Tsar Gatto — Roleplayer Guild

Gencultura Technologies Group

June 11, 2049

Executive Director Rowe

Cyprio Prime

George Rowe stared at the screen before him with his mouth hanging slightly agape, the live images that were being displayed of the EEC headquarters showed the total level of destruction and devastation the blasts had caused. He ran a hand through his greying beard absently as the news reporter listed the number of assumed dead before launching into the groups that had claimed the attack. He felt slightly nauseous, he had been in the European Economic Commission Headquarters many times through his life and the thought that he could easily have been one of those killed sent shivers down his spine. The room around him was lavish and stylish, each piece of furniture or decor his wife Helena had insisted was placed specifically to compliment the huge glass windows through which the stunning landscape of Cyprio could be seen sprawling beautifully in the morning sunlight. It seemed pointless to him right now. The Solcentre on the west of the island the arguably one of the most desirable places to live in the entire world, it’s extremely exclusive population housing the cream of the higher echelons of Gencultura’s upper tier citizens. The opulence and almost utopian nature served to highlight how simply terrible in contrast a place the world still was, the news of the morning shattering what otherwise may have been a perfect image in the mind of George Rowe as he stared blankly as his mind turned. 

He pushed away the plate of eggs, bacon and halloumi, his appetite quickly retreating as he started to think about the implications of what he was witnessing and the ripple effect it would have on Gencultura. The designer food usually something he was most fond of seemed nothing but hollow to him. Their centres in Calabria, Sicily, Corsica and Sardinia were frighteningly close to the attack and he knew that already waves of panic and outrage would be spreading through the Paradise centre populaces. As the news report started to branch off he slowly shook his head and reached over to the control that handled many elements of his abode and with a quick swipe turned the colossal wall mounted television off, leaving only the sound of silence as he sighed and rested his head briefly in his hands as he fought back the wave of depression that was washing over him. He would need to make a public statement, he would need to delegate a team to assist with what he was sure would become a global effort to rebuild and support those who had lost loved ones and he would need to ensure that the Bastion Group would have enough resources to match the increases in both manufacturing and distribution that would undoubtedly follow the event. He was sure that this would cause somewhat of a logistical flurry as practically every corporation in the world would be looking to get involved one way or another, offering assistance both genuine and otherwise. 

His mind went back to the people and what they must be going through as another wave of nausea wracked him. He continued to dwell upon it for a few more moments before he pushed the thoughts from his mind and reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small tray of geltabs bearing the Bioheal logo before he quickly popped several of them out and swallowed them. He shook his head again feeling frustrated at his weakness and inability to focus on the purely ‘financial’ side of things without thinking about the people and the suffering, surly a weakness for one in his position. Once his disposition had been a boon, the Gencultura Technologies Group being considered one of the few real ethical corporations remaining in the world. Of course the higher he’d climbed he’d discovered that this wasn’t actually quite true at the peak, and that they’d been as unethical and dishonest as the rest of them. He’d been taking anxiety and depression medication for years now to deal with the guilt, but as he saw it at least this way he still had more input that anyone else did, still could make sure that he helped who he could if he could. That at least combined with the life he was providing for his family was enough to keep him going, keep him moving forwards. 

Breaking his train of thought the huge screen before him once more flickered to life, however this time it showed that he was receiving a direct video call from non-other than Mr Lawson himself – the lack of any form of caller-ident enough to tell him that. He quickly stood and straightened his tie and face before he quickly pushed another button and the image of the man he answered to appeared onscreen.

“Mr Rowe” came the familiar commanding and gravelly tone of his employer “I trust you are aware of the events of this morning?” 

Suddenly George found his throat dry as he responded “Yes sir, I was ju-“

“Good. In this regard I give you full authority Mr Rowe, genuine humanitarian efforts are your speciality and I need you to use this to our advantage. I want you to handle this issue and this alone for the time being, we need to be seen as a major contributor. The Bastion Group will be of course taking the lead in our own investigation into this event, Victor is most keen to use this opportunity to further our goals and I have given him authority to do what he needs. Do not interfere in his investigation in the slightest. There will be further instructions to follow.”

“Yes sir” responded Edward as he suppressed a scowl “And the AUC contractors?” 

“Still a priority. Their backing is essential with our current plans.  You’ll still be meeting them as planned. Miss King would not appreciate if we sent another in your place.”

“Understood”

With that the call cut off leaving him staring at the screen as he again sighed. So the Lawsons were capitalising on the murder of over two and a half thousand people, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Victor wouldn’t care who had really committed the crime, he’d pin it on whomever it benefited him to do so. Disgusting, he thought to himself sourly. Again pushing his doubts away he quickly prepared himself, today would undoubtedly be filled with grief and stress. But at least he had been given full permission to do everything within his power to help those he could and at the same time he knew he could make it benefit the company hugely. The general populace of wealthy Gencultura citizenry too would share in his moral obligation he knew, and this alone would be sufficient to secure the loyalty and love of the huge majority of their population – and it was him they loved, not the unknown and sinister Mr Lawson.  

---

Victor Lawson

Somalia, Bastion rehabilitation centre quattuor

The cold steel room was filled with artificial light, the glare reflecting off of the many metallic surfaces as Victor Lawson keyed in his code on the pad before him. Within moments the sensor on the door scanned his biometrics before it slid open silently and he strode into the room with a subtle smirk across his features. The room itself was almost nondescript, lacking any real features aside from a uniform gray colour and a perfectly cubic shape. In the centre of the room there was a metallic examination chair with a man occupying it, beside it was a small table of the same metallic construction.  

