Franco was delighted. He was beyond pleased. Nearly everyone he had invited had attended. It was indeed going to be a marvellous night for Franco and his would be allies. Anybody who was somebody was here. Marvin and his brother were here, and Franco's gift, or sacrifice rather, to appease him had also arrived with his mother. Poor little Damien. He was fairly certain that he had seen Renee somewhere around here and a number of other notable high school society figures. The majority of the students were from PJ Gilroy though many of them were not from Franco's class. Many were older students and there were a scant few who were younger students as well.
How splendid, they are all here to dine on my food and embrace my generosity. I don't think many people realize that my generosity comes at a price, their love and admiration. You should never accept gifts this readily offered, friends, but you did, and now you all owe me. I own you all.
A pearly wicked grin made its way across his face; he was the fox in the hen house. This was his home; his party and he would make sure that not a single person left here without remembering. He would be the most popular kid in school after tonight, and even the grow-ups would love him. At least that was the plan. This was Franco's strength, he gave people what they wanted, and told them what they needed to hear, and secretly he took. He took what he wanted and he bended the system to suit him. Only the keenest would recognize this in Franco. To most he was just smarmy and pretentious to others he was a generous ally.
He walked around his grand Kensington estate, shaking hands, nodding in agreement and sharing clever quips with passers-by. He grins and frowns and expressed his sympathy when necessary. He gauged what people wanted and he got it for them. He called over a butler or one of the catering staff and sent them to fetch gifts and sweet treats. This is what they wanted. Franco had been raised in this world. The world of posturing and presenting and taking what you need, when you really need it. It was a life he had accepted and grown to love. People chatted over the dregs of the punch and enjoyed the meticulously planned event. It was indeed quit the evening.
Long tables of decadent dishes and high backed chairs with chatty people filled the room. The noise was a loud random murmur and the low ambient classical music could only be heard through the filter of the chatter. Franco's peers wandered about the household. A number of doors had been locked off for safe keeping, but the most of the rooms in the house were prepared to receive guests. The designers had done a good job in each room. Light earth tones, Swedish furniture and clever art adorned each room. People were happy, and that's just how they were supposed to be.
Franco passed his father in passing. The two nodded to each other, both fully aware of what was going on. He admired his son for his diplomatic prowess. He had raised him well.
Franco walked passed as his father patted him on the back. He flicked his fingers through his fake gelled hair cut and straigtened his burgundy tie. He squeeked a thin finger across his chrest clean teeth and adjusted his black jacket vest. Franco looked himself in the mirror and snapped his fingers into two guns at his reflection. Pow. He scanned the party guests after briefly admiring himself.
Who falls prey next? Who was to be the next victim of politics?
Gala in the heights.
Franco's house party (open to all)
Gala in the heights.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(For distinguishing purposes, I'll be color-coding the characters' stories in much the same way as I do in other threads, namely, Marvin-green, Damien-red, Reneé-Orange.
P.S. That and a couple of the guests are really yet to introduce themselves. Arrivals are nice, too.
)
The Ferrari F430 skimmed across the streets of Kensington Heights like an animal on the prowl. And you could tell that from its inconspicuous bright red color and the throaty growl of its engine, which was said to send onlooking hot babes and even male car enthusiasts into orgasms. If its driver had a hot babe in the front seat, his underwear would turn incriminating within minutes, especially when pointlessly blazing across the Turnpike or cruising down the boulevards of Atlantic City.
As such, Richard Hendrick had his little brother Marvin riding shotgun, and the two were actually headed someplace. Richie was dressed smart casual, but somehow managed to get Marv in a rather nice tailored tuxedo (which he'd probably have to use for prom night, too.) It wasn't that far from their own house in Kensington, but in this neighborhood, entrances were all that mattered. They could tell they were close when they saw increasing numbers of particularly fancy cars parked along the curb. However, it was if there was a spot reserved especially for them, as there was a surprising gap in the middle of the deluge, almost in front of their destination.
"Here we are, Marvy, Frankie's house." Richard said cheerfully, taking a sigh that would woo the ladies. It was a sigh that had the opposite effect on his little brother, who was simply staring out the window at Franco Sebberts' residence, arms crossed.
"C'mon, kiddo. Don't be like that. It's gonna be fun."
"It'd better be."
"It will, pal. Let's go." Richard didn't seem to stop smiling like the bishounen Marty Stu that Marvin often admitted he was.
Marvin grumbled further as the two got out of their car. As soon as the doors were closed Richard flicked the keyfob, locking it secure. Not that anyone would steal a Ferrari out of this neighborhood. Richard tried to drape his arm over his little brother's shoulder - in a brotherly way, of course - but Marvin swatted it off. He rejected the very idea of family time with a sibling who always loved rubbing it in, despite his parents' insistence, almost as much as he hated being called Marvy. About the only thing the two had in common was their love for flaunting their status, but Marvin only verbally. The current Gilroyal liked to flaunt his fists even more, though Richard was the last person he would ever be allowed to get his fists on.
And speaking of which, Franco's test message to Marvin promised him a special present if he came to the party. It was about the only reason for him to even come to this sordid soireé.
It was Richard that pressed the ornate doorbell.
"Wow, look at this place." Richard said, feigning amazement. It was clearly less spectacular to him than the Hendrick Mansion.
"Yeah. Real swanky." At least you could trace the sarcasm in Marvin's voice.
This had better be good...
===
This had better be good...
Reneé Valenti, amidst her busy career and fan appearances, did not have anything else to do tonight. This being a high-class function she decided to dress the way people like her would: classy AND sexy. She was wearing a rather minimal black dress that would adorn stars like Nicole Kidman or Catherine Zeta-Jones.
This despite the fact that she was asleep and sprawled across the back seat of the black BMW 7-Series like she was already passed out from all the alcohol she could consume at the party. Her famous ponytail still kept the hair on her head fairly stable, though the tail itself is splayed about like some kind of octopus. She certainly didn't look worse than the car though, as she didn't know exactly what the high-lifers saw in those Bangled-up design that made it so...fashionable.
At least she kept her head down in case some paparazzi decided to make her pull a Diana on the way there. That and the plates were new. Reneé groaned as she adjusted her ponytail to put out the "wildfire" it had caused.
The driver gave the 'wasted' red-head a nudge. "We're here, Reneé."
"Wha...huh...okay." came the mumbled reply. As her vision started to clear she recognized that she is in none other than the Kensington Heights. The place was definitely more...opulent then her family's penthouse apartment at Briarwood. While she sometimes entertained the thought of living here, she would often be reminded by her parents that the size of one's house sometimes compromises their talent. It was something she'd accepted as true, seeing as how she could at least kick much more ass than Marvin, who most likely lived nearby.
The car was almost at the destination. Eerily enough the place was fairly quiet for a house that was supposed to be throwing a party, but then again those were probably community rules. She did notice someone at the door up ahead though...
Marvin's here too? And he brought his brother. Looks like it'll be a double-header tonight. Hope Franco's prepared Damien with a freaking apple in his mouth.
"Heh. Apple gag." she mumbled with a lewd grin, even though she didn't notice herself staring longingly at Richard Hendrick until...
