CONTROL / DESIRE

⇝ Niko Castillon ⇜ ⇝ CHQS Zone Manager * / Zone 1 ⇜ ⇝ Hustler ⇜

[nikocas]

roseyvaessen​:

Status: Open With: @chqsstarters​ Location: Zone 3 Cafe

“I know this may sound odd…” Rose said, if only to diffuse any tension that may arise from talking to a stranger, a potential one. Or, perhaps, a possible friend, only one that didn’t know they needed a friend yet – and if that were the case, Rose would happily step in to fix that.

And in any case, others were unlikely to turn down generosity of any sort. “…but I may have ordered too many sweet treats. I couldn’t decide between poffertjes, or tompouce, or oliebollen. Would you let me share with you?” 

With that, Rose slinked back into her chair, sliding the stroopwafel right off the top of her coffee. There was only one proper way to eat this, in her mind: let the steam of the cup warm the caramel inside the stroopwafel, and then wash your bites of the little waffle cookie with the coffee itself. “Unless, of course, you’d also like coffee and stroopwafel. I can ask the waitress to bring you some, too.”

-

If there’s anything that Castillon dislikes more about her position as Zone Manager than having to step foot in three; it’s the people than populate this particular parallel. Way too nice. Even more troubling is how that automatically means Niko has to play equally as nice to keep up an appearance that she doesn’t quite belong there. Between meetings, at the quaint little bakehouse (also, very out of place, if she were being honest; sweet tooth, nearly non-existent) but, a promise from a colleague that they did a glorious fruit filled bun – Nik has indeed forgotten the exact name of such a treat, but, she’s at least in the shop –

–  as is the woman talking to her just as she orders.

“Hm,” a faux interest if there ever was one; but an acknowledge nonetheless, Niko’s wearing a suit, cape attached and harbouring the usual provisions that are probably illegal in the zone if she were to read the – yes, no, certainly not all that familiar with that. She usually gives deadpan expressions to anyone who reminds her that it’s her turn to be the presence in Zone Three for all important conferences. Then, when drawing straws is offered, Niko’s reminded: it’s your job, Castillon. Like she isn’t very well aware she has that power.

“That’s very kind of you,” fucking why are you ordering three different things? It’s expressed with a warm grin. Then the other’s no less than sitting down and Niko’s finding it incredibly difficult to keep up a persona; a sense of belonging that doesn’t automatically mean she has to also be taking the seat across from the woman. Great.

In the seat she goes, all smiles and grace that is entirely opposite of both the fierce Zone Manager and the cardslinging hustler of Z1’s underbelly. “Coffee’s great,” It’s the first genuine thing said – the coffee is actually quite incredible; a favourable thing about the sickly friendly zone where the sights are tied at the top for admirable.

Now suddenly, there’s stroopwafel.

You ordered four things? Niko watches the actions of the caramel treat vanish inside the hot liquid in some dramatic visual. “I’ll start with the coffee and see how things go, I know there’s some awfully delightful sweet bakes I’ve yet to try, but I might not be able to stand again if I indulge in too many,” after the manager’s got a little comfy in the seat – as best she can, she submits to falling into this persona of lunchtime enjoyment and hopes that whilst her fingers twitch to slip inside her cape’s pockets, they stay on the coffee mug for the duration of the conversation.  

[nikocas]

motionblues​:

nikocas​:

IN SO MANY WAYS, Vi is a ghost. Parts of her have died a thousand times, even before the experiment seemed to bury whatever was left. There was something both tragic and freeing about that, her timeline having become something of a warning sign mixed with a deep desire that landed somewhere between absolution and salvation. Regardless, this wasn’t about her, as she had just been minding her business before stumbling along this years version of porn hub meets fruit ninja.

That all becomes entirely irrelevant when the motion to the door is made, and the entire room seems to shift in a different direction. Said direction, is not the one she had expected when she had entered, but it was the kind of mischief that made its invitation to hell seem a little bit sweeter. Never one to deny such an artful chance to burn, she would cross the room like the intention to follow instruction was there, but fingers fell at the last minute. Almost deft as they turned to lock, turning back around to rest her back against it. Besides, they needed space if they were going to play the proper game of cat and mouse.

