount of notoriety amongst followers of the more obscure novas by sharing a name with a Team Tomorrowite turned Terat named Samhra. The fact that both women were blonde and had telepathic abilities led to all sorts of conspiracy and cloning theories amongst the bored nova-watchers, but to the best of Precious' knowledge, Samhra could not care less - and neither did she. Even if it pleased Raoul Orzaiz to make polite jests about it every time she went to a party he was that.

While the similarities were uncanny - Precious' mother was Australian too - both psychics had vastly different powers. Samhra appeared to focus on information-based abilities, with an emphasis on visual and textual kinds, and had a leavening of Taint-related animalistic qualities. Precious had erupted a few years before the winged Terat, and while certain talents were similar in scope and type, she was ... what? Facilitator, organiser, social commentator? All of these, and more, no doubt. She liked to render caustic opinions in an effort to improve (or at least make more entertaining) the rarefied social circles she endured as Black Willie's daughter, the ones she managed parties for because despite being a nova, she wasn't quite... legitimate.

Idiots. Even Count Orzaiz (both elder and younger) treated her that way.

No matter. She found the American old money and political circles even more amusing, and so she had talked her way into getting an invitation into this party.

This promised to be an entertaining evening.

[HyperFocus]

David almost shuddered with anticipation. He didnt miss a beat in his conversation with the former President but he could feel the thrill of excitement tinged with not a little fear as one of his "variables" strode into his party. This particular variable was dressed to the nines and radiating quantam fueled glamor. The rather drab and conservative fashions of Washington DC seemed to fade into the backround around her. This woman was like an exclimation point in the text of the universe.

Introducing Portman to Obama's new UN Ambassador and making a gracious exit, David menuvered himself around the lobby hoping to get a better bearing on the new arrival. He recognized her from some of the files on European novas he had compiled in advance of expanding his operations there. She seemed to operate among the aristocrats and idle rich. David perfered to do an end run around those type of people in his buisness as they rarely held any real power in democratic socities. But this one had come to the U.S., she had come to his party. She had taken an interest and Novas that take an interest can rarely resist having an effect.

Giadello smiled wryly, he himself was the some best proof of that statement.

In the end, the only course of action was to engage and find out more. He mentally reviewed his information and made his approach. He deftly plucked two champagine flutes from a passing caterer.

"Exscuse me, Madamouselle, I hadnt realized my operations in the European Union had excited interest in such rareified circles." with a smile like a thousand suns blazing he took the ladies hand , bowing shallowly to kiss it gently. Releasing her hand he offered her one of the deftly balanced flutes. "David Giadello, of Focus Consulting. Welcome to my party..."

[Pandora]

Now Precious was as much a veteran of the Amp Room and its successor the Phoenix Room, and she kept track of all social scenes, including the gay ones. So HyperFocus was not an unfamiliar face to her, and she knew of his reputation as a consultant.

She accepted a flute of champagne and murmured all the appropriate things as he bent over her hand and kissed it and did all the things a gentleman was supposed to do. His manners were flawless in the way that only a nova could manage, but she allowed the effect of his smile to wash over her. Bless her little immunity to nova social parlour tricks!

"I'm Precious, the other Regan McLaughlin," she replied, expecting him to get the joke. Her poise was quietly confident, her voice perfectly modulated and low, thick and sweet as honey. She seemed like one of those old money folks who erupted, lke Raoul Orzaiz or Delaney Croft-Martin from Team Tomorrow, until a person met her eyes.

Ice-blue and utterly clear, those eyes pierced straight to the core of a person and stared at what was within, unmoved by what was seen.

"And thank you for the personal meet-and-greet," she added with an amused smile. "In all fairness though, I must confess I've come here to entertain myself watching Americans socialise. It's almost as amusing as watching Maria Villareal and Raoul Orzaiz at the same party."

[HyperFocus]

David didn’t flinch, but kept his voice low and modulated as his personality roughly weathered the storm of this novas formidable social talents.

