Deity Field Offices

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - PEOPLE - CLIMATE

FLORA - FAUNA - RESOURCES - MYTH/LORE

Seeded in downtown Barton the Deity Field Office is a simple three story building that can be found between a derelict theatre, a building abandoned years ago, and a years-running family owned and operated electronics store.

A recently paved turn and inset driveway leads under the building from the street the building itself sits on. Like the entrance of an underground parking structure, a sloping ramp leads down from the street and quickly under the side of the office building. Unlike a parking facility, there is a rather solid door obstructing vehicles from entering.

From the outside the Deity owned building is unassuming and indistinct from any other type of office building. The only identifying marks are the opaque black, plate glass double-doors with the Deity logo emblazoned on them. It is made to be found by only those looking for it. People with no business with Deity or the building would typically look over the building as unimportant.

Strangely, the front doors have no locking mechanism. Deity is open for business 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Even on holidays.

Beyond the front doors is the lobby. In spite of the ordinary appearance from the outside the internal structure is something of an elaborate design. The floor tiles are uniform squares that appear to be made out of a dark purple/blue glass that cannot be seen through. Most corporations put effort in creating an extravagant display of wealth in their lobby.

Deity Inc. is no different.

Rather than a fountain or other art display, the room itself is a sculpture. The wall surrounding the room, four feet from the ground, is made of the same blackish square tiles. Above the wall tiles is a three foot high raised bronze relief depicting the Labors of Hercules in immaculate detail. Labors one through twelve encompass the whole room along the three walls separate from the front door itself.

The ceiling is a black slate with light fixtures set into it.

While it is considered a lobby, there are no chairs or tables. The small room is void of any features beyond the walls holding the ceiling up. There is but one chest-high counter top that spans the width of the lobby at the far end of the room, opposite the door. There isn't any obvious way to get behind the counter, other than climbing over it.

Behind it there is always a short-haired blonde woman in a professional business suit. She will, without fail, welcome anyone that walks into the building and introduce herself as Cassandra. Despite appearing to be a twenty-something secretary, her voice will emanate from beyond a person's vision and fill the room with notable volume. Her voice seeming to project itself from behind the desk, or from the ceiling above.

There aren't any doors other than the one people step through on entering the building. Apparently the three-story building is nothing but a lobby.

And it is; to visitors and those deemed nonimportant, anyway.

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - PEOPLE - CLIMATE

FLORA - FAUNA - RESOURCES - MYTH/LORE

The Deity Field Office building is fully climate controlled.

While there are no plants or wildlife at home in the building, another kind of activity exists further in. However, most people will only see the lobby and never see the inner workings of the building.

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - PEOPLE - CLIMATE

FLORA - FAUNA - RESOURCES - MYTH/LORE

Many individuals connect Deity Inc. with recent violent activity around Gaia. These claims are not backed up by anything, but the rumors are many.

Deity Inc. is said to be related to the few violent murders and assaults under the title of "Private Contractors" around Gaia. (See: Triad)

Deity Inc. served as the primary security force for the Heaven or Hell tournament. Funding the small army of Security Officers that was seen throughout the tournament. This also connects them to the supposed murder and missing person's case of two individuals. No solid evidence exists. (See: Heaven or Hell 07)

Deity Inc. is also officially spearheading the Durem Clocktower project. The HoH tournament left the former clocktower in ruins. Deity has taken it on upon itself to raise the funds to rebuild it to it's former glory. Unofficially, few people are claiming that Deity Inc. is overpricing it's services and keeping the leftover funding for itself. Deity holds paperwork and receipts from the various donators, officially, proving otherwise.

Deity Corps. Captain and Deity Inc. employee Effron Vennix was tried and convicted of arms dealing in illegal weaponry with less-than-reputable characters. While this conviction was years ago, some say he continues to gather funds by selling stolen weaponry, others say he is selling Deity Corps. armaments straight to the streets.

And as there was nothing before, now there was. A slender arm reached over Gamma's shoulder, pointing to the assembled mess.

