13882/How Green Was My Hellfire Club

How Green Was My Hellfire Club
Date of Scene:	19 January 2023
Location:	VIP Lounge - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Norman approaches Sebastian about membership in the Inner Circle of the HFC, and an invitation is extended.
Cast of Characters:	Norman Osborn, Sebastian Shaw

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Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn had been somewhat quiet over the last year or two, taking a hiatus from his duties, going into seclusion. In truth, he had fallen deep into despair and madness, isolating himself to come, not to health, but to a frantic new kind of madness, merging the urges of the Goblin with the ambition of Norman himself. Still too many voices in his head, but they at least agreed more than once they did.

He'd re-emerged in a variety of ways, most notably as a prominent backer and fundraiser on behalf of the President of the United States, Lex Luthor. Rumor has it that Norman had ambitions within that administration, perhaps some sort of appointment. He put himself forward on issues of national defense and homeland security, as well as the superhuman issues. But that wasn't Norman's only ambition. Having in the past sat somewhat idly by in regards to Club affairs, he had let it be known through a variety of intermediaries that he would be interested in having a bigger seat at the table - and was willing to pay to get it, one way or another.

And so, this casual meeting, this encounter between Norman and Shaw, had been orchestrated by both well in advance, yet matters of etiquette required they pretend otherwise. Games within games, as always.

"Shaw," Norman says in greeting, wearing a green suit in the style of the Club.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Long before there were any hints that Norman Osborne may be a man who was given over to more troubling tendencies - hints, of course, nothing of substance - Sebastian Shaw had been well aware of the man. His elder within the technology community, with a company who rivaled his. There had never been any real animosity, just business - sometimes they went head to head on defense contracts and one or the other lost. And of course, within the walls of the Hellfire Club, they were peers. There are not many men on the planet that Sebastian Shaw would consider such - less than ten, perhaps. Their mutual acquaintance, Lex Luthor, was perhaps the only one on the planet to whom Shaw did not consider himself at least a peer. Although he did not seek any power or boon from the President. He was content with working in partnership with him in a different role entirely, one far more secretive.

When it became known that Norman had a greater interest in the goings on within the Hellfire Club, it drew a certain degree of interest from Sebastian. Why the sudden change, he wondered, or was this just an awakening? Either way, discrete inquiries had been made, studies of his activities. It would depend entirely upon how cleanly Norman kept his affairs whether or not Sebastian would have any insight into Norman's already significant criminal past. The public certainly did not know, but of course, that was always a hallmark for the Hellfire Club.

"Mr. Osborn, a pleasure as always," Sebastian greets the fellow billonaire. He is dressed, as typical, in a purple Victorian era jacket over a black waistcoat, white lace spilling from sleeves and collar. And of course, an equally timeless hairstyle, complete with muttonchops. "Can we get you anything from the bar?"

Norman Osborn has posed:
If Norman craved only power, perhaps a secret alliance would suit him fine. But he wants more than that. He wants respect. He wants awe. He wants FEAR. He feeds on it, in his own way, not in the literal sense but in the sense that he only felt whole and alive when he was watching others quiver in terror at the feel of his gaze upon their skin.

But enough of such reveries. He was here on business. Pleasure would come, as it always did, in time. The Goblin had not yet come back on the public scene - no need to draw a public line of connection between the two - but the monster within him was growing impatient. He needed to hear some screaming and soon.

"Wine. Red. I trust your taste," he says, simply enough. "And you know the selection here far better than I," he says. "How go things with the Club? I have been unfortunately absent, but I would like to rectify that, if my presence were welcome."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Your presence is always welcome, Mr. Osborn. We appreciate any visits from some of our more distinguished guests." Sebastian inclines his head to the side and one of the servers dashes off as if in silent instruction. They will return shortly wit a glass of red wine. A fine vintage.

"Things are as they always are - in times of change and chaos, we are a solid edifice that shall not only endure but grow greater, as most strong things have done over time." He makes a slight shrug. "But certainly, you are under no obligation to maintain a presence here." There is a brief, wolfish smile. "So long as your dues are paid, you can visit as often or as inoften as you would like."

Norman Osborn has posed:
"My dues are always paid, Shaw. Well in advance," he says. He reaches into his pocket and draws out a pair of cigars, putting one in his mouth and casually offering the other to his fellow power-monger.

"I understand my obligations perfectly. But I recognize the power and prestige of the Club and I would like to help it to grow, just as I'm working to make sure our great nation continues to grow," he says. He strikes the match against his thumb and lights his cigar with a few slow puffs and, as he turns towards Shaw and looks at him, there's a glint of something wild and mad in his eyes. One of his pupils is dilated, but the other is not. He smiles, wolf for wolf, predator to predator.

