it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves

12/06/2004 -- come on closer

10 hours prior to the Incident at the Wonderland Casino...

The false-sun lamps shined dimly in the hallway, creating a warm glow against the striking hardwood and gold furnishings. The tap of a woman’s high heeled boot as she walked quickly was swallowed by the walls, the echo nearly non existent in the beautiful, yet sterile hall. The azure stained glass changed a grey sky into a blue one, spilling it’s false light upon the false beauty of the room. It was a horrible place really, covered up to try and hide it. But all the gilded chairs and burgundy fabric couldn’t do that. If you were in there, you knew exactly why. And if you weren’t part of the Agency, it was a good thing everything was so damn beautiful, because it was probably going to be the last thing you saw.

The winding, escalator like staircases, only nearly four times wider than those used in normal homes, led up to the penthouse of the headquarters. Generally, one would have to go though massive security checks to get into that sort of area, but the guards here knew better than to check her. If she was up to any funny business, then it was far too late for them to do anything about it. Besides, if Adrienne couldn’t protect herself against her own minions, then she wasn’t a very good leader then, was she? But of course, when one has that much power, one doesn’t need to be able to protect themselves. That’s what rest of the Agency was for. Even her, though she hated to admit it.

A dark sheet of clouds moved over the already dismal sky, making the skylight, decorated with pixies and cupids and other things that would soar through a more beautiful sky, dark and sinister, making the room even more horrible than it already was.

This was all a sort of unbiased point of view, of course. To the woman, the room truly was beautiful. You just had to stop looking deeper than you needed to, and enjoy the face value of what you were given. This is what she had learned early in life, and found it to be a fairly ingenious way to live her own. It was the way most people in Paris now lived, for the city was so ruined and decadent that if you truly looked at it, truly saw what it was under the glamour and sex, that you wouldn’t be able to stand it. It would drive you insane. The mere fact that the Agency, such a dirty group, took office in the Eiffel Tower was enough to make one cringe. But my, how Adrienne had made the tower look. It was a sight in its rainbows of colors. So the citizens didn’t seem to mind anymore.

The city of Paris was dull this time of year. Well, it was dull all year, really, with the heavy clouds and always cool temperatures. The city itself was beautiful, though. Over the years, the citizens had grown fond to using lavish decorations not only on the inside, but on the outside of their houses as well. This lead to the town looking like one big Christmas present, except the only thing it held was coal.

At the end of the darkened hallway, two giant doors, plated with silver and gold and leading into Adrienne’s office and living quarters, lay closed yet unlocked; a sign that Adrienne had guests. What kind of guests, well, that was always different. Adrienne conducted both work and play in her home, which the woman always thought to be so risky. But that’s just how Adrienne was, and always had been. Risky.

She walked up to the doors, and stood for a moment, straining to hear what was going inside. It was well known around the Agency that Adrienne favored the company of both men and women, and favored it often. She had never witnessed such an encounter, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. She didn’t feel like walking in on something like that, if it in fact did happen as often as it was rumored to. She just didn’t need that right now.

The woman bit her lip, then released it as she pushed the door open. She walked in, her head held high, her stride graceful yet dangerous. Whenever she walked in to a crowded room, she wanted everyone in there to know that, if she wanted to, she could kill them, regardless of who they are. That sort of power trip was the kind of thing that got a woman like her off. She liked being in power, she liked having the upper hand. Therefore, she worked to maintain it at all costs.

However, the crowd she was entertaining wasn’t the kind that needed what she was giving them. A crowd of manicurists and pedicurists hovered around all 20 digits of Adrienne’s hands and feet, while a dressmaker attempted to measure the sitting woman, most likely for another gorgeous dress she would wear only once or not at all. Adrienne herself was yelling in Italian on her small earpiece phone, but what the conversation was about eluded the woman. She knew Italian, but not well enough to keep up with Adrienne’s feverish ranting.

Adrienne, as well as being extravagant and rich, was also very bored. So like most bored people, she surrounded herself with things to do. When she bored of things, she got rid of them as easily as she got rid of her dresses. The woman, however, was still around, so apparently Adrienne simply hadn’t bored of her yet. Perhaps that is why she always put on that stern face, that dangerous walk. Maybe it wasn’t for the rest of the people around (for they knew of her nature, of her wickedness). Maybe it was for Adrienne.

The woman walked over to the mass of people, so thick one could barely see Adrienne. As she approached, one of the workers looked around, and in seeing her, quickly moved away from Adrienne. This prompted the other workers to look around as well and, just like every time, they all stopped what they were doing and quietly waited in the wings, waiting for Adrienne’s order: Leave or stay.

Adrienne continued to talk into her phone, her eyes lidded and her lips pursed. Noticing her lack of pampering, however, she looked up slowly, and in seeing the woman, her eyes brightened slightly. She touched her finger to her ear and turned off her phone, removing it from her ear and sitting it on the table in front of her. She sighed deeply. “Mika.”

The woman paused, unsure of how to reply. She settled with the simplest. “Adrienne.”

Adrienne made a casual gesture to her minions in the room, and they all quickly bowed and scurried out without a word. The only one who didn’t was the dressmaker, who walked over to her and started speaking to Adrienne in hurried French, though her accent was French Canadian. Adrienne replied simply, telling her to stop bothering her now. She politely asked her to leave, and the dressmaker, knowing not to push her luck, politely nodded her head and scurried out of the room like the rest of the servants.

“Mika, it is good to see you,” Adrienne said, smiling. Her accent was thick and Parisian; Mika never knew why Adrienne spoke in English to her. Mika was fluent in seven languages, French being one of them. Adrienne had no reason to not speak to her in French. Of course, she did sometimes, but she would usually start out in English. Her English was flawless, really, but her accent was thick. Mika remembered vaguely once telling Adrienne she preferred English, but really, why did that even matter?

“It’s good to see you too, Adrienne,” Mika said, her voice neutral and unemotional. She walked over to Adrienne, who motioned for her to sit by her on her sofa. Mika sat down slowly, then placed what she had been holding in her hands down on the glass table in front of them.

“What is this, Mika? Why does everything always have to be business?” Adrienne said, her voice barely above a whisper. She mumbled something in French, but Mika couldn’t hear her, so she decided to ignore it.

“Adrienne, these are the papers on Dante Lamoroch -”

“I think we can just call him Dante now. We both know well who he is by first name alone.”

“...Dante.” Mika corrected herself. It was well known to the both of them now that Dante had been with them both, though “relationship” probably would have been too strong a word. It was basically a short time of idiocy on both of their parts, ending with tension, a manhunt, and a thirteen million dollar deficit in the Agency’s funds, all courtesy of Mr. Lamoroch himself. There wasn’t a person in the Agency who didn’t know the name Dante Lamoroch.

“Well, what do we have on him?” Adrienne asked, staring down at the documents but not really reading them; she expected a summary from Mika.

Mika cleared her throat. “Well, we’ve tracked him from Italy, where he returned shortly after his little visit in Paris. There, he managed to cause a 6 car collision while escaping from an agent we sent after him. After escaping from that mess, our operative managed to catch up with him, but Dante managed to kill him before he could report his exact whereabouts.”

Mika looked over at Adrienne, who was still staring at the papers, but was obviously not listening to anything she was saying. “Adrienne, please.”

Adrienne looked over at her sharply. “Don’t tell me what to do, Mika. Regardless of anything, you do not speak to me that way.”

“I know you still love him, Adrienne.”

“I do not love him, Mika. But I do not hate him. I admire him for his accomplishments as much as they anger me,” she shook her head and looked away. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm when saying thi

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