In Which Cyril Calls a Meeting...
Which is incredibly convenient, as I had planned on doing so myself. As we all gathered in his office, he proceeded to tell us that he had looked at his thread and, should he continue in "field work" as he has been, his thread will be cut, or end, abruptly. To counter this, he has decided he's going to step back from the field, but will be available to assist us as he is able.
I assume part of this comes from the encounter with Birkin, when his Catholic upbringing taught him that angels are Right and Good. Not to mention the prophecy in the basement. I suppose if you're prophesied to die, you'd rather not hurry it along.
As is the Island's wont, the conversation flew off onto a tangent of "thread-reading." Oliver went first, and Cyril said that he was going to die - sometime in the past. Normally, it would seem remarkable, but given the events of the past few weeks, it was another of those things that I simply filed away. Agnes (who was rather derisive and antagonistic all night, but seemed fine after I sent her a text message later) was next. It was determined that she had a rather long thread, but it also was cut "sometime in the past." Greyson followed, and aside from the fact that his thread was, apparently, at least twice as long as Agnes's, the result was much the same.
Nadya, however, was the different one. Apparently, her thread did not end the same way the others' did. After a round of Agnes claiming that Nadya was going to betray the team somehow, Nadya had Cyril examine it again. Same result. Cyril then said he was finished looking at threads for the evening.
I found myself almost relieved. While it would be good to know, there are certain kinds of knowing that limit you or your plans. For example, if he had said my thread would be cut in a week, then I would have been less likely to pitch my idea of the corporation to the group. I would rather not know, and be free to act, than know and end up chaining myself.
At any rate, we moved on to my part of the meeting. I discussed mine and Nadya's plans to start our own corporation. Eventually, we can use it to stand toe to toe with other heavyweight supernatural organizations in Chicago, but at the start, it's best to start with that first block. Ultor (which is Latin for "avenger") Corporation will begin its life by improving living conditions in the projects. In order to do that, Ultor Corp. will begin buying up floundering businesses, or businesses that are in need of extra funds to continue existing. We will begin to negotiate with the other notable gang in the projects, MS 13, and try to win them to our side (both bolstering our manpower and preventing further violence in an already embattled zone). Eventually, we will open our own businesses, in the projects and other districts, as we prepare to begin exerting control, influence, and in some cases friendship over other areas.
For a man who has had no business education and used Google to research most of the information, I felt that the notes I gave to the group were not far from what we need. Agnes, whom we found out is an "heiress" (reason for quotation marks later) of a prosperous gold mine, had some questions, and offered to be the public face of the company. As an heiress is a much better choice than...someone like myself, I plan to take her up on her offer. All in all, the interest is there, we need to find an office building, and then file the necessary paperwork. (NOTE: Paperwork reminds me, knowing how to file Camarilla reports now, I need to send Tessa my report on the band event soon.)
After I was finished, we discussed "the Cog," the serial murderer (or murderers) responsible for fifteen deaths, usually with three at the same time. The police consider it to be at least three people acting in concert. However, Cyril mentioned it could be a Time mage.
Suddenly, the "dying in the past" thing doesn't seem quite as far fetched. Unless, of course, it was something akin to what happened to me, where I, in fact, died and have continued to exist. However, then Nadya's thread would have shown a similar "break," would it not?
Damn mages.
Agnes, who had been preoccupied with the fact that Greyson's strand was so much longer than hers, proceeded to interrogate him as to his age. Nadya left, which reminded me I had a question about whether or not she'd asked her cousin about lawyers. I sent her a text message and received a reply that first adamantly stated she would not be betraying the team, and that she hadn't yet. Agnes continued her interrogation, in which we all discovered that Greyson had been around for quite a few historical events.
Greyson finally gave us his age, which was, I think, two hundred fifty-three this fall. I then prompted Agnes for hers - one hundred eight. Apparently, Miss Moneypenny has been playing her own granddaughter. All things considered, this didn't faze me, but Cyril seemed concerned. She explained her background and he said that that answered quite a few questions. Greyson and I asked for an explanation and received some vague jargon.
Twice damned mages.
Apparently, it's a very "Marcus" kind of thing, in which informing their organization, their Consilium, means her being hunted. I don't know if it's the same as Marcus, but it sounds like the same issues if it comes out.
Layers and layers and layers.
I do confess to feeling bad for Oliver. I'm not certain he was fully aware of what he was jumping into when he agreed to help us.
Oh, earlier in her interrogation Agnes had started off on a wonderful rant, wherein she claimed to be upset because none of her questions were ever answered. She brought up my eye to start with, to which I calmly interrupted her and said "My sire." She stopped for a moment, said "Oh," and continued on with her interrogation of Greyson.
It's all about life's little amusements, I think.
With Ultor having the Island's blessing, the next step is to find an office building, preferably in the projects. Having it in the projects will show everyone that we are serious about our commitment to improving them. It will also allow us to stay relatively closed and hidden until we've built up our resources.
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