These deceptions we play [active]

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Zexion and the Master
Content: Zexion upholds his end of a deal
Setting: Outside City Hall
Time: The morning after this post
Warnings: Deception, illusion, the Master's crazy

To be quite honest, Zexion hadn't intended for things to end up as they had. He'd only really left himself anonymous so as to properly chastise the man without casting suspicion on his journal. Ian would hardly have spoken as he had. That being said, when such a promising opportunity all but landed in his lap, he hadn't been about to let it get away from him. He could let the new mayor know of the events that transpired later, or perhaps see if he couldn't convince Naminé into working her magic to make him believe that he had truly been there. But that would come later. First he would need to 'prove' himself to a madman.

Of course, he was hardly going to appear as he truly was. No, that would have been tantamount to suicide. He was known by appearance, although only to the longer term residents. Still, he wasn't going to risk even that, and so he had carefully hidden himself away under a patchwork thing of illusion and truth until the man who was standing there wasn't Zexion of the Organization at all. No, the man standing outside the thorny barrier surrounding was one of the natives of the city, blond-haired and blue-eyed, standing proud and tall (or rather, taller than Zexion's own less-than-impressive frame) and looking quite thoroughly disinterested in the whole affair. He could have been anyone, but for the red flower sitting at his lapel, as fake as the flowers in Paixao ever were.

And true to his word, he was perfectly alone. One solitary man against a nebulous unknown, but neither Zexion nor Praetoris much cared for that. What mattered was that a debt was fulfilled and point proven. The rest would see to itself, in time.

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[mastertemplate.livejournal.com]

The Master had been perched on the rooftops throughout the entire morning, failing to rest himself with sleep or food. He wanted to stay hungry and driven in his conversation with "Praetoris." While he was confused as to whether the one who had spoken to him anonymously was Marcus or if the new talkative member of the message boards had been elected, he knew that he had a date to keep. He was going to gain answers one way or the other, whether it would be from the mayor himself or someone who was willing to go out of their way to imitate them. The reasoning on their part was beyond consideration when it came to the frayed sanity of The Master.

He spotted the flower on a person from his gargoyle perspective and grinned. Landing on the ground with a quick thud, he began trudging his way past the crowds on his way to his host.

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

While the man he was pretending to be might not have noticed it, Zexion spotted the blur of motion coming down off of the rooftops. Either there was more at work here than first there seemed or his as-of-yet unknown contact had a habit of lurking on the roofs. Both perfectly possible, and both nothing immediately worth alarm.

(Oh, he could smell the rising darkness, deep and twisted and unsettling in ways that he would have had to have been darkness-blind to not feel and understand, but forewarned was forearmed. He wasn't about to trust this many any further than he could throw Lexaeus.)

Of course, he couldn't greet the man before he arrived without giving himself away, so he simply waited, his face not moving from its mask of impatience and boredom.

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He had finally reached the point of space only feet in front of his host. He looked him over and took a deep breath in, as though "Praetoris" had a scent that contained all the answers he was looking for. With a look of disgust and contempt, The Master looked to the disguised man and walked around to stand immediately beside him and look straight ahead as though he were just joining in the bird-watching.

He waited patiently for his new friend to make the first move.

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

He wouldn't have to wait very long. Zexion wasn't about to make much of a point of actually turning to look at the Master, but he was well aware that the man was there and that he was (presumably) the person that he was here to meet. The rest was nothing more than so much extraneous detail. Things that could be filled out later.

"Good morning," he began, in a voice that wasn't at all his own. No sense in doing things by halves, after all.

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The Master arched his brows as though "Praetoris" had just woken him from a peaceful sleep. His eyes continued to look out onto the various people in the crowd, but he slightly turned his head and slipped a response back. "Haven't got any food on you, do you?" he asked with a deeper and more brusque voice. He didn't care to have conversations on the quality of the day or the inconsistent nature of the weather.

"No matter," he recanted, "That's not what we're here for. I assume you're Praetoris?"

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

Of course he didn't have any food on him. It wasn't like he made a habit of carrying various sorts of things around, and even if he did it would most likely end up being things that were a good deal less edible. Books, for example. However, since he had no real idea of what Praetoris might have been likely to carry, he had wisely opted to bring nothing but himself and his abilities.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," he answered simply. It was, of course, a lie, but he had neither heart nor emotions to betray him. Lying was second nature to him, and if this were to work, it would be that he would be relying on.

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"Then allow me to introduce myself formally. My name is The Master," he said with a secretive smile.

"Now, we've down to business. You're going to tell me how it is you've conned every single one of these people. I've scanned for alien tech and got nothing, so the only thing remotely alien about this place is how unalien it is. You're nothing special. No clear sign of a race within the jurisdiction of the useless Shadow Proclamation. Nothing special about you at all," he said with an insulting curiosity.

"The very least you can do is tell me who you really are." He continued looking out to the busy people with his intense golden eyes. "And no tricks. I'd hate to terminate our conversation too soon."

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

Zexion could have laughed at that. Of course he wasn't going to find 'alien' tech. Everything was part and parcel of that which belonged in this world, and therefore there was nothing to read as alien. Unless of course the master had meant alien to his frame of reference, in which case it was quite possible that the magic inherent in the world got in the way.

