#sinclairssolutions

[jointhevoxpopuli]

Atlas, Sinclair, Sander, Rosalind & Robert

… I don’t know what possessed me to do this… Just so ya know this has nothin’ to do wit’ what I want…Sinclair strikes me as that guy who’d be easy. Not sure why but he’d be too easy, that’s why I’d choose the Luteces for sex. I imagine foreplay would be an intellectual battle… sounds like that’d work best for me. Maybe gettin’ Sinclair to cuddle would be hard enough but he’ll have ta settle fer one.

Sander, well, I don’t know much about the man but he can have a kiss… I’d seen those theatrical folks do that instead of a handshake…

Atlas seems like he could make a good partner— … with the Vox… like a marriage if you like… so I’d marry Atlas.

[jointhevoxpopuli]

A new voice | Fitzroy & Sinclair

"Now I don't know who you stand for and I don't much care. Cos the only thing I care about is that you're a man of wealth and you're also not one to follow by the rules.

You're a business man and I know, with the right proposition I'm sure that we can make a deal. Perhaps an investment in an army of your own?

A war is coming and the streets are going to start rumbling. We are the only ones that can guarantee your sweet little businesses protection whilst your competitors go down in flames with just a small investment.

Meet us by the docks tonight.

If you fail to show and should I have to ask you again... well you don't want it to come to that. 

The Vox"

The note had been left on Sinclair's desk inside the Spirit shop, written in bright red ink. It had only been a few days since Fitzroy had found herself in New Columbia and she was trying hard to start again, completely from fresh. That was what God had granted her with but she wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse. If this was some kind of cruel message from God then she just didn't understand it. But here she was, sweeping the floors of a rich man's home and after this she would retreat to the shanty town and start her second life. She had begun to preach to the streets in the Shanty town, to the Irish and the Blacks, beginning to start a new following for her army. It was early days yet but she had already gathered men to fight on her side.

She actually thought that it was possible for her to have a better life in this 'New' Columbia. There was nothing new at all, nothing apart from the faces being different. The buildings were the same, the attitudes were as well.

During the time that she had spent cleaning the house she had always kept her ears to the doors. That was one of the most powerful ways she could manipulate the role of housemaid as no one notices the servants, no one thinks to keep it down when talking about sensitive information. She'd already begun to gather quite a large amount of information in the city. Who's pulling the strings and who's enough of a liability that Fitzroy could exploit them and who had the money she needed for the weapons?

She wished the family a goodnight as she locked the front door behind her but tonight she was not going home.

She walked along the dark streets of Finkton and made her way to an alley way besides the Docks. Inside was a torn up cardboard box that she had stashed under the bins and inside was a red scarf and a blaster gun wrapped in a similar material. She pulled the scarf over her face. This time she wasn't going to be the poster girl for the vox, she wasn't going to risk being so public now she had the choice.

[a-lost-lamb]

Running Back Home || Eleanor Lamb and Augustus Sinclair

All the memories and thoughts of everything that happened and that she had learned were buzzing in her head.  A racing mind was a hard thing to understand, especially when you had to compensate for both yourself and the old you.  Ah... The old Eleanor was oh so very different from herself.  A confident and unafraid fox compared to an adapting curious and shy girl.  A fox to a mouse.  She shook her head.

Of course, she didn't land in the /right/ spot.  Ending up at the stairs she almost died on, she sighed.  At least it was the right area.  Knowing her luck, had she got her landing right, she would've probably just infuriated the southern businessman.  Though, right about now, he was probably infuriated anyway.  

Up the stairs she went.  Worried and fixing her clothes to make sure she still looked civilized and not indecent.  Indecent because she was just with James.  James...  It still burned.  But Mr. Sinclair was a cold person.  He would be more like a wind burn, she supposed.  She sniffed the air.  She could still smell James on her.  A furious blush struck her and a shudder, she gasped softly.

He clearly wasn't going to leave her thoughts.  So much so, she passed Sinclair's door.  Snapping out of her lovey daydreams, she stepped and turned around.  Fishing for the key in her pocket, she remembered she had put the scalpel in there too.  She sighed.  Not used to having a weapon in her head, she felt it best to remain a secret.

Ah, but would all her adventures go unnoticed by Mr. Sinclair?  She dropped the key, remembering how in-tune and clever he was.  His powers of observation wouldn't fail him.  A deep breath, she unlocked the door.  It was dark.  The shades were shut.  She figured he had left or wasn't even home.  A loud sigh escaped her, turning around and re-locking the door.  She prayed loudly he wouldn't notice, feeling like she'd made it home safe and sound.

And then, turning around again... She saw it.  A shadowed figure.  She was not alone.  And from the feeling of that aura, it was undoubtedly Mr. Sinclair.  Backing into the door, insanely nervous, she squeaked out something.  A name.

"M-Mr. Sinclair?"

[productofprotection]

Friends || Delta & Sinclair

He had not felt this on edge in quite a while, not since his time Rapture had this feeling of anxiety poked at his insides with each step he took.

He worried not for splicers who could lay behind derbies or Big Daddies with Little Sisters that needed to be saved, nor for the security that shone a red light on his figure at every corner. Instead he worried for what he was willing to confront- he worried for his friend.

Delta's anxiety was not all he was feeling, there was also a lot of anger and all of it unexplained. There was sadness still hanging to him like weights a thousand times heavier than the world itself that he drug with him through New Columbia to the entrance of an impressive building designed to fit the look of one he had seen before beneath the waves.

His mind turned to the memory of seeing the structure through glass tunnels and the owner's voice guiding him through the area, back when the largest weight had been the suit on his body and not the sadness in his mind.

Carrying himself stiffly he continued into the hotel, quickly informing the woman at the desk of his need to speak to Sinclair. The gaze the woman gave him was one he saw on most faces who first met him, but beneath that was a flicker or more of fear. Perhaps he was not keeping as stoic a gaze as he wanted to. Nonetheless she allowed him passage with a trembling voice and stuttered directions although Delta already knew Sinclair would be residing in the largest part of the building he owned and needed no directions.

The lift ride to the upper floors was long- perhaps because the former Protector wanted it to be, running over thoughts in his head and combing his mind for answers he could not have himself, continuing this as he reached the door he had been directed to and reached out to knock twice, taking a breath as he let his hand drop, and he waited.