"It looks like you're missing a hammer pin, maybe under the couch." She wasn't barking orders; apparently she was going to attempt a new tactic. Whatever she wanted, Minxilette wanted it bad. Depends on if Gamma would realize that, or if he would simply be startled at the randomness of her appearance. Even if he didn't show it, like she expected. One reason she had liked Gamma after all, was his unflappablity.

"Maybe you've just got a guilty conscie..."She snickered, the hand moving back to stifle the complete guffah. "...yeah, I'm never going to say that with a straight face." The smile was evident in her voice but by the time she walked around him, any trace of humor was gone. Slung over one shoulder, was the White pea coat with gold trim that she was so fond of. The rest of her body was encased in a single breasted top with a mandarin collar, again with gold trim and a pair of khaki slacks.

There was nothing overtly sexual about this woman. It was simply the power she knew she wielded which gave her the attitude that she had. Even as a ghost, dream or what have you. She tossed the pea coat over the edge of the couch, and then sat down as if she owned the place, one leg over the other before looking at Gamma. She even seemed to make an indent in the couch to Gamma's sight.

"Don't let me keep you from putting together your little toy." She waved at the bits of the gun lying about on the coffee table. "I just thought I'd stop by to say hi."

One corner of her lip quirked, in something that could almost be seen as a smile as the crop suddenly appeared in her hand and she tapped it idly on her knee as if using it to have something to do with her hands.

"I like you, Gamma. And not in the I want to ******** your brains out kinda way, though I'm sure with your tendencies that would be interesting enough. But I like you, in the sense you can and do follow instructions. Not many people seem to be able to do that nowadays. So you can say, I decided to make you a special case, and visit. Just to check on you."

Or it could be a load of BS. The question is what Gamma would believe of what she said, and how much of it was true. Then again, since when did dreams lie?

"Oh that..." She rolled her eyes and waved off the subject with a twist of the wrist, a la Princess Diana. "People tend to attack that which they don't understand. And almost every one of them would do anything they have to get what they want, we just had more power and money at our disposal, along with a pressing need." She smiled and nodded towards Gamma, as if giving him a small salute.

"And perhaps a few less scruples."

And there she was, just leaning against the refrigerator. She glanced in, then made a movement with her lip that looked mildly of disgust. "You really should eat better than this..." She listed her arm from the contraption and moved away.

"As for what I want...I want a new body. One of the lovely things about being what I am, if I prep for it ahead of time, death only stops me temporarily." She flipped the red braid back over her shoulder and leaned against the door jam.

She flicked the crop against her hand. "Though I do miss the sound of the crop against flesh. But that's just a petty thing."

"Another nice thing about you, you're predictable in the most important ways." Minxilette didn't smile, but it was a compliment, in her way. She sat down in the chair he had so recently vacated and looked over at him.

"Depends on what you want...well, other than me leaving you alone. I haven't had this amusing of a discussion in a while." The smirk again, "Although, I have money in ready supply should your desires be as simple and plebeian as that."

She sighed, Money does make the world go round.. It was a depressing thought given her proper line of business, but also a practical one that she knew existed.

"There are several ways to do it ....in theory.." She at least had the gums to look embarrassed about the fact that all she had was theory. "Easiest way is a fresh corpse, low trauma death to make the transaction easier, with an affinity for magic preferred..." She smiled, "Just in case something goes wrong again."

"And then protection for 3 Moon cycles while I get control of said body." She tapped the crop against the coffee table and looked up at Gamma, the disappointment in him visible, but restrained. "And your price for that would be?"

She at least gave him a bit of privacy there. Sorta. Her 'body' wouldn't follow, but her voice would, casually continuing the conversation despite any bodily functions that would follow.

"Besides the fact that this world has a nice little thing known as plastic surgery, if I'm given more time to rest and recoup, I can alter my own features to be back as I would choose. Of course, finding a body that is at least close to my own would be ideal." There was a smirk in her voice as she spoke again.

