1963-06-27 - Invitation at Gunpoint
Summary: Emma Frost finds a mysterious visitor waiting in her private office.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
emma bucky 


How the man snuck into Emma's private offices is a good question. He certainly wasn't in there when she left, and her receptionist— a fairly observant young woman— would have said something if a scruffy man had simply waltzed in.

So when Emma Frost returns from a meeting and closes the door to her office, there's only a tingling at the back of her neck to warn her of the presence of another person before Bucky steps out from the tenth-story balcony. He's a thoroughly scruffy looking man, unkempt, in a trenchcoat, a hat on his brow. His hair looks like it had a military crop a few months ago but is tending towards curly rambunctiousness after weeks of unattendance.

"Miss Frost," he says, and if there was any question of his character in her mind, it must stop then— it doesn't take a talented psychic to recognize the killer instinct in this man's eyes as he focuses on Emma. No imminent violence rings against her senses… but he fairly screams 'predator'.

"I need a few minutes of your time. It's a topic best kept between the two of us," he says in a guttural, rasping voice, eyes flickering once to the closed door behind her.

*

Emma Frost raises an eyebrow. "You don't really look like my exercise coach. Not enough flowers/" she comments, as dryly as she can, before gesturing her hand towards her chair. "Please, as long as you've helped yourself in, feel free to sit down." She walks over towards the wall of her office and leans against it. "How did you get in - up or down?"

*

"You are attempting to scan my mind," the stranger states, in those hollow tones. He draws a firearm— a snub-nosed revolver— and aims it low from the hip, but his stance is one that seems confident he could hit a fly in air from the negligently prepared position. He does move to the chair and sits in it, facing Emma. "I have taken precautions that will inhibit your talents." His accent is very hard to place, not quite English, but not distinctly European, either. "If I sense you attempting to subvert me or influence me, I will shoot you in the head. I am very good shot." And -that- rings very roundly as truth.

"This is all compliment. I am not here to threaten. This is to make sure you listen to me," the dark-eyed man says, shifting the pistol grip very slightly. "I have business proposition for you. Please. Sit," he says, the words sounding clipped and almost like an order. It's as if he's making a pretense at politeness, using the words without knowing what they really mean.

*

Emma lets the eyebrow drop, and resumes a neutral expression on her face. Poker is most definately her game. She sits down in her chair, slowly - and crosses her legs. "I see you've prepared quite well." she comments, simply. "And you've gone to a great deal of trouble. I'm listening."

*

"Frost Enterprises profits two million dollars yearly," the stranger states. "You report only six hundred thousand to American IRS. My proposal will profit you extra one point five million US yearly, with cash incentive for performance and specific goals."

He waits a beat to see how that piques Emma's interest, then drives on.

"You are position to influence social and economic policy in United States," he tells Emma. "I know that you have had had difficult expanding into Eastern Europe. In exchange for your assistance— I waive embargo on American goods and research into East Germany. This is very lucrative contract, and you would be first American to engage in free trade with the Eastern Bloc nations without national tariff— or need to report income to United States IRS." He cocks a brow back at Emma. "Interested?"

*

Not a hair shifts on her face. Emma frost buries her emotions and reactions inside. But for someone like Bucky, perhaps a cold demanor isn't enough - she's interested. But she doesn't want it to show. Then again, she doesn't want anything to show. "Perhaps." she says, after a moment's pause. "I would have to consider it. What sort of influence would you want?"

*

The man reaches clumsily into his pocket with his left arm, and sets down a manila folder. Despite the weather, he's wearing a black leather glove on that hand. Even close examination bears little information about him— he's dressed rather shabbily, though he would never pass close examination as a 'hobo' or the like. Not with those eyes.

"Your first assignment is corporate espionage. Roxxon Oil is prepared to release a new mechanical fuel separator system that make petroleum sorters ten percent more efficient. Delay their release and Frost Enterprises will be better position to release new computer-controlled system. You will see overseas investor prepared to give four hundred thousand US Dollars to distribution as silent partner. If you obtain new mechanical filter— cash bonus to you of two hundred thousand, payable in unmarked gold." He cocks a brow at Emma. "Acceptable?"

*

"Acceptable." Frost says cooly. "As you said, its mutally beneficial. Our interests, it would seem, cooincide." She opens the folder and looks it over, quickly, flipping through it. "I'm going to assume you'll be watching enough so that, after the filter is obtained, it can be handed off. I can take care of….local surveillance and security risks, thats not a factor."

"I will contact again soon with information. You are familiar with dead drop?" The man nods at Emma. "You will be given information for deposit of filter once obtained. There are also cash bonus for any other industry secret retrieved from Roxxon facilities, but major item needed is filter. I prefer not to meet in person again," he says, rising from the chair. The gun stays perfectly level, despite all the polite chatter. "For major operation, I will approach. If you require urgent mission approval outside parameters, I will leave contact information for me. Gold will be delivered via diplomatic courier. Questions?"

*

"No." Emma says, waving her hand. "And next time, don't point a gun at me. I think you'll find simple conversation more productive then irritating me." She flips through the file several more times. "Tell your superiors that Frost Enterprises is happy to do business."

*

"Business. You are Emma Frost," the man says, moving to the balcony. "You have gun on me at all times. I know what you can do with your mind." He turns his back on Emma, finally, and then… simply leaps off the edge of the balcony.

And just like that, Emma's mysterious new benefactor is gone.

*

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