maskormenacelogs | I will be King

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I will be King

WHO: Count Dooku and OPEN
WHERE: Porter cities, see prompts for details
WHEN: Throughout November
WHAT: The Count has a very busy month ahead of him.
WARNINGS: Talk of evildoings likely. See here for Dooku's permissions post, and here for information on the Constellation

A - Meetings in Maurtia Falls - throughout the month

Count Dooku would like to meet with you.

Maybe you have some business with him, or maybe you are one of the felonious few who are about to be recruited into the Constellation. Either way, you've received a private contact from him, requesting a discreet meeting at one of three locations in Maurtia Falls: the abandoned Heave n' Leave gymnasium, the Maurtia Falls Crime Museum, or the Brew World Order tea shop. In each case, the Count's instructions are clear: ensure that you are not followed, and be very careful about who you tell about the encounter.

What could be possibly want?

B - Nonah concert - November 5th

After Dooku was Ported in, some wit at the government decided to make him a singer for a heavy metal band. Whoever was responsible probably didn't anticipate how Dooku would commit to the assignment as an avenue for wealth and publicity. He has since put his own mark on the band under the name COUNTDOWN, and earned a small but devoted fanbase among people who are enthusiastic about imPorts, critical of the government, or who genuinely enjoy the band's unique style of symphonic metal backed by Dooku's deep-voiced singing.

Countdown is performing in Nonah today, at a smaller club with decent but not packed attendance. It quickly becomes apparent that the band's attraction is not just the music (which today, seems to focus on the many failings of anti-imPort activist Ronald Chump), but also Dooku's unique approach to entertainment. From time to time he'll pick out one lucky member of the audience, and levitate them into the air with a gesture his hand for an imPort-aided crowd-surf. Maybe that member is you!

Admittance is free to the Count's fellow imPorts, and he is available backstage after the show to sign autographs or talk to his fans. ImPorts get preferential access for these after-show encounters, naturally- Dooku is always looking for new opportunities to network.

C - De Chima interview - November 7th

A passerby in De Chima's downtown might encounter a curious sight this afternoon. Some enterprising reporter from 'Aunt Josephine' news magazine has ambushed Count Dooku for an on-the-street interview, and Dooku is humouring him for a few questions with the polished poise of an experienced politician. Dooku himself makes an impression, being an elderly six-foot-tall man dressed all in black with a long brown cape that looks quite out of place by the standards of De Chima fashion. And what can be heard of his answers before he excuses himself may be of interest as well:

"Of course the Russian threat is serious, but the government's policies are hardly constructive... I certainly deplore Mister Stark's actions, yet I also believe these new superhumans should be embraced... No, I will not be participating in this round of elections directly... Yes, thank you, but I am afraid that is all I have time for today. Kindly excuse me..."

He gives the camera a courteous little bow, but he also walks off without another word before the reporter can try to slip in another question. Once he is safely away, his polite smile vanishes and is replaced by a deep frown. Count Dooku does not look terribly pleased with the interview...

D - Heropa, Max-specific - November 3rd

It has been too long since Dooku connected with the impressionable, powerful, troubled young man he worked so closely with earlier in the year, and the Count senses this would be a good time to rectify that. That is what brings Dooku to arrange a casual visit one afternoon, sending notice ahead of time before he knocks on Max's door, calling out to let him know who it is.

"Greetings, Max."

E - Free space

[Anything you want!]

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Victor had often enjoyed a good, refreshing afternoon tea. His time before this meeting had been spent answering questions; too many personal enquiries had made him uncomfortable, and it shows in how he takes his cup in both hands and absorbs its warmth. But he had endeavored to make this meeting nonetheless. He returns his attention to the man seated opposite and passes several moments in silence.

This old man, who was equally as polite and important, had made a request to meet in secure privacy. He was learning rapidly about his nature - or rather his capability. Though he isn't one to judge, given the things he's done.

"You wanted to see me, Count?"

Daryl made sure he wasn't followed. There were times it was difficult, what with his popularity (that he still could not understand), but he still knew how to do it when he needed to. Not bringing his crossbow helped exponentially on it for this particular meeting. The trucker hat, too. He didn't feel much like himself and people didn't look twice at him or easily peg him for an imPort since his jacket covered that stupid tattoo well enough.

He questioned the location chosen for the meet, but maybe Dooku just wanted to be ironic and cheeky. Guy's sense of humor seemed to lean that way.