"Although apparently some scientists that I've heard of can recreate a body, with just a chunk of flesh and a lot of energy. I had been researching this theory ever since I joined forces with those two men. I know of a woman who 'can' do it. But if she is willing...that is another matter entirely." The so called compliment seemed to completely miss her.

"Or any combination of the three." She was outside the door when he exited, and if he wasn't careful, he'd walk right into her. Not through her, into her. As if she was already real.

"Don't let anyone fool you. Death is boring. All he does is rattle on about how he can't even do his job properly anymore, at least on this world."

And he'd find her sitting on the side of his bed, her butt making an indentation into the springs even. Talk about a real delusion. "Sounds like an idea. Your dreams are always interesting."

A black limousine with tinted windows pulls up in front of the nondescript headquarters of Deity Incorporated, and five well-dressed individuals remove themselves from its comfortable interior. The most notable and noticeable is Amon Ra, the chief executive of the Ra Syndicate. Without so much as a backward glance, Amon strides towards the black plate-glass doors, causing the four Sector Heads to pick up their pace to match his as the limousine smoothly pulls away. He pushes through the doors and goes straight to the front desk, his heels clicking on the dark glass tiling beneath his feet as he notes the blonde secretary while the others note the richness of their surroundings.

Amon: "Good afternoon. I am Amon Ra. I believe your employers have business they wish to discuss with me."

The Sector Heads admire the sculpting of the Labors of Heracles as Amon maintains eye contact with the secretary before him, standing stone-still as he waits for a response.

Amon nods to the "woman" behind the desk, despite the fact that such a gesture would probably go unappreciated and was entirely unnecessary. He clears his throat to catch the attention of his fellow executives.

Amon: "It seems we'll be going this way."

Without further ado, Amon strides through the newly revealed passageway, trusting that the sector heads would keep up the pace. He mentally shakes his head with regret and admiration as he follows the green path of lights past the handle-less doors.

Amon: So little warmth in these surroundings...discarding people for efficiency, smoke and mirrors...

The elevator door closes as the last Sector Head enters behind the group. The elevator is slightly cramped, as Amon and one of his Sector Heads are large men, but nothing too terrible for two flights worth of a trip. The doors slide open, and once again Amon leads through the open door into the office of Mr. Melleas. Amon strides to his chair and stands by it as the others file into place behind him. Once he's sure that they have all reached their places, Amon sits down in the chair provided, the others following suit almost in unison. The Sector Heads sit stiff-backed and almost at attention, while Amon seems at ease in his chair, well within standards of respect and decorum but almost detached from what drove his subordinates to such strictness.

Amon: "Shall I begin the introductions, then?"

Amon dismisses the apology with a wave of his hand.

Amon: "No need to apologize for what makes you comfortable. Behind me are the heads of each of the syndicate's four Sectors. Nathan Hewring, head of our offensive sector, Horus..."

A wiry and weathered man with mid-length gray hair and eyes concealed behind a pair of dark sunglasses, dressed in a double-breasted navy suit with a brilliant red tie nods to the man behind the desk.

Amon: "...Leif Nilles, head of our defensive sector, Seth..."

A man of less height than Amon but similar bulk inclines his head respectfully. His red hair is cropped short, and his brown eyes seem to be investigating every corner of the room as he tugs habitually at the sleeves of his gray suitjacket.

Amon: "...Leslie Knight, head of our intelligence sector, Thoth..."

A slender woman dressed in black formal attire nods. Her green eyes sparkle as one hand plays with the brown hair held back in a simple knot, a smile barely making itself known on her face.

Amon: "...and Trey Lorence, head of our medical sector, Imhotep."

An unhealthily thin and balding man wearing a camel suitcoat with gray slacks nods, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he does so. This maginifies his watery blue eyes and adds to the air of nervousness he seems to exude.

Amon: "I am Amon Ra, chief executive officer of the Ra Syndicate."

