Expo Life and Death

[Ban Bean]

It was uncommon that Tyler held meetings at his personal office. Still, he was rich enough to rent out an entire floor and private elevator to the penthouse. It was just best most people weren't cognizant of its location. Susanna knew why Tyler had made an exception for Obsidian. Why he was wearing his best Indian silk tie, with Anna, Wes and Marco all similarly dressed in nice clothing, waiting for their guest.

It was a show of power.

Obsidian. Slate. Whatever they called themselves, had been making systematic attacks on leadership among the Rattlers, and leaving their bodies on Marcos doorstep. It was a bold, aggressive move. Stupid too. It was one thing to get on Tyler and Marcos's radar, and another entirely to purposefully make enemies of him.

Susanna stood at the back end of the dimly lit office, waiting for Obsidian to arrive. Bold as a move murder was, it had piqued Tyler's interest, and he had agreed to the meet- a request pinned to the front of the last corpse. She was only here as part of the show of force, not that she'd have been allowed to partake in negotiations. Marco brushed past her, pausing only to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she learned what it cost to shrug him off.

She nodded to him.

Marco smiled, and turned toward the door, "Let in our guests, Wes."

 

[Slate]

Obsidian didn’t like to be kept waiting. One could even call it a pet peeve. After all, he was busy. There was only so much waiting he could do. Luckily, the Rattlers hadn’t kept them waiting too long– the door opened to a man with a tight, rat like face, who was too scruffy for the nice clothes he wore. The room itself was opulent– and tacky. At least by Obsidian’s standards. Everything looked expensive, too expensive, and it was clearly meant to be a flex.

Of course, none of that was impressive. It was flashy, sure. But not impressive. Not to the members of Slate who had arrived there. Obsidian walked in, slow and sure, with Malachite at his side. Behind them, Sulphur and Hematite, their two youngest Pack members, did their best to emulate the calm air both of the older men had. Sulphur was doing the best job, his eyes razor focused and quickly analyzing their surroundings. Hematite seemed distracted, but he quickly faced forward again, following their lead.

None of the Pack members were wearing their finest clothes. Not for people like this. Obsidian wore his daily coat and suit, Malachite wore his red leather jacket and matching doc martins, Sulphur wore a suit that was a little too short in the wrists and ankles– something they’d have to remedy soon– and Hematite was dressed fully in street wear, his hair hanging in braids over its new side shave. None of them were dressed to impress.

After all, the Rattlers were so far beneath them that it didn’t matter.

Malachite fell back a bit as they approached the desk, where Obsidian offered a small smile, something glinting in his eyes that were ever so slightly narrowed. He didn’t offer his hand, though he did pull his hands from his pocket and tugged his gloves on as tight as he could. They had been made for him, soft leather and a fur lining. They did nothing to stop his touch, but the less he felt of other’s energy on his skin, the better.

He let his eyes flit between people. The woman’s energy was hard and affixed to her, unmoving. Stiff like rocks. The rat faced man’s was wispy and flowed everywhere around him. It was practically as light as the air. The other man, the one not behind the desk, was like a pot boiling over, bubbly and erratic, uncontrollable. He had as much if not more energy than even Malachite. The man behind the desk– was unimpressive. Plain, normal energy. Of course, that meant nothing. If he was powered, a meta, then it would activate when his powers did.

He wondered where the fifth energy signature was coming from.

It was stronger than all the rest, and radiated death, decay, and stillness. It crept across his skin with it’s strength.

“What a lovely suite.” A lie. “So I take it you are Tyler?”

Obsidian gestured to the man behind the desk. His smile stayed in place, even as his eyes narrowed a touch more, and his head tilted ever so slightly to indicate a greeting.​

 

[Ban Bean]

A redhead and a blonde. Both subdued in expression, but their eyes were far to intelligent to brush off. They'd be the most difficult ones. The black man with dreads- he didn't look like much of a threat. Distractable and naive. Not entirely inexperienced, but it seemed liked he was a new addition to this rival gang. Slate.

The big guy in the red jacket, now he looked like trouble.

Susanna quickly took note of the men present, unmoved from her spot. It wasn't time for her to act yet, so she listened.

"I am...And I take it you're Obsidian." Tyler said casually, nodding to the redhead in turn. "You boys looks a little young to be behaving as badly as you have. But, It's a rough world, and I cant fault a man for trying to make a name for himself. I believe entrepreneurship should be rewarded."

Tyler often started his monologues with such a preamble. Polite, gauzy compliments laced with venom. Demeaning, but not outwardly inconsiderate.

"Unfortunately you killed a great deal of my men. Men that are hard to replace. I've held control over this town for years, and people might start to think I'm slipping if I let a bunch of upstarts walk over me. Like I've allowed you too...so the question isn't what you want from me, or this meeting."

"It's about what I am to do about your little gang, Obsidian."

