The Businessman
Cutscene: The Businessman
IC Details

Someone offers an improvement in security for New York's metahuman registry.

IC Date: November 24, 2019
IC Location: An Office in New York
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 25 Nov 2019 03:48
Rating & Warnings: G
Associated Plots

The pale, dark haired man with his pristine three-piece suit waited patiently for his appointment time to come.

When he was called, he gracefully unfolded himself into a stand and ran his hands across the lines of his garments - perfectly classic and continentally styled - as though to smooth wrinkles, although none mar the fine wool fabric. And then he walked through the door opened to him, letting the administrative assistant close it behind him. He brought with him a small, metallic briefcase, and it shone in the dim light.

And then there was a conversation. The New York metahuman registry database wasn’t particularly safe, the businessman argued. The guest slid a piece of paper across the desk as evidence to support the claim.

His company could promise unparalleled security for very private genetic data. And some other things, too. Promising things, all for a very reasonable price.

Reasonable by some standards, one might suppose.

After all, New York isn’t a poor, 3rd world nation. And for the right product - the right promises - they can afford to pay the right price.

Questions undoubtedly arise in the course of the hour-long meeting. The man in his black suit with his legs leisurely crossed answered them with a reassuring ease. What he offered sounded splendid, but government bureaucracy turns slowly.

He can be patient, he offered in yet another promise.

And when their time together came to an end, an assistant poking her head in to remind of an upcoming conference call that requires some preparation, the government bureaucrat offered the businessman a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

“Thank you so much for your time today, Mister Essex.”

“Oh, it’s been my pleasure,” the pale man replied, his smile sharp in return. There was something nearly feral about it, but the bureaucrat said nothing about the momentary feeling of discomfort that followed.

Then the meeting was done, and - a few minutes after - a slim black folder is all that remains of the pale man’s visit, with the name of his company emblazoned in the lower left corner:


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