|Smooth As Liquid Silk
||[Dec. 3rd, 2005|01:36 am]
The battery flipped and twirled, end over shining end, as it ascended through the air.
"Hmm. Not more than thirty minutes, I'd say." His voice was smooth, almost elegant in its throatiness, but with just enough edge to it to give the impression of unshakeable self-assurance. "I mean, we wouldn't want the OIS to come along and haul you both off, now would we, Number Six?."
Momentarily, the small metal prism's arc peaked, leaving it suspended in the air for a fraction of a second.
"Come now, Girardot," argued the second voice, "that's robbery."
"No, it's caution. We can't have the OIS showing up and ruining everything, now can we? I'd be out a girl, and you'd be out a reputation, a social status, and likely an existence; what would the Atrus Family think if you, as prestigious as you are, were discovered in so precarious a position? It's to both our advantages, Elder, if I have somebody in place to be looking the other way; the Machines are bad enough about this as it is."
With a gentle smack, the battery dropped back into the palm of a white-gloved hand, which closed around it immediately.
"Hmmm...I suppose you're right. Good thinking."
"Besides," and here there was the hint of a foppish smirk, "be thankful I have rooms furnished. Most of my competitors (if such things existed) would've relegated you to ducking into the vent for a ten-minute how-do-you-do and then charged you through the nose for it."
The Sublimely Magnificent Selric Girardot XVII toyed with the battery on the tips of his fingers, out behind the tenant building his operation ran out of, and snapped with his other hand. A scant-attired lady of the night was by his side in an instant, and he motioned her over to his client (who, much to Selric's amusement, had a hood pulled low over his face to avoid being recognized). "My payment first," reminded the Earl of Excess, and then reached out to catch the tightly-sealed, opaque bag as it was thrown to him. He peeked in, looking at the contents, and nodded. "Excellent. Have a blast, Number Six."
He didn't bother to watch the two enter the building; rather, he turned and walked a few steps away towards the alley, rifling through the bag. There, with a flourish, he produced a whole handful of batteries now, and grinned widely. Ah, business as usual.
Selric Girardot (the Sublimely Magnificent Selric Girardot XVII, as he called himself, though he was neither well-bred nor well-raised) prided himself on being the most successful criminal in the Gamma District, nay, in ALL of Dome 9. He was well-known to the area's seedier elements as a snake with a tongue of silver, one who, in the words of a former business rival, "could sell food to a Machine". Fortunately, he didn't have to; rather, he dealt in the universe's oldest profession, hence his reputation amongst the people as the "Earl of Excess."
While the arch-fishmonger himself was in no way physically intimidating, and had no desire to test out any tricks he had up his sleeve in the event of melee combat, power attracts muscle, and so it was that what the silver tongue couldn't accomplish, the four-hundred-pound bodyguards usually could. Two of them, clad in slightly-less-flashy versions of his suit (and sans the flowing cape, of which Selric was particularly proud) were currently flanking him to ensure that no unfortunate accidents occurred during business hours...and that these batteries didn't get out of sight. Ah, the batteries. He'd amassed quite the cache, although it was safely hidden away. All he had to do was figure out what to do with them...
"Hey boss," mentioned the guard on the right (Selric called him "Synapse", though it was not the hulking man's real name, which was Trent or Brent or something like that. He couldn't be bothered to remember such trivial details), "we got the boys comin' down on us."
Nodding, the Earl of Excess tossed the bag of today's earnings to his second bodyguard ("Influx". He'd originally considered naming him "Synopse", to make it kind of a duality thing, but wasn't sure if synopse was a word). "Move," he ordered. "Rendezvous back here when you're done dropping those off; I should've thrown off the authorities by then."
Yeah, here came the OISers. Selric fell into a semblance of casual conversation with Synapse as Influx slipped away, but didn't even bother trying to look innocent for the officers as they began to approach. He'd dealt with the law many times, and rarely had the law come out with anything resembling the upper hand.
He didn't know yet, of course, that this was going to turn out as a very bad day for him...