Post by Harold Veldon on Jul 21, 2008 14:10:03 GMT -5
“Results are disappointing, you’ve failed to meet the targets set out regarding the containment of the threat, there have been 212 reported sightings and a dozen claims of assault, 23 soldiers are missing presumed dead and a further 41 have serious injuries, expectations were for there to be only minor casualties and fifty injured in the year, the company cannot pay such compensation…” the reedy voice continued relentlessly, but Harold Veldon had stopped listening, he knew it all, glancing up nonchalantly Veldon steepling his fingers before him upon his desk, gazing unblinkingly at the official, smartly dressed man before him, the man’s pale, pasty skin revolted him, he looked as though he rarely saw sunlight, cooped within an office typing figures day after day, and working out that Veldon hadn’t met some ridiculously impossible target. Worse was that he now dared to lecture him upon his supposed shortcomings. It was outrageous, his superiors should have known better than to send an imbecilic man, who knew nothing of his line of work, to point out his failures.
“Leave,” Veldon spoke softly, but the nervous man heard him plainly, looking up startled turning to his fellow to his right, “but I haven’t completed my report.” Veldon’s eyes flickered to the other man present, his solemn gaze resting resolutely upon him; challenging, cold and remorseless. Yet he met his freezing stare with a small smile, they knew each other well and he wasn’t easily perturbed, but the accountant had done what was necessary, he’d either bored Veldon to tears, or else got his hackles up, either way worked well for him, he nodded, “you may depart now, we have no further use of your expertise.” The accountant’s mouth dropped open, but he acquiesced jumping up from the spindly chair upon which he’d been seated, gathering his belongings and hurriedly departing, closing the door quietly on his exit.
Bob Farley, a large, rotund man with a belly that spoke of too much good food, and a ruddy face that showed his love of the wine, Bob wasn’t an impressive man to look at, but he had a sharp mind that few could rival, moving with surprising grace for a man of his girth from his position leaning back nonchalantly against a filing cabinet he now lowering his hefty bulk into one of the more comfortable armchairs, all the while his carefree smile infuriated Veldon.
“What was the use of that? His supposed expertise.” He spat laconically nodding towards the door where the nervy accountant, who had known of Veldon’s reputation, was now tearing away from. “If I needed a sweaty, ignorant prick to spout numbers at me I’d ask for one.”
Bob’s smile stayed firmly in place, in fact it widened to a broad grin, his jovial round face beaming down at Veldon as he answered in posh, clipped tones, “come now Harold, you know this establishment is run upon facts and figures, they demand results, and we must give them what they require.”
“Their figures would be far higher if I didn’t disobey their explicit orders and save the lives of my men.” Muttered Veldon softly growing wearisome of the government’s continued pressure to solve and unsolvable problem.
Bob began to help himself to the fine bottle of whiskey upon a silver tray set out on Veldon’s desk, pulling out the stopper he poured himself an ample glass, not bothering to offer the impassive, blank faced Veldon a glass he took a long sip before continuing in a conversational tone, “you know we’re not the right chaps for this sort of work anymore, our superiors…” he used the word carefully knowing Veldon hated the thought of anybody ordering him about, “…wish us to neutralise the threat of the xenos, post haste as it were, annihilated if necessary, they’ve given you the resources and manpower to accomplish this,” he held up a hand to forestall an interruption from Veldon, who’d decided to remain mute and hear out his friend, mainly for old times sakes. “Yet the filth still freely wander this earth in plain sight, causing havoc wherever they please.” Veldon’s features were expressionless; he gave nothing away as he continued to stare fixatedly forwards. “There are rumours circulating the Prime Minister won’t put up with your ineptitude for much longer. There are those that believe I should be put in full command of Section 13.” He finished all traces of smiles gone, “as you know I don’t want to be put in that situation, forced to choose between your friendship and my career, but…”
“For it would be no choice at all,” interrupted Veldon his powerful gaze now boring into Bob.
“You know me too well,” he replied smoothly, “though it wouldn’t be without regret that I…”
“Stabbed me in the back,” finished Veldon dryly.
“I was going to say take over from you, but your words suit even better. My advice to you Harold is to get your act together, you know you could eradicate our foe, yet you hold back, what is it that you’re afraid of, that once we’ve annihilated the Malkavians that we’ll then turn on you?”
“It’s genocide,” he returned simply.
“We must do as we’re ordered, the government demands it.”
“This government will soon rest in hell.”
“I’m sure they will but we must look to this life for now my friend. So I urge you to do what you must. I don’t wish to displace you, I won’t relish it, but you know I will do it.”
“Forever the loyal servant.”