"What was that, ma'am?" the uniformed chauffeur asked rather curiously.
"Oh- ...nothing. Just, ah,...stop here until they go in. I want to surprise them inside."
"Yes, ma'am."
It'll only get better from here...
((Seems the only person that isn't going to use Damien's hide for their own interests is Richard Hendrick. All that money must be paying for intelligence.))
P.S. That and a couple of the guests are really yet to introduce themselves. Arrivals are nice, too.
)The Ferrari F430 skimmed across the streets of Kensington Heights like an animal on the prowl. And you could tell that from its inconspicuous bright red color and the throaty growl of its engine, which was said to send onlooking hot babes and even male car enthusiasts into orgasms. If its driver had a hot babe in the front seat, his underwear would turn incriminating within minutes, especially when pointlessly blazing across the Turnpike or cruising down the boulevards of Atlantic City.
As such, Richard Hendrick had his little brother Marvin riding shotgun, and the two were actually headed someplace. Richie was dressed smart casual, but somehow managed to get Marv in a rather nice tailored tuxedo (which he'd probably have to use for prom night, too.) It wasn't that far from their own house in Kensington, but in this neighborhood, entrances were all that mattered. They could tell they were close when they saw increasing numbers of particularly fancy cars parked along the curb. However, it was if there was a spot reserved especially for them, as there was a surprising gap in the middle of the deluge, almost in front of their destination.
"Here we are, Marvy, Frankie's house." Richard said cheerfully, taking a sigh that would woo the ladies. It was a sigh that had the opposite effect on his little brother, who was simply staring out the window at Franco Sebberts' residence, arms crossed.
"C'mon, kiddo. Don't be like that. It's gonna be fun."
"It'd better be."
"It will, pal. Let's go." Richard didn't seem to stop smiling like the bishounen Marty Stu that Marvin often admitted he was.
Marvin grumbled further as the two got out of their car. As soon as the doors were closed Richard flicked the keyfob, locking it secure. Not that anyone would steal a Ferrari out of this neighborhood. Richard tried to drape his arm over his little brother's shoulder - in a brotherly way, of course - but Marvin swatted it off. He rejected the very idea of family time with a sibling who always loved rubbing it in, despite his parents' insistence, almost as much as he hated being called Marvy. About the only thing the two had in common was their love for flaunting their status, but Marvin only verbally. The current Gilroyal liked to flaunt his fists even more, though Richard was the last person he would ever be allowed to get his fists on.
And speaking of which, Franco's test message to Marvin promised him a special present if he came to the party. It was about the only reason for him to even come to this sordid soireé.
It was Richard that pressed the ornate doorbell.
"Wow, look at this place." Richard said, feigning amazement. It was clearly less spectacular to him than the Hendrick Mansion.
"Yeah. Real swanky." At least you could trace the sarcasm in Marvin's voice.
This had better be good...
===
This had better be good...
Reneé Valenti, amidst her busy career and fan appearances, did not have anything else to do tonight. This being a high-class function she decided to dress the way people like her would: classy AND sexy. She was wearing a rather minimal black dress that would adorn stars like Nicole Kidman or Catherine Zeta-Jones.
This despite the fact that she was asleep and sprawled across the back seat of the black BMW 7-Series like she was already passed out from all the alcohol she could consume at the party. Her famous ponytail still kept the hair on her head fairly stable, though the tail itself is splayed about like some kind of octopus. She certainly didn't look worse than the car though, as she didn't know exactly what the high-lifers saw in those Bangled-up design that made it so...fashionable.
At least she kept her head down in case some paparazzi decided to make her pull a Diana on the way there. That and the plates were new. Reneé groaned as she adjusted her ponytail to put out the "wildfire" it had caused.
The driver gave the 'wasted' red-head a nudge. "We're here, Reneé."
"Wha...huh...okay." came the mumbled reply. As her vision started to clear she recognized that she is in none other than the Kensington Heights. The place was definitely more...opulent then her family's penthouse apartment at Briarwood. While she sometimes entertained the thought of living here, she would often be reminded by her parents that the size of one's house sometimes compromises their talent. It was something she'd accepted as true, seeing as how she could at least kick much more ass than Marvin, who most likely lived nearby.
The car was almost at the destination. Eerily enough the place was fairly quiet for a house that was supposed to be throwing a party, but then again those were probably community rules. She did notice someone at the door up ahead though...
Marvin's here too? And he brought his brother. Looks like it'll be a double-header tonight. Hope Franco's prepared Damien with a freaking apple in his mouth.
"Heh. Apple gag." she mumbled with a lewd grin, even though she didn't notice herself staring longingly at Richard Hendrick until...
"What was that, ma'am?" the uniformed chauffeur asked rather curiously.
"Oh- ...nothing. Just, ah,...stop here until they go in. I want to surprise them inside."
"Yes, ma'am."
It'll only get better from here...
((Seems the only person that isn't going to use Damien's hide for their own interests is Richard Hendrick. All that money must be paying for intelligence.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Franco was right there waiting when Richard and Marvin Hendrick came to the door.
"Richard!" Franco's voice rang through the vestibule. "And Mr. Marvin Hendrick, how are you doing this evening gentlemen? I delighted that you could make it here tonight. The party is just getting started. Your surprise should be arriving right away, Mr. Hendrick. I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Where the hell was Damien, anyway? That little twerp couldn't have copped out. Mrs. Carter-Madison bought every word I told her, she guaranteed she would be here.
His shined black oxford shoes clopped against the hardwood as Franco walked the duo into the main living space and pointed them out to the catering tables and various gatherings. If the decor didn't improve Marvin's sour mood, than certainly the food and a little wine would. Franco whispered where he could obtain and drink a fine glass of Merlot without being reprimanded.
The two had always had a great understanding with one another. Marvin was second in the syndicate and whenever Marvin needed something that his goons couldn't provide Franco was his man. Franco was a sponge for rumours and information and he had always been willing to pull his weight for the syndicate. In return Franco asks for few favours, but he had the syndicate at his back, he was untouchable.
The room that Franco left the two in was finely decorated, but also recognizably neutral and filled with the most popular pieces of art and décor. This was all part of the Sebberts family talent for being well liked and trusted. They did everything they needed to do to be popular, down to the last stitch of wallpaper. Franco was no different.
As the doorbell rang for the second time Franco greeted Renee with all the reverence and respect he could muster.
"Good evening mlle.," Franco bowed low for the princess of PJ Gilroy. "You look positively radiant this evening. Absolutely astonishing. Magnificent."
Franco gave Renee a similar spiel only this time he was careful to say it with an increased level of grace and respect. He was still choked that Damien had not arrived, but the night was still young. When it came to his betters, Franco knew how to butter them up. It was one of the reasons he had been able to wriggle his way to the top. Though Franco always made sure there was room to wriggle in case the current figurehead would fall. There was always room for scheming. As long as you kept it distinctly to yourself and Franco kept his secrets extremely safe.
Now we wait for Damien. This can only get better...
"Richard!" Franco's voice rang through the vestibule. "And Mr. Marvin Hendrick, how are you doing this evening gentlemen? I delighted that you could make it here tonight. The party is just getting started. Your surprise should be arriving right away, Mr. Hendrick. I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Where the hell was Damien, anyway? That little twerp couldn't have copped out. Mrs. Carter-Madison bought every word I told her, she guaranteed she would be here.
