{RQRF} - Prologue

[deannawol]

Title: Rexque Quondam, Rexque Futurus
Chapter: Prologue
Words: 1,100


~~~


She sat, a cup of black coffee warming her hand as the other rested on the corner of the morning paper. She had tried to get used to the new blends that the world had deigned to invent but nothing was as good as the slightly bitter taste of that first cup of unsweetened coffee in the morning. She took another sip before replacing the cup on the accompanying saucer and bending slightly closer to the text in front of her, examining the fine print of the stock listings, searching for her company's index.


Neatly manicured, blood red lacquered nails traced down the list quickly. She tapped lightly at the text, highlighting and enlarging it, before sitting back up and smiling. The price had risen another fifteen points, and there was an accompanying article about their current expansion plan. She examined the photograph to the left of the news piece, a group shot of the board of directors at the Humanitarian Awards last spring, looking at her smiling visage critically.

She had changed a lot since her birth all those years ago. The long brown hair was gone, long ago replaced by a short, layered look. Even the colour had changed, nanoteched blonde even before it had been fashionable. No one had ever dared to suggest that she was behind the times. It was quite humorous considering her origins.

Her face, the only part of her that had not changed, was still youthful and unlined. She knew rumours circulated about surgical redesigns and wrinkle fighting nanoware, but they were all lies. Nothing more unnatural than her own hand had ever touched her face. She hadn't needed to get the treatments. It was just another side effect, albeit a helpful one, of her current predicament.

She smiled to herself as she looked around the café, crossing her legs almost absently, letting her short business suit skirt ride higher on her stockinged thighs until just a hint of the lace tops were visible. She watched as the businessman at the next table flicked a glance at her. He looked up from his paper, the text forgotten as he stared openly. She smiled as she caught his eye before letting her eyes drop back down to the paper. Not bad, she thought to herself, for a woman approaching her fifteenth century.

She touched the corner of the newspaper in front of her and the page changed. She had to admit that she missed the sound of the paper crinkling, the annoyance when it didn't fold quite the way you wanted. Virtual newspapers, virtual everything now. It was the way of the world, she presumed. A recent invention but given the state of the world around her, it was only logical. Paper was a thing of the past, used for so many millennia but now more priceless than any stone that could be simply hewn from the ground.

She scanned the page quickly, taking another sip of coffee. More news from the various war fronts covered every available inch of space on the page, but now it had been, at least, relegated to the middle pages. Too many years of wars left people tired and apathetic. After all, who cared if another thousand troops were killed on another continent? Well, apart from her, who cared? She had, what you might call, a personal interest in conflict, and not for the reasons that the Humanitarian of the Year committee thought.

The world had changed a lot over the years. Countries and empires had risen and fallen. Nuclear wastelands spread like cancer across the world. The Middle East, once the scene of several large-scale conflicts, was now nothing but glass. Vast swatches of the North American Alliance and the Oceania Contingent were now uninhabitable, the result of terrorism and discontent, both foreign and domestic. War blossomed and bloomed on several continents, in several countries. Currently, the hot zone was what used to be China, currently called the Imperial Sinoean Republic. Thousands of troops from the Imperial Forces and the United Earth Forces fought daily while people looked the other way.

The world seemed to be right on track to make itself nothing but rubble inside another fifty years and it was only partially her fault. The right words in the right ear, some credit changing hands and you too could start your own personal war, and she always knew exactly what to whisper and to whom.

Another tap of the screen in front of her and the page changed again. A quick scan of the page was enough to dispel her good mood. Her lips curled into a cruel sneer. She read and re-read the headline, her hand clenching into a fist.

'Camelot Security Scoops New Government Contract.'

She cursed silently, suddenly wishing for real paper so that she could crumple the broadsheet in her hand or tear it into a thousand little pieces. Fifteen centuries and they were still a thorn in her side. It didn't seem to matter what business venture she pursued, they were there, either a step ahead of her or biting at her heels. She hated them with every ouch of bile she contained within her. She would call them her nemeses but that would grant them more power than they ever deserved.

She scanned the article again and saw that her company had been underbid yet again by her most troublesome rivals. She stabbed the screen, minimising the paper and called up her email account. She paused for a second before drafting an email to her assistant. It would be easy to send a counter offer and undercut them as they had done. Her finger hovered over the send button as she reviewed the mail. She paused, her mind working overtime.

Maybe this wasn't the way to deal with them. Maybe some thing more… direct needed to be done. A plan formed in her mind. Her lips curled up into a small smile as she sat back, finishing her cup of coffee. She dismissed the email and signed off. She slotted her cred card as she gathered up her belongings. Stepping out of the café, she pulled out her silver and pearl cell phone and dialled a number from memory, sitting into her chauffeur driven car at the same time, listening to the ringing tone at the other end of the line. A gruff voice answered.

"We need to talk!"

She flipped her phone closed, not caring about any response and tapped it against her chin, a smile on her face.

Life was about to get interesting… Much more interesting!


Crossposted to theramblingmind

Comments

[omegar.livejournal.com]

how intresting

[deannawol.livejournal.com]

Interesting good or interesting meh?

[omegar.livejournal.com]

i don't comment on meh!

[deannawol.livejournal.com]

So I'll take that as a good interesting then?

[lambach.livejournal.com]

Intriguing stuff, ancients in a future world, but what's their plans?
I like it, just enough to get interested but not enough to really know anything, the ideal prologue.

[deannawol.livejournal.com]

That was the second draft of the prologue and was designed to try and illustrate some of the differences without revealing exactly who was talking, what she was apart from being about 15 centuries old, and setting up the plot for the next part. I think it did it.

*snuggles*

[sora-ishida.livejournal.com]

Oooooh, I am intrigued~

Looking forward to reading more, hon!