Post by Roland on Aug 29, 2009 21:53:06 GMT -6
Roland watched from the corner as Darian paced nervously in the center of the small, glass-walled room. The room was one of countless meeting rooms, part of what had once been a state-of-the-art convention center, equipped to handle crowds numbering in the tens of thousands, with a main event floor big enough for even the largest of those crowds..
Now, however, as with most things he’d seen in this world, the building (which Darian continued to call by its original name, the Grand Oledian Convention Center, and which Roland thought of simply as The Hall) had fallen into a state of serious disrepair. The roof, which had once covered the entire massive area of the conference floor, had either caved in or blown away over the years, and the canvas cover had long ago been scavenged, leaving a twisted metal skeleton on the ground.
As damaged as the building was, however, Roland knew it would serve their purposes well. It had been nearly a week since the New Empire had moved into the Department of Water and Power, and Roland had spent the time watching Darian, and all of the New Empire, with a careful eye.
Above all else, Darian was a dedicated man. Not particularly passionate, but if something was necessary for his ideals to succeed, he would commit the resources needed to ensure it happened. Also, Darian’s military experience had defined him, and contributed both to his beliefs and his style of leadership. That much, at least, Roland respected in the man.
He had also, through extended conversation with Darian, learned some of the details of the Etrahn War. The conflict had been a long one, and had brought the world to approximately 10% of its original population. At least, that was the best estimate anyone had come up with. While the technology of both world powers at the start of the war was stunning, even by Roland’s standards, by the end of the conflict, it was a shambles, a ruined husk of its former glory. Occasionally someone would come across some of these ancient marvels, but it was a rare person indeed who had the know-how necessary to repair them, let alone use them. Among other things, Roland took note of this, especially.
Finally, he had learned, through Darian, the full capabilities of the New Empire, as well as the political layout of the City at present. With nearly 200 members (and an effective, if needlessly passive, recruitment program), the New Empire was one of the largest and best-organized gangs in the city. However, it seemed that the gang’s strength in numbers served to compensate for a lack of other resources, especially when compared to some of the other groups in the City.
It seemed that every gang, save the New Empire, specialized in something, be it weapons, narcotics, protection rackets, etc. The New Empire, in contrast, seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades, which seemed to suit Darian’s goals just fine. From what he’d heard of these other gangs, Roland assumed most were small, perhaps 50 members on the upper end of the scale. It was these smaller gangs that Roland wished to speak to, and that desire was the reason he, Darian, and the gang leader’s bodyguards were there.
Through small, one-man messenger runs, Roland had tried to spread word to every gang he’d heard about, inviting them to a meeting at the Hall. He’d left most of the details intentionally vague, hoping that these smaller gangs, which were most likely splinter groups of larger gangs led by inexperienced rebels, would take the bait. The only solid details he’d given were the location, and the condition that the meeting was held on neutral ground, and that no one would be hurt.
Roland’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft ding of a bell, one he’d rigged up above the main entrance to the Hall. The sound brought a smile to his face, and he raised to hand to get Darian’s attention. Once he had it, he directed the older man to a seat, one of 16 arranged around the table in the room. The bodyguards remained by the door to the room, one of them opening the door just as a group of young men, the oldest perhaps in his early 20s, reached it. The group stood awkwardly for a moment, realizing the element of surprise had been lost, before filing in.
Roland’s grin grew wider. These men were easy to read, and the nervous looks on their faces told him that calling this meeting had been a very good idea. They’d be easily intimidated, manipulated, folded to his…Darian’s, will, just the way he…they, needed.
Now, however, as with most things he’d seen in this world, the building (which Darian continued to call by its original name, the Grand Oledian Convention Center, and which Roland thought of simply as The Hall) had fallen into a state of serious disrepair. The roof, which had once covered the entire massive area of the conference floor, had either caved in or blown away over the years, and the canvas cover had long ago been scavenged, leaving a twisted metal skeleton on the ground.
As damaged as the building was, however, Roland knew it would serve their purposes well. It had been nearly a week since the New Empire had moved into the Department of Water and Power, and Roland had spent the time watching Darian, and all of the New Empire, with a careful eye.
Above all else, Darian was a dedicated man. Not particularly passionate, but if something was necessary for his ideals to succeed, he would commit the resources needed to ensure it happened. Also, Darian’s military experience had defined him, and contributed both to his beliefs and his style of leadership. That much, at least, Roland respected in the man.
He had also, through extended conversation with Darian, learned some of the details of the Etrahn War. The conflict had been a long one, and had brought the world to approximately 10% of its original population. At least, that was the best estimate anyone had come up with. While the technology of both world powers at the start of the war was stunning, even by Roland’s standards, by the end of the conflict, it was a shambles, a ruined husk of its former glory. Occasionally someone would come across some of these ancient marvels, but it was a rare person indeed who had the know-how necessary to repair them, let alone use them. Among other things, Roland took note of this, especially.
Finally, he had learned, through Darian, the full capabilities of the New Empire, as well as the political layout of the City at present. With nearly 200 members (and an effective, if needlessly passive, recruitment program), the New Empire was one of the largest and best-organized gangs in the city. However, it seemed that the gang’s strength in numbers served to compensate for a lack of other resources, especially when compared to some of the other groups in the City.
It seemed that every gang, save the New Empire, specialized in something, be it weapons, narcotics, protection rackets, etc. The New Empire, in contrast, seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades, which seemed to suit Darian’s goals just fine. From what he’d heard of these other gangs, Roland assumed most were small, perhaps 50 members on the upper end of the scale. It was these smaller gangs that Roland wished to speak to, and that desire was the reason he, Darian, and the gang leader’s bodyguards were there.
Through small, one-man messenger runs, Roland had tried to spread word to every gang he’d heard about, inviting them to a meeting at the Hall. He’d left most of the details intentionally vague, hoping that these smaller gangs, which were most likely splinter groups of larger gangs led by inexperienced rebels, would take the bait. The only solid details he’d given were the location, and the condition that the meeting was held on neutral ground, and that no one would be hurt.
Roland’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft ding of a bell, one he’d rigged up above the main entrance to the Hall. The sound brought a smile to his face, and he raised to hand to get Darian’s attention. Once he had it, he directed the older man to a seat, one of 16 arranged around the table in the room. The bodyguards remained by the door to the room, one of them opening the door just as a group of young men, the oldest perhaps in his early 20s, reached it. The group stood awkwardly for a moment, realizing the element of surprise had been lost, before filing in.
Roland’s grin grew wider. These men were easy to read, and the nervous looks on their faces told him that calling this meeting had been a very good idea. They’d be easily intimidated, manipulated, folded to his…Darian’s, will, just the way he…they, needed.