The Bigger They Are

Conference Room 

A brightly lit room with slit windows overlooking the city of Shadowheart. Taking up most of the room is an oval mahogany table surrounded by a dozen black leather chairs. Holographic emitters mounted on the ceiling are aimed at the center of the table. A stylized C gleams in steel on one wall. Guards stand on either side of the door.

Neidermeyer walks into the conference room, followed by the no-neck thugs with their plasma pistols - Tony the Monobrow and One Ear.

Valentine is a few seconds behind Neidermeyer, her dark cloak drawn close about her. Her red lips are curled up somewhat sourly, and she drops into the chair nearest the door.

Nikolai looks up as the others arrive, and for the moment says nothing.

Montgomery will probably be the last seated, as he allows Niesa to sit before him. He looks over to see Niedermeyer and his duo, greeting the man with a nod and faint smile, and then Valentine, to whom he merely nods. And then, he finds a chair near the middle of the table and sits.

Resting her elbows on the plush arms of her chair, Niesa steeples her fingers and waits. The frown on her face, the crease at her brow, deepen as Neiermeyer graces the room with his entourage.

Making his way toward the chair at the head of the table, Neidermeyer says, "Anybody who didn't make it to this meeting loses a fucking finger when I see them next." He yanks back the chair, then thumps down into it. "This meeting of Cabrerra Industries is called to order. You got a fucking thing to say, you raise your goddamned hand. You wait for me to call on you. If I don't call on you, you don't get all pouty and petulant. Pouty and petulant gets you killed." He glances around the table as Tony and One-Ear take up flanking positions on either side of his chair. "We clear? Anybody deaf? Do I need to bring in a sign language interpreter or someone who speaks Mekke?"

Nikolai nods. "Quite clear, comrade."

Valentine flashes her pedatory grin at Neidermeyer, folding her arms on the table's surface before her. A shrug of assent is her offering.

One corner of Niesa's thin mouth lifts a degree, but she remains silent.

"Of course, old bean," says Montgomery, calmly.

"All right, first things fucking first," Neidermeyer says, jabbing a finger at Montgomery. "Sawbones, there's a miserable fucker in the arena who got his guts handed to him by Knuckles. We acquired all his assets from a company called Starward Bound. Fix him up, toss him out."

Valentine's eyes flick up at the mention of the arena, slide over to Montgomery, and then round back to Neidermeyer without any real expression moving through them.

Niesa covers a small yawn with the back of her hand.

Montgomery nods acquiescence, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands on the table in front of him.

"Next: Ms. Galar and her protege, Junior, have been assigned to work with that freak Saahkal on our new opium facility on Deserata," Neidermeyer says. He looks around the table. "The Boss may be calling on other individuals within the organization to help with distribution and security."

Valentine shrugs very lightly, another assenting gesture that says simply: go on. Her legs shift, recrossing under the table. There is a low, wet, disgusted noise from Niesa's throat at the mention of Saahkal.

"One other thing," Neidermeyer begins, but he's interrupted by a sound like the buzzing of a bee swarm coming from outside in the corridor. Into the conference room whooshes a trio of small craft that look for all the world like starship models of some kind. Bobbing and weaving past the surprised-looking thugs who try to intercept them, the ships and their tiny assortment of bristling weapons arc around toward the head of the conference table.

Nikolai opens his eyes wide at the appearance of the tiny ships, "Vhat is this!?"

Montgomery gulps, stunned into silence and immobility, for the present time.

Niesa pushes back from the table, easily slipping to her knees. Her smile, directed squarely at Neidermeyer, broadens just before her head slips below the table's mahogany surface.

Valentine is on her feet immediately, cold blue eyes taking a quick circuit from the ships, to Neidermeyer, to the ships again. She is still for one long moment, posture balanced for a long quick motion forward, as if awaiting something.

A tinny voice crackles from the speaker of the lead ship as it closes on Neidermeyer, who is getting to his feet and drawing his flechette pistol: "Halt! Colin Neidermeyer, for months you have hideously tortured Nemoni prisoners in your clutches. You will now answer for these atrocities."

From her low crouch, the Timonae moves further down the table's length and peekes her head out for a better view of the ship.

