Nemesis had to admit that now his curiosity was well and truly piqued. The last thing
He had expected was…well, a job offer. He didn’t even bother to keep the surprise and curiosity from his face. He flipped through the packet, sometimes reading a page, sometimes simply glossing over it. After several minutes he looked up and gestured with the packet.

“This is…what? Some sort of marketing thing?” If she’d wanted to catch him off guard it appeared she had succeeded.

"Sort of." She rocked back and forth a bit as she tried to find the words to describe it. Now that she was actively engaged in talking business, everything else seemed to fall away from her, including the fact that she was sitting in her living room, with a half masked vigilante in her PJs. "It's a combined effort, equal parts good for the city and good for DiSantiago Pharmaceuticals." She grimaced a bit as she continued.

"I have some criteria that I have to use during the selection process. We want a team that speaks to the people and to the camera. While our primary focus will be to lower the crime in the city, we have to do it with flair, style and heroes that demand the attention and respect of the Hudsonites. This report was to help me weed out the bad seeds, vigilantes that are too aggressive in their efforts and those that wouldn't appeal to the profile that my superiors require."

There was a significant pause before Ophilia continued. She was looking at him with that appraising eye again, imagining him in an interview with a magazine, the rich sound of his voice, his confident manner, his impressive physique. She gave one last thought to whether or not he was the one she wanted to lead the team, even then it wouldn't be a done deal. He would have to accept and she'd have to get Angelo's final approval, but if Nemesis agreed she knew she could take care of the rest.

There was an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as she made up her mind. "The reason I gave you that information, was because I wanted to see what you would do with it. I wanted to see if you were really out for justice, if you cared for the people that this was hurting. It was a test of sorts, I knew that I wanted you, but I had to make sure that the information I had was a true indicator of your character. I wanted to meet with you because I'd like to offer you a position on the team, and more than that, I'd like to offer you the opportunity to lead that team."

For once Nemesis seemed truly speechless. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut again and regarded the folder in his hands. He stared at it for a long while before suddenly standing up in one fluid motion, his staff sweeping into the crook of his arm.

Ophilia winced a bit as he stood, immediately assuming the worst. She really wanted him for this position and was already deciding what to say to keep him there if he started to leave. At the very least she would need her binder back.

“These others,” he gestured with the folder. “They’re being considered for this team of yours, as well?”

"Some of them are. To be truthful, I hadn't made any decisions other than you." She watched him intently as he absorbed everything that she had told him. "I think the leader needs to take part in the selection of the team. Some of the vigilantes on that list could never make the cut, they're too aggressive or wouldn't fit nicely enough with our image. We have contacted the Pentagon, in order to put out feelers to Soldier Boy. They will be passing on our information. I plan on securing him as the trainer for the team."

Nemesis turned and moved around the couch away from Ophilia, an unconscious effort not to intimidate her further. But he needed to move. Needed to pace. The apartment was too small. This wasn’t what he expected when he came here. Not at all. He couldn’t think. He needed to think.

“What if,” he began slowly, thoughtfully. “I just left with this folder?”

Ophilia stood up quickly at his question, or she wondered, if maybe it was a threat. She glanced quickly at her balcony, and then again at Nemesis, calculating in her mind what chances if any she would have of stopping him. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to do that. That folder could be detrimental if it fell into the wrong hands."

Nemesis simply cocked his head to the side. Even with his lower face exposed it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

For such a small woman, she seemed very sure of herself, as she began moving around the couch towards him. "Please sit down, or put down the folder." She managed a weak smile. "Please?"

He carried on as if he hadn’t heard. “You probably have as much information on local masks as anyone, and you’re probably the only one that has it all collated and sorted.” He held up the folder. “This is dangerous information to have.”

With a casual gesture his staff swung around to point at her. It was the first time he’d used it as anything other than a prop.

“Could you stop me if I wanted to leave?”

Ophilia couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath at his challenge. Her mind was swirling and she felt completely out of control. It reminded her of when her brother, Bastion, would hold something high up over his head, knowing that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get it unless she played dirty. She opened her mouth to reply, but the words that were always at her beck and call, seemed unwilling to comply. "Woul...I...Yes."

Nemesis held his pose for several long moments before the staff twirled back into place at his side. He smiled.

“Well, I guess that’s good information to have.” His voice was animated again, almost conversational—a far cry from the intensity he’d just shown--but he gave no sign of whether he believed her or not.

Ophilia didn't return his smile or relax when he moved his staff back into position. She decided right then that this man was too full of surprises and that letting her guard down again would be a bad idea. It wasn't that she found him physically threatening; nothing about his intentions spoke to her instincts in a manner that would indicate she should fear him. Instead, it was his annoying ability to sidestep her every move. She was notorious for her habits of planning and routine and was consistently rewarded with things going her way. Nemesis, however seized too much control of a situation to allow for any of her preparations to have the desired affect.

"Then let's talk," he said, making no move to sit down. "You've got a collection of names. Chances are you probably know how to contact most of them. This list," he waved the folder. "The one on top, that's your list of leaders, isn't it. The notes are why you don't want them in the front spot." It wasn't a question but he waited as if expecting some sort of reply.

"No." Ophilia's voice was petulant as a result of her mood, and her body language indicated that she was happy to have the opportunity to correct him. Her voice remained edgy as she continued, "The names are listed from top to bottom in order of public appeal or the potential for public appeal, since some are less well known than others in Hudson City. We didn't ask them to rate them for leadership abilities, most have secret identities and doing that level of investigation wasn't within the capabilities of this company."

Nemesis made a mental note to follow up on companies that did this sort of work. It would be very good to know who was out there gathering information on masks. And selling it, apparently.

"Ideally our leader would be somewhere at the top of the list, but from what I know of just a couple of them, they aren't right for that position. You were the first candidate that seemed like a possible fit, and I've been keeping tabs on you since then. Although, I obviously underestimated your ability to be cooperative. Regardless, I've put a great deal of time and preparation into planning our meeting. I'm not approaching you lightly." It almost seemed like she was trying to defend herself.

"Cooperative?!" Nemesis managed to scoff and laugh at the same time. "What'd you expect, me to roll over and beg for the chance to be your lapdog? There's a reason I wear a mask, lady, and it ain't because I love the feel of neoprene against stubble." He let his head fall back so that he was looking up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, obviously bringing his temper under control.

It took a great deal of control for Ophilia to keep her own anger in check. Inwardly she was seething, nobody called her lady, that was a dog's name. Regardless though, she was used to dealing with difficult people, and she knew that she could handle this, she knew that she could handle him. The whole scenario though, was spinning out of her control, and she had to remember that her main objective came before her DiSantiago pride.

"It wasn't my intention to offend you. I suspect that you catching me off guard this evening has had an ill effect on my mood and my patience. I'm not familiar with doing business in my PJs." Her voice was dry and had lost it's razor edge. "...and for the record, I don't expect you to be my lapdog.”

* * * * *

[to be continued...]