"To be direct - I want a seat at the table. Or, more precisely, within the Circle," he says. Officially, of course, the Inner Circle is a myth but Norman isn't the kind of man to believe in fairy tales. He can almost sense the pulse of power in the place and it isn't hard to see where that influence resides.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Never one to turn down a fine cigar, Sebastian accepts it and nods in appreciation. "Of course. They have never deviated. As I said, you are a most welcome guest."

Sebastian knows the look of a predator. He also knows the look of insanity. He has had plenty of exposure to both over his years. The request is considered for a long moment, Sebastian sizing Norman up. Surely he has gleamed some details of it, and this is hardly a conversation that surprises Sebastian to have unfold.

"I thought you were a billionaire inventor philanthropist of the highest order, Mr. Osborn," he says, allowing a smile to cross his lips. "Surely secret societies are not the sort of thing you typically trade in."

Norman Osborn has posed:
The cigar is Cuban, although he's been leaning towards Filipino leaf of late. Something about the thighs of the girls on which they're rolled, he thinks.

Is Norman Osborn stable? No. Is any billionaire? Probably not in this world, but most of them more so than Norman. He's in control, yes, but it's not hard to see the throb of the veins in his forehead up close. The way he grinds his teeth sometimes or, if he doesn't think anyone's looking, mutters quietly to himself. But wealth buys a lot and there's no denying the force of the man. He's intense, like a stormfront. A lot of energy, perhaps worth harvesting.

"Everyone has secrets, Shaw. When secrets are shared, however, there can be trust. And where there is trust, there can be power. For people like us, trust may be the most valuable commodity, for it is neither given or deserved lightly. We've both betrayed people in our time, I'm sure. Anyone who comes out on top has to somewhere along the way. And so we must be wary. You are an imposing man, Shaw, and many already fear you. I've been down that road. I know where the ambushes are."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
A quiet study is made of Norman. Up close, such things that are whispered about are more clearly on display. Sebastian can size up the man, or at least, so he thinks. No one can truly know what lingers within the recesses of that brilliant mind. But he can make his guesses.

"There are no ambushes here, Mr. Osborn. Clearly you know enough of what we talk about within the Council chambers, if you know to ask me. And presumably you know my role. And if not, we can speak of it." He considers for a long moment, watching Norman. "I have no doubt that you would be an asset to what it is that we seek to accomplish. I would ask you, though, why you feel your interests would align. What of us do you know, and how can you tell that you would wish a seat?"

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn gives a slight smile as he lets smoke flow from his nostrils like a great dragon. He has that visage, hawkish and fearsome, with avarice and malice shining in his eyes. Almost eerie.

"I am not one to sit on the sidelines, Shaw. If there's work to be done, I'd like to put a hand to it, especially if any of it is done in the name of somewhere with which I am aligned. I don't know much of the petty details, merely the...overall tenor of the proceedings, shall we say? I won't really know everything I can offer until I get down in the proverbial guts," he says, "but nothing I have laid my hand to has ever come out anything but better, stronger. Myself included."

If not his miserable whelp of a son. The less said of him the better.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
There can certainly be great malice manifested in the eyes of Sebastian Shaw, but not usually in public view. Even if there is a certain element of privacy awarded to the two in the VIP room. Discrete distances, sound dampening surroundings, and all.

"I suspect it is precisely as you believe it to be. A cadre of link minded and like capable individuals as you and I gathered together to work in concert on achieving our mutual ends. You would be quite a good fit, particularly if you were to be introduced the rest of the assemblage." He chuckles for a moment. "Many familiar faces, I would imagine, to you, sit on the Council. The only reason you do not is that you had never expressed an interest."

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn takes a sip of his glass of wine, the crimson reflecting in the sea-green of his eyes, "Consider it expressed," he says simply.

"I hope not too many enemies. I've made a few in my day. Most of them buried far too deep to ever reach such heights. But you never know. Sometimes dead things don't like to stay dead."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
There is a laugh from Sebastian, and he nods. "Oh, we find ourselves cultivating many enemies, but we do also have a way of pruning them." He glances about the room, and then back to Norman, lowering his voice a tad.

"You are most certainly welcome to join us at the next council meeting. I will be sure to send the details to you. I must confess that there are traditions that would make what you have seen of the Hellfire Club appear downright progressive in comparison, but I believe that for one of your standing we can bypass some of the more rudimentary stages. Should you wish to join the Council, we can find an appropriate seat for you without making you pledge from the bottom."