The other two Nemoni vessels arc around slowly, keeping their guns aimed at those assembled.

Montgomery stays seated, eyeing the other vessels warily, his hands still resting on the table. His face is almost bloodless in fear and surprise.

Neidermeyer scooches away from the head of the table, shoving Tony the Monobrow thug in front of him as he stands with his back to the Shadowheart cityscape. The Nemoni ships swing in unison to face Tony. Their weapon turrets begin to glow crimson. The lead vessel opens a set of bomb bay doors and from the bay descends a small guided missile launcher. At first, Tony is amused, a goofy grin on his face. Then comes the tinny voice again: "Mini-nuclear missile armed. Prepare to fire." Tony looks left. He looks right. He fixes his eyes on the missile. He grimaces and steps quickly to the left.

That seems to be what Valentine was waiting for, her own pistol going untouched. She crouches, one motion tensing her legs and then sending her in a long dive for the rear of the Nemoni vessel that has its missile trained on Neidermeyer, red hair flying. You only live once, right?

"Sonuvabitch!" Neidermeyer shouts, aiming his flechette pistol at Tony and squeezing the trigger. The Monobrow's head is shredded into exploding ribbons of flesh, hair, gray matter, blood and bone. His corpse thuds limply on the carpeted floor. Neidermeyer then swings the gun around toward the lead Nemoni vessel and growls, "Your turn, pipsqueak!"

Valentine is, inexplicably, frozen in mid-air.

Niesa ducks back under the table, pulling the pulse pistol from the back of her waistband.

The noise of violence prompts a reaction from Montgomery, as he chooses this time to try and slip from his chair and under the table.

Nikolai slides off his chair and dives under the table, "Madness!"

"No," replies the tinny voice through the loudspeaker in the lead Nemoni ship. "Yours." And the guided missile fires its thrusters and launches toward Neidermeyer, just as he's firing off a shot with the flechette pistol. The missile, already armed, explodes inches away from the honcho before he finishes squeezing the trigger, creating a shock wave and a radioactive fireball. The blast causes Neidermeyer's shot to go wild, just missing Niesa and shredding the paneling on the wall behind her and to the left. The fireball swooms outward with a FOOMP!, giving Valentine a nasty sunburn and setting Neidermeyer's expensive silk suit aflame and hurling him backward through one of the plate glass windows. Lit up like a bizarre tiki torch, still gripping his flechette pistol, Neidermeyer shatters the window and plummets into the blue-purple night, falling fourteen floors to the pavement.

Valentine takes a moment or two to realise she isn't going anywhere, struggling to move in the stinging sear of the explosion.

Niesa dives further under the table, leveling the pistol at the well-dressed doctor. Despite the fevered look in her stony eyes, her smile is intact. "Just stay out of the way." The blaster's tip favors Nikolai briefly. "Both of you."

Montgomery clears his throat, his voice thick with vague panic. "Dear lady, I wouldn't dream of getting in your way," he whispers.

"Splendid," says a sharp-featured man in gray and black who steps into the conference room. "You may go now," he informs the Nemoni vessels. They arc around, making for the exit. He steps aside to let them pass, then clasps his hands behind his back and turns to regard the assembled guests: "Some of you know me. Some of you don't. My name is Grim. I am the new right hand of Boss Cabrerra. My right hand is Niesa Galar." He gestures to the Timonae female, a thin smile on his face. "As you can see, the status quo is changing rather dramatically. Old agreements will be renegotiated. Old alliances will be reconsidered. It is a new day for Cabrerra Industries." Grim snaps his fingers in Valentine's direction. "No sense hanging around." She falls onto the table, free to move again.

Valentine, attempting to squirm around midair to glance at the new arrival, dives instinctively into a roll off the table and against the wall as she's released with only minimal gracelessness. Her eyes are huge and sharp, trained on Grim above the dead-level set of her mouth. Her hands stay well away from her weapons, though.

Nikolai looks up at Grim, unable to speak. His eyes though show confusion.

As she emerges from beneath the table, Niesa smoothes a hand through the short, pale hair above one ear. With an economy of motion, she replaces the pistol into her waistband and moves to stand across the table from the entering Grim.

Nikolai emerges from under the table too, getting himself a better view of the new arrival.