“Precisely, I’d wish you luck in your endeavours, but the fact is that you don’t need it, just do what needs to be done my friend.” Downing the rest of the whiskey in one Bob smacked his lips letting out a contented sigh, as he hefting his bulk out of the chair, taking his leave without another word, not waiting for a reply that he knew wouldn’t come. Veldon’s expressionless gaze drifted towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer, those who knew his reputation would know that was a ridiculous notion…Veldon now knew it was time to act, he’d delayed as long as he could.
“Leave,” Veldon spoke softly, but the nervous man heard him plainly, looking up startled turning to his fellow to his right, “but I haven’t completed my report.” Veldon’s eyes flickered to the other man present, his solemn gaze resting resolutely upon him; challenging, cold and remorseless. Yet he met his freezing stare with a small smile, they knew each other well and he wasn’t easily perturbed, but the accountant had done what was necessary, he’d either bored Veldon to tears, or else got his hackles up, either way worked well for him, he nodded, “you may depart now, we have no further use of your expertise.” The accountant’s mouth dropped open, but he acquiesced jumping up from the spindly chair upon which he’d been seated, gathering his belongings and hurriedly departing, closing the door quietly on his exit.
Bob Farley, a large, rotund man with a belly that spoke of too much good food, and a ruddy face that showed his love of the wine, Bob wasn’t an impressive man to look at, but he had a sharp mind that few could rival, moving with surprising grace for a man of his girth from his position leaning back nonchalantly against a filing cabinet he now lowering his hefty bulk into one of the more comfortable armchairs, all the while his carefree smile infuriated Veldon.
“What was the use of that? His supposed expertise.” He spat laconically nodding towards the door where the nervy accountant, who had known of Veldon’s reputation, was now tearing away from. “If I needed a sweaty, ignorant prick to spout numbers at me I’d ask for one.”
Bob’s smile stayed firmly in place, in fact it widened to a broad grin, his jovial round face beaming down at Veldon as he answered in posh, clipped tones, “come now Harold, you know this establishment is run upon facts and figures, they demand results, and we must give them what they require.”
“Their figures would be far higher if I didn’t disobey their explicit orders and save the lives of my men.” Muttered Veldon softly growing wearisome of the government’s continued pressure to solve and unsolvable problem.
Bob began to help himself to the fine bottle of whiskey upon a silver tray set out on Veldon’s desk, pulling out the stopper he poured himself an ample glass, not bothering to offer the impassive, blank faced Veldon a glass he took a long sip before continuing in a conversational tone, “you know we’re not the right chaps for this sort of work anymore, our superiors…” he used the word carefully knowing Veldon hated the thought of anybody ordering him about, “…wish us to neutralise the threat of the xenos, post haste as it were, annihilated if necessary, they’ve given you the resources and manpower to accomplish this,” he held up a hand to forestall an interruption from Veldon, who’d decided to remain mute and hear out his friend, mainly for old times sakes. “Yet the filth still freely wander this earth in plain sight, causing havoc wherever they please.” Veldon’s features were expressionless; he gave nothing away as he continued to stare fixatedly forwards. “There are rumours circulating the Prime Minister won’t put up with your ineptitude for much longer. There are those that believe I should be put in full command of Section 13.” He finished all traces of smiles gone, “as you know I don’t want to be put in that situation, forced to choose between your friendship and my career, but…”
“For it would be no choice at all,” interrupted Veldon his powerful gaze now boring into Bob.
“You know me too well,” he replied smoothly, “though it wouldn’t be without regret that I…”
“Stabbed me in the back,” finished Veldon dryly.
“I was going to say take over from you, but your words suit even better. My advice to you Harold is to get your act together, you know you could eradicate our foe, yet you hold back, what is it that you’re afraid of, that once we’ve annihilated the Malkavians that we’ll then turn on you?”
“It’s genocide,” he returned simply.
“We must do as we’re ordered, the government demands it.”
“This government will soon rest in hell.”
“I’m sure they will but we must look to this life for now my friend. So I urge you to do what you must. I don’t wish to displace you, I won’t relish it, but you know I will do it.”
“Forever the loyal servant.”
“Precisely, I’d wish you luck in your endeavours, but the fact is that you don’t need it, just do what needs to be done my friend.” Downing the rest of the whiskey in one Bob smacked his lips letting out a contented sigh, as he hefting his bulk out of the chair, taking his leave without another word, not waiting for a reply that he knew wouldn’t come. Veldon’s expressionless gaze drifted towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer, those who knew his reputation would know that was a ridiculous notion…Veldon now knew it was time to act, he’d delayed as long as he could.