“There is the door, and there went the door, it seems.” She muses in a tone that is sweeter, just south of the taste of that fruit in front of her, eyes purposely wandering over their desired outcome or invitation. “Now what did you want me to say again? Or was it watch?” She cleared her throat, the challenge in the gesture, paired well with the way chin tipped up to imply a very well deserved defiance.

-

Uncanny is how accustomed Niko is to being listened to; always having a word in that has every kind of ability to turn the tables, or offer insights into any board meeting. Like an order given as a sergeant, never used to being denied or refused; privileged in that way.

And then of course, there’s Vinh.

The knife stabs another cube; hits the chopping board underneath and stays there below the manager’s palm; it’s almost in sync with the click of the door when Vi leans herself against it. Well alright then. There’s the niggle in the back of Niko’s mind about managerial appearances – it’s fairly fleeting – but not forgotten that it remains to still be only the two women alone in the staff rec room. Ever the gambler, Niko. Also not ignored, is how Vinh’s locked that very same door, as though encouraging the game of ruses.

“Well, now it appears like there’s new options to the roster,” she remarks, are you keeping people out? Or keeping us in; perhaps you’re plotting a murder Vi, is that the game? As left wing as the ideas are – Castillon doesn’t really think for any more than a moment that it’s not something more than just spontaneous homicidal tendencies. Her palm then rolls over the handle of the switchblade, unburies it from the mango and wood and it’s fast back between lips. Another purposeful silence between the two, for Niko, it’s about control; requiring a sense of diplomatic governing over even the smallest of interactions.

Swallowing, the knife lowers and she offers back with a challenging smile: “Do what you like, you can even try a slice if you enjoy your mango,” eyes slip away from the other to the board of chopped fruit, metal pierces a new chunk, thumb back to her chin, follows through to suck the excess off the end of it. “But by all means, keep watching if that’s your preference,”

[nikocas]

roarkecohen​:

Open: Zone 1, CHQS Costuming Studio

“What the devil did you do to this poor thing?” Roarke’s eyes scoured the garment, mentally making a list of the damages and necessary fixes. Some of the materials he needed might not be in storage here and he wasn’t about to raid his own stash for work, but acquisitions could take weeks. It wasn’t like he hadn’t greased the wheels of corporate red tape before, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood. More than anything, he was curious exactly what had happened. His garments weren’t usually delicate, but if he needed to toughen them up… well he’d rather know now to accommodate for such future encounters.

-

Composure remains to be a pride thing, Niko’s standing in the costumer’s place with a nasty fabric tear in her cape. Switchblade mishap that she’s fast attempting to brush aside the visible sight of the ripped clothing from most of the CHQS employees. Too stubborn to just discard the iconic cape that’s a staple of Castillon’s wardrobe, she’s there for a fast-fix. Not a questioned one – which Roarke appears to be treading into. A quiet, faux joking laugh encourages: “You might meet the real devil if you tell me anything other than, yes Niko, this can be fixed pronto,” it’s not entirely unkind – simply the renowned straightforward attitude that comes with the woman’s general demeanour; conducts herself as a professional and all business – usually, sometimes… mostly.

CHQS sees that more than anywhere else – that’s about as accurate as it gets.

The lengthy splint in the overcoat is evident when Nik’s unfastening the strap that secures it at her right shoulder; this urban grey coloured heavy cotton-like material (she doesn’t actually know the type of fabric, only that she likes it.) reminds her that she feels remarkably weightless without it. The only provisions she  once stored in its near invisible lined pockets are already stashed in her office drawers as to not incite more questions forth.

“This time, it was my carelessness – caught it and engaged in an unpleasant tug of war with the machinery being wheeled through the corridor upstairs, it did not take kindly,” the story; matched with another amused chuckle; whether it’s much sold as genuine – Castillon doesn’t concern too much on this one, the costumer she hopes would just take it in for a swift repair, or make a new one in equal time.

Whichever’s faster – a manager with deadlines to give out; the lesser of the power trips to take. “How long?” she queries, folds the cape in half, tosses it over the costumer’s desk with as much of a warm smile as she can muster, finds it near impossibly hard to actually form the words: “Thank you,” as though rudeness isn’t her intention – just, someone who’s used to wheels moving; hard braking doesn’t bode well.  

