8/11/2006 The Docks The warehouse that Octavius has supposedly made his headquarters appears, at first glance, to be just as quiet, dark, and run-down as the rest of the abandoned and near-abandoned structures in this part of the docks district. Even the sign out front ("Vetru Shipping") is faded. The Octopus himself is perched on the roof, a shadowy figure in long coat and broad-brimmed hat, twin glints of green light visible where his eyes should be. Xerxa-Suo. The Tommorow man. Has come here to meet with no less a prestigious scientist as Otto Octavius. However he is far from stupid and thus has come with his troopers. They are mostly drawn from Eastern European descent. Possibly russian mafia. Three hummers pull up from three different directions, black with black windows and black wheels. They park in three different concealed locations. 4 men get out of each Hummer, with black balaclavas, black shirts, shoes, and pants. Each of these persons carries a machine-gun w/bannana clip. Xerxa himself appears from a semi-concealed wharf, having been to this area previously. If Otto looks at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time, it is likely that he will see the gleam of a scope from an adjacent building. Tread carefully. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The tommorow man is a tall, angular man with a hawkish face, bluish skin, and yellow eyes. He has longer limbs than a normal person, but, other than his strange coloration, which is somewhat akin to that of nightcrawler, he appears to be essentially an ordinary person. Another unusual but minor detail about him is that he is completely bald. No hair on his head nor above his eyes. He wears clothing fitting the occasion but is essentially a civilian and thus never wears any spandex superpeople suits. A geiger counter might pick up faint bands of the Vasily spectrum radioactivity. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Doctor Octopus hasn't survived for so long, nor achieved what he has in the criminal world by being unobservant, without developing a certain level of danger sense that edges, frankly, into the realm of paranoia. The arrival of an armed squad -- not to mention the positioned sniper -- draws a frown on the tentacled terror's broad face, and that displeased, suspicious expression remains on his face as he straightens up and walks to the edge of the warehouse roof. His hands are conspicuously out in the open and empty. The extra arms are quite visible as well, adamantium lengths curling close to his body. Xerxa looks around the place. Pauses. Looks straight up. Narrows his eyes a little. Speaks to the men in Belarus. They move off in several different directions. The sniper did not recieve orders but, instead, seems to have been pre-ordained to move from spot to spot during this encounter, and is not in the same spot as previously. Chuckles. Calls rather loudly. "Can't be overcautious, now can I? Paranoia pays, you know." Nothing untoward in the speach. It is after all true. Seems to have allready known where you were. In light now, you are probably able to see that he is carrying a radiotransmission device which allows him a two way communication with... someone. "Your caution is noted," says Dr. Octavius. "As is your discourtesy." Two arms extend downwards, smooth and unhurried; moments after their clawed ends make contact with the concrete, the doctor steps off the roof and, with the ease of a man walking down a flight of steps, lowers himself to the ground. "Who are you, and what do you want?" Xerxa chuckles. "Oh I don't think I am discourtious. After all, If you are indeed who I think you are, Otto Octavius, I think you'll find me very courteous indeed. Considering the fact that a quantity of money could be spent this evening. I am informed that you have some connections with a certain.... technological group... am I aim... ing in the right direction?" Doesn't say his name. Might not be going to. Thick eyebrows lift, but the expression on Ock's broad face remains skeptical. "An octopus has many arms," he remarks, his natural ones folding across his chest. "And mine have a longer reach than most." He speaks directly to Xerxa, apparently completely ignoring the armed men surrounding them. Xerxa seems to have expected this answer. "Well then you'll be interested to know that, while I can't spend billions of dollars at the moment... I can spend millions... if you're selling any... usefull technology. I am Xerxa-Suo. Known by the appelation, the tommorow man." It is possible but not probable that you have heard of him. He runs a group called the 'Flaming Sabre of Retribution'. East-euro neo-nazi types. Bad folks. Millions? /That/ got Octavius' attention; every scientist needs funding, even those on the wrong side of the law. /Especially/ those on the wrong side of the law. "Ahh." He rubs his chin. "And what sort of technology are you interested in, my friend?" Though obviously interested, the cautious mood remains. Xerxa chuckles. "Well of late I've been somewhat dissapointed by the market. Chemical weapons are what I'm really in search of... but you know... primative laser guns and the like too.... it really depends largely upon whats for sale. I may see something I wasn't expecting, you know." Snaps his finger. A man comes foreward with a handcuffed briefcase. Otto's glance toward the briefcase is hidden behind green lenses, though the twitch as a couple of his tentacles turn their 'heads' toward the approaching minion is obvious