His shined black oxford shoes clopped against the hardwood as Franco walked the duo into the main living space and pointed them out to the catering tables and various gatherings. If the decor didn't improve Marvin's sour mood, than certainly the food and a little wine would. Franco whispered where he could obtain and drink a fine glass of Merlot without being reprimanded.
The two had always had a great understanding with one another. Marvin was second in the syndicate and whenever Marvin needed something that his goons couldn't provide Franco was his man. Franco was a sponge for rumours and information and he had always been willing to pull his weight for the syndicate. In return Franco asks for few favours, but he had the syndicate at his back, he was untouchable.
The room that Franco left the two in was finely decorated, but also recognizably neutral and filled with the most popular pieces of art and décor. This was all part of the Sebberts family talent for being well liked and trusted. They did everything they needed to do to be popular, down to the last stitch of wallpaper. Franco was no different.
As the doorbell rang for the second time Franco greeted Renee with all the reverence and respect he could muster.
"Good evening mlle.," Franco bowed low for the princess of PJ Gilroy. "You look positively radiant this evening. Absolutely astonishing. Magnificent."
Franco gave Renee a similar spiel only this time he was careful to say it with an increased level of grace and respect. He was still choked that Damien had not arrived, but the night was still young. When it came to his betters, Franco knew how to butter them up. It was one of the reasons he had been able to wriggle his way to the top. Though Franco always made sure there was room to wriggle in case the current figurehead would fall. There was always room for scheming. As long as you kept it distinctly to yourself and Franco kept his secrets extremely safe.
Now we wait for Damien. This can only get better...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((A little lesson in RP etiquette from Mr. Manners: Don't warp people to the doorbell. Last I posed, Reneé was still in her car as Marvin was ringing the doorbell. @_@ ANYHOO.))
It was no more than a few seconds from the time Richard pushed the ornate doorbell to Franco opening the door, as if on cue. Immediately the smaller boy lavished upon the two a greeting fit for nobles and lords. Richard, naturally, was impressed by the utter politeness of master Sebberts, responding with a rather graceful "Thank you! We'd be delighted to enjoy this function."
Marvin, on the other hand, responded with a scripted smile and, upon mention of a "surprise," a raised eyebrow. This eyebrow was complimented by a smirk when Franco whispered to him the location of some rather fine liquor. It had been quite a while.
A surprise, eh? It had better be something I can enjoy.
Marvin could depend on Franco whenever he needed something material that he couldn't get from his own family. Those requests, of course, were few and far between, as Marvin was better with taking care of gang affairs with his fists. Otherwise Franco was just that goon that loved to add insult to injury, with that special little talent that almost made his membership in the syndicate...well...very much token.
As the Hendrick brothers walked into the living room, Richard mischievously whispered into Marvin's ear..."You're getting a surprise at the party? You lucky dog!" He ended that one liner with a laugh and a friendly elbowing of his shoulder. Marvin didn't budge much as the two entered the wonderfully decadent room.
---
Reneé watched from the backseat as Franco greeted the two Hendricks - Richard is so very...very...hot...even in those clothes... - and graciously let them into his abode.
She stepped out of her 7-Series and composed herself. Her attire was all black, but far from gothic, it was disturbingly fashionable. Her rather minimalistic black dress bared a great portion of her back, trendy black high-heels propped her feet up, and hanging from her shoulder was a branded black leather purse from some trendy European country, probably Italy. (Oddly enough, it was hard to tell that Reneé was a third-generation Italian-American. And where her immigrant ancestors came from, her fiery-red hair would have had quite the negative stigma.)
The redhead told her driver that she'd "call you when I need you," and watched as he nodded and drove off. She started up the front steps, holding her purse behind her and sliding her hips a little from side to side, like a supermodel at a catwalk, keeping a straight face all the while. This despite the fact that she he hated supermodels, they were too thin to kick ass like a Million Dollar Baby. She too, rang the ornate doorbell. Her nails were painted a lovely shade of blood red, but they didn't grow too far over her finger. She could probably poke that doorbell with a good amount of force before cracking her nail.
And, on cue, Franco opened the door and greeted her.
Franco was the only person that rivalled Reneé and Marvin in terms of connections. Or at least that's what her 3rd-or-4th-highest minion claimed. And even if he did have connections or the charm, were those connections really that influential? Marvin's own family were one of the top industrialist families in the Northeast, if not the whole state. Reneé's connections were in the entertainment industry, almost enough to get her into Hollywood, let alone Broadway. What magic could Franco work up?
Given that Franco's spiel seemed extra...well...gentlemanly, no, almost sexy, Reneé responded only with a polite nod and a knowing smile. To her, it was almost - too friendly. But hell, this was a party. And if she knew her parties, things would be getting quite rowdy soon. And soon she'd know what Franco was capable of.
I bet he could charm Damien's mother into believing that he didn't murder her son in cold blood, Reneé thought with a roughly suppressed chuckle. Good thing that's all he can do.
Hope that bitch gets here soon.
Exactly which "bitch" she was referring to was quite unclear. She too is led into the living room...
"Reneé!?"
---
The Carter-Madisons' pearl-white Infiniti advanced up the roads of the elite subdivision, sticking to its desired lane with precision that only a strict, experienced driver like Nicole could have mastered. The ride was also relaxingly smooth, from a perfect combination of good suspension and the immaculately-paved roads.
Unfortunately, neither Carter-Madison was quite relaxed.
"Now, Damien, there'll be nothing to worry about. I'll make sure you don't go anywhere near that slut."
You don't know these people, mom. You really don't know what they can do?
"Gee, thanks." You could literally taste the sarcasm that was laced into that response.
"Don't talk to me in that tone of voice, young man! You should be thankful that you even get to enjoy a night like this. It's an opportunity for you to make new friends, learn proper manners..."
Damien let his mother's voice - in her almost stereotypical accent from the "homeland" - trail off, as he leaned on the door and watched as fancy cars - fancier than the already-options-laden Infiniti - started sliding into his field of vision, first sparsely, then into a continuous stream. After a few hundred rants like this, one kinda found it easy to just tune off and still look like he was listening.
They were getting closer to the lion's den. Franco invited him, and that harlot Debrah (at least he and his mom could agree on that, and the bra they made him wear felt very unsettling), and since it was a party, Franco's best friends would be there. And Franco's friends were Damien's enemies.
As much as he hated to admit it, he hoped that his mother would protect him this time.
It was no more than a few seconds from the time Richard pushed the ornate doorbell to Franco opening the door, as if on cue. Immediately the smaller boy lavished upon the two a greeting fit for nobles and lords. Richard, naturally, was impressed by the utter politeness of master Sebberts, responding with a rather graceful "Thank you! We'd be delighted to enjoy this function."
Marvin, on the other hand, responded with a scripted smile and, upon mention of a "surprise," a raised eyebrow. This eyebrow was complimented by a smirk when Franco whispered to him the location of some rather fine liquor. It had been quite a while.
A surprise, eh? It had better be something I can enjoy.
