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by: Tristan Viridian
Tuesday May 8th 2012
12 p.m.

It was cool out, even for a pre-summer day. The sun might have peeked through the clouds for a moment, but not for too long, but Tristan still thought it was some nice weather in the city. It took a bit longer than usual to peel himself out of bed this morning but his usual routine of pre-workout & breakfast, morning run & weights, and protein shake were all completed and with time to spare. He even had time to read up on the notes he pulled up on the Abbey and other regular clientele, including the crew. He made a mental note to stop by there soon, since he was due for another meeting with an informant anyway, and he was in the mood for a drink, especially if it brought him closer to his targets.

Tristan tugged at the wristcuffs of his jacket as he walked down the street toward the building where King had instructed him to be at 12:15 sharp. When he peeked at his watch, he was pleased to see he was early. It wasn't the same place where they'd lunched before and it certainly wasn't at King's penthouse either so he wondered what was in store here. Perhaps more fine dining, which was always wonderful, and quite the staple in the lucrative business in which they were dealing.

When he walked through the doors, it was a restaurant setting, as expected, and he found a couple of King's guards standing at the far end of the room, near the private dining area. The host nodded and gestured he walk back, as if they were already waiting for him there. Tristan fastened the buttons on his suit jacket as he continued his trek toward the back room, stepping lightly, yet confidently, into another meeting with his employer.
Last edited by Tristan Viridian on Thu Apr 27, 2017 11:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
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by: Orion
"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today, Miss Prewett. I'll be sure that the deliveries for the next month are on time."

King escorted out a hunched and dazed looking old woman. She seemed to be off balance, like she'd heard or seen something that threw her for a loop. As she started to leave the restaurant, she stopped and stared at Tristan, smirked, and croaked a laugh before making her way out of the restaurant.

King paid her no mind as he extended his hand out to Tristan and ushered him into the private room.

"Thank you for coming, my friend. I have that information you wanted. But I must know...what do you think of the armor and shield?"

King smiled indulgently as he referenced the special armor and weapon that he'd had commissioned. The armor was a hybrid of muggle design and wizarding design. The goblins who had made it were students of war. They'd insisted on making a shield to go with it, stating that the weapon wasn't just for defense. The edge of the shield was sharpened in the goblin fashion, holding its edge no matter what. Handled right, the thing could smash brick. King led his protege into the private room.
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by: Tristan Viridian
Tristan respectfully bowed his head at the elderly woman who was taking her leave, escorted by King himself. He'd never seen her before but he was taught at an early age to keep his manners about him from his dear mother. Tristan was a little surprised when she stopped, however, because she thought it necessary to laugh at him on her way out. He narrowed his eyes and kept watch on her as she unsteadily made her exit, in case he would need to run to her aid. Manners.

Straightening out once the woman was gone, Tristan looked over at King with a small smile and followed his employer to the back room, their VIP area, no doubt. Every time he'd met with King, it was in a different place, each of them with a level of prestige that outdid itself and even outdid the ones prior. This hall was empty, with one table made up at the back. Two guards stood watch, but remained far enough away once they made their way deep into the hall that Tristan felt a little more at ease with this luncheon.

To the query, Tristan smiled. He'd received the gift not only two days after their last meeting. Special armor crafted magically, fit him like a glove. The Shield was armed with his own means of protection, and it was simply marvelous. "It's perfect. Thank you, Sir." He kept his answer concise, even though he wanted to gush about every little detail about how easy it was to move, run--the torque, the density, the quality. Everything was simply perfect about it. "I suppose asking where you were able to acquire such a garment is out of the question--but, I am grateful for it, one hundred percent." King had numerous contacts in the city, and even with Tristan was wary on letting some details slip so he treaded carefully. He only posed that as a hint to gain access to this link, in case he needed to make repairs or fashion new armor for inbound recruits.
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by: Orion
King moved through the hall and to the table as if the guards weren't there. He took his seat and gently grabbed the goblet of water. A sip, a savor, and he set the glass down. He watched Tristan carefully, seeing that the man didn't think he was going to get an answer.

"Our goblin allies made it for me as a show of their goodwill and willingness to cooperate. They'll also handle any repairs or modifications needed."