[nikocas]

motionblues​:

@nikocas​

HEAD TILTED TO THE SIDE BEHIND HER POINT, expression shifting but not enough to make it too easy to find out how serious she was being. “I don’t know, Niko, but I will say I’m a little concerned about the way you’re handling that mango.”  A gesture made to the cutting board that seemed to serve as the island between the pair of them at the moment. Leaning back in the stool, but not enough to affect her balance, a hand sweeps across the space. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to eat it, or butcher it, maybe fuck it, if you’re feeling spicy. Either way, I don’t think I want to be here for it.” 

-

It’s not usually in company – correction, it’s not usually in CHQS company that the switchblade ever leaves Niko’s inside cape pocket, let alone to be seen embedded deep into a mango and eaten like some savage off the end of the knife. But Castillon hadn’t heard the woman enter, silent like a ghost and now, she’s invested in this appearance. Can only do what she does best and play into the vision of the Zone Manager’s mango abusing as she remains to be the only other in the staff kitchen. The smile is wide, a thumb brushing beneath her lower lip to catch the run of excess before it trickles down her chin.

She’s favouring the record keeper’s attitude – less stuck up, a little more casual; matches Nik’s current persona since she’s less professional, more barbarian with the fruit in that moment.

“You know, I may do all three if you say it again,” bottom lips juts out, tries to stop that grin from growing. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to watch?” a ruse that easily comes, quiet considering the space is minimal between the woman either side of the island counter. Mango on the switchblade apparently the filling on that airy sandwich. Niko stabs another butchered slice of the yellow fruit from the cutting board and with a purposeful kind of slowness, places it in her mouth, tongue steals it, as though she’s entirely unaware of what she’s doing; persists. Eyes flicker like a dare to the other side of the room: “Door’s right there, Vi,”

[nikocas]

jxnovak​:

Open to: Zone 1

Location: CHQS Media Center & Lounge

“Heard there was some kind of old-school projection making its rounds? I gotta say, I got through half of it and nearly seared my retinas trying to watch it. I don’t know how people used to do it. We got holographic screenings available on the array and then there’s this…eyesore. Wasn’t even worth it. The acting was terrible. And don’t get me started on their fashion sense. You get your hands on that ‘Pay It Forward’ disc, pass it up. Trust me.”

-

Had it been anyone else – quite literally, anyone else. There’s a level of tolerance for the trivial discussion: ‘Pay It Forward’. Niko’s heard of it (as she makes it her business to hear most of anything semi-relevant) and has already moved past caring for it. Without Jarek’s helpful review of the vintage film, it isn’t one of the many things that take up residence in her mind. “Maybe you should watch the other half, I’m sure your retina’s can handle it,” withholds: shitpit, considering, there are in a working environment and there’s a level of respect that is expected – both ways, unfortunately. Niko’s jab is still said with a smile, hides the razor of a blade that wants to say something a lot sharper about it. “I cannot imagine any of what you witnesses is any more troubling than what you wear to work everyday, Novak, and we all have to look at that,” So casually said that she doesn’t expect him to care for it, because she already doesn’t.

Trust me. He says, like the opinion is valued. 

Imagine if I said that at the poker table with you, shitpit, wouldn’t that be amusing?

“Have you done anything at all helpful today?” Besides nearly gift us with a grand news of your blindness? Castillon continues on the business angle regardless, the Zone Manager ever using the lounge for actual lounging, unprecedented: “I have the travel reports for last months...” a beat, “Jarek,” a little louder with an assertion, tempts to hit the man over the heads with the files she’s holding. “Are you even listening?” 