Marvin could depend on Franco whenever he needed something material that he couldn't get from his own family. Those requests, of course, were few and far between, as Marvin was better with taking care of gang affairs with his fists. Otherwise Franco was just that goon that loved to add insult to injury, with that special little talent that almost made his membership in the syndicate...well...very much token.
As the Hendrick brothers walked into the living room, Richard mischievously whispered into Marvin's ear..."You're getting a surprise at the party? You lucky dog!" He ended that one liner with a laugh and a friendly elbowing of his shoulder. Marvin didn't budge much as the two entered the wonderfully decadent room.
---
Reneé watched from the backseat as Franco greeted the two Hendricks - Richard is so very...very...hot...even in those clothes... - and graciously let them into his abode.
She stepped out of her 7-Series and composed herself. Her attire was all black, but far from gothic, it was disturbingly fashionable. Her rather minimalistic black dress bared a great portion of her back, trendy black high-heels propped her feet up, and hanging from her shoulder was a branded black leather purse from some trendy European country, probably Italy. (Oddly enough, it was hard to tell that Reneé was a third-generation Italian-American. And where her immigrant ancestors came from, her fiery-red hair would have had quite the negative stigma.)
The redhead told her driver that she'd "call you when I need you," and watched as he nodded and drove off. She started up the front steps, holding her purse behind her and sliding her hips a little from side to side, like a supermodel at a catwalk, keeping a straight face all the while. This despite the fact that she he hated supermodels, they were too thin to kick ass like a Million Dollar Baby. She too, rang the ornate doorbell. Her nails were painted a lovely shade of blood red, but they didn't grow too far over her finger. She could probably poke that doorbell with a good amount of force before cracking her nail.
And, on cue, Franco opened the door and greeted her.
Franco was the only person that rivalled Reneé and Marvin in terms of connections. Or at least that's what her 3rd-or-4th-highest minion claimed. And even if he did have connections or the charm, were those connections really that influential? Marvin's own family were one of the top industrialist families in the Northeast, if not the whole state. Reneé's connections were in the entertainment industry, almost enough to get her into Hollywood, let alone Broadway. What magic could Franco work up?
Given that Franco's spiel seemed extra...well...gentlemanly, no, almost sexy, Reneé responded only with a polite nod and a knowing smile. To her, it was almost - too friendly. But hell, this was a party. And if she knew her parties, things would be getting quite rowdy soon. And soon she'd know what Franco was capable of.
I bet he could charm Damien's mother into believing that he didn't murder her son in cold blood, Reneé thought with a roughly suppressed chuckle. Good thing that's all he can do.
Hope that bitch gets here soon.
Exactly which "bitch" she was referring to was quite unclear. She too is led into the living room...
"Reneé!?"
---
The Carter-Madisons' pearl-white Infiniti advanced up the roads of the elite subdivision, sticking to its desired lane with precision that only a strict, experienced driver like Nicole could have mastered. The ride was also relaxingly smooth, from a perfect combination of good suspension and the immaculately-paved roads.
Unfortunately, neither Carter-Madison was quite relaxed.
"Now, Damien, there'll be nothing to worry about. I'll make sure you don't go anywhere near that slut."
You don't know these people, mom. You really don't know what they can do?
"Gee, thanks." You could literally taste the sarcasm that was laced into that response.
"Don't talk to me in that tone of voice, young man! You should be thankful that you even get to enjoy a night like this. It's an opportunity for you to make new friends, learn proper manners..."
Damien let his mother's voice - in her almost stereotypical accent from the "homeland" - trail off, as he leaned on the door and watched as fancy cars - fancier than the already-options-laden Infiniti - started sliding into his field of vision, first sparsely, then into a continuous stream. After a few hundred rants like this, one kinda found it easy to just tune off and still look like he was listening.
They were getting closer to the lion's den. Franco invited him, and that harlot Debrah (at least he and his mom could agree on that, and the bra they made him wear felt very unsettling), and since it was a party, Franco's best friends would be there. And Franco's friends were Damien's enemies.
As much as he hated to admit it, he hoped that his mother would protect him this time.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Kristey stopped by the party relatively late.
She wanted to make herself look her best, since she knew something was going to happen, but that didn't stop her from wanting to look good.
She came in wearing a long red dress, with spaghetti straps.
She spproached the party and already saw some of the star guests.
"And so the bitch in the red dress makes her debut."
She wanted to make herself look her best, since she knew something was going to happen, but that didn't stop her from wanting to look good.
She came in wearing a long red dress, with spaghetti straps.
She spproached the party and already saw some of the star guests.
"And so the bitch in the red dress makes her debut."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Franco strutted around the party addressing and courting the various people who had attended. Most everyone who had been invited had attended as far as Franco could tell. Everyone necessary had attended. It was all going very well, save the lack of Damien. He looked over to Renee and wondered what she would think if Damien didn't attend. He thought it would be good if he occupied her until her arrived, only just than another guest arrived late.
"Kristey!" Franco's fake smile may have been a little overboard. "It's great to see you could stop by, and may I say how lovely you look in that decadent red dress? Absolutely stunning."
Franco had always kept his eye on Kristey Burrowell. It was easy to please a girl like her. Just stay out of her way and give her what she wants. He had always admired her as a 'forward' young lady and also inwardly cursed her foolishness in that same respect. Some might call it 'bitchy' Franco just thought it was bold, but he would personally never play his cards that close to the table. She was a possible successor to Renee, and if that day ever came, Franco would be prepared with all his charm and past virtues. He was prepared for a regime change at all times.
"Please come on in and help yourself to anything around," Franco guided Kristey over towards the main lobby were most of the guests had situated themselves. "If you need anything at all just give me a shout, my dear. I live to serve."
After a quick bow Franco began making his way back over to Renee. He kept his ears perked for the sound of the doorbell.
Best keep her appeased while we wait on our special guest.
"Kristey!" Franco's fake smile may have been a little overboard. "It's great to see you could stop by, and may I say how lovely you look in that decadent red dress? Absolutely stunning."
Franco had always kept his eye on Kristey Burrowell. It was easy to please a girl like her. Just stay out of her way and give her what she wants. He had always admired her as a 'forward' young lady and also inwardly cursed her foolishness in that same respect. Some might call it 'bitchy' Franco just thought it was bold, but he would personally never play his cards that close to the table. She was a possible successor to Renee, and if that day ever came, Franco would be prepared with all his charm and past virtues. He was prepared for a regime change at all times.
"Please come on in and help yourself to anything around," Franco guided Kristey over towards the main lobby were most of the guests had situated themselves. "If you need anything at all just give me a shout, my dear. I live to serve."
After a quick bow Franco began making his way back over to Renee. He kept his ears perked for the sound of the doorbell.
Best keep her appeased while we wait on our special guest.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
The mere sight of a familiar psychotic blonde bombshell who apparently had no qualms about referring to herself as a bitch was enough to throw Marvin into a good amount of rage.
"What the FUCK is she doing here!?" he burst out, his face turning almost as red as the blond's dress. He lunges forward, but is quickly stopped by Reneé's outstretched shapely arm blocking his path. For some reason, her gesture is enough to make his body stop, though it certainly doesn't stop him from throwing some very questioning glances at his superior.