He gestured to the seat across from himself. The plain manilla folder with information on the Abbey and its workers was already at the table, waiting for Tristan's review. King sat back and awaited his underling's report.
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by: Tristan Viridian
"Goblins..." Tristan was impressed, not only about the source but also that King's information was offered so freely. He deeply appreciated the trust that was instilled into him. Also, the armor was of such great quality he would expect no less from his goblin contacts. "Wonderful. Again, I can't thank you enough, Sir."

Tristan bowed his head and smiled, accepting the seat that was offered. He pulled his chair and took a seat, unbuttoning his jacket as he settled in. He noticed the folder and a grin formed on his lips at the sight. Once he flipped open the folder, he saw more on the Abbey. The layout, the clientele, peak hours, the menu, the employees. He'd already secured a hefty file on his sister and her two main contacts of interest, but one file actually caught his eye.

Liam O'Donnell...Prisoner D471...Held on charges of murder and kidnapping. Suspicion of treason to the Dark Lord...Kept in solitary confinement. Showing signs of delirium and mania due to... He flipped the paper. Due to what? To his dismay, most of the record? Redacted of course. Even the Wizarding world had its secrets. Even though he pursed his lips in disappointment, Tristan knew there would be a way to get around these black marks. Jesus, sister-dearest, what the hell did you marry into?

Of course, King's time was precious, so he wouldn't bother his employer with these concerns when he would be the one to seek out his own solution, after all. Any other resources would be pooled and pulled from, gathered by King if necessary. But once Tristan reached the list of resistance and regime members, there were names that were left out altogether. "Hm..." He uttered, meant to be kept to himself, but a clearly audible concern.
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by: Orion
King tented his fingers and watched Tristan carefully go through the file. There were ways he had of getting the redacted information, but he wasn't going to pull those threads...yet. He wanted to keep Tristan grateful, but he didn't want to keep feeding the expectation of reciprocity. Viridian was a good man, loyal and hard working. He needed that loyalty...King wanted to mold it into something unquestioning. That came with both favors given and favors expected. Using someone without them knowing they were being used...that was an art. With a raised finger, he summoned the sommelier from his post to the table.

"The 2005 Bodegas Roda Cirsion, please. The bottle."

The steward nodded and left the table to fill the order.

"I hope the file is to your satisfaction, Mister Viridian. I also trust you have the information we discussed last time."

A benign smile graced the large man's face. He did trust Viridian. His knight...his shield. He awaited the report that was to come, mind already churning over his next steps.
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by: Tristan Viridian
He'd heard King order something, wine perhaps, as he flipped through the pages. Tristan could quite possibly recite the order back if he was asked, to show that he was indeed paying attention but his focus was purely on the file in his hand. His brother-in-law, subjected to something it seemed, inside that Gods awful prison. Azkaban. The fact that King could retrieve any information on the prisoner was impressive, but he knew he could always count on his employer for such intel. He slowly nodded once he was spoken to, respectfully closing the file and setting it neatly on the side of his place setting, out of the way from anything that might cause it any damage. He had his assignment, some heavy reading to do later.

Shifting his attention to King, he nodded confidently. Tristan pulled an envelope from his inside-jacket pocket, followed by a newspaper from the muggle world, turned to the local section. "Of course. I was able to obtain some information regarding the Nosferatu. A blessing I didn't have to get too close to them to obtain it, but the lore provided here might give you an edge or advantage to sway them to our cause." Tristan smirked. "And this, information on the Devil. Only a couple of reports of local sightings but he hasn't disturbed any of our warehouses since last we talked. I think moving the nightly ops from place to place, doing last minute roundups for our assembly crews, randomizing production areas has been to our advantage, and I have assigned men in place along the streets and rooftops to keep an eye out for our dear old friend."

The vigilante. The hero. Whatever the hell he was, though out of sight for now, still remained a thorn in Tristan's side.
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by: Orion
King offered tight smile in return to Tristan. If only he knew how close he'd been getting to Nosferatu...

King believed in redundant systems, especially when dealing with betrayers and backstabers. And Tristan was just that, wasn't he? He was certainly an angry young marine, and anger was easy to shape, but anger burned the candle to a snub and left what was once passion and loyalty would be so much useless wax. But wax could be reshaped, repurposed, reformed. It took knowledgeable hands to manipulate the form, but King had just such an employee.

