2013-01-09 Masqued Intentions

Bane is ushered into a room taking up the entire width of the craft. Along each side a row of portholes eight feet in diameter. Outside, the sunken ruins of centuries of Gotham merchant ships, pirate ships, and not a few rusted aircraft. The closest of these has a massive grin painted on the nose, but since the thing fell to these depths upside down, it is instead a large, toothy frown.

The room is colored the same luminescent moss green as the rest of the ship. A genetic alteration that allows the coloration itself to provide calm ambient lighting throughout and allows for the doing away with bulbs of any kind. Outside this room, amber display screens of all sizes dizzy in their array, but the real technology, the electronics, the computers, the power source... all hidden. In here, no obvious technology. A simple and aged-looking bottle on the massive steel table. Two ornate goblets, also not from this century. Behind the table, Hydra: a massive skull missing the lower jaw, from where six tentacles curl outward; three to the left, three to the right. Sitting directly in front and slightly below this massive engraved symbol is The Red Skull, leaning back in a heavy, swiveling chair that was mod in the 60s. Doubly so now. He stands and extends a hand.

"Herr Bane."

An unexpected surprise, he had stated in communication prior. The same may well be said for describing the individual arriving. He had not elected to 'dress up' for the occasion, but rather be seen for his more, shall we say, standard attire. This of course, includes the mask and the not-so-subtle suggestion of his physical size, wearing that attire that one would mark him out for little more than a street thug.

If one didn't count certain scientific additions such as the device openly secured to his person on the left arm, with tubes from it back into his own skull.

A pity there had been nothing of real interest save for, perhaps, the bioluminescence providing lighting, or perhaps the means by which this location had been acquired... and the transportation to and from. He had given strict orders to the crew to lay low before setting out, alone of all things, to this meeting.

"Gutentag," that deep voice replies perfectly from behind that mask. Courtesy with one's hand extended is also returned. There's no need to be rude. Yet. "I see your name is indeed literal." That too, is in German. He had not bothered to speak so fluently during the 'feeler' part of correspondence, though there might have been a hint or two, a word slipped into a sentence. Here, though, Bane uses your native dialect as though he had known prior what it was.

The Red Skull nods in recognition, motions to the seat across from him and retakes his seat. Without any obvious communication, a woman in a Hydra uniform steps forward and raises the bottle, pouring a dark, blood red wine into each goblet. She places one before Bane, then one before Skull before disappearing. Skull lifts his, studies it. "'47 Cheval Blanc. A case was procured and saved for my... return. Salud, Mr. Bane. Here is to a civilized and mutually beneficial conversation this evening." The Skull tilts his head back and somehow manages to drink with his mask without spilling a drop.

Alas, the same can't be said for the other party, as far as drinking with the mask in place is concerned. There is a considerable interest in the observation of the pouring, but only after you drink does he do the same, lifting up the lower portion to expose his mouth and that alone.

Your guest drinks, keeping his concealed eyes focused on you now, though that is not to say he does not endeavor to stay savvy of others in HYDRA attire, coming, going, or perhaps lurking right outside of this room. "To business," Bane replies, when he raises his own glass. "Let us start with the nature of yours. Mine, I think, is fairly straightforward and will take less time."

Vibrant blue eyes shine from within the folds of darkness filling the socket's of the Red Skull's mask. Alert. Intent. Amused. "Very well." He takes his time fitting a black cigarette to his holder, then biting down on it and lighting it. "I need help. I need someone to help me achieve my aims. Money is no object, but the quality of said help means everything." Inhale, cherry flares. "Considering how little I could find on you and how difficult it was to find, you drew my interest. Tell me, Bane... are you for hire?" Exhale a plume of smoke.

Lips curve in a hint of amusement, twitching upwards though nothing further comes from the mouth of the man sharing this ancient vintage of wine with you. "There isn't much to find," Bane replies, the inflection well and truly deliberate at implying that may be on purpose, or to prove 'the quality of said help'.

"I could be... persuaded to assist you, though my price is far less tangible than money. Money is a tool, not an object to be coveted. It simply has sometimes more subtle uses in its deployment. I require far more than a simple tool everyone has or desires, for my services, but I will hear you out all the same. State your need for me."

Skull studies Bane, then grunts agreeably. He standsa gain and turns to look out one of the portholes. A shark glides by. Hands now clasped behind his back, the Skull continues. "The engine in this submarine is a fusion drive. A new design from the beekeepers. My scientists. Experimental. Silent. No chance of meltdown or explosion." He inhales on the cigarette holder and holds it. "But a 2.4% chance of ripping a hole in the fabric of reality." Skull exhales. "I mention this because we live in a world where men of will like us are not free to push these boundaries as we see fit. As it was in my day, the small minded band together in order to enforce their feeble wills upon us. I will no more stomach it now than I would then." He turns, and his eyes now blaze, filled with cold blue fire. His voice has risen only a decibel, but it has deepened with a enervating zeal. It's easy to see how the so-called small willed ones might bow to a charisma like this.