"Don't worry, Marvin. She's here for the surprise too." she says, facing Marvin with a smirk, before turning a visibly friendlier gaze back toward Kristey. "Trust me, it'll be something we can all enjoy." This girl was clearly in control of her friends at this party, and no amount of buttering up from Franco would make him the leader, though some buttering up in the right manner would leave a very nice impression on his rep there. Still, there wouldn't be a regime change at least until after she graduated, and after that she wouldn't really care.
Oddly enough, Marvin was also not informed about Damien being the surprise. Loose lips sank ships.
"Whoa. You two know each other?" Richard added, an hors d'uvre stuck in his mouth as he re-entered the living room. Had he not been over 20, the older Hendrick would've been literally entranced by the sight of two 15-year-olds who at first comparative glance seemed to be twins, only with different color schemes. Right now, he stood by the sidelines, and while not really concerned about Marvin's current state of emotional health was also perfectly sober and still confident that nothing bad will go on during his watch.
As for Marvin, having been thoroughly disappointed by her insistence that Kristey not be harmed, decided to head out of the room to get a drink at Franco's special cabinet.
Richard, for some odd reason, thought his younger sibling was headed to the bathroom.
((Nothing a little liquor won't change, no?))
----
The stroll across the sidewalk and up the front steps felt like nothing short of a death march, Nicole's hand holding his like the cold icy hand of death. Damien was already sweating in his bow tie-less tuxedo, and at the same time forcing himself to stand up straight for his dressed-for-formal-business mother. His normally wild black hair had been so tamed by gel that it was almost impossible to tell it made him look like the embodiment of that animé character he'd often heard the nerds at school talk about.
"Now sweetie, don't look so tense. Everything will be fine. This place is almost as safe as our neighborhood." In fairness to Nicole, she said this out of the familiar neighborhood pride felt by their respective Dentonites. It was just the way she said almost that caused her son to start breathing faster. As if somehow that implied - again - that Nicole knew exactly what would go down at the party.
Nicole's properly trimmed index fingernail pressed the ornate doorbell. The resulting ringing - the only thing Damien could hear apart from a haunting breeze blowing across the house's manicured lawn - was rich and dainty, but it could have well been the sound of a Gothic mega-cathedral church bell...and death knell.
Might as well be letting in the VX gas any moment now...
"What the FUCK is she doing here!?" he burst out, his face turning almost as red as the blond's dress. He lunges forward, but is quickly stopped by Reneé's outstretched shapely arm blocking his path. For some reason, her gesture is enough to make his body stop, though it certainly doesn't stop him from throwing some very questioning glances at his superior.
"Don't worry, Marvin. She's here for the surprise too." she says, facing Marvin with a smirk, before turning a visibly friendlier gaze back toward Kristey. "Trust me, it'll be something we can all enjoy." This girl was clearly in control of her friends at this party, and no amount of buttering up from Franco would make him the leader, though some buttering up in the right manner would leave a very nice impression on his rep there. Still, there wouldn't be a regime change at least until after she graduated, and after that she wouldn't really care.
Oddly enough, Marvin was also not informed about Damien being the surprise. Loose lips sank ships.
"Whoa. You two know each other?" Richard added, an hors d'uvre stuck in his mouth as he re-entered the living room. Had he not been over 20, the older Hendrick would've been literally entranced by the sight of two 15-year-olds who at first comparative glance seemed to be twins, only with different color schemes. Right now, he stood by the sidelines, and while not really concerned about Marvin's current state of emotional health was also perfectly sober and still confident that nothing bad will go on during his watch.
As for Marvin, having been thoroughly disappointed by her insistence that Kristey not be harmed, decided to head out of the room to get a drink at Franco's special cabinet.
Richard, for some odd reason, thought his younger sibling was headed to the bathroom.
((Nothing a little liquor won't change, no?))
----
The stroll across the sidewalk and up the front steps felt like nothing short of a death march, Nicole's hand holding his like the cold icy hand of death. Damien was already sweating in his bow tie-less tuxedo, and at the same time forcing himself to stand up straight for his dressed-for-formal-business mother. His normally wild black hair had been so tamed by gel that it was almost impossible to tell it made him look like the embodiment of that animé character he'd often heard the nerds at school talk about.
"Now sweetie, don't look so tense. Everything will be fine. This place is almost as safe as our neighborhood." In fairness to Nicole, she said this out of the familiar neighborhood pride felt by their respective Dentonites. It was just the way she said almost that caused her son to start breathing faster. As if somehow that implied - again - that Nicole knew exactly what would go down at the party.
Nicole's properly trimmed index fingernail pressed the ornate doorbell. The resulting ringing - the only thing Damien could hear apart from a haunting breeze blowing across the house's manicured lawn - was rich and dainty, but it could have well been the sound of a Gothic mega-cathedral church bell...and death knell.
Might as well be letting in the VX gas any moment now...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
The ring of the doorbell singled a resounding redemption for Franco Sebberts. Each ring was a victory, and each ring was one step closer to greatness. As Richard, Kristey and the others chatted carelessly, Franco slinked his way out of the conversation and towards the doorway. He passed through many different patrons and excused himself politely through the crowd al the way to the doorway.
Franco opened the door to his infinite delight, Damien and Nicole Carter-Madison stood primed and proper on his front porch way. This was what Franco had been waiting for. The sacrifice had arrived. The monolith that was Renee Valentine and the young heir of Hendrick industries would be sated and it could all be attributed to Franco Sebberts. He scanned Damien and Nicole up and down with a pleasant eye noting Damien's cheap, tight pressed suit and Nicole's professional but classical appearance. He could have licked his lips at the coming of his new prey, but he resisted the urge and maintained his diplomatic approach.
"Mrs. Madison. Damien," Franco smiled and opened the heavy wooden door wide to receive his guests. "How good to see the both of you, and in good spirits I might note. I welcome you both too my humble abode."
Franco bowed low and offered them both indoors. He smiled politely and nodded at the reverence of Mrs. Madison and smirked as her back turned, at the gaudy gelled back hair of Damien. He leaned in to the young boy, placing his cologne fresh, white-washed hand on his thin shoulder.
"You had best not try anything funny, sir," to Damien, Franco's smile was surely something much more sinister than it was to Mrs. Madison. If she could see their little exchange she would assume nothing less than a friendly word of advice, in a way, that's what Franco was offering to the helpless young man. "We wouldn't want to disappoint our other guests."
Franco led the duo into the main lobby and pointed out the various attractions at the party; catering tables and other pretentious amusements. He excused himself from the pair to make his way throughout the party. He was going to pass along the message to his compatriots. He couldn't have them disturb Damien just yet, he had to set things up just right, and he wanted to make sure that he was unspoiled right up until the big event. He simply had to neutralize any of Damien's social advantages before allowing his allies to make his move.
He approached the small gang of his allies and quickly informed them of the arrival, and informed them of the specific plan of attack before anyone could ruin the faultless plan of attack.