Yes, Tristan was his right hand. How fitting that gen had no idea who the left hand was, or what it had been doing. The Romans had a word for the left...sinistra. It was the same root word for sinister, and King's left had was just that. A sinister shadow fit for doing sinister work. Interestingly, the Latin for 'right' was dextra, the same root for dexterous. And Tristan was just that...the flexible and nimble knight, able to jump about the chessboard and harass his enemies.

But knights cannot capture kings. It was an immutable law of chess. They simply didn't have the power.

King relaxed his smile into something more indulgent.

"My strong right hand...what would I do without you? Were that more men were as dependable as you are. Enough of business for a while, my friend. Relax, here comes the wine. Let us enjoy lunch together."

Yes. It's always wise to make sure the right hand was unaware of the left's business, especially when that business was ensuring the continued loyalties of the right...
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by: Tristan Viridian
Tristan closed the file on Liam O'Donnell and set it back on the table with the rest of his new reading material. He brought his bright, blue-green gaze up to King and smiled.

What would he do with out me? Those words flattered him beyond everything. King was not only his boss but he was almost like a father to him, and for that, Tristan swore his life to serve King. Defend his honor. Fight for his cause. He'd accommodated him with plenty of things, including funding that helped him get situated in a gorgeous penthouse in the upscale part of the city. Then the special armor, and the weekly luncheons that mingled personal news with their business discussions. He'd still be in Boston if it weren't for King. Scouring the wire for jobs...acquisitions, procurement, hunts, or even exterminations. They weren't the best jobs in the world, but he would make do.

He just didn't have to worry about that now.

Truth be told, he hailed the man more than his own father. Tristan had lost contact with Fierro long before Boston, and it was only now, with the King delivering on his promise of intel to help him locate his birth father and the associates he'd fallen in with, things were going well for him. Everything was lining up according to his own, personal plans, and he would in turn work for King without question.

"Yes, sir." He replied.
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by: Orion
A dry chuckle bounced across the table and King shook his head with the same amused expression he wore the last time they had this exchange.

"No 'sir', here. We had a deal, remember...when the wine has been ordered, we relax. Now...how have you been? Settled into your eyrie comfortably? And how has Maeve been in working with you? She was quite the handful down below, but I know she was taking a shine to you."

King's hands folded themselves into interlocked fists to support the man's mouth and chin when he leaned forward. his gaze fell to the files he'd provided, then traced the seasoned warrior upward from his callused yet cared for hands to his crisp sleeves to the squared shoulders to the almost model perfect grooming. Dark eyes landed on blue-green ones to bore in and search his soul with an intimacy. Yes...his knight. Sworn to ride for his liege. Tristan was more valuable than just a pawn of fetching and overseeing. It was time for him to start running his own operations.

"Things have been...busy, I suppose is a good word...of late. You're aware of that, I'm sure. Probably more than I am, as you've been managing the contacts."

Another indulgent smile bloomed with a significant look. Perhaps he could lead Tristan to coming to that conclusion on his own. If King's protege could start seeing and anticipating the organization's needs, that was one step closer for him to become the true heir of the Syndicate.
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by: Tristan Viridian

He had been told that so many times on so many occasions. It was difficult for someone like Tris to remain at ease. Even in his Marine days, he rarely relaxed when the Sergeants didn't have them at attention. His whole life was tense and he lived with a perpetual knot in his stomach that he tried to will away by busying himself with work and other things. His dad leaving, his mom's illness, his life as a soldier and now working for the underground was tough, but with steely eyes and a clenched jaw, he forced himself to make it through the days.

At the mention of the penthouse and Maeve, Tristan's features softened and he nodded slightly. "Yes, all moved in well and good. Maeve is also doing well. We've gotten along much better than before. She's adjusting to the life, as it were." His appointed bodyguard was a wolf, one he didn't ask for, but couldn't refuse. King's insistence on the matter made him wonder if he didn't quite trust him as much as he thought, but there was little room to argue with his employer on that. So, the girl had moved in with him.

Tristan took a sip of his wine as King's eyes fell on him. He listened carefully, as the severity and urgency in his tone made him more alert. "Right. I've been in touch with several potential buyers for our... product, some eager to give it a test run but I'll vet them properly to narrow it down for something like that, so we don't spread our initial lot too thin. Others have turned us down but perhaps when they see what it can do, they might change their tune."
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by: Orion
The waitstaff filtered in, bringing tasting plates of the chef's specialties. King put pause to the conversation as he waited for the extra ears to do their jobs and disappear. He tented his hands thoughtfully and took Tristan's measure. Before he addressed the issues of their product, he took a bite of a delicate prosciutto and fig crostata and sipped his wine.