He bends at the waist in a form of sitting bow, creasing the black jacket of his three-piece suit that echoes the wear of the two Deity executives before him, then straightens and leans back in his chair, waiting for this Mr. Melleas to introduce himself and the other man who stood next to him.

Amon: Formalities are all a part of the dance...how I hate it.

The picture of his complex from the air did not seem to faze Amon one bit. There wasn't much to be learned from the layout, and there were very few distinctions between buildings other than size.

Amon: "And you want to get us first, before we're either claimed by your competition, go bankrupt and sell off our individual parts, or collapse and lose any sort of worth?"

His tone is level and polite, but in his mind he is seething with fury. Amon knew when he was being talked down to, and he didn't like it one bit. However, in the interest of finding out if he had hit the nail on the head, Amon keeps his tone civil and refrains from an angry outburst. He also hates what he referred to as "politic-speak"; obfuscation and double-talk, smoke and mirrors, but again, he refrains from comment.

How such a man gained such a high corporate position is a mystery, really.

Amon: I'll bet you don't see room for competition...

The threats in the financial officer's words were veiled, but there.

Amon: So it's join or be destroyed, is it?

He strokes his chin thoughtfully as if considering Judas's words, then muses:

Amon: "Including my syndicate."

Meanwhile, behind him, the Sector Heads seem to have relaxed slightly (except for Trey, but he's always nervous). Nathan has pulled a pen from his pocket and is spinning it around his thumb absent-mindedly, Leif is twiddling his thumbs, alternating the direction of rotation occasionally, and Leslie is writing down something on a legal pad that had been stowed in her briefcase.

Amon nods.

Amon: "Have I any say on what happens to my current assets in the course of a...merger?"

Amon knew assimilation was what was really being implied, and at this point he knew it was the only way to keep something that resembled the Ra Syndicate afloat. Otherwise, they'd likely tear them to pieces, and Amon had little doubt that they possessed the power to do so.

Amon listens to Pavel's explanation of what will occur if the syndicate is taken, and what he hears comforts him somewhat.

Amon: "My people have done some research on your current holdings..."

He reaches behind his back, and Leslie deposits her notepad in Amon's hand, which moves back in front of his body. Though the light in the room is dim, he scans the scrawled list before him.

Amon: "The sector which probably possesses the most technology that is novel to you is Imhotep, followed by Thoth, then Horus and Seth."

He returns the notepad to Leslie, who has a mischevious grin pasted across her features. Coupled with the increase in the intensity of the sparkle in her eyes, she is the picture of impish intelligence.

Amon: "As for what will happen to my senior staff and the members of the board..."

He leans forward and steeples his fingers.

Amon: "The board members can join your stock commitee, or whatever structure you have for overseeing profits. However, I ask that my senior staff remain with what was Ra Syndicate, and that we maintain our structure within your organization."

Before he presses his hand down, he looks at his Sector Heads.

Amon: "Your thoughts?"

Leif clears his throat and voices his opinion. Despite his large and imposing frame, he has a soft tenor voice that is pleasing to the ear.

Leif: "It sounds as though it will be in the best interest of the company, sir."

Nathan nods his approval to Amon as Trey speaks up.

Trey: "Sounds like a good deal to me."

Leslie: "Oh, hurry up and put your hand down, Amon!"

With a grin, he turns to Judas.

Amon: "The council has spoken."

Abruptly, his large right palm contacts with the screen with a thud, probably taking up more space than the outline on it covered.

The lead armored figure hit the door like a truck. Each door swung open to full extension and stayed there with an armored fist pinning one side open, letting the rifle point slack at the ground. The two pairs of men carrying coffin-sized crates rushed in through the doors.

Both dollies, which were essentially oversized palettes with wheels, steered the massive boxes to either side of the door under the spoken commands of the remaining two soldiers. With each box standing at six feet they would have made an effective barricade for the door.

Except there was plenty of space between them to access the door. Which the two soldiers did.

All six would later reappear three stories up on the open-air roof.