“Who’s there!? What the fuck is this!” raged the rather dirty looking man that was affixed to the chair as he frantically tried to free himself from the heavy restraints that held his arms, legs and neck in place. He was wearing a Gencultura utility suit that looked like it had seen better days, the logo was ripped from the shoulder and lapel and several stains dotted about it. There was a thick sack covering his head and he had been in the room since Bastion security forces had brought him in the previous evening.  

“Mr Othonos” Victor began in his deep tone as made his way across the room to the rear wall “this is the one opportunity you have left to live, to avoid an extremely painful death at my hands”. As he reached the wall he ran a gloved finger across a specific location in a figure of eight motion, as he did the wall beside him opened and a compartment extended seamlessly and unfolded and opened to reveal a  array of various implements and devices within. 

The man who moments ago had been thrashing and screaming had stopped, obviously Victor’s words giving him a moment’s pause and only his rapid strained breathing could be heard.

“Oh good” said Victor in relation to the relative silence that now filled the room as he picked up a few of the items and moved them over to the small table that sat beside him and began to slowly set them down. “Seems like you may survive yet” he offered as he reached over and pulled the hood from the man’s head in a quick jerking motion. 

The man cringed and blinked rapidly several times as the bright artificial glare assailed his light depraved corneas before he started to frantically look around, his eyes settling on Victor’s still mildly pleased expression as panic dominated his face. The man was tanned from work outside, his brown hair untidy and his face cover in fear as he looked around the room desperately. 

“L…l…listen friend… I haven’t done anything to anyone, I don-” the man stuttered, but as he did Victor suddenly backhanded him before he snatched up one of the items, a small silver tube with a needle protruding from one end. He brandished it an inch away from his face and hovered for a second.  

“Please, allow me to finish telling you the rules of the little game we’ll be playing if you’ll simply be quiet” he started to explain before he injected the man’s neck and the contents of the tube shot into his bloodstream. As he did the man screamed and attempted to struggle, though it was impossible with his restraints and Victor simply continued to grin before he gently shushed the man and continued “If you speak out of turn, if you don’t answer any of my questions correctly, if you say anything that displeases me or scream like that again without cause I shall do this”. 

He picked up the second implement which was a rather savage looking thing that seemed to be similar to an antique scalpel, before in one swift aggressive motion he grabbed the man’s ear and half-sliced half-ripped it from his head. The room was once more filled with his screams as Victor simply placed it on the metal table next to the implements.  

“Mr Othonos, please also let take the opportunity to point out that’ve just injected you with one of our newest stimulants, so the longer this continues the more heightened your sensations will be” Victor tried to explain, however Mr Othonos had not ceased his screaming and struggling. Victor’s smirk faded very briefly and he again stepped forwards and this time he grabbed his head in one hand and slammed it back against the metal and applied his strength for a few moments as he firmly commanded “Shut up”, which seemed to quiet him to whimpering as blood continued to run down him from the fresh wound where his right ear had once been.

“Where was I..?” continued Victor rhetorically as he regained his smug composure and stepped back “Ah, the stimulant. It is rather wonderful, a real pharmacological breakthrough really. You’ll be able to endure far more pain than a normal human ever could, remaining conscious far beyond the point where shock should have killed you.”

He saw the terror in the man’s expression and Victors smirk widened slightly.

"So, I think it's time we had a little conversation about your little friend Tareq Delatair" he said as he paced in a circle around the restrained man, his eyes following him wherever possible. Victor could already see it in his eyes, in his composure, that Nicos Othonos knew exactly why he found himself here as opposed to still working on the Sol-centre construction site. They both knew that he had stolen and sold valuable security components and secure files to what passed as ‘the anti Gentech resistance’ to the south of their holdings in the south Med. The group was mixture of what was left of the desperate native population combined with the few radicals and dissidents that opposed Gencultura for whatever reasons they had, they were proving to be more problematic to locate and eradicate than Victor had imagined. It was essential he do so if he wanted to continue with his plans for expansion. 

He paced around Nicos once more as he waited for any answer, but none came. He stood before him with his arms behind his back, Victor somehow seemed to ooze intimidation – each and every subtle body movement precise and practised. His pristine dark suit and tie with his unaging, unemotional face served only to make him look more terrifying as he stood calmly before him.  

This time as he spoke Victor’s voice seemed even more terrifying as he slowly demanded “Tell me how to find him.”

He waited a single second before he again lunged forwards to grab Nico’s head with a powerful grasp as he quickly jerked the small blade into his skull surgically removing his right eye in a few precise motions, the room once more was filled with shrieks and the sound of thrashing as Nicos struggled fruitlessly. Almost immediately he tried to tell Victor what he wanted to know, pleaded desperately for him to stop but he finished what he had started before placing Nicos eye beside his ear on the table and stated “Next time answer faster, or you’ll run out of body parts eventually.” 

With that the snivelling bleeding man proceeded to tell him everything between sputtering sobs, occasionally Victor asking him to be more specific about something. Not once did Nico Othonos hesitate, only twice did he say he didn’t know what Victor was asking him and both times he knew it was the truth. Once he had exhausted every single scrap of information from the man he turned and took a few steps away, pulling a small device from his pocket he spoke several commands into it before he returned it. Turning again he went to the table and picked up an instrument, this time picking up what looked to be like some kind of jagged pair of small pliers. 

“Wait wait, I thought you said I...I... would survive this!” shrieked Nico’s as Victor approached him again, his smug smirk once more in place. His voice was full of sweet sweet anguish and Victor again couldn’t help but grin wider for a few moments before he replied, savouring the enjoyment of the moment.

“Oh I’m afraid you must’ve misunderstood me. I meant that you might survive to tell me everything I want to know. But don’t worry, we have at least six hours, if not longer together I’d say, so it isn’t over yet.” With that Victor began to use the tool to remove the fingernails on his right hand one by one.
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