2013.05.14 - Much to Learn

Lexcorp's headquarters is the monolithic building with many windows. White peaks up between the windows making the building almost look divine in the sea of dark colors in the metropolis cityscape. Its bright aura shines on afternoons like today where the sun is out in full force. The front door open and out walks a woman with short cropped hair, black business top and a black skirt. She wears a Lexcrop badge with the utmost pride with her name, Tess Mercer, and photo blazing across it. A black chauffer cap sits neatly atop of her head. The woman walks with purpose toward a woman with violet eyes, and despite the subtle features something hasn't sit well with security since her first sighting. Now it is at least the third time the violet eyed woman appeared on camera. A direct approach is required.

"Mr. Luthor wants a meeting with you. Now," the tone of Tess's voice shows this is not a request. "He's waiting."

Inside the building marble scatters across the floor, scales up the walls, and an imitation marble even coats the ceiling. The many windows are UV absorbent so many of the sun's rays are dimmed once inside. Tess will escort the woman to an elevator and slip inside. Something about this woman has rattled the entire Lexcorp security staff.

Isn't it fun? One person, doing nothing but existing in this time and place. Suddenly everyone's getting all nervous. Zoya would grin if she knew the correct emotion to associate with it. Instead she feigns surprise, holding a hand to her sternum. "Big man wishes to see me? What a surprise."

Heck, it's about time something interesting happened. She can only take so much of the lobby coffee before she gets bored half to death. Times like this she wonders if Shaw even appreciates her for who and what she is. A corporate spy is not one of these things.

Once in the elevator it's only a moment before the Russkie is turning her head to look at this other woman. The gaze lingers, almost as if she's trying to read right into Tess' soul. How might she react to some gentle prodding? People are little more than momentary science experiments for Zo. "Like workink here?"

Tess says nothing to the question. The elevator moves smoothly and even comes to a steady stop at the top floor. A "Ding," fills the elevator. Tess leaves going to her desk sitting outside of a wall with a single door. She presses a door, "Mr. Luthor will see you now," the words are cold, crisp and calculated.

The wall is red, the door is black and it opens up into a room that's oval in shape. Large wall length windows take up most of the walls. The sole wall that isn't a window is red and matches the ceiling. Black marble tiles spread across the floor. Lex is pulling at a leather glove on his left hand that matches the right one. A black suit hangs a little loose off of him despite a black vest and white tie. He's sitting at a dark mahogany desk and two comfortable office chairs sit on the otherside of the desk.

A black gloved hand gestures to a chair, "Sit." Green eyes, the color of money, look over the woman with violet eyes taking in all of her details. All of the angular edges to her features speak of a fit body that draws some concern.

"Talk less than I do," Zoya remarks when no answer is given to her question. "Is not very ..what is word. 'Neighborly.'"

For that entire ride where no reaction is given, Zoya continues to look at Tess. There's no expression to be read, though there's a madness lurking within her eyes. ''What color are you on the inside? Do you speak less because of a lung deformity?''

Then the elevator stops and she's getting out of the way, leaving the Black Rook alone. Relatively speaking. "Would hate to tink came all dis way only to be told to wait," she says in what might have been an attempt at humor from most anyone else in the world, making her way to the lone door.

It's..a curious transformation. White on white, clean marble, posh refinement, then -bam,- aggressive colors ho. Black, red, the Devil himself may as well be sitting behind that desk. Zoya takes a slow look around, nodding softly in what might be appreciation. "Love what have done with place." She even sits where instructed, though perhaps not out of any perceived obligation to do so. When she finally turns her full attention onto you there's a very well practiced, though completely fake, grin of amusement. "Do you enjoy playink God?"

"I don't play," Luthor says firmly. How Zoya takes the comment is on her. Those green eyes exam the woman while he keeps moving the fingers in the glove, ensuring his contingency plan is in place. "I want to know why you're here," he's to the point, "You've been spotted enough times on security cameras to show you either want something from me or have something to show me. Which is it?" Before the woman can say a word he adds, in flawless Russian, "Don't insult me with some lie about how you were passing by. You demean yourself and my intelligence when you do this, friend." Everything about his face is solid, devoid of friendliness, even imitation friendliness, Lex is just watching her with the utmost seriousness.

"Then you do not get drunk?" Zoya pointedly asks, cocking her head to one side as a whole new round of curiosity overcomes her. The inquiry probably makes zero sense to you but in her warped mind it's a perfectly valid question to ask. Perhaps even the exact thing to be asking at such a point. She's spoken to Gods, they've told her they cannot get plastered. At least not off of anything domestic to this world. Or dimension. ..Whatever.

Then you're speaking Russian. That should help. "What, I am not allowed to stop by and see how you are doing?" she answers with a question of her own, on much better footing with her native language. "We both come from the same clubhouse, no? It is fun to see how the others spend their time. There is so much that can be learned by watching."