Franco opened the door to his infinite delight, Damien and Nicole Carter-Madison stood primed and proper on his front porch way. This was what Franco had been waiting for. The sacrifice had arrived. The monolith that was Renee Valentine and the young heir of Hendrick industries would be sated and it could all be attributed to Franco Sebberts. He scanned Damien and Nicole up and down with a pleasant eye noting Damien's cheap, tight pressed suit and Nicole's professional but classical appearance. He could have licked his lips at the coming of his new prey, but he resisted the urge and maintained his diplomatic approach.
"Mrs. Madison. Damien," Franco smiled and opened the heavy wooden door wide to receive his guests. "How good to see the both of you, and in good spirits I might note. I welcome you both too my humble abode."
Franco bowed low and offered them both indoors. He smiled politely and nodded at the reverence of Mrs. Madison and smirked as her back turned, at the gaudy gelled back hair of Damien. He leaned in to the young boy, placing his cologne fresh, white-washed hand on his thin shoulder.
"You had best not try anything funny, sir," to Damien, Franco's smile was surely something much more sinister than it was to Mrs. Madison. If she could see their little exchange she would assume nothing less than a friendly word of advice, in a way, that's what Franco was offering to the helpless young man. "We wouldn't want to disappoint our other guests."
Franco led the duo into the main lobby and pointed out the various attractions at the party; catering tables and other pretentious amusements. He excused himself from the pair to make his way throughout the party. He was going to pass along the message to his compatriots. He couldn't have them disturb Damien just yet, he had to set things up just right, and he wanted to make sure that he was unspoiled right up until the big event. He simply had to neutralize any of Damien's social advantages before allowing his allies to make his move.
He approached the small gang of his allies and quickly informed them of the arrival, and informed them of the specific plan of attack before anyone could ruin the faultless plan of attack.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Oh yes, Franco! Excellent spirits indeed!" Whatever Franco and Debrah did to Damien at the mall - and she could tell something was done to her precious lapdog son - she had long since assumed to be Debrah's fault. She'd never trust a harlot like that with the company of her son again. After returning the greeting with a very polite and respectful nod and smile, she went into the house and behind the two while Franco "greeted" her son.
The cheerful gilding on Franco's mask seemed to vanish, leaving only cruelty on his face as he lay his hand on Damien's suited shoulder. The gel that bound his hair proper was now straining to hold back the tension that coursed through his nervous system. But he held a straight face, appearing to stare into Franco's own but in fact gazing through his head at the other rooms. He had a good idea of who the "other guests" were, and especially what their plans were. They'd been brewing those for the weeks since he nearly had his neck snapped by one of them.
He didn't stop to think about the possibility of who else might be among them as his mom came back to help guide him to the house's main hall.
Although Damien looked like he was literally joined to Nicole's hip as they strolled into the lobby, they had sharply contrasting levels of "spirits" regarding the party itself. While the latter had calculated every possibility and was prepared to take full advantage of it and the party's culinary delights, the former was viewing the party as a Garden of Earthly Delights. He hoped in vain that he could stick by his mom for the duration of the party and, somehow, someway, evade danger.
((Sent a note to Nealosi asking for the details of the plan, maybe you could discuss those with Xaldien as she'll be "in on it" too. This way I can formulate a reaction from the rest of the guests. And wtf happened to Ziggy?))
The cheerful gilding on Franco's mask seemed to vanish, leaving only cruelty on his face as he lay his hand on Damien's suited shoulder. The gel that bound his hair proper was now straining to hold back the tension that coursed through his nervous system. But he held a straight face, appearing to stare into Franco's own but in fact gazing through his head at the other rooms. He had a good idea of who the "other guests" were, and especially what their plans were. They'd been brewing those for the weeks since he nearly had his neck snapped by one of them.
He didn't stop to think about the possibility of who else might be among them as his mom came back to help guide him to the house's main hall.
Although Damien looked like he was literally joined to Nicole's hip as they strolled into the lobby, they had sharply contrasting levels of "spirits" regarding the party itself. While the latter had calculated every possibility and was prepared to take full advantage of it and the party's culinary delights, the former was viewing the party as a Garden of Earthly Delights. He hoped in vain that he could stick by his mom for the duration of the party and, somehow, someway, evade danger.
((Sent a note to Nealosi asking for the details of the plan, maybe you could discuss those with Xaldien as she'll be "in on it" too. This way I can formulate a reaction from the rest of the guests. And wtf happened to Ziggy?))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Kristey looked around the party to see if there was really anyone of any lasting importance around.
Marvin? No, he's more likely to be blown up than to be of any worth.
Franco? No.
Renee? Pssh, don't even think of it.
She just walked around, aimlessly looking for something to amuse herself with, and then that's when she realized who was around.
damien...
That's right, Dame Edna showed up, with mother dearest at his side, the very well known mother of his.
"This should be interesting," She said to herself.
She knew something was up, and was not enjoying the thought.
Marvin? No, he's more likely to be blown up than to be of any worth.
Franco? No.
Renee? Pssh, don't even think of it.
She just walked around, aimlessly looking for something to amuse herself with, and then that's when she realized who was around.
damien...
That's right, Dame Edna showed up, with mother dearest at his side, the very well known mother of his.
"This should be interesting," She said to herself.
She knew something was up, and was not enjoying the thought.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Marvin arrived back in the waiting room with a half-full glass of Merlot and the very first, subtle inklings of being generally drunk on his face just as Franco returned to issue tidings of good joy, which would be for all people in this room. For unto them was given this day in the city of Denton, a surprise, which was Damien. Of course, it wasn't so much a surprise to Reneé as it was to her second-in-command.
"Dami-WHO?" he asked incredulously, his voice still not registering any sort of drunken slur. He did however have to shake his head to realize that his favorite victim was in the building, but the fact that his mother was here with him prevented him from smiling. Which was probably why Franco decided to elaborate on his plan to separate the Madisons, to which he nodded.
Reneé, lounging on a nearby recliner on the far side of the room facing Franco, clasped her hands and nodded in approval of Syndicate No. 4's (or was that 5?)'s evil plan. She also had a nice, evil smile on her face which complimented with her hair and Sharon-Stone-crossed legs, made her look like a real temptress.
And speaking of temptresses, Kristey had departed the room prior to Franco's arrival, much to the other members' dismay. She's going to miss out on the surprise... More to that dismay was the fact that Richard was still in the room with them. The elder Hendrick, being the "Marty-Stu" that Marvin often thought he was, walked up to Franco. Looking down upon (well, he was taller than) the boy, he sternly said that "I'm sorry, Franco, but I can't allow you to do what you say you're going to do, and I will much less have Marvin be a part of it."
"Dami-WHO?" he asked incredulously, his voice still not registering any sort of drunken slur. He did however have to shake his head to realize that his favorite victim was in the building, but the fact that his mother was here with him prevented him from smiling. Which was probably why Franco decided to elaborate on his plan to separate the Madisons, to which he nodded.
Reneé, lounging on a nearby recliner on the far side of the room facing Franco, clasped her hands and nodded in approval of Syndicate No. 4's (or was that 5?)'s evil plan. She also had a nice, evil smile on her face which complimented with her hair and Sharon-Stone-crossed legs, made her look like a real temptress.