"I seem to remember reading reports of side effects. What impact are we anticipating with those?"

Addictive properties, glowing and floating with the presence of magic in the imbiber, a dopamine rush, and the gentle, needy crash of a recreational high was what he was selling. It came with severe addictions and eventual overdose deaths. Deaths he could handle so long as the risk was below a tolerable threshold. It was up to Tristan to oversee the project, but he was selling the drug on King's reputation to other mafia families and organizations. If they felt the risk was too high, they wouldn't invest. If they didn't invest, the Syndicate didn't make money. If the organization didn't make money, King wouldn't stay in power thanks to his agreements with the goblins. Sullivan had thought to bribe them with their old artifacts, but Kings knew that their political drives for rebellion required resources, so resources he would give them.
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by: Tristan Viridian
Tristan still had his drink in hand when the plates of food came through, so he waited for them to sit the dishes down before moving again as not to be in their way. He took another sip before carefully setting the base of the glass on the table. He didn't remove his fingers from the stem, however, knowing the conversation would surely drive him to drink. Slowly, he nodded, considering the words side effects with a grim expression. There was so much involved with this product, lives at stake, just as any other drug on the muggle market. "Great impact, as expected. The more distributors we have in our chain, the wider spread we will have to reach our targets. Muggles may experience the milder side of the product's...effects, while the wizards and witches will be exposed per our plan. The contact with the Irish should have their order in by week's end, and I believe I'll be in touch with someone from the Italians the beginning of next, though I'd rather not inform one about the other. No need causing a stir between our clients by simply notifying them who we're working with."

The notorious gangs of the London underworld were the easiest way to get their product through the city, and he was glad to have moved into a better avenue for dealings than the Nosferatu or werewolf packs in the area. Magical beasts were a variable he'd rather not tinker with personally, but as of their last meeting, King had mentioned speaking with the Nosferatu on his own or through a different operative. Nevertheless, mingling with the mafia was a dangerous game, but a risk he was willing to take for King's empire. "In the other realm--I should be able to find some interested buyers, perhaps in Knockturn or even in the City of Shadows--that is, without riling up too much attention from our current competition."

Syndicate personnel, he meant. If this was to go well, he didn't want to create too much of a stir in the magical world just yet. Until the product was deemed a success, he didn't want to ruffle too many feathers.
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by: Orion
King's pause at the report indicated the level of interest he was giving. Dark eyes pinned themselves to the younger man, hawk-like in their intensity. The Irish were hotheads, but nowhere near as bad as the Italians. Tristan was smart to keep them separate, but it would take someone with incredible organizational skills to keep that separation firm. It would be a boon if the Spanish could be wooed, but that was up to Tristan. Even better if the American lines could be opened up, but MACUSA was ferocious with their import of magical items. Perhaps something could be worked through Canada. The old bootleg lines for rum running might still be open...he'd have to talk to Tacitus about his clan's smuggling abilities and if they'd honor their old agreements with wizards importing illegal goods. The bulky crime lord shifted and sighed before speaking.

"For now, I'd like to stay outside of that territory. It will find its way in in a trickle...let's focus on our original target first and create a stir with the ones living outside of the other area. When demand gets higher, we can move in the shadows of the chaos."

H tented his fingers again, considering Tristan's expression as he absorbed that counter offer.
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by: Tristan Viridian
"As you wish, sir." Tristan almost slipped and addressed him as sire, though the correlation between Wilson King and a crowned King were fairly close, almost synonymous, that it probably wouldn't have raised an eyebrow or a temper if he were one to take offense. As they saw it, the organization had a King at its helm, someone who ruled the underground as a kingdom.

He nodded, and sipped at his beverage once more, before gesturing to King to begin eating. It wasn't a command, more that it was a friendly reminder that they were on a luncheon, as they seemed go get to talking and let time get away from them quite often. Not to mention, as a man of manners, Tristan wasn't about to begin his meal until King started in on his own.

"Sorry, original target, sir?" Tristan moved for clarification. He had been on several tasks and organizing so much personnel he wanted to make sure he and King were on the same page.


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