If you want to be stoic, that's fine by her. She can do stoic with the best of 'em.

"Why, do I make you nervous?"

Hearing the question Lex retorts, "And what clubhouse is that?" She speaks like they come from the same place, the same life, but the woman is a complete stranger. Whoever she is the woman is manipulative and deadly. If she wasn't annoying Lex at the moment he would consider offering her a job. A lot of wordsmiths like her would work wonders in situations a lobbyist would be needed. "What is your name? Why are you here?"

Serious? Did you not know, or are you deliberately playing ignorant? Zoya pauses as she picks apart this new scrap of information, like taking a scalpel to a dead frog. If you honestly didn't make the connection then she's not going to spell it out for you. This could work to her advantage quite nicely.

"Zoya," she simply replies while looking down at her fingernails. As if this conversation carried no weight for her. "It is impossible to overlook the most eccentric of men, even in a city of millions. I like what you have done here," she offers while peering back up to you once more. "This building, it has a vibe. Power. Control. I may be an outsider, but it still feels good. It is as simple as this. You have created a beacon within this country. It is meant to draw attention, no? Congratulations, it has worked. Already I am privileged with a private audience with the man responsible for it."

Ego. It can be a powerful tool.

"Truth is," she continues while slowly leaning forward in her seat, "I am not one you need to be wary of." For the time being.

"And who should I be wary of Miss Zoya?" That name rings a bell. He mulls it over in his mind. Rolling that name throughout his skill Lex thinks on it more before his eyes narrow in realization. "Shaw," green colored eyes examine Zoya, "How much is he paying you?" As the question leaves his lips another idea strikes him.

"You ask a lot of questions. Why is this? When I ask questions I'm usually," he pauses looking over the woman's face to judge a reaction, "Bored. Too many unknowns, too many useless men speaking, I could go on. Are you bored Zoya? Feeling like this is nothing more than glorified babysitting while your talents are being squandered?"

To your next question she simply points out the window, "Everyone else. Those that would wish to see your empire topple, or claim it for themselves."

Then the pieces come together. Zoya abruptly claps once and points directly at you, "Smart. Almost. I know money is what your world revolves around, but it is a bad idea to assume it is what guides and rules everyone else. I am not being paid." Surprise!

Your next question earns a bit more thought from the woman, slowly crossing one leg over the other as she considers her response. "Because the world is a fascinating place. To look at it from the outside, it does not seem possible that civilization can remain standing upon its ruined foundation. What keeps it together? Somehow there are so many broken pieces all mashed together that it has created a new structure which, against all odds, manages to shoulder this weight."

And -one- of these days she's going to find the right pin to pull in order to bring the whole thing crashing down. It's become something of a life goal for her. Find humanity's load-bearing joint.

"But, you are right," she admits with a tiny sigh, hands drifting to the armrests of her chair. "It does become quite boring." But it also leads to new opportunities, as your words are beginning to suggest. "Sitting, waiting, watching. It is like observing an ant colony behind glass. Sometimes, all I wish to do is break that glass."

The money part shocks Lex a little. Then he starts to figure out her motives. Zoya is someone that seems to appear the carnage, the chaos, everything about smashing open the doom she watches. Oh there would be a place for Zoya in the future. She can't be brought in now. "Some people consider life to be a game of chess. You are on the board and are not a pawn, but I can see when the other side isn't using you right. Consider this: When the time is right I would love to have you on my side. Shaw is merely squandering your talent because I can give you the means to break the dome. I can even give you the means to set the inhabitants of the dome on fire." Lex pauses letting the proposition take shape for Zoya. Green eyes look at the woman, "I'm sure Shaw can say many things but I can say one thing he can't. 'My companies make weapons and those that play on my side of the board would have access.'" Smiling Lex turns his chair letting Zoya react how she wants to in piece.

"You can go now if you wish unless you want to know more." Waiting Lex just tries to figure out what the woman is wondering. His fingers press against each while he is deep in thought. Zoya could be a good candidate for Sherman.

"Shaw does," Zoya confirms regarding the chess analogy. "Thing about games like that is, you cannot be a part of it if you refuse to play." Granted, she's letting Shaw push her across the board for the time being. In the long run, though? She's just passing through. The world could keep going or it could suddenly end tomorrow. Either way's fine with her.

"Gasoline works well for that," she says about lighting the dome on fire. And, speaking of fire... Hearing that you create weapons, that gathers her interest. Chaos drives her. Chaos is easier to create with bigger, stronger tools. She'd be plenty happy to field-test experimental new hardware on this city and its inhabitants. All for the greater good, whatever that might happen to be. It's a compelling offer for someone that has no side beyond her own.

"When this time is right, we should speak again." What's loyalty, anyway? When she's dead and gone, what would any of it have mattered? All that matters is how big of a dent she leaves in her wake.

It's enough information for now. The conversation is left as it lies, the Russkie taking her leave.

See? There -is- much to be learned.