And speaking of temptresses, Kristey had departed the room prior to Franco's arrival, much to the other members' dismay. She's going to miss out on the surprise... More to that dismay was the fact that Richard was still in the room with them. The elder Hendrick, being the "Marty-Stu" that Marvin often thought he was, walked up to Franco. Looking down upon (well, he was taller than) the boy, he sternly said that "I'm sorry, Franco, but I can't allow you to do what you say you're going to do, and I will much less have Marvin be a part of it."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Franco looked up to Richard and grinned as innocently as he could. The older boy was a thorn, and a mighty big one, in Franco's side. He looked up at him and realize just how young and small he was. He would not deal with Richard without a little aid, it just wasn't his nature. If Franco were David, facing the hulking Goliath alone, he would have run.
Sweat began to permeate under his tight white dress shirt as he looked Richard in the eye.
How much could he have heard? Dammit! I was on a roll for a while there. Stay cool; just lie your way out of this.
"Richard! Richard!" Franco gestured warmly. "We were talking about something entirely different my good sir. Don't give it a minute's worry. If you'll please excuse me I have another conversation to attend. I'm sure one of these wonderful people here in the room is fully willing to carry on this explanation in length."
Franco quickly eyed a few members in the room before wandering off to the next room, not giving Richard a chance to reply. His eyes immediately began to dart about in search of Damien and his mother. The plan may be delayed by the older Hendrick boy, but it certainly was not called off. He had to separate the mother goose from her little ugly duckling before anymore action could proceed. He had the room prepared and everything for his guest, while he would occasionally check-out to check-up on guests while the festivities continued.
Like a scavenger to his rotting prey, Franco picked up the sent of Damien and began immediately to saunter over to the young boy and his mother.
"Mrs. Madison," Franco's grin was a genuine one of perseverance. "I'm glad to see you are enjoying everything all fine and well. I believe I have a few people to introduce you to."
Franco practically pulled her hand as his guided the duo to a distant group of uncaring chaperoning adults. Mostly they were friends of Franco's father and the pretentious parental elite of PJ Gilroy ((I believe they have meetings on Wednesdays and Sundays
)), and therefore were mostly drinking, socializing and unobservant of their children. Nevertheless, they were important and therefore a concern to Mrs. Madison, of this, Franco was sure. After spouting off a few names and politely introducing Mrs. Madison to the crowd of parents, Franco looked to Mrs. Madison and particularly to Damien.
"Why don't you let me take Damien off your hands for a short while," Franco stared straight at Damien and grinned wide. "He'll be under the best of care. I and a few of his other classmates just wanted to play a few party games. I would hate for Damien to have to miss out, and I'm sure you have much to talk about."
Franco gestured to the parents and than to Mrs. Madison. Just a few more moves and he would have all the bases loaded.
If the night went as planned, the last ball would fly right out of the park.
Sweat began to permeate under his tight white dress shirt as he looked Richard in the eye.
How much could he have heard? Dammit! I was on a roll for a while there. Stay cool; just lie your way out of this.
"Richard! Richard!" Franco gestured warmly. "We were talking about something entirely different my good sir. Don't give it a minute's worry. If you'll please excuse me I have another conversation to attend. I'm sure one of these wonderful people here in the room is fully willing to carry on this explanation in length."
Franco quickly eyed a few members in the room before wandering off to the next room, not giving Richard a chance to reply. His eyes immediately began to dart about in search of Damien and his mother. The plan may be delayed by the older Hendrick boy, but it certainly was not called off. He had to separate the mother goose from her little ugly duckling before anymore action could proceed. He had the room prepared and everything for his guest, while he would occasionally check-out to check-up on guests while the festivities continued.
Like a scavenger to his rotting prey, Franco picked up the sent of Damien and began immediately to saunter over to the young boy and his mother.
"Mrs. Madison," Franco's grin was a genuine one of perseverance. "I'm glad to see you are enjoying everything all fine and well. I believe I have a few people to introduce you to."
Franco practically pulled her hand as his guided the duo to a distant group of uncaring chaperoning adults. Mostly they were friends of Franco's father and the pretentious parental elite of PJ Gilroy ((I believe they have meetings on Wednesdays and Sundays
)), and therefore were mostly drinking, socializing and unobservant of their children. Nevertheless, they were important and therefore a concern to Mrs. Madison, of this, Franco was sure. After spouting off a few names and politely introducing Mrs. Madison to the crowd of parents, Franco looked to Mrs. Madison and particularly to Damien."Why don't you let me take Damien off your hands for a short while," Franco stared straight at Damien and grinned wide. "He'll be under the best of care. I and a few of his other classmates just wanted to play a few party games. I would hate for Damien to have to miss out, and I'm sure you have much to talk about."
Franco gestured to the parents and than to Mrs. Madison. Just a few more moves and he would have all the bases loaded.
If the night went as planned, the last ball would fly right out of the park.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Okay, bro, what's going on here? What are you planning to do to that boy again? And what the hell are you drinking!?"
"Look, it's just going to be a little fun, that's all."
"Fun? Have you ever stopped to realize what you're putting that poor kid through?" Richard tried to de-emphasize the word poor in terms of wealth, as he really sympathized with Damien. That and H.I. was a major contributor to Nicole's organization PaCAS.
"Since when did you care about him? All he's ever gotten you is mad at me."
"Ugh. Look. You pick on him enough, and he's going to get you someplace worse someday, mark my words."
The alcohol was beginning to set in. "Screw him. He's probably going to kill himself first."
"That's fucking it. C'mon, Marv. We're getting you home." Richard grabbed Marvin by the wrist and started pulling him out of the room, the initial jolt sending Marvin's glass to the floor, leaving a rather nice stain on the carpet. "Now if we could just find that door..."
"Dammit, let me go!"
Reneé, being the only member left in the room still not hindered, just sat back and watched her second-in-command's humiliation with a straight face.
More Damien for me then...
===
Before they knew it, Franco had whisked the two Carter-Madisons to the other room, where Damien had discovered all the parents attending the party (except, of course, those of the key children except), though he didn't know which one's Franco's were. All he knew was, they were there, having a good time, not at all mindful of the suffering that would take place underneath their noses.
Class struggle at its finest.
Worse yet, Nicole had quickly engaged herself with the group, getting to know future sponsors of her organization, and knowing some present, familiar ones better. She even politely gestured with her hand that she was busy and that Franco could take her son off her hands. As a result, the scare of Franco's grin had now pierced its roots into Damien's spine. Of course, that fear wasn't perfect, as Nicole had managed to catch Franco mentioning Damien's "classmates" and something about "party games."
"Escuse me," she politely said to her guests before turning to the host. "I think I know who his classmates are. You'd better not be trying anything funny with my son."
((Don't worry, Nealy, it'll all work out. Franco can use his frustration to make the humiliation even more painful.
))
"Look, it's just going to be a little fun, that's all."
"Fun? Have you ever stopped to realize what you're putting that poor kid through?" Richard tried to de-emphasize the word poor in terms of wealth, as he really sympathized with Damien. That and H.I. was a major contributor to Nicole's organization PaCAS.
"Since when did you care about him? All he's ever gotten you is mad at me."