"Any questions?" Grim inquires as he walks around to the head of the table, casual despite the arctic wind whipping around inside the conference room through the shattered window.

Montgomery slowly makes his way out from under the table, shaken. He glances over at the broken window that served as Neidermeyer's last resort. "Ave et Ataque, Colin. Irony is our greatest teacher." He attempts to straighten his tie and lapels with fingers gone from shaky to calm. To Grim, he states, "There are no questions."

Nikolai manages to regain some stability. "No questions at all, comrade."

A few hours later...

Cabrerra Industries 

A stylized C sculpted in gleaming aluminum rotates in an antigrav field, suspended some thirty feet overhead in the atrium of this twenty floor office tower in the center of the city of Shadowheart.

Where the rest of the city rarely seems to have any indication of law enforcement presence, this building absolutely reeks of high security coverage, from the armed guards flanking the entrance and the lift doors to the cameras mounted in corners to the ever-present roaming hoverbot with its scanners and stun weaponry.

A sign glows on the north wall, reading: CABRERRA INDUSTRIES.

Saahkal exhales gently, tilting his head a fraction. "Thankfully, you know better." He doesn't seem to have noticed the new arrival yet, sitting in the waiting area with a briefcase in his hands.

The door catches Niesa's attention. "Of course," she says, then turns her head toward the door, not relinquishing her spot in front of where Saahkal sits.

The white-haired man steps off the lift, mouth twisted in a grimace as he walks toward Niesa. "After three centuries of walking through bulkheads and making other spectacular entrances, I must say it provides a bit of humility riding in one of those caskets." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the lift. He regards Saahkal coolly. "Ah," Grim says, "our man on Deserata."

Saahkal unfolds himself from the chair, coming face to face with Niesa. Sparing her a brief glance, he steps sideways away from her and turns to Grim. His vocalizer expresses, "Yes. I'm here to see a mister... Grim."

Niesa's smile broadens at that, but she remains silent.

An eyebrow inches upward. The right corner of his mouth quirks upward a fraction. The man with the spiky white hair clasps his hands behind his back and says, "Now that you have seen me, you may tell all your friends. Would you care for a holographic picture, perhaps? An autograph? A glass of water turned to wine?"

Saahkal shrugs helplessly, shifting his briefcase to his ungloved hand. Dull, neutral eyes fix Grim, not particularily evaluating. "I'm afraid I don't get the humour." He says, voice level and extends his right hand. "I'm Saahkal, I'm sure you've read my file."

Grim studies the extended hand as if the fingers have serpent's heads. He nods, tilts his head and then stares blankly at Saahkal. "You thought I was joking? How odd."

Niesa coughs quietly into the back of her hand, silvered eyes studying the exchange as if it were some grim tennis match.

Saahkal returns his hand to its place by his side without glancing at it. "In that case, I'll have that glass of wine, please." He blinks once, slowly, like a reptile. "Niceties aside, I won't waste your time. I have a kilo of pure heroin here, and half a standard tonne more in my ship."

Grim starts pacing around to Saahkal's left, hands clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable. "Even disfigured, you are a creature of vanity," the spike-haired man says softly. "You cling to your freakish nature now like an old trollop clings to her sequined dresses and her cheap blush." He stops, just behind Saahkal, and turns to speak into where his ear *should* be. Calmly, softly, he states, "But no matter how much blush she wears or how shiny are the sequins of her gown, she remains a gutter whore with sagging breasts, smelling of menthol and melancholy."

Niesa bites at her bottom lip to still a small twitch that has started there. Her gaze tracing the dull lines of Saahkal's mask as Grim speaks.

Saahkal closes his eyes briefly. When they open, they hold the same inscrutable flatness as before. "I put whatever I have to whatever use I can. In occurance, towards the boss' profit. Would you like to sample the heroin?"

The ghost of a smile briefly haunts Grim's thin lips. He shakes his head, completing the circuit around Saahkal. In a voice that might just as well be reciting a prayer from a hymnal, he says, "I think not. But I will tell you this, because I understand your time shares the same intrinsic value as the ejaculate of a donkey: Boss Cabrerra is in the process of reviewing and reconsidering all prior arrangements during the Neidermeyer Era. It would appear that certain elements of Mr. Neidermeyer's activities were kept from his employer, and this has left said employer rather cross with said employee, and rather distrustful of those who were counted among his associates." He turns toward Niesa. "So, what do you think, Ms. Galar, of our friend?"