He wasn't surprised that Dooku would invite him to a crime museum. It was... actually pretty interesting, and it didn't take long before he was nose deep in the criminal history of the world, and almost entirely forgot why he was actually there. He didn't get to enjoy this kind of thing very much, so at least Dooku didn't have to worry about him looking around nervously or blabbing about what he was there for.

Hell, if he really wanted to, he could make due on that threat of scaring him at Halloween, because he sure as hell didn't know he was there.

Max answered the door with his usual grin, greeting Dooku excitedly, though some of the enthusiasm seemed just a bit flat. The worst of his bruises from that nightmare incident were mostly healed, but some of the emotional damage still lingered, leaving him looking just a bit more tired than usual.

Still, he could push the worst of it aside for now. Last thing he needed was to bum out a... friend? Colleague? Politician?

"Hey, it's been too long. I was surprised to hear from you."

"Indeed, Doctor. Thank you for meeting with me under these circumstances."

Dooku's voice is even deeper and more confident than usual. He feels expansive these days, on the cusp of greatness. The trammels and idiocies that have restrained him since he was Ported in are finally falling away. He has plans now, and more importantly, allies with which to advance them.

"I have a possible research opportunity that may interest you. But first, let me ask- how do you like the tea?" He sips from his own cup for a moment, drawing out the suspense beneath a veneer of courtesy, trying to heighten Victor's anticipation for new knowledge. "I've found it challenging to find decent tea on this planet. I'm happy to say this establishment is an exception."

Count Dooku's sense of humour was often undetectable, but it was there- and it certainly did run toward the ironic. When he was a Jedi, Dooku might have deplored the unseemly instincts that gave rise to something like the Maurtia Falls Crime Museum: a place that advertised itself as a place of cultural learning while sensationalizing the tragedies of real people for the sake of shocking and entertaining paying customers. But now, as a Sith Lord, he was more enlightened. Places like the Museum were the true face of the universe. Hypocrisy, blurred borders, and shades of grey were the norm... and could be wielded as powerful tools by those who embraced this truth.

Daryl would find the Count easily enough once he was within the museum. Dooku had taken a seat in the museum's conveniently-empty cinema, which was currently screening a biography of a rumrunner named 'Bootleg Bill' who had earned notoriety in Maurtia Falls during the 1920s. When Daryl entered the cinema, Dooku spoke to him without turning his head.

"Hello, Daryl. Please, come join me. The show is just beginning."

If Dooku hadn't been the one to name the place and time, knowing it was Daryl who walked in would have seemed downright creepy. But it probably just meant he'd done something to arrange for room to be empty for a while. A bribe or something.

Okay, still a little creepy.

Daryl hesitated only a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the lighting before making his way through the isle to Dooku's seat. He sat down right next to him and leaned back. Kicked his feet up on the chair in front of him and sinking low enough to look more relaxed than he was. His only real worry was that their voices might echo enough for someone to overhear. He'd been hoping not to have to couch his language in hidden meaning just to avoid potential scrutiny. Guess that hope was screwed.

"You got a thing for bio-pics?"

Count Dooku was an elderly and distinguished nobleman of culture and breeding, far too intelligent and refined to indulge in the petty stupidity of pranks. That was why, when he decided to make good on his Halloween threat and startle Adachi, it was merely for the sake of rendering the boy more pliable to the aims of the Sith. Nothing more.

The fact that such an exercise would be most amusing was merely a side benefit.

Dooku waited until he could sense that the detective was fully engrossed in the exhibit he was currently peering at. Then he made his approach, silent and subtle, until he was looming directly behind Adachi, looking over his shoulder. Only then did he speak, his voice deep like the pronouncement of an execution:

"Good evening, Adachi."

Dooku didn't buy it for a second. He didn't need the Dark Side to tell that the boy was drained and in pain, but with the Dark Side... Max's heart was like one big bruise.

How encouraging.

"Far too long indeed," he agreed as he stepped inside. "I have been remiss in maintaining contact with you- so many troubles and tasks weighing upon my mind. For that, I must apologize, my young friend."

Dooku better damn well enjoy his reaction. It was bad enough that Adachi could feel the skin crawl on the back of his neck as the Count got close, but he ignored it, thinking it was just some brat that was standing too close. And then there was that familiar voice that sounded more like a godly rumble than a human voice, and he fucking lost it.