enough. Otherwise, the extra limbs are quiescent. "You seem to misunderstand," he says. "I'm not a... an arms broker. Or a salesman. I haven't a /brochure/ to hand you." A note of scorn in the voice, and a hint of the sneer returning. "If you require my expertise, or advice, on a project, well then. We can talk. But I'm a scientist not a /Tinkerer/." A definite sneer there, obvious derision for the one who /is/ known for selling his technology. Xerxa seems oblivious to your scorn. "I'm going to over look your rather annoying comments. I didn't /expect/ you to have a brochure. What I expected you to do is discuss what you are familiar enough with to build with strong chance of success. I don't recommend being scornful of me again." Pushes in a cuff-button on his sleave. BOOM! A tugboat blows up in a HUGE explosion out in the bay. "Thats one cufflink down." The flames and blast are quite large but die down fairly quickly. He still has five cufflinks, having pushed the sixth. Adamantium tentacles reflexively -- and, it seems, instantly -- snap into a defensive posture around Doctor Octopus, claws snapping open as he takes a step back. His grimace -- lips skinning back from clenched teeth -- speaks not of fear but anger; he's never responded well to threats. "There is no area of science that I cannot conquer," he says, gratingly. "Nothing is beyond my skills, no technology beyond my grasp. /Nothing/. But I will /not/ be threatened." Xerxa speaks rather simply, unmoved by your extra limbs. "Good. The response I expected. You haven't conquered time travel yet, Doctor..." Is laughing at you without actually laughing. Everyone knows time travel is an impossibility.... isn't it? "What I want you to build is a lightweight, high impact weapon capable of launching a spray pattern of single-phase photons. It needs an onboard energy source that doesn't require a back-pack to carry about. It also needs to be capable of machine-gun level firing. Also it needs to be able to fire repeatedly without unleashing a minor atomic blast from overheating. Can you do it?" He asks you directly. "Yet," Octavius grunts, in response to the remark about time travel. In a world with genetic accidents, mutants, magic, clones, demons, and other dimensions running amok, how could one consider time travel an impossibility? That doesn't mean the warped scientist has ever been interested in it. His scowl remains as the other explains the project, and his answer is a snort and a decisive, "Of course. Child's play." Xerxa smiles rather darkly. "Good. Build me 100 of them. The money." Glances to the minion. Who opens a briefcase revealing... gold melted down into small coin shapes without any mint or mark. Its the real thing. The mint's certificate of authenticity comes with it. "Don't get any funny ideas doctor. I am as familiar with the sciences as you are. The difference between us is that I have about..." does some quick math. "...well let us just say a thousand year head start on you. To put it simply, I'll know if you're trying to fuck around with me." The tentacles remain raised, shifting into a new and equally defensive position around their core and master. Doctor Octopus' face registers skepticism. "One wonders," he grates, "why you need me, if you're so terribly /advanced/." Xerxa meets your skepticism with a simple explaination. "Time. I have to run operations and travel all over the world to do so. I can't spend all my time building things. Also theres the finances. How do you think I make money? I can't wait 50 years to build up the millions upon millions I need, I need them now." Pushes another cufflink. BOOM! Another large explosion this one from somewhere behind you. "Your personality annoys me." [OOC] You say, "How far behind, from the sound?" [OOC] Xerxa says, "Likely another boat. Far enough behind that you can see the glare without turning but close enough that the noise is loud." Otto doesn't look in the direction of the explosion. "To be perfectly frank, I don't much care for yours, either. However, I will accept your commission." The metal arms lower slightly. Not all the way -- he doesn't trust Xerxa that much. Xerxa smiles. "Good." Glances to the minion who slams the suitcase shut. "I'll meet you again in three days. I will expect it to be done by then. If it isn't, to be perfectly frank, you're dead." Just then there is a KRAK and the sniper that was in place shoots so that the shot passes over one of xerxa's shoulders and hits between your feet. Not in danger of actually hitting you. Just to show that it could be done. Snaps at the other men in belarus and everyone starts to leave. And right between Octavius' feet, just like that, is a tentacle; the bullet goes >spang< off the adamantium limb. Just to show that Ock is perfectly capable of dealing with bullets. And he watches the man go with eyes narrowed behind his goggles and his jaw clenched tight. Well.... what can we gather from this then? Number 1 - This xerxa fellow means business. Number 2 - he's got lots of money. And number 3 - he's probably not a saint. Xerxa moves to the wharf he walked out from and... after a short while, a speed boat roars off, the three hummers pulling off in three different directions. The Sniper vanishes like a ghost in fog. Otto shakes his head irritably and, once the man and his minions are gone, extends his limbs and lifts himself back to the level of the rooftops. He pauses briefly to scan the area, then moves off, whatever good mood he'd nurtured for that evening gone completely sour.