"The police of the world have always been here. They will always be here. But they are irrelevant! We can buy them with the too you so correctly classified. Money is no problem. It is the ones who try to rule us -- RULE *US*! -- from above I now speak. SHIELD and its ilk. I would see them *burn*, Herr Bane." Skull slumps into his seat again, a physically satisfied glow coming off him. "And you, Herr Bane? What would you see?"

He stands the entire time, head turning to follow as you move to that porthole for your inspection of something that is not truly outside of it. A shark indeed glides by. He says nothing to the matter of the fusion drive, says nothing at all, but merely ... observes. Yet when you turn, and he can see those eyes, those lips again curve upwards faintly, but this time in something not amusement. Pleasure, perhaps? Satisfaction? It's ambiguous, gone in a moment, as he raises the wine to his lips again.

So when it is that you finally pose the question to him, after answering your desire, his response is not as simple as he claimed it would be before:

"You would see them burn," Bane says to you, and rather suddenly one hand is moving up to peel off the rest of his own mask, revealing his face but more importantly the cold, hard steel of his dark eyes. "I would see them broken."

A smile slowly spreads across the red visage, so evident of pleasure and satisfaction it's hard to believe that it's a mask. "Why Bane, I hadn't realized how kindred a spirit you were." He raises the glass to breathe in the fumes before sipping it again. "You have the right of it, of course. It is not as simple as brining this organization down. Nor the individuals. It is neither a challenge to us nor just punishment to them for their pride. No, my friend. As you say... they must be suffer and then be broken so as to keep suffering." A puff of smoke, a refill of glasses. "For your aid, what would you ask of me? What do you want that you won't just take yourself?" Curiosity now.

"Let us say that what I intend to take will undoubtedly rile a number of individuals and organizations who undoubtedly will be watching every moment of the way," Bane's deep voice responds. "I cannot take their eyes off of me, in the coming days, and so that, amigo, is what I desire most: a means by which they will be too distracted, too focused on more important concerns, so that they will not see when I remove their influence from their place. Shall I tell you what it is I will do, first, or shall I hear what you want from me in exchange?"

The Skull shakes his head. "You tell me what you need to do and how I can facilitate that. Then I will do the same."

"What I want is simple: this city." There's a sudden flicker of what might be a smile on Bane's face as he says that, but it too is quickly gone. "I even intend to take it... lawfully. It makes it far harder to be removed from power when it's legitimately obtained. For your part, it is exactly as I said. The fewer eyes upon me, the more easily I can do so until there is nothing they can do to stop me from taking their haven and casting them down. Starting with that symbol of theirs that they think is what truly protects them from the night, and not the sufferance of another."

"And how can I help you stay out from under their eyes?" the Sull asks with evident enjoyment.

"A diversion. I assume what you desire to do will create exactly that. Particularly if it is prolonged. You have... this, at your disposal." A brief gesture with one finger is given to indicate the current location. "I presume that means you have other, perhaps just as intriguing devices or places to utilize. I simply need you to draw their eyes elsewhere, be that to you or someone else. We would be seen as threats, but threats cannot be stopped when they are all occurring at once, particularly when some simply must be addressed now." He pauses, to imbibe more from the glass. "And now your request."

"Done. My resources can provide what you wish when you wish it. As for me, I cannot reveal my presence--the fact that I am even alive--just yet. Ignorance of that fact gives me a great advantage. To that end I would like you to lead a number of carefully planned strikes on my behalf. Hidden from view. Again, I will provide all the resources; but I require someone I trust to carry them out. I require rare competence. Some are to gather equipment, some to tarnish or cripple our mutual enemies. All focused on bringing down SHIELD and its attendant and verdammt heroes like the mighty Hindenberg." A moment of reverie, followed by the crash of the glass splintering on the floor. "And so, if this is amenable to you, consider my resources at your disposal." The bottle is now empty. Skull loosens his collar, looking up at Bane. "Do we have a deal, then?"

"We do," Bane replies. Simple, straightforward, and punctuated further by finishing the wine in his glass... and replacing the mask afterwards.

The Red Skulls say, "I will have my man take you back to the city and provide you with a means of further contact. As soon as specifics are sent, I will make what you need happen. Herr Bane, it has been a pleasure to deal with another professional of your caliber. No dramatics, simply business." No dramatics says the man in the skull mask and fusion sub to the man in the whatever-the-hell-mask-that-is and chemical tubes. "I wish you the best of luck to our mutual business."