Somehow, he only managed to let out a strangled gasp instead of scream, remembering that he was in the middle of a museum. He did come damn near jumping clear out of his skin, nearly failing in sticking the landing and wobbling unsteadily, his arms flailing as he nearly wobbled into the display. By some miracle he managed to grab the rope around it, steadying himself without taking anything down.

Adachi let out a breath, before turning a withering glare at Dooku.

"...hi."

Asshole.

"Nice choice of meeting spot."

Dooku smiled softly to himself at Daryl's reaction, and his overstated body language. Despite the vast gulf in class and breeding between himself and Dixon, the Count had to admit they had some things in common. They both knew the value of putting up a certain image to conceal their true intentions.

"They can be quite informative, in their way. Take this gentleman, for instance." He gestured toward the screen, talking without shame over the narration. It's not like anyone else in the audience was going to shush him. "In his time, he was known as an outlaw and a murderer. But all he was doing was providing a service demanded by the people, defying a law that is today recognized as foolishness. Now, he is remembered as a piece of folklore- almost romantically, one might say. It is interesting to see how history's perceptions can shift, don't you agree?"

The meaning behind Dooku's film commentary isn't exactly subtle. But he hasn't asked Daryl here just to play Siskel and Ebert.

"I thought you would like it," Dooku observed mildly, as though he was not inwardly purring like ten cats at Adachi's reaction (which he was).

"Consider it a chance to advance your education while we talk," he continued, sweeping a hand out to indicate the exhibits around them. "There is much within these walls to interest an aspiring detective. Just think: perhaps one day the deeds of certain imPorts will be featured in this Museum."

Adachi tossed a sidelong, withering glare at the Count, not even gracing that first part with a response. Didn't he already say he didn't need to try and scare him? That he's creepy enough on his own? Geeze, what a pain in the ass.

And now here he was, trying to suck up to him in his next breath. Sheesh, couldn't he make up his mind?

"Ha, somehow I doubt that," Adachi replied, shaking his head. "Something like this should be reserved for the actual heroes, not the ones that get dragged here."

"Nah," Daryl snorted and shook his head after a moment of thinking about it and all the other crap he'd seen painted by history. "Just more of the same. The crap he pulled to do it, the people he hurt, glossed over for the sake of glorifying how 'backwards' we find that now, just to make him out to be better than he was 'cause he did one thing the rest of the world agrees with now. Sure the laws were stupid, but he didn't do it cause he thought it was foolish. He did it cause he could make an easy buck and fuck anyone that got in his way."

He settled a little more comfortable, one hand leaving his coat pocket to rub at his chin and get to the point. He needed to be a little round about, though, just in case.

"Bought a house," he began, speaking slowly. "Lookin' at buying some land up in the mountains, too. Maybe build me a shack up there. Just to have somewhere to get away the next time I wanna do a huntin' tour."

"Is that what you think?" The Count half-chuckled, smiling thinly. "I would beg to differ. This is the Maurtia Falls Crime Museum, after all. It is devoted to the supposed opposite of... heroism."

He stepped up next to Adachi, and spoke to him without looking toward him, lowering his voice. "I'm curious whether your detective skills have granted you any clue of why we are here," he said idly. "Why do you think I've asked you here today?"

The corners of Dooku's mouth tugged downwards for a moment. That wasn't really the kind of response he was angling towards with his little digression. But no matter- he was confident he had Dixon's measure. He have held contempt for those who act for profit, but when it came to protecting those he cares about, he was capable of almost anything. A trait that the Count hoped would be useful in the days to come.

And speaking of usefulness. "Congratulations on your purchase," he said smoothly. "I'm sure it is pleasing to have a home that was not provided by the military. Have you found any likely locations for your... shack?"

He knew they weren't talking about a shack.

Oh he was definitely talking about a shack. Just wasn't the only thing he was talking about.

"Got a spot in mind. On the Tennessee-Carolina border." Daryl 'popped' his mouth and poked the air with a finger like he was plopping something on a map. "Right on the edge. Lots of pretty land filled with trees and streams. 'Bout three miles from one of the biggest lakes Tennessee's got. Perfect for a day on the water."

He turned his head to look at Dooku, brows raised, "You'd hate it."

Adachi waved a dismissive hand. "You know what I mean."

