Nocturne dabbles in politics

[Jordanna]

The strike on the weapons shipment had occurred at a particularly inconvenient time for Nicholas Tiernan. He had an appointment that day with mayoral candidate James Marcus Cole.

The time had come in the election cycle when Tiernan quietly flexed his muscles, introducing his chosen candidates to the price of power. It was all very simple, really: a casual conversation, a subtle understanding, a renewal of the investment Tiernan had made in every elected office in the city for more than ten years.

To soothe his foul temper, Tiernan ordered several vases of flowers to be brought up from his garden--access to which was denied to him during full daylight, due to his sensitive eyes. He then occupied himself for nearly an hour, arranging the flowers, breathing in their fresh, sweet fragrance. At last, in a calmer mood, he returned to his desk and began browsing through his files about James Cole.

There were interesting gaps in his information on Cole that made Tiernan very curious indeed.

[skybright]

"I'm serious, Marcus. Play this one right and the big office is practically yours. Tiernan's got a lot of pull with the mutant voters, and if we can pull those votes from . . ."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Mickey." James Marcus Cole interrupted his campaign manager, "Especially since we had this same conversation," he checked his watch, "Ten minutes ago, when I left the office." He chuckled into the cell phone. "Don't you ever do anything when I'm not there?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Although his telepathic gift didn't work over the telephone, Marcus knew that the thought Why can't you take this campaign seriously? was drifting through the other man's head -- that being Mickey Koopman's standard response to everything anyone else said, did, or thought about Cole's mayoral campaign.

At length Mickey gave a martyred sigh and said "Okay, just . . . play it like we talked about, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Mick." Cole snapped the cell phone shut and slipped it into the inner pocket of his well-tailored suit. Then, he stepped into the lobby of the Tiernan Enterprises building.

Being a mutant himself, Cole was more than aware of the sway Tiernan had over the mutant community -- and of how valuable Tiernan's moral and financial backing could be. He also knew that Tiernan rarely saw anyone, mayoral candidate or otherwise; he'd been surprised (to say the least) when Tiernan's assistant had called and requested an appointment.

Mickey had been ecstatic, rambling on about how this was sure to win them the mutant vote; Marcus hadn't had the heart to mention that they were more or less assured that, anyway -- especially since both major Party candidates had come out in opposition to mutant-rights bills in the previous year.

Still, it never hurt to have backers. Cole smiled charmingly at the svelte blonde behind the reception desk. "James Marcus Cole," He announced, "I have an eleven o'clock appointment with Mister Tiernan."

[Jordanna]

The receptionist had been given instructions to show this guest the utmost charm and civility. With a dazzling smile that was far from her usual blunt indifference, she nodded. "Yes sir. Mister Tiernan is waiting for you. Go right on up."

[skybright]

Cole couldn't help a wry half-smile at the wave of false cheerfulness that rolled off the receptionist; he "heard" a lot of it, of course -- especially when people found out who he was -- but he'd never really get used to it.

He quickly widened the half-smile into a full one (no use spoiling the image) and bit back the urge to ask the woman not to think quite so loudly next time. "Thank you very much."

The guard sitting between the elevators gave off boredom and mild hostility to the world-at-large; more or less the standard for men in his profession.

The elevator was fast and smooth-running; Cole straightened his tie as he stepped off on Tiernan's floor and approached the office of New York's most mysterious financier.

[Jordanna]

The receptionist had alerted Tiernan that Cole was on the way up. When the knock came at his office door, he neatly slid his file on the candidate into his desk drawer and stood up. "Please come in, Mister Cole."

[skybright]

Cole entered the office and closed the door behind him, nodding cordially. "How do you do, Mister Tiernan?"

As he stepped closer to the desk Cole waited for the other man's thoughts to roll over him; anyone who suggested that telepaths shouldn't "read" people's minds clearly misunderstood the idea: it wasn't an action but a sense, one Cole could no more shut off than he could have consciously stopped hearing the other man's words.

Surprisingly, Tiernan seemed genuinely welcoming; there was ambition and scheming hidden behind the hospitality (when wasn't there?) but no false joviality. In addition to which, the man was (thankfully) a very quiet thinker -- at least for now.

Cole extended his hand over the desk, smiling. "I'll admit I was shocked when my office recieved your call. I was given to understand that you don't meet with anybody -- not even movie brats with upstart political leanings."