And there were 6 armed men in mk. VI powered armor on the roof just waiting for some crazy s**t to happen. Some guy leaping from ground to roof, a three story building, wasn't really something they were used to.

Each of them were completely identical in size, shape, and color with slate grey armor and reflective face masks. The only difference was variations in minor armor points, such as a red cross on one's shoulder, and their carried weapons.

As soon as the leaping zombie hit the ground and they had turned, they'd all slowly rotate around as a group; aligning line of sight to eliminate the possibility of friendly fire. That way if they unloaded into the guy they wouldn't hit someone else across the rooftop.

So while five of them were recalling what just happened ten seconds ago and trying to figure out if there was some kind of catapult involved the sixth managed to say something. Which one was talking was up to Moonblade to guess, since they were all looking at him and the voice was computerized and impersonal.

"Get out of here." The robotic voice managed pretty fair Gaian and made a good impression of an unfriendly tone. Because the various rifles weren't convincing enough.

Huh?

There was only one guy in charge here. The Sergeant was under orders to keep harassers and rioters from damaging Deity property. Now there was someone- who had jumped onto the roof- was making all kinds of offers that no one there could even comment on.

Naturally there was a pause. No one in armor moved in the haze of confusion.

Since Moonblade looked human, as far as that goes on Gaia, he wasn't obviously a zombie. Which meant he should have been running from the horde of undead or asking for protection etc etc. But instead he was offering property.

"What are you talking about?" Same mechanical voice as last time but with an obvious air of wtf-ism.

We. Run a city. Alliance.

A few things that were considerably out of pay-grade for the armored goons. Normally speaking with something that was alluding to some relationship to the living dead would give a regular human the disposition to want nothing to do with said zombie. Since zombies have a habit on feasting on the living, not to mention the whole 'human city sieged by brain-thirsting cult' ordeal still going on.

Hell, it might even make a normal human blast the zombie into meaty gibs so their brain would stay off the menu. Except orders were orders and they didn't include giving Moonblade a lead salad, even if he was trespassing.

They weren't paid for their opinions and connotations.

One of the grey statuettes lowered his weapon enough to free his right hand. He whirled his index finger in the air to trace a circle, twice. Another, across the building with a red cross on his shoulder, lowered his weapon and turned to face away from Moonblade completely.

Now Moonblade would get to wait on a rooftop at gunpoint. No one said anything further. Hopefully the boss had his cell phone on.

Atleast there were only four rifles pointing at him now.

After several minutes of staring each other and saying nothing...

The distant grind of shrouded turbines became local and eventually stopped suddenly. Before long a Charon transport appeared from nothing. Becoming diaphanous from thin air and suddenly real and solid.

With the hatch door drawn back the insides were completely revealed. Two men in expensive suits; the small pale one standing at the edge of the hatch with a mildly confused look on his face. The kind that went with the internal monologue of "Why isn't this guy on the ground and bleeding from numerous holes?"

The much larger man in a suit was sitting in the middle of the rowseating that went along the length of the craft's cabin. He looked bored more than anything else.

Everything in this position made it look like the suit was waiting for a good explanation before having the craft whisk him away and leave Moonblade to the rifle-wielding wolves.

The pale suit ducked his head back and faced toward the pilot, giving him a nod. Even though the transport was silent and barely moving, it was still hovering in place and rocking gently. And now at the nod of the suit it became steady and lowered to the roof; as if expecting someone to get on.

"We?"

He stepped away and clasped hands behind his back. Inside, along the length of the craft opposite the hatch, was fifteen identical, armless hotseats with safety harnesses raised towards the top of the craft above them. Each seat was much wider than necessary for an ordinary person.

Obviously it was a military craft to bring in handfuls of troops at a time. Towards the rear of the craft in the last seat was a large man smoking a cigarette in a black and green pinstripe suit,. The Deity emblem was tattooed under his right eye, above three triangular marks along his jawline. He seemed completely disinterested in the whole ordeal.

All aboard.