"Ah well, you'll have to forgive the provincials some of our affectations. Still, while D.C. doesn’t hold a candle to Florenzia its a damm sight more exciting then Geneva.' David carefully regarded her, tilting his head slightly. "Actually I believe we may have been introduced briefly, by Jake, in the Phoenix Room. I was blowing off some steam after working as an observer for the Turkish elections."

David shot Precious an informal grin...calculated to annoy the aristocrat but not to provide any real offence. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, mademoiselle? Was it something more then curiosity?"

Precious scruffy grin and responded with the slow, sardonic smile for which she was famous. "A month of Sundays in a nunnery would be more exciting than Geneva," she drawled in reply. Her head cocked slightly as she studied him with those cool, clear eyes. "Yes, I recall meeting you. I came here because I had the option of attending one of the Count Orzaiz's parties at the Blackbern or coming here, and let me assure you, I'd sooner listen to a couple of Washington bottom-feeders than a gaggle of Terats and wannabes."

As her eyes dared him to take offence at her blunt speech David didn’t bother to stifle a hearty laugh. He had predicted almost every eventually for this evening but this was something unexpected. This was fun!

"Washington bottom feeders aren’t much more then a bunch of wannabes with an ideology themselves, I’m afraid. I have to agree though. Baseline speechifying is bad enough. When Raoul gets going it’s almost enough to make you wish you'd never erupted..."

David paused, gazing out amongst the party, his heightened senses quivering and leaping to deliver information to his brain. His neurons assimilating and cataloguing that information for later use. "...almost," he repeated.

The moment lasted a split second before he recovered. He refixed is gaze on Precious "Tell me though, a woman of your talents cant be as unoccupied as you appear to be. You've got your fingers in quite a few pies too, Madam. What do you say?" he raised an eyebrow, "You show me your state secrets and I'll show you mine."

Precious smiled another one of her slow, sideways smiles, amusement almost seeping from the pores of her flawless skin. HyperFocus always assumed that people dabbled in politics as much as he did. It was rather cute, actually. "I find politics almost as tedious as a visit to Geneva," she replied casually, sipping from her flute of champagne. "I vote in the requisite elections for those who won't harass novas and leave political backstabbing to those who enjoy it." Her lips curved sardonically. "I have enough problems with social backstabbers."

"I've always found that if you don’t happen to politics, politics has a way of happening to you," he sighed, his gambit thwarted by patrician disinterest. David reflected on the fact that the very entomology of the word privilege was "private law". To people of Precious background one government or set of laws was as good as the next as long as the plebs weren't rioting at the gates. Upon the sudden realization that he was dealing with a probable telepathic talent he terminated that line of thought. "Come, while we are waiting for some politics to happen I'll introduce you around." He placed his hand at the small of her back in a gentlemanly fashioned, deftly steering her clear of the trajectory of a drunken scion of the Kennedy family. "I assure you, only the highest class of bottom-feeders."

Precious allowed HyperFocus to guide her about the room, lips curving in an ironic smile. "If you're interested, my politics are standard left-wing liberal," she offered in an attempt to cheer him up. "It makes for interesting discussions at the dinner table with my father." The elegant blonde looked more amused than anything else at the assemblage of American social giants. The same expression had been recorded at almost every party she attended, except the ones she had arranged herself. "Besides, these lot aren't as bad as the ones in Monaco. I can agree with the good Count when he says that it's a nice place to live, but I wouldn't want to visit there."