[Jordanna]

"That rumor is somewhat exaggerated," Tiernan replied, shaking Cole's hand lightly. Under most conditions he had an aversion to physical contact, but this was an important meeting.

"You see, in my own way, I take a very active role in politics, Mister Cole," he went on, seating himself and gesturing for Cole to take the chair across from him. "I consider it a vital key to looking after the interests of... well, shall we say, a group of people whom I've made my particular cause?"

[skybright]

Cole chuckled as he sat down. "We can say that, Mister Tiernan -- or, if you'd prefer, we can skip all the needless skirting the issue and say mutants. I'm sure one of the reasons your office called mine is that I've made no secret out of my own feelings on mutant-human relations."

The brush of brief physical contact had effectively upped the "volume" of Tiernan's thoughts; he was mildly amused by Cole's bluntness. There was an undercurrent of . . . well, of something, anyway. Cole couldn't quite pin it down, and he was in no mood to give himself a migraine. Instead he leaned forward slightly and continued speaking.

"Mutants have been sidelined or outright attacked by the political leadership of this City literally since it was founded. It's my intention to change that -- to finally give every New Yorker the chance to have a leader who represents them."

[Jordanna]

"That is indeed precisely why I arranged this meeting," Tiernan replied.

"I appreciate your directness, Mister Cole; now allow me to return the favor. Like any politician, you want support, both financial and in the form of votes. And I can assure you that if you agree to work with my organization over the length of your term in office--on matters which, as you yourself admit, are of mutual interest to us both--you will have the most powerful support any man could have."

Tiernan smiled. "To continue in our vein of directness, sir: under those terms, you will become mayor. There will be no question of it."

[skybright]

Cole didn't miss a beat. "Tempting terms, Mister Tiernan I assure you." He smiled disarmingly. "Your support would be extraordinarily valuable to the campaign, naturally -- every mutant in this city, if not this country, knows your name and your influence. But of course," He chuckled, "I'd be interested to know exactly what you'd expect in exchange for such support -- beyond the vague description of 'working with you', that is."

Tiernan's thoughts were growing easier to hear as the meeting progressed; that undercurrent of something was growing stronger and -- well, darker. Cole hadn't decided yet if he liked that . . .

[Jordanna]

"You're asking me to foresee the future, Mister Cole," Tiernan replied smoothly. "But let me see if I can give you an example. There are factions of the scientific community who would like to find some way of controlling, or even eradicating mutations--whether in existing mutants or in generations yet to be born. Such ideas harken back to Nazi Germany, and naturally I am opposed to it. I would expect your help in working to make these potentially genocidal studies cease."

He shrugged one shoulder and half-smiled. "As I say, that is one example. Science and the political climate, and their threats to mutantkind, are constantly changing. If mutant welfare is as much your concern as you say it is, I'm sure you'll realize that we must be prepared for anything."

[skybright]

"Yes, we must." Cole agreed, his pleasant persona never wavering. Inwardly, however, he was steeling himself to do something he very rarely did -- and not just because the reward was a crushing migraine every time.

He didn't like the sudden vein of duplicity that had developed in Tiernan; the rift between words and thoughts was growing steadily wider, and Cole had to know if that was merely momentary, or part of a larger element of Tiernan's character.

The only thing for it was to read -- in the real sense of the word this time -- Tiernan's mind.

He leaned back in his chair with as much nonchalance as he could. While he launched into the usual political jargon associated -- in fact expected -- at this sort of meeting, he sent out a thread of questioning psi into Tiernan's mind. Cole's powers weren't overwhelmingly strong; unless the other man was a telepath himself, or mentally nimble in a way Cole had never encountered, that thread should go unnoticed.

"I hope you won't mind me asking about the distribution of your supporters . . ."

[Jordanna]

"I have colleagues, associates, and people whom I've benefitted--if that's what you mean by supporters--all over the world," Tiernan replied placidly. "Of course, the greatest concentration of my influence is within this city. I'm afraid I'm not willing to give out any hard numbers, even to you; I'm sure you can understand that the mutant community would not appreciate it. But I can assure you that New York City has a higher ratio of mutants in its population than any other city in the country--and that my influence on them is considerable."

[skybright]

Years ago, when he'd been a college student only just beginning to really explore the workings of his ability, Cole had done a full read of the mind of a guest lecturer -- a senator from a political dynasty, a man he'd admired. Inside that mind he'd found layer after layer of deception, drug use, corruption -- even an unreported murder-by-negligence. The encounter had left him with a three-day migraine, and a bad case of heartsickness that had taken much longer to go away.

