Welcome to Stormwatch

August 27th, 2014: The Wall and the Psycho briefly meet. Someone dies. The world ends. Monkies rule the world.

Edgar's Office

<A place with walls.>



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Mood Music:

The office is a place of extraordinary luxury and distinct masculinity. Leather, heavy wood, books lining the walls. The air is scented, but with nothing particularly overpowering, simply smoothing the air and keeping it filtered. This is partially due to the Doctor's habit of flouting conventional laws about smoking and indulging himself in between patients. When his secretary (blonde, leggy, short-skirted and intelligent only in the most functional of ways) escorts you in, you'll find the man looking out the windows. They're wall to ceiling, accommodating for his height, not forcing him to stretch or climb just for a view of the city.

"New York, in all her splendor," Edgar says, a glass of bourbon in his hand as he turns. Even at less than four feet in height, he projects a presence. Most people find it intimidating although Amanda Waller, of course, is not most people. "I believe this is normally where one makes a jest about how small everyone looks from up here. I don't find the humor in such things." he says, gesturing towards a small bar, "You may feel free to help yourself, if you like, Miss Waller. If you're a teetotaler, there's even soda and water in there. I make little use of them myself."

He moves behind his desk and mounts his chair, a series of simple steps making the act utterly natural and without making a clownish strain of the process as he settles into the leather seating. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I would feign ignorance of your existence, but neither of us are fools. I imagine we both know things about each other, since you asked for a meeting. The question is, what have you heard and what do you intend to do about it?"

It was elaborate, she had to give the good doctor that. In fact, she really didn't feel the need to have escorts this time. If someone really wanted to get to her, they would have gotten her by now. Sniped from a roof, car blown up, the works. Amanda wasn't untouchable, but she carried herself as if she was, though little did most know that she was as paranoid as they come. It wouldn't be readable upon her body movements however, for arms locked behind her back by wrists and eyes scan the room with a quick once over to commit to memory.

Silence, is really all she had for the man. One had to suffer the spiel of introductions, and while he spoke and gestured, her head immediately shook with a hand raising to refuse the offer of a drink. "I plan to do nothing." She finally murmurs, her voice as cold as winter. She takes a step forward now, much closer to the desk to have herself a seat, her hands moving to her middle to unbutton her suit jacket so that she could bend easy and plop into the chair just so. One pant covered leg lifts to cross over the other as she gives a slight up-nod of her chin. "Check your email. It's a profile on a certain person that I'm looking to acquire. Tell me what you think of her." It was a test, see. She wasn't going to tell him that it was -her- profile she was looking at.

Edgar Cizko doesn't need to probe at Amanda's psyche to get a quick glance, the mere contours of her psyche, unpenetrated, giving him a basic understanding of her emotional layout. Knowledge and power, used in combination. Most people had too much of one and too little of the other. That's what made Edgar so very effective. He possessed both.

He calls up his e-mail with a few keystrokes and takes a moment to read quietly. He takes longer than it actually requires, but she did ask him to read it and, while he formulates conclusions quickly, he isn't particularly fast to show his hand.

"I think that she needs to be examined by a professional. The profile is insufficiently vague, indicating the profiler to be either biased, inept or intimidated. I would never give a true assessment without examining someone myself. I understand there's such a thing as professional courtesy, but I've never been particularly courteous and many members of my profession are incompetent fools."

"But, from this scant information…ambitious, cunning, ruthless. Morally ambiguous, from a philosophical rather than pathological basis. She simply doesn't see the point of such restrictions, but she isn't psychologically incapable of following the rules of society, even if she cheats them when she can get away with it. Cautious. Likely to be either sexually promiscuous or virtually asexual, with nothing in between. Not a creature of moderation."

"And she should really try the bar, I do have some lovely Kentucky bourbon from the 19th century. A nice vintage, although I might understand your reticence to drink from Confederate casks."

Silence was fine with her. This does give her time to retrieve her phone from the insides of her pocket, her fingers quickly working at the touch screen and only glancing up every now and then to see if he was done assessing the profile. She shifts in her seat and clears her throat quietly, just a means to get more comfortable, and while one finger scrolls through the messages she's receiving, the other hand reaches up to brush a bit of hair behind her ear.

Once he speaks, however, she glances up and gives him her full attention, gaze leveled without showing a bit of emotion, lips silently forming into a thin line as her chin lowers, eyes narrowing. "I see."
It was a rare moment for Amanda. She was properly assessed and wasn't insulted in the slightest bit. Such a rare moment was met with an occasion; a smile. A smile that actually warms and softens hard features to fit with her slightly squared jaw. "I don't drink, not while on a business call." She does stand however, tugging down her jacket and replacing her phone, her gait taking her straight to the bar to fix herself a nice, cold glass of water. Ice included.

"Despite your unsavory conduct in your chosen profession.."


"I think you would be a good fit for my organization."