 

[Slate]

There was a pause. And then a soft laugh. It built, until Obsidian’s face split in a charming smile, his eyes narrowing further. He sighed, almost dramatically, but the sheer amusement never left him. He relaxed back, his shoulders sloping as he did. It was almost like all the tension had faded out of him. He shook his head.

“That’s really funny. I almost thought you were serious for a moment there. What you’re going to do to my little gang. Did you not do your research on us? I mean, it’s fine if you didn’t. I understand we’re new to the area. And I understand where the confidence comes from. You’re pretty big in the west, aren’t you? Montana, Colorado, Idaho, Nevada, California… You have quite a spread.”

Obsidian stepped forward, his hands flourishing as he spoke. He leaned his hip against the desk as he got close to it, turning his back to several of the people in the room, and his side to Tyler. He casually looked around while he talked, trying to pinpoint where the fifth energy signature was coming from.

“No, you won’t be doing anything to us. That was really funny. You really had me going there, for a minute. No, I’m here to discuss a merger. I’d like this to be on nice terms. But if it has to be difficult, well. I can handle that.” He flashed another full grin at Tyler, running a hand through his long red curls and pushing them away from his face.​

 

[Ban Bean]

Obsidian would see her, standing against the wall. A young unassuming woman, barely nineteen, wearing black jeans and a large green sweatshirt with a turtleneck underneath, rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was iron grey, cut bluntly around her shoulders, as if with a dull scissors.

She winced as Obsidian laughed. That would end poorly for him.

"You've been sending bodies back to me like a stray cat trying to buy favor," Tyler said sharply, ignoring the disrespect of Ethan's posture. "And you're going to pretend to want to play nice? No, kid...if you're gonna do dirty deeds you best have the balls to own up to it. Backtracking a show of force isn't going to buy you respect."

"And you are right. We have some very nice operations on the west coast. You've made a name for yourself in the East. And if you had left well enough alone, you might have been able to expand your enterprise without our interference."

"You are right that a merger is in order...however you might be mistaken as to who is taking over for who."

 

[Slate]

“What an odd thing to say. As you’ve already pointed out, I've been picking your men off like flies. It seems like you would understand that you’re not in charge here. I can spell it out for you, if you’d prefer? Is that something I need to do for you?”

He eyed the fifth girl for a moment. Young, oversized clothes, and looking distinctly cowed. She wasn’t here by her own will. That was something they’d have to keep in mind for later in the operation. He turned a lazy smile back to Tyler, and didn’t pause long enough for the man to actually answer him. Instead, he kept going, as if Tyler really did need this spelled out for him.

“You’re special. All five of you, judging by your energy signatures. But you’re not kill someone on touch, special. You’re not transmuting your skin into any material you want, special. You aren’t even sitting at the same table as us. We’re leagues above you. And so, when I say a merger, what I mean is you will submit and join my organization. Or we’ll pick you apart piece by piece.

There was an ease to his companions still, as they stood behind him. None of them seemed phased, or even indignant. They were all relaxed, eyes wandering through the room, as if waiting for something to change. They all had the feeling, the knowledge, that Tyler had something waiting in the wings. Maybe it was the fifth girl. Maybe it was a surprise ambush. Whatever the case, they would find out exactly how out of their league core Slate was if they tried to fight them. They didn’t need guns or weapons to take care of this room and whatever else came at them. And the flash in Obsidian’s eyes conveyed that he firmly believed that.

“So, now that you know where we’re all at, why don’t we try this again?” As Obsidian spoke, he hopped up on the edge of the desk where it was clearly and sat there, knees crossed. He seemed more than at ease. “You’re going to agree to a merger under the Slate name. Or I will systematically pick all of your men off, then yourself.”​

 

[Ban Bean]

Obsidian should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. The dim light. Or the faint bleach scent in the air. Hell, maybe if he stopped peacocking for a second he wouldn't have given himself away.

Marco smiled.

Susanna knew why he was pleased. His plan was working all too well, and given Obsidian's statement- it would work all the more. And it would work because of the effort Marco had put into making Susanna useful.

"Go ahead, and kill us," Marco said smoothly. He clicked his tongue, signaling to her.

With that Susanna squared her shoulders. and with a few subtle movements of her fingers, the people standing in the back of the room, concealed by shadows, and the other Rattlers, began to stir. Their limbs jerked in stiff movements, walking like a childs marionette, closing in around the desk, and Slate. They were pale and slack-jawed. Their eyes were glassy, like the stones Slate was so fond of.

"You'll only be giving us more ammunition."

If the members of Slate had good memories, they would remember the faces of the corpses surrounding them. Each one had a distinct Rattesnake tattoo coiled around their arm. Each one a victim of Slates mission, their clothes still bloodied from their gruesome ends.

"So, you can read energy signatures. Wouldn't have guessed that, but it explains why you didn't notice to begin with," Tyler mused. "We did know you can kill people by touching them. Unluckily for you, boy, I don't think you can kill the dead."