“Monaco?!” David practically guffawed. “I haven’t bothered to visit there yet. Mayhap the United States throws off ones sense of scale. Monaco’s Forty-Thousand people wouldn’t even fill a congressional district Wyoming. Ahhh, here we are…Madam, may I introduce former President Randal Portman, the New Secretary of Health and Human Services and former senator Barney Frank and…((this would be a good time for someone else to jump in if you want))

[Mr. Crimson]

Some warps are subtle, even pretty; peaceful doors in space. This one isn't. The small red light that appears a few feet in the air makes a few people back away, and soon the slightly nauseating spectacle of tortured space begins. The very air around the light seems to scream as it is sucked through the minuscule hole, that soon grows into something resembling a spherical hole in space, quivering and resisting, held open only by brute force. And out of it steps a monster. It looks like a man, though seven foot tall and a considerable fraction of that wide, and it was dressed in a well tailored suit, black with certain red highlights, in fact, he could even be considered rather handsome, and he's definitely eye-catching. But no human being had those eyes. They were eyes that did not inspire confidence, they were eyes that had seen too much and, perhaps, done too much, to be the eyes of a man. And their silent song is: one day, you will be like me, someday you will become the abyss you gaze into, I just need to wait.

Mr. Crimson scans the room as the unnatural warp snaps closed behind him, with another tortured scream of air blowing the breeze back and finally stopping, the air still. He knew the look a lot of the guests were giving him, he'd learned to live with it, if not quite revel in it. Now he just needed to find that HyperFocus person, hoping to hell this wasn't some kind of trap. Not that he'd be in danger, but he didn't want to kill any novas in a crossfire.

Code:

Mr. Crimson's disturbing presence is due to his considerable Taint (7),
as always, the more Taint you have, the less it affects you.

[HyperFocus]

David noticed something was wrong seconds before anyone else did. Not missing a beat he positioned himself between the warp and his guests. Judging by the wind sheer of the air being sucked in, this warp was originating somewhere significantly above sea level. As Crimson’s features became clearer in the shimmering nimbus of warp energy it all made more sense. He probably had a base of operations somewhere on Mont Nimba, in Guinea. Excellent, then he'd definitely listen to what he had to say.

David set his jaw and stepped forward as his other guests backed away. Inviting the ex-teragen nova freedom fighter Mr. Crimson had been a risky move. He hadn't expected such a...theatrical...arrival. In all honesty, he didn’t mind that much. A little quantum fueled danger at the ball was would set tongues wagging about town, the kind of publicity he liked, as long as it didn’t get out of hand. The publicity was only a side benefit though. The truth was, Giadello possessed information he had to deliver to Mr. Crimson in person. While David's research hadn’t revealed any evidence of mental degeneration the sheer amount of Nova talent in attendance tonight should give even Mr. Crimson's pause. "The Fireman" in particular possessed significant defensive powers that could counter Crimson's power profile. Not that David thought he would come to that.

David reviewed all this information as he extended a hand, trying to ignore the cold sweat of fear trickling down his back. Not time for that, these first moments would be critical.

"Ah, Mr. Crimson, I assume?" though it could be no other, "Recently of the Teragen, currently of the reasonable? I think we have business to discuss"

[Mr. Crimson]

Mr. Crimson grinned, an expression that, in his face, was as far divorced from a smile as possible. This was not the face of a man who smiled easily, frequently or, indeed, at all. His expression was slightly amused respect. You haven't crapped yourself, kid. I congratulate you. As he extends his sizeable hand, Dave notices that the heaviness in the air isn't just the play of his nerves. He actually is heavier around Mr. Crimson, and the effect only intensifies with the handshake, the ex-Terat's hand dwarfing that of the smaller nova. Mr. Crimson presses just enough not to hurt, but enough to leave the threat hanging: I could go tighter. I could go so tight your bones would turn to dust, and shake so hard that your arm would rip from its socket. .

"That I am," he rumbles, voice like a volcano stirring from its sleep, but without a trace of any accent, "although it depends on what you call 'recently'. You've got titanium balls, inviting me here," which is both praise and another veiled threat, I can cause you so much trouble you don't want to know, "but business is business, isn't it?"

[Pandora]

Precious remained steady in the face of so much Taint and controversy even as her conversational partner stepped back. She felt uneasy, but assumed that 1) the host had a good reason to invite Mr. Crimson here and 2) he would behave himself.... relatively, of course.