Nicholas Tiernan's mind made that one look like a children's book.

Anything that came on the roster of human evils was there; bribery, extortion, coersion, drugrunning gunsmuggling robbery rape murder . . .

Murders, Cole realized with a sickening lurch in his stomach; women screaming themselves to death -- while Nicholas Tiernan laughed. The man was a monstrous spider at the center of a hideous corrupted web.

The touch of psi it took to discover all this was slightly shorter than the time it took Tiernan to finish answering Cole's half-question; but it was more than enough space for a lifetime's worth of ugliness and evil to swirl through Cole's mind like a filthy tide. The pressure of it strained against the inside of his skull, swept through his blood, settled as an acid queasiness in the pit of his stomach.

Cole withdrew from Tiernan's mind as quickly as was prudent, psionically cringing away from the man in the other chair. He put a hand slowly to his temple as Tiernan finished speaking.

"I understand your concern," Cole murmured, "And of course I'll . . ." But he could think of no way to finish that sentence, not knowing what he now knew.

He slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his suitcoat and produced a small pill case. He frowned apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry, Mister Tiernan. I suffer from severe migraines, and once one comes on . . ." He made a vague gesture, "There's little recourse but medication. May I trouble you for a glass of water?"

[Jordanna]

Tiernan raised an eyebrow.

For a brief moment he considered suggesting that Cole get the water himself from the pitcher on a table by the window, but then he decided against that, and rose to pour it himself. This was an important meeting... and besides, now he was even more curious about Cole. There was no mention of migraines in his file.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," he said as he handed Cole the glass of water. "My business subjects me to more than a few headaches of my own. Perhaps you'd like to see the doctor I keep on staff in this building."

And give him the chance to surreptitiously collect a DNA sample, for the satisfaction of my own idle curiosity...

[skybright]

Cold shudders ran down Cole's spine at the undercurrent of thought Tiernan had just projected; once he 'read' a person, the volume of their surface thoughts increased significantly. The dead last thing Cole wanted was for Tiernan to know anything more about him than he already did.

"That's very kind of you, Mister Tiernan, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline." Cole swallowed two of the pills from his case and set the glass of water carefully to one side. "I've seen several doctors -- I even visited a specialist in Europe when I was younger." What Cole chose to omit from that statement was the fact that said specialist had been a specialist in the side-effects of mutations. "None of them have been able to do more that simply prescribe painkillers and the like." He chuckled mirthlessly. "We each have our cross to bear.

"But enough about that." He waved his hand casually. "We're here to discuss politics, not medicine. And I can assure you that my interest in the mutant community has nothing to do with either: I'm not interested in mutants as a campaign platform, only as human beings. I can promise you that my administration will do everything in its power to work in the best interests of this City's mutant population."

Something which has very little to do with cooperating with you.

[Jordanna]

Tiernan was becoming somewhat more perplexed and suspicious. Things seemed to have been going fine before Cole's "headache", but now the man seemed much more evasive. With his last sentence, he had neatly circumvented the question of working with Tiernan Enterprises on the subject of mutant welfare.

Nocturne wanted to know more--and have more assurances--before he committed any support to this slippery fish.

"Well, in that we're certainly of the same mind," Tiernan replied blithely, rising from his chair. "Perhaps we should talk again when you're not suffering a migraine. I'll see if I can arrange to have a bit more information for you, in regard to precisely how we could work together on issues of mutant rights."

[skybright]

Uh-oh -- suspicion was flickering around Tiernan's mind like candle flames. Cole smiled quickly, rising.

"I'd appreciate that very much, Mister Tiernan," He lied smoothly, "And I won't waste any more of your valuable time with my health problems."

Cole steeled himself -- he hated lying -- and continued. "But I certainly do look forward to meeting with you again -- and to working with Tiernan Enterprises, for the good of all New Yorkers." Cole topped off the lie with his most convincing smile. "I can show myself out. Thank you again for your time, sir."

[Jordanna]

Tiernan inclined his head. "I'm at your disposal whenever convenient, Mister Cole--and I likewise look forward to continuing our discussion."

He watched Cole's departure, then gazed intently at his steepled fingertips for a long moment, deep in thought. At last he reached out to his office phone and paged his receptionist.

"Tanith, please call Regina Dawson. If she's out, leave a message for her." He frowned. "Tell her I want to speak with her again before the day is out."