That or it was nothing more than an intimidation attempt, which wouldn't have surprised Zexion in the least. Not after he'd introduced himself as 'The Master.'

"If you called me out here simply to ask my name, you could have asked on the forums," he answered, letting a slight note of annoyance slip into his voice. He'd hardly been the one to call the meeting, after all.

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The Master turned with a face of disbelief at "Praetoris" and his sense of annoying dismissal. "Forgive my manners, I'll talk a little clearer so you can understand better. Maybe use smaller words," he said while giving his head a greater turn to look at the disguised man. "When you tell me who you really are, I don't need your name. I need to know who you are. Are you aiming for something, are you a hustler, are you really wanting to be mayor, are you the six fingered man, you see? Your name is about as useful as chocolate teapot."

He put his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall of the building behind them. "Just tell me, Boss...who exactly do you work for?"

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

Who was he? He was many things, to be picked up and left by the waysides as needed. He'd been a scientist, and before that a quiet young boy. He was a schemer and illusionist. He was far more people than the city might have ever guessed, walking around (as he was now) under a respectable and healthy set of illusions. Misplaced spark-mage or curious scholar or sometimes even simply (as now) one of the blue-eyed, blond-haired citizens of the city. Or nothing, if he wanted to not be seen, though that was a rare occasion.

And he was part of the darker undercurrent of the city. The hidden side, pulling threads together like a spider sitting at the seat of its web. A secret of the dark places, that, since that was a tale never to be told. It was only to be guessed at by those who saw him for who he truly was and those precious few who were in on the grand schemes that played out behind the 'skin' of the city.

Needless to say, The Master was none of the these, and so the answer his (Praetoris'-but-not) lips gave was a far more simple one.

"I'm a citizen of the city."

For once, it was the truth. Perfect and utter truth, though he hadn't applied for citizenry under the name he was born under or the one he was pretending to. But when you got right down to it, it had still been him in the registry office that day and that was enough for his purposes.

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The Master watched "Praetoris" out of the corner of his eye and saw the depth to his thoughts. There was more to his answer than the man would ever let on, but that was of no matter to The Master. In fact, it was rather humorous to him. He always enjoyed letting his opponents believe they actually possessed a rare chance of coming out ahead. It was what made the plucky Martha Jones endearing when she was traveling the world to save The Doctor. It was what made the arrogant humans who captured him blind to the fact that he was turning their immortality plot into his dominance of the entire human race.

The answer made The Master turn away from the supposed mayor of Paixao with a disgruntled look. Then, after a moment's pause, he snickered and proceeded to give a hearty laugh back at his acquaintance. "That's good. Rich, even."

He took the opportunity to make the first change in stance and have his body facing "Praetoris." Even though he wasn't quite as tall or well-built, The Master did bear some form of presence by his sheer insanity alone. "While it may look as though I would be satisfied with a cute answer, it's not quite I was looking for. Not quite worth the effort of killing your entire city. Not quite, not quite, not quite..."

He continued sputtering that same phrase again and again, softer each time until it looked as though he were stuck in loop with his lips barely moving. He shook his head like a dog shaking water off its coat, and then said quietly, "Excuse me a moment."

He pulled out a small device slightly larger than a typical pen and shot a small laser beam that struck the shoe of one of the townspeople walking by. It left a black burn mark and smoke at the point near where the beam hit.

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

"It's the truth," Zexion answered simply, with a shrug. A narrow truth, but a truth nonetheless. Not that he had any delusions of the truth being the one thing that would save him here, mind you. It was merely that of the various options available to him it seemed by far the most appropriate. If he wished to get through this relatively unscathed it would be best to not provoke the man.

Unfortunately, things were never that simple, as the Master pulled ... something ... out of his pocket and fired on one of the citizens of the city. A coward's method of drawing a reaction, and for once Zexion didn't have to fake the disdain and annoyance in his reaction. How dare he attack something so useful?

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

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"Don't mince your words for me, Mayor," he said through gritted teeth. "I know how it is. Being the mastermind, working in the shadows, playing with puppets, a master of disguise, BEEN THERE, DONE THAT."

As if the crowd around them hadn't been panicked enough, The Master fired two more shots in the air and maniacally laughed. Like gazelles hearing a predator coming, the wide-eyed people ran in several different directions from the two of them, including one citizen who hobbled on their lone good foot. Once scattered, only a few spare onlookers hunched around corners or peered through windows to glance on the street. With the laser screwdriver still pointed in directions of potential targets, The Master peered over to gauge the other's reaction. While doing this, his life force drained further, giving "Praetoris" a good look at the Time Lord's translucent skeleton with bloodshot eyes of hate and malice.

"Your move. The truth or your city," he said, wagging a finger to and fro like a pendulum. It meant so many things, and each time he pointed in a different direction, he was listing the possibilities in his eyes for "Praetoris" to see.

Truth or city. True or false. Life and death. Tick and tock. TICKtaptaptaptapTOCKtaptaptaptapTICKtaptaptaptapTOCKtaptaptaptapTICK...