It was like she made herself at home, especially around that bar, maneuvering about it as if she were making a drink for two. It would be just for one.

Water was soon joined with the ice and quietly sipped, savoring the chill for but a moment. "Of course, you should already know the spiel and what I would possibly do to get someone like you in my corner, but I will forgoe that for a much kinder, gentler method."

Edgar Cizko sips on his own drink, more than happy to indulge his own taste for alcohol, professional or not. He found this modern obsession with sobriety ridiculous. Most of the history of the species was spent soused to the gills. Thomas Jefferson likely had not a single moment of clarity while writing the Declaration of Independence. True genius cannot be hampered by anything so simple as a little alcohol.

"My 'unsavory' conduct, I'm sure, is what brought me to your attention in the first place. I have been quite discreet, but, from what I do know of you, which is less than I'll insinuate but likely more than you think, discretion is the very water in which you swim. Secrets and lies, the stock in trade of psychiatrists and spies."

"I'd certainly be interested in an offer. My financial expectations lean towards the expensive, but you already knew that. If you're planning to use me for my abilities, then you intend to be dealing with people you find even more untrustworthy than myself. The well-trained, heavily armed, super-humanly powered scum of the Earth. My job being to make sure that they're not ready to explode in an embarrassing fashion that leaves egg on your well-sculpted face. That or just keep them on a very short leash. So, that's the only question I have."

"Do you want to hire me to therapize…or to lobotomize?"

"Secrets and lies, yes. But also a pattern that only few people can recognize. And those few people will soon be in my employ, in which there may be a chance.." She stops herself, her lips puckering out as the glass is lifted and given a slight twirl with a quick movement of her wrist. The ice within the glass clashes beautifully, and soon the water was sipped and finished off with a few quick gulps, the glass soon held to her chest as she carefully picks and chooses her words. As always.

His last question doesn't take her by surprise however, in fact, it causes her brows to knit downward almost angrily then relax, the ice within the glass soon deposited where it need be, the glass held on with the intention to walk right out of the office with. "Both."

Those words were spoke with confidence, a lifted chin and straight back, no smile. All business. "You will have a chance to do what you so love, but there will also be a lot more leg work behind what you are possibly expecting." She pauses. "Or possibly you already expect. I will need a full work up upon anyone I keep in my employ, not to mention the targets that we may acquire. Your level of professionalism and the swiftness in which you assess a particular subject is very impressive. And I will say that I already have a person that I need a psychological profile on."

She pushes her way from the bar now to take up her previous seat, leg lifted, crossed, glass set atop of her boned knee. "Or should I say persons. They call themselves the Teen Titans. But there are three in particular that I'm interested in. Check your email."

Edgar Cizko brings up the profiles with an amused smile, flicking over them. "As I said, I'll want to take a personal look, but at a glance…a rather motley bunch. And psychologically codependent, some of them, a shared past that can be exploited. If you have one, you have them all. But it also means if you harm one, you harm them all. And, judging from what little I have heard, you're probably quite unhappy with them at the moment. Especially the one who dared to shout your name on television."

"I have done some classified work, as I'm sure you know, mostly in experimental and military assessment. People who go into the field in this line of work are inherently insane. No reasonable person would place themselves routinely in harm's way for as little compensation as they receive. But I've become quite adept at molding such proclivities to suit the needs of those who pay me. In this case, you, Miss Waller. So long as your directives and expectations are clear…and I am allowed to continue to indulge my own recreational activities…we should have no problems."

"Pay close attention to the one that shouted my name on television. I believe that he is already unhinged." A slight shift of her knee brings the cup toppling down the thigh and towards her middle, which was taken up and placed atop again. Just for internal funsies. "Contrary to popular belief, I abhor violence." Those words were spoken to a memory of the day of meeting the Titans, a slight tick shown but.. Slender shoulders shrug easily. While her stature says relaxed, her face speak another tone.

"We will have no problems. So long as you give me what I need and you'll have what you need at your disposal. Know that you will be watched, naturally, as well as the people you surround yourself with." She grunts a little as she pushes herself to a stand, shoulders working in circles as her hand drops to button her jacket into place. The glass was still held upon, and tucked within her pocket as she turns to head towards the door.

To continue her needs, his first job of course, she speaks as she walks towards the door. "I want full psychological workups on Alexander Aaron, The Flash, and the other one. The last is highly volatile, easily ruined. Find a way to do so. To isolate him. Drive him to the brink and into the dark. Only then will he possibly be of some use."

She opens the door once she reaches it, turning half way to glance at the small, big man, a little quirk upon her lips. "You'll receive directions to the facilities shortly, Edgar Cizko. For I expect your findings in due time." She turns again, hands soon slipping into the pockets of her navy blue slacks, low heels clicking against the smooth floor as she departs. "Welcome to Stormwatch." She says, before disappearing from view.

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