[nikocas]

ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴɪɴɢ / TAG DROP

[nikocas]

NAME: NIKO CASTILLON GOES BY: NIK, NIKO, N. FACECLAIM: JAIME MURRAY AGE: 44 PRONOUNS: SHE/HER ZONE OF ORIGIN: ZONE 1 STATUS: ZONE MANAGER @ CHQS

TRAITS: 

+ FOCUSED + AUTHORATIVE + METHODICAL 

- IMMORAL - ABRASIVE – SYBARITIC  

HEADCANONS: 

It’s not the clacking of shoes in CHQS walls, but instead the gentle whip of a full-length jacket that alerts all to Nik’s appearance; a presence that emanates control, yet remains entirely too terrifying to offer a suggestive smile as a greeting. Castillon’s dark grey cotton cape is iconic; pockets hidden on the inside that house switchblades, infotech that is probably a bit too restricted for someone of her level but evidently, hers. Everything appears orderly, a smile that’s as falsely welcoming as the grin on a Cheshire cat offers. Behind those hues lies a humour – laughing at her peers; begs the idea that there’s intelligence unmatched in them all; perhaps narcissistic is a trait ignored in the ZM’s playbook.

Neon strobes set alight Niko’s person, in the underbelly of New Amstel is where Castillon thrives. A hustler if there ever was such a definition; an appearance that only the bravest want to challenge to a drink – to a game; gambling of the most illegal degree, with everything beyond paper; flesh and bone is a thrill that seems below her rank – but perhaps that’s why it is so enjoyed. The real smile comes in the shadows of the slums, a humour that’s genuine and without professionalism; gets to play ball with her favourite shitpit (Jarek Novak, she’s looking at you.) in the grimy walls that look a little nicer with bright colours streaming through the rowdier; seedier of places.

An apple is impaled on a switchblade, cloudy white juices slide down the serrated edge of the metal, threaten to make Nik’s hands sticky with fruit entrails where she’s biting into it without fear of slicing something open. Eyes watch the game afoot; poker of sorts; a card game at least, from a distance; calculate her odds before investing into it herself. Always the daring – always the winner, loss sits sour in the ZM’s stomach.

Niko’s a master of such deceptive qualities – carries an air of importance, a professional in the waking hours of the workplace. Structured and organised is everything she does on paper, delivers everything in prompt time; never late. Yet, outside the walls, in the covers of the more shadier of places, she can really bury deep into the desires that hide in the daylight hours. A happiness – though, she’d never word it like that – only found amongst the less smart of individuals; a hunger that isn’t quenched with documents but instead, confidence in the arts of adaptability. Power is far too good for her and in all forms it comes, Castillon doesn’t like to hand it over, or give it up without a contest.

BIOGRAPHY

Some are naturally orientated to being a follower – others the followed; leaders that wear power like a cape for all to gaze an adore. In Castillon’s playbook, that cape’s not just metaphorical, a status symbol of how the tug and war of influence leads to asserting control over that very power. Too comfortable at the top, never considers the higher that podium, the further it’ll be to fall.

Though, occasionally, desire overcomes control – a blinding thing that reminds all that it’s so much easier to plummet than it is to climb.

Niko’s far too narcissistic to think like that; only has sight of more.

On a door – window office – of course, writes: Niko Castillon, Zone Manager and houses but such a meticulously organised office that if anyone were brave enough to ever ask how it remains that way – they’d find that there’s something a little darker hidden in the drawers, behind the bookshelves, within the confines of reworked literature that isn’t so pleasant. There’s rumours even that office is the home to the devil; possessed by a demon of sorts that sits like the grim reaper over a desk with a pen in hand that could double as a pistol – it’s not unheard of for Niko to weaponise such things.

But it’s not that side that’s fronted in the walls of CHQS; all diplomacy is Castillon there. A well respected – well rounded woman with a fierce eagerness to succeed in her position, to better the workings at the company and a faux smile offered to all employees as though they could trust her with anything. A despicable balance of terror and respect drilled hard; a no nonsense approach that never really sees fruition beyond policy reprimand. Niko – in her comfortable place right now, does often pretend like she hadn’t once not been there. And still, even now she is, remains to keep one foot outside of it.

Because a woman with an insatiable need to have status; power, desires a little more than just the ordinary, it cannot be held captive in CHQS at every waking hour. Thus, a release is required, and the underbelly of New Amstel has always been where its freed.

