He swirled the dark liquid in the short glass, watching the ripples form but soon disperse, the chaos subsiding to a still calm, yet with a simple flick of the wrist it came quickly back. It was funny how such a thing could relate to life. Left alone things had a way of settling, but with a little outside interference, that was when it all fell into madness.
Victor could understand the world’s fear of chaos, it was unknown, unpredictable, one could never truly grasp it. Sure there were those that tried to study it’s forming, tried to comprehend the uncomprehendable. They had their shiny degrees, certificates to show that they understood and had made sense of it all, yet in reality they were just as lost as everyone else. Not even those that were afflicted with madness understood it, nor did most of them try. Perhaps that was the best response, to let it go unquestioned. He wasn’t a philosopher per say, yet he was sure everyone suffered from a bit of craziness. It was only those that let the madness take over that were labeled insane.
How long would it be before he was in that class of insanity himself? Or was he already there? It was often said that the line between intelligence and mental instability was blurred. All he knew was there was a twisted knot in the pit of his chest, and the farther he climbed up the latter, the looser it became. What then? What would happen to him once it finally came apart? When he finally lost. Or perhaps he was already too far gone. Had reached the end of the rope and was now drifting in a sea of darkness.
Victor’s eyes narrowed as he took a sip from his drink. Scotch always tasted a lot like whiskey to him only a bit more smoky. He sighed placing the cool glass against his forehead. His short time in Latveria had not given much fruit towards his project. He needed a stronger power source to even attempt running such a machine. Something of which he had not been able to focus much of his time on. Not only was there a mental block but upon arriving home, there had been a incident that left several orphan children homeless. He had devoted his energy to seeing that every last one was out of the cold. Call him what they will, it did not change the fact that he was a competent ruler and his people loved him.
He looked out the window of the limousine. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the city come into view as he rode from his private landing strip. In many ways New York had become a second home to him. If he had not agreed to finance Richard’s failed experiment, things could have gone very differently. Perhaps instead of developing abilities and ruling a country. He could have been married, even fathering a few offspring. For though he had not been in love with Sue Storm, he had been fascinated with the idea of her and what she had represented. Stability.
Although he was nearly thirty minutes late, it had not taken too long to arrive at his tower. As he door was opened immediately his assistant flew from the entrance to greet him. She wore the dress he had gifted her. The pale grey gown against her fair skin gave the woman a ghostly appearance. She wore very light makeup and with her tall heels she stood almost to his height. Her face was flustered from current stress, making sure everything was in order. She held a black folder along with a clipboard in her arms, and he could see her frustration from reports coming through the small comm in her ear. Yet despite her worries she had made sure her outward presence was that of elegance.
“Guest have already filled the hall, sir.” She informed breathlessly, “Ian Quinn and his running mate are in attendance along with Governor Rockefeller.”
Victor began towards the entrance,having her follow along.
“Several of the heroes are here as well.So far there has not been much interaction between them and the candidates….” As she had spoken, he stopped mid-way to the doors. Reaching to her in order to take the items from her hands and give them over to the nearest guard.
At her confused look, he simply clarified. “By extension you are a representation of me.” Gesturing for her to take his arm.
Even though she was his assistant, she was not to look as such while standing beside him. He was known for his calm and intimidating air. It would not match if the woman at his arm was to flustered to focus.
Although it was clear she wanted to smile, she dare not to do so less it displeased or soil his image. Together the pair walked through the doors the enormous structure. Automatically eyes were on him and his picture was taken by varies camera men while reporters hanged back for the right opening. He had allowed a few of the media inside. The news outlet, vultures though they were, held a purpose tonight.
Already a cluster of people had formed and he allowed himself to be engulfed by them. He greeted certain individuals by name, making the customary small talk.
A glass of champagne was handed to him by a passing waiter. He looked down into the beverage, at the ripples that formed and smiled.
It was the first society event since she’d gotten sick.
The rounds of medication had done their job, clearing her up to the point where the doctors felt she could be declared ‘cured’. Not that it was especially difficult; the strain that she had had was from the ‘30s, so it didn’t have the same resistance to penicillin and a multitude of other antibiotics that today’s TB did.
She’d lost a fair amount of weight while sick, though, and when she’d passed the paparazzi on the way in, she could tell they’d noticed. She used that to her advantage, always willing to talk to a sympathetic press, and then she’d breezed her way in, proving to the world that she was healthy again.
That she did it at Doom’s party was a statement, too, but she hadn’t figured out what that statement was.
Since she’d broken from HYDRA and taken her own company back, she could see that it might be prudent to court her. She had a number of resources at her demand, and those who worked for her were either loyal to her or paid well to be. In addition, she’d become something of a public figure, and her words were occasionally paid attention to. As there were three big multinational tech companies centered in New York, and one of them bore the name of an Avenger (which found itself on the same side as the Fantastic Four), it made sense that Doom might court the other two.
And since OsCorp was in a constant state of flux, that meant courting her.
A waiter offered her a glass of champagne, and Lucille took it, sipping at it lightly. She recognized some of the people there, politically; she’d boozed and schmoozed some of those very same people for bill riders and City Council decisions and State Senate approval and yes, even passes from the Governor and above. Quinn had been flirting with her donating to his campaign, but while she agreed with some of his policies, there was an underlying current of racism in his campaign that she wasn’t comfortable with.
So she kept him in her line of sight, watching who he talked with and how the people in those conversations went. The man had a good poker face, she decided, and he was good at making the people he spoke to feel heard. Those two things were utterly essential for politics. Beyond that, there were a few times when people clearly intended to stump him, and were surprised when he had an answer -- so he had a good staff behind him that left him prepared.
Well, those were a lot of the requirements for being President, and sometimes men were swept into power just on the basis of those alone. Perhaps, if it got closer to the election night and he was still in favor, she would grant him that audience, and that donation. She could use her influence to perhaps weed out some of the worse elements in his circle.
After all, money talked, and Quinn was the sort of man who listened.
She was halfway through her first glass of champagne when she felt attention on her. It had become a sort of sense to her, and she discreetly used her phone’s camera to look behind her, turning slightly as if she was trying to find the best angle to read the display.
“Yes?” she asked to the person near her.
