Erik had lived long enough, in his ninety years, to see countries rise and fall. Compared to them, Genosha was moving at light speed. The nation had been raised from the seabed just shy of two months ago, and yet already buildings were beginning to rise high enough to see from the New York City coastline. The ferry ran 16 hours a day, and Azazel had started what he seemed to think was a secret side-job of teleporting people back and forth.
Erik should do something about that, probably. But he knew Azazel shared his distaste for humanity in general and could be relied on to make good calls. Or at the very least, not disastrous ones. If the man wanted to smuggle things across national borders (artificial, irrelevant, it could all be ours if you just–), Erik wasn’t going to stop him.
There were much bigger concerns pressing on Erik’s mind; ones he hadn’t shared with his council despite the trappings of cooperation and joint decision making he’d put into place.
Erik had gotten them this far. He had the right to make whatever decisions he deemed necessary. When he was proven right, they would understand, as they had before. The cycle continues, nothing is ever new.
Which was why he was welcoming Maxwell Lord, the arms dealer with a super on a proverbial leash, onto his island. The man was a fine example of everything wrong with humanity: arrogant, ingenuine, and hungry for money and power no matter the cost to others. But business partners didn’t need to be liked. Only trusted to follow through. Erik held no particular fondness for Emma, but he knew her values, her moral lines, and so he had no qualms leaving her in charge of the Hellfire Club while he tended to political matters. Maxwell Lord liked money, liked influence, and Erik could provide both in exchange for a few items the human specialized in procuring.
Nothing is ever new, and humans were better at nothing than accelerating their own self-destruction.
He stood with his hands folded behind him as the helicopter lowered toward the helipad that had been set up just the day before and settled without a problem. Lord was ducking out of the helicopter long before the blades stopped whirring, another two humans tailing behind him like puppies. Erik smiled diplomatically, and restrained the urge to roll his eyes. He was unaccompanied, himself–he needed neither the protection nor the distraction of having someone else over his shoulder as he negotiated. Scott would be informed later.
“No, they could not,” Erik agreed as Lord crossed the distance between them. “I’ve been delighted by the progress, myself.” He extended a hand, shaking firmly. I appreciate your making the trip, Mr. Lord.” It was no great trouble, of course–the man was a millionaire with a private helicopter, after all. But it was a concession, and a chess player like Lord would’ve seen the import of setting the location.
It started Erik with an upper hand. Yet the man had agreed with no argument, which meant that he was no doubt expecting to get something of value himself from visiting the island. Information about it he couldn’t get from the air. Bringing two others with him, unannounced, served as a power play of its own, a quietly diplomatic retaliation to his own.
Oh, yes. Lord would be fun, if nothing else.
“I thought we might enjoy the balcony outside my office, if you don’t mind a meeting in the sun,” he said, gesturing toward the administration building with a wave of his hand. The balcony was just visible, poking out from around the corner of the building. “Your friends, of course, are welcome to join us.”
The man was obviously in his element, dangerous and calm, though it mattered little to Max. Erik wanted something, something only Max could offer if the invitation sent directly to his office was any indication and the CEO was more than willing to comply. To have friends in high places was one thing, but friends in low places? Well, that was far more valuable.
He glanced around, the tips of buildings that should have taken months, years even, to build were already steadily in place and while the country was only a few months old it seemed to have the hustle and bustle of a new world port. Max stared in wonder, his thoughts racing with adrenalin. This, yes, this, must have been how Columbus felt hitting dry land, how Cortes had laughed when faced with the possibility of a city of gold.
Though, whether the gold on Genosha was physical or simply metaphorical would be for time to decipher.
"It was no trouble at all," he assured, "I was pleasantly surprised when I received your invitation but I couldn't pass up the opportunity."
He studied the man closely, his eyes narrowing for a brief moment before widening as he smiled brightly. Straight to business then, not that Max minded, he had suffered through enough pleasantries already. Now their meeting would become nothing more than a game to him, extracting as much as possible while giving as little as he could. A familiar game but a game nonetheless, and one with a worthy adversary, though Max could feel deep in his chest that they would both be of use to each other.
As it should be, if he were to become useless he would be better off dead and if Genosha were to become useless, well, Max wasn't sure that was possible.
"Of course, the weather is remarkable here. It's hard to believe we're so close to New York."
He turned to his men, rolling his eyes when they snapped to attention and sending them off to mingle. He had a feeling it would be beneficial to know the lay of the land by the time their meeting was finished, perhaps even begin making preparations for construction.
"I don't think that'll be necessary," he drawled, "they'd be more than happy to take in the sights while we talk shop."