"Ugh. Look. You pick on him enough, and he's going to get you someplace worse someday, mark my words."
The alcohol was beginning to set in. "Screw him. He's probably going to kill himself first."
"That's fucking it. C'mon, Marv. We're getting you home." Richard grabbed Marvin by the wrist and started pulling him out of the room, the initial jolt sending Marvin's glass to the floor, leaving a rather nice stain on the carpet. "Now if we could just find that door..."
"Dammit, let me go!"
Reneé, being the only member left in the room still not hindered, just sat back and watched her second-in-command's humiliation with a straight face.
More Damien for me then...
===
Before they knew it, Franco had whisked the two Carter-Madisons to the other room, where Damien had discovered all the parents attending the party (except, of course, those of the key children except), though he didn't know which one's Franco's were. All he knew was, they were there, having a good time, not at all mindful of the suffering that would take place underneath their noses.
Class struggle at its finest.
Worse yet, Nicole had quickly engaged herself with the group, getting to know future sponsors of her organization, and knowing some present, familiar ones better. She even politely gestured with her hand that she was busy and that Franco could take her son off her hands. As a result, the scare of Franco's grin had now pierced its roots into Damien's spine. Of course, that fear wasn't perfect, as Nicole had managed to catch Franco mentioning Damien's "classmates" and something about "party games."
"Escuse me," she politely said to her guests before turning to the host. "I think I know who his classmates are. You'd better not be trying anything funny with my son."
((Don't worry, Nealy, it'll all work out. Franco can use his frustration to make the humiliation even more painful.
))This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Dammit...
Underneath Franco's indignant smirk, and tight pressed collar, he was a squirming and sweating like a trapped rat. It's not like things were unsalvageable, but Franco was never one to turn and face the music. This was a bad situation, one he would rather have avoided entirely, but it was a necessary step, and he was doing what he had to. He found himself irrevocably displeased with Damien. The little scamp was clinging to his mother like a barnacle, and Franco always found it easier to blame his lesser.
"Mrs. Madison," Franco sorted himself out and began to reassert his position. "Damien will be in the finest hands, I can assure you. If you would prefer I could even have Jorge accompany us."
Franco motioned to one of the nearby house staff, who immediately came to Franco's side. He leaned in close to speak privately with Mrs. Madison.
"To be honest ma'am," Franco whispered sincerely. "I think it would be good for Damien to get out and meet more of his classmates. I know that he doesn't have a good reputation with his peers, but I think that if he and I went out and talked to so people we could get him to open up and make a few friends."
He looked towards Damien.
"What do you say, Damien?" Franco gave a familiar look to Jorge. It was a look that said 'do everything I say or daddy and I fire your ass back to Mexico.' He held out his hand to Damien. "Join me?"
He was sincerely hoping that his allies had dealt with the whole Richard situation and his whole spiel about not hurting him and blah, blah, blah. Franco had stopped listening, anyone who didn't have the spine to take what they wanted every now and then, did have the balls to move their way up in the world. People like Damien end up middle management pencil pushers with fat housewives and disobedient little children.
Franco thought of himself in the future. Maybe a CEO or president? A corporate tycoon or even a politician? Something alone those lines. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty every now and again, even if I did only mean convincing someone to do something he didn't have the backbone to do himself.
Underneath Franco's indignant smirk, and tight pressed collar, he was a squirming and sweating like a trapped rat. It's not like things were unsalvageable, but Franco was never one to turn and face the music. This was a bad situation, one he would rather have avoided entirely, but it was a necessary step, and he was doing what he had to. He found himself irrevocably displeased with Damien. The little scamp was clinging to his mother like a barnacle, and Franco always found it easier to blame his lesser.
"Mrs. Madison," Franco sorted himself out and began to reassert his position. "Damien will be in the finest hands, I can assure you. If you would prefer I could even have Jorge accompany us."
Franco motioned to one of the nearby house staff, who immediately came to Franco's side. He leaned in close to speak privately with Mrs. Madison.
"To be honest ma'am," Franco whispered sincerely. "I think it would be good for Damien to get out and meet more of his classmates. I know that he doesn't have a good reputation with his peers, but I think that if he and I went out and talked to so people we could get him to open up and make a few friends."
He looked towards Damien.
"What do you say, Damien?" Franco gave a familiar look to Jorge. It was a look that said 'do everything I say or daddy and I fire your ass back to Mexico.' He held out his hand to Damien. "Join me?"
He was sincerely hoping that his allies had dealt with the whole Richard situation and his whole spiel about not hurting him and blah, blah, blah. Franco had stopped listening, anyone who didn't have the spine to take what they wanted every now and then, did have the balls to move their way up in the world. People like Damien end up middle management pencil pushers with fat housewives and disobedient little children.
Franco thought of himself in the future. Maybe a CEO or president? A corporate tycoon or even a politician? Something alone those lines. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty every now and again, even if I did only mean convincing someone to do something he didn't have the backbone to do himself.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Nicole turned to look at Jorge. The man was that classic stereotype of the strapping young Latino __(fillintheblank)__keeper that would often work in the houses of lonely and/or desperate housewives for the girls to cheat on. Still, Nicole was a fairly lonely/desperate widow who hadn't grown that old, and she visually sized him up as if she were meat shopping at Ralph's. Of course, here would not be the case for seduction, and it wasn't as if a guy like him would stoop as low as she thought he would.
But if he did, well, we know whose fault it'll be.
"Sure. But you keep a good eye on my son," Nicole says, kneeling a bit to look into Franco's eyes. It was at that point that her expression turned downright Mother Superior. "Any harm comes to him and it will be your head on my silver platter."
She stood up again and motioned for Jorge to take Damien away. Damien quickly clung to his mother like a leech, but the man was strong enough that he could have been the Jaws of Life that could've saved Dale Senior from certain doom. Jorge then proceeded to take Damien by the arm, and though he looked like he was merely guiding Damien through, one could tell, if anyone was looking, that the boy looked like he was being dragged across a rocky back road from a truck. All throughout, Damien made little more than whimpers.
At this point, Damien was wondering if he even had a future or a dream to look forward to. The only thing he could hope for was something not nearly as painful.
===
Damien and Jorge didn't notice that they seemed to mirror Marvin and Richard, respectively, who were heading toward Franco themselves.
But if he did, well, we know whose fault it'll be.
"Sure. But you keep a good eye on my son," Nicole says, kneeling a bit to look into Franco's eyes. It was at that point that her expression turned downright Mother Superior. "Any harm comes to him and it will be your head on my silver platter."
She stood up again and motioned for Jorge to take Damien away. Damien quickly clung to his mother like a leech, but the man was strong enough that he could have been the Jaws of Life that could've saved Dale Senior from certain doom. Jorge then proceeded to take Damien by the arm, and though he looked like he was merely guiding Damien through, one could tell, if anyone was looking, that the boy looked like he was being dragged across a rocky back road from a truck. All throughout, Damien made little more than whimpers.
At this point, Damien was wondering if he even had a future or a dream to look forward to. The only thing he could hope for was something not nearly as painful.
===
Damien and Jorge didn't notice that they seemed to mirror Marvin and Richard, respectively, who were heading toward Franco themselves.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.