Niesa's head inclines thoughtfully at that, her faint smile returning like the sun after a brief summer shower. "I have not known Mr. Kaz for more than a week," she says, folding her arms across her chest and considering the length of him as she speaks. "So as for his business practices, I cannot give you any estimation of his worth." She pauses, eyes narrowing a fraction. "But in the short time I have known him, Mr. Kaz has expressed great interest in doing only what is profitable for the company."

"High praise, indeed," Grim says, but his voice offers no sense of commitment. He favors Saahkal with a tight smile. "Boss Cabrerra's funds already have been invested. It would be unwise to endanger that investment. As you attest to the quality, I will take your word for it, Mr. ... Kaz, was it?" He walks to stand next to Niesa. "So long as Cabrerra Industries receives half the profits off the gross, not the net, we shall be partners in good standing."

Saahkal inclines his head at the last bit, otherwise immobile. "I wasn't aware of mister Neidermeyer's..." He pauses, perhaps searching for the correct Terran word, "... ungrateful behaviour. However, I have a deal with Cabrerra Industries that I intend to carry out fully. Now, would you like me to deposit half of the opiates produce on-planet, say, every week, or would you like me to simply bring cash?"

Niesa licks her lips and waits.

Both eyebrows arch upward. Grim tsk-tsks. "In this era of modern technology, Mr. Kaz, you may easily satisfy your obligation to this organization through the remote transfer of funds to certain offshore accounts. Specifically, you will make your deposits to the Grandview Bank on Sivad. The payments will then be shuffled through a series of dummied accounts and investment fronts. Once completely laundered and cleaned of your taint, then - and only then - will the money enter the accounts of Cabrerra Industries." Still calmly, serenely, he continues: "If you come to this planet again with a cargo hold loaded with drugs, unbidden, serenading me with the songs of purity and potency, speaking of currency and deals, you will spend the remainder of your severely shortened life pleading for the glorious mercy of death."

Saahkal nods again and joins his hands at his back, with his briefcase. "Very well. Is Ms Galar's assignment to my operation discontinued?"

Easily, Niesa's gaze slides from Saahkal to Grim, her own pale eyebrows lifting almost imperceptibly.

Grim lifts his chin and his eyes - predatory, calculating - fix on Saahkal. "Much to contrary. Her observations of your activities are more critical than ever as Cabrerra Industries enters this new and delicate phase of existence. And be mindful: I am as the right hand to God, and she," he tilts his head toward Niesa, "is as God's eyes. Should harm come to her under your watch, you will die. Should harm come to her in your absence and be linked to you," he pauses, staring coldly at Saahkal, "and it would, I assure you, then you would, in that instance, also die. So, you see, it is quite simple to survive under these conditions: See that no harm comes to Ms. Galar and behave in a fashion that is profitable to Cabrerra Industries."

Saahkal grunts softly, almost imperceptibly, as his voice device speaks. "Clear."

Niesa turns from the men and walking a sort distance away, lifts her gaze to the dome overhead.

"Splendid," Grim says, clasping his hands behind his back. "So, you have met Mister Grim. Are you suitably acquainted?"

"Suitably." parrots Saahkal, returning his hands to his side, briefcase thumping against his knee. "Anything else before I'm out of here?"

Niesa turns back, her gaze again resting squarely on Grim.

"Most excellent," the new Cabrerra front man intones with absolutely no enthusiasm - lukewarm broth being passed off as a rich minestrone soup. "One final word of caution," Grim states. "This will be our next to last meeting. So long as Ms. Galar remains satisfied with your activities, we will never have to set eyes on each other again. But should we meet again, you and I, mine will be the last face you *ever* see." His voice barely registers above a whisper. "Good day, Mr. Kaz."

If Saahkal is impressed by the threats, it certainly doesn't show. With a final nod, the man turns and makes his way towards the door, glancing blankly to Niesa as he exits.

Niesa lowers her chin slightly by way of farewell, but that is all.