Though Niko would deny it to all – she knows the gutterrats and the shady folk a lot more than she knows her employees; can read their poker hands as easy as absorbing words in a book, and it’s where that smile is no longer false and those switchblades she carries serve a purpose beyond just a comfort of being present. Power comes in so many forms that Castillon probably doesn’t quite know herself which of the many she wants to pursue, if not every kind; to be the kingpin of the underbelly, the one day Director of New Amstel and have a status that carries throughout every crevasse of the plain.

Big aspirations, let’s not kick a woman for dreaming.

But, she’ll do more than kick you for saying as much. Masterful in performances; acts that nobody really knows – or can say, which Niko Castillon is the real Niko Castillon, but she’ll take bets on it and hustle you into next week. Let’s the polished suits and clean attire create fools to underestimate potential. Classier than a scam artist – more respected than a small time pickpocket, advantageous is her clearance to technology not quite extending to the beneath of New Amstel, but often, she doesn’t even need it.

There can be a kindness there, something that’s more reflective of her appearance; the powerful status and the role within the Zone; as quiet as it remains from the locals, those ones see a skilled cardslinger. A woman with a penchant for winning and a success roll of any dice handed to her – but, she’ll always insist on using her own, platinum-plated, didn’t you know? 

At the barside, still a betting woman – borders the threshold of addicted to it, but balances that desire for control a little too well to ever collapse into it completely.

One foot in, one foot out, works.

Everyone’s ally, simultaneously, nobody’s. Vain, self-serving and would throw most underneath the moving train if it meant she could further her own ambitions. If it’s not obvious in the way that every fruit is found at the end of a switchblade and eaten like a candy apple because she doesn’t use shady bar’s cutlery, or allow dirt to ruin a freshly laundered suit without good reason – then the way a stare is pinned at you and she bites that fruit like by the end of it that knife is free to used again for all matter of possibilities, should be.

That and how the businesswoman’s verbal filter is off the moment that foot leaves CHQS walls. Most of everyone’s shitpit from then on – among other names. Ever the opportunist; its how she got the job as ZM to begin with, broke out of the underbelly’s cycle to clean up a persona that carries throughout New Amstel – and with a boss like she has, it really hadn’t been all that difficult.

Shitpit number one right there.

CONNECTIONS

JAREK NOVAK | Boss Shitpit. | If CHQS ever broke out into a civil war, the question would be, Is Novak and Castillon heading opposing sides, or are they one and two leading the winning one? A definitive relationship where professionalism meets debauchery; they share some vices in the underbelly of New Amstel, private affairs that never meet within the walls of the workplace. Niko hates how unfit for the role Jarek is, evidently, and yet he’s the boss and there’s a little too many similarities when they’re not fronting business suits and they’re holding gambling hands with wicked poker faces; too good at playing pretend. Also a little too versed in watching one another take a few punches, help a guy out? Sit at the bar with fruit, a drink and rack up a bar tab sounds a little better. 

FURTHER DEPTH

Zone Manager (New Amstel) and cardslinging hustler on the side. 

Refuses or ignores any general chit chat that starts to dig into her past, anything before she got the job at CHQS.

Has about twelve personalities and if there’s something she wants, she’ll switch through those persona’s to develop trust; be exactly what you want her to be so she can manipulate you for self-serving reasons. 

Niko is likely to insult you on the first meeting if its in the underbelly and you’re an unfamiliar to the usual; within the walls of CHQS, she’s the gracious Zone Manager who’ll be so happy to help with anything you need. -insert fake warm smile here-

Unhealthy obsession with status; power and seen as this idol of sorts; do we think this is some subconscious desire to want to be wanted, who knows? Tune in and we’ll find out.

Does genuinely carry switchblades around like they’re personal knives and forks, also, somehow magically pristine white handkerchiefs at all times. 

Doesn’t like to get her hands dirty, dirty, but will, probably be even more pissed she had to if it got to that point. 

Outstanding member of CHQS; punctual; contributing and usually probably only outshined by Jarek in some sick twist of fate considering she thinks he’s entirely incapable in his role. However, in the underbelly, they’re totally different. 

Well, unless they’re alone in a CHQS office together and it’s like two children in some pissing contest and all fronts vanish. 

Kind of thinks she’s hot shit but will also not care if you think otherwise. 

TBA.

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