Obviously, most crimes had heroes attached to them. The ones that solved the mystery. The one that caught the bad guy. That's what he thought was a detective was supposed to be anyway; the common hero that saved someone's bad day before riding off into the sunset. So much for that dream, because that was all that was.

Adachi paused at the sudden shift in conversation, and he turned a curious look at the count, feeling something... unsettling crawling up his spine. He wasn't sure if it was anticipation or not, but he made him fight against a sudden shudder that felt entirely uncomfortable.

"...you're up to something."

It wasn't a question.

"So, who are you out to expose this time?"

"It seems to be the case." Victor had already been lifting his cup up - so he sips the brew and finds it hot to taste. A narrowing of the eyes shows his reaction; and his nose wrinkles at those mentioned circumstances. The tea smells of cinnamon, but the air smells of something electric.

Still, he is too polite to mention it directly. He leans back and directs his gaze towards scrutinizing the micro-expressions on Dooku's face - if there are any.

"And it is good that we are free men and able to enjoy it." Considering revolutionary meetings tend to get one thrown in jail. But that won't happen, right? "Well, be it so; you have something to talk about?

The Count turned his head and raised his eyebrow in return. "You may be surprised. My homeworld has many forests and streams, and lovely ocean shores. Our wilderness areas have been in the care of my family for many generations, and are praised for their beauty throughout the Galaxy."

Granted, Dooku spent the vast majority of his time in his massive palace these days, running his enormous fortune and immense war machine, but Serenno really was quite a nice planet to look at.

"The location sounds ideal. But I wonder how difficult it might be for you to build in such a remote location," he continued, as though musing idly on the topic.

"The government." Dooku's answer was as direct as it was confident. He looked directly into Adachi's eyes, keen and piercing, and utterly unconcerned with how utterly uncomfortable the boy was. "Investigating RISE was not enough. Their misdeeds are only the tip of the spear aimed at imPort hearts. We must do more."

Dooku sensed the thoughts drifting to the top of Adachi's mind, the thoughts about heroism and detectives and sunsets and all the other romantic foolishness he still harboured beneath his bitter facade. He saw his opening and went for it.

"An organization is taking shape. One that will save all imPorts, and perhaps even this planet. I want you to be one of its first members. This is your chance to accomplish great things- and reap even greater rewards in the process."

"Yes... free men." The Count quirked an eyebrow for a moment, indicating skepticism, but did not debate the remark. He had other things to focus on, and he pushed his communicator across the table to Victor to show him a short video he'd recorded of a remarkable entity floating about his residence- an eight foot grey spectre, an Ertceps.

"This is an interesting piece of government technology I encountered at one of their 'Swear-Ins,' the Count said, raising his eyes to watch Victor's reaction. "A cybernetic creature- an 'imPocreat.' I am curious to see what you might make of it- if you would like to examine it."

"The gov--?!"

Adachi can't even finish that, not even bothering to hide his surprise, and yet it was so like Dooku that he couldn't even claim to be shocked. He paused a moment, just letting that all sink in, before he let out a breath, taking a step back and pressing his fingers to his temples. Oh boy, where did he even start with this.

"You realize these are the people that brought us here, right?" he muttered under his breath. "I'm not exactly loyal to these guys, but don't you think something like this right now could do more harm than good?"

There were a lot of them there, and there was a lot of unease going around still, even this long after the Russians pulled their bullshit. How people would respond to investigations against the government itself could range across the entire spectrum.

The Count's half-smile suggests amusement at Adachi's shock- and contempt for his apparent weakness. "I sense great fear in your words, Adachi," he rumbles. "Don't let doubt control your fate. Our inquiries will be secret- our operations, subtle. We will shed light on the government while working in the shadows ourselves."

He steps forward, lowering his voice an extra notch for emphasis. "This is the path we must walk. Our situation will never improve until we make it improve. Yet if we let fear hold us back, we will achieve nothing. We shall remain weak and deceived. Surely that cannot be what you want."

"Of course I'm scared," he grumbled under his breath. If he ended up punted back home... well, even if he wasn't executed for his crimes, his life was as good as over. At least he had something going on while he was here... he just... had to keep his head down and be a good little government dog.

Adachi paused a moment, before letting out a heavy breath, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"...an investigation like that can only be done quietly for so long," he began. "Eventually, it's going to become public. You're basically asking me to be the front line guy, aren't you?"

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I will be King

A: Brew World Order

November 7th - Maurita Falls - Crime Museum

November 6th; Crime Museum

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