|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 02, 2014 8:12 pm
It was a rare occasion to see General-King Buddingtonite alone. On a normal day, General Serpentine remained at his side, ever watchful, ever diligent, ever loyal, as well as at least two of his prized Lovelies that clung to each arm, a third behind him to carry his weapon should he ever feel the need for such a cumbersome thing. Nowadays the weapon was more for show than practical use and the sight of someone in the public relations to be carrying around such a terrifying thing would be probably sent the wrong message. And for Buddingtonite, it was all about the image...
So the image of him sitting in the meeting room at the studio, alone, not a single other person there besides the voices to keep him company would have been a fitting one in someone's mind. There he sat, one leg crossed over the other, a shiny, gauntlet hand resting over the exposed scarred hand and gripping his knee, his crimson eyes against a black canvas starring forward at the wall with the intensity of a rail cannon. Outwardly, he was the perfect officer, worthy of the title and rank he carried, and he was determined to keep such images intact.
There was no one there, but one was always being watched. He knew he was certainly being listened to, and the song he hummed to himself was doing well in keeping himself distracted by that bothersome minutia that they kept whispering in his ear. They wanted to make a fool of him in front of General-King Osumilite, and he simply wasn't going to have it! He had an image to keep, and to a man he idolized, that image was important.
Very important.
He continued to stare at the wall, hoping that he would hear the door when it eventually opened. They had important business matters to discuss in private! Very important business matters... it was all about the image.
"Someone needs to put a picture there. That'd be a nice place for a picture... maybe that kitten clinging to the rope and it saying 'Hang in there'... or a pin up. Yes, I think I'll put a picture there."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 8:35 pm
"No," he started, entering the studio quietly. "******** cats. What do I look like, forty and desperately alone?" He was thirty-eight and happily unfaithful to his wife, thank you very much. He didn't appear powered up - he rarely did these days. It was a completely open secret among those in the Negaverse that General-King Osumilite and Tag Swagger were one in the same so found no purpose in creating illusions of pretense. "Glad you could make it down here, I'm going to need your help tapping some talent to guest on my show this week," he started, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his inner coat pocket. He took one out and considered offering the other General-King a second, but these cigarettes were ******** expensive, so after a moment's delay he just put them right back in his coat pocket and lit up indoors. "The Resistance movement has been getting some more sympathizers and people aren't buying the typical terrorist narrative these days," he continued. "We need another reminder why they love the Negaverse. We need to get a celebrity or an athlete to come on the show, one that we sponsor and can give us some endorsements." "And we need some survivors from other countries," he continued on, referencing the other parts of the world that had caved in entirely. "Some sob stories, people ******** jerk off to that s**t. Literal tear-jerking. You know of any survivors? Or some good actors?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2014 1:56 pm
Tick, tock, tick, tock, how long does he intend to make you wait.
Buddingtonite wasn't sure when he started keeping track of time with the tapping of his armored digit against his elbow, but it was around the time he had made it to the fifty something mark before he heard another voice assault his ears. This one was different, however, friendly, louder than the others, familiar. A voice that matched a rather handsome face on the news. Tag Swagger, otherwise known as General-King Osumilite, mentor and no longer world's most eligible bachelor, if his sources were correct. A pity. He immediately straightened up, even when it was Tag that entered the room. He gave the man such a look, but kept his comment to himself. 'Seems I'm overdressed for the occasion. As always.'
He did, however, give the cigarettes a rather dubious glare, and before he had to go and make things awkward by declining such an offer, Tag changed his mind and retracted his offer. It was for the best- Buddingtonite had more than enough addictions to contend with and Serpentine would have beat him senseless if he walked in with a lit cigarette in his mouth. If the cancer wasn't going to get him, his bodyguard and friend certainly would have done the trick!
"It'd be my pleasure to help, Swagger," Buddingtonite said, flashing him a confident smile and eager to get down to business. Regardless if he was in uniform or not, he respected the man and saw him as a senior officer. He found himself reminencing their first 'mission', and it was hard to prevent the smile from creeping on his face. So he didn't even try- let it be seen. Even when Tag mentioned some unsavory news, that smile remained, though his voice was taut, trying to remain professional as he addressed the other General-King. "How can they when we're wiping the streets clean of them? The less there are, the less chance they have of carrying out such things. If you feel our viewers need a reminder, I can arrange something. How big do you want this reminder to be?"
He was good at reminders. He'd plan a memo, a big memo... one they wouldn't forget.
The mention of a celebrity caught his interest, and his smile faded somewhat, though only because he was focusing more on the task at hand rather than the time he dressed in drag and pretended he was a senshi. "Celebrities, celebrities, survivors... hm, someone with a pretty face and the acting muscle to move the audience. Her name is on the tip of my tongue, but lord help me if I can remember her name. Silly of me to forget a beautiful face like that. Give me a moment."
Processing, processing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
