Freeport 10's Research Deck: Commonwealth Research and Development Wing.

[Remnant]

A man almost barges into the lab, opening the door, looking around quickly. "Ah, so I didn't go to the wrong place.. I think.. This is what I get for not paying attention when they gave the papers of how to get around the place.. Now if I am right.. This is where the guy who looked over my application is, 'Achillie' I believe he called himself.. That and this is where I guess i'll be since I was slapped down in the Research section anyways, I suppose I can actually make some good with that though.."

Moving up to the desk, standing infront of the person at the desk. "The name is Jack Starr, is Achillie around? He should be around. Go get him, will you? There's something I would like to speak to that man, its better than running around the lab yelling 'lets do some science' no?"

Chuckling, speaking in his fast tone as usual, moving over to the seats, kicking back, and waits, enjoying the scene he caused.

[The_Normal_Anomaly]

As Achille talks, and talks, and still talks, DD's eyes squint as though he were trying to read fine print getting ever smaller and smaller. When Achille was finally finished, DD takes back his datapad . . .
"Yeah . . ." he says, trailing off.
He walks back over to the desk and takes a seat.

[Enkidu]

Achille, with a rapid inhalation of air, swivelled like a capstan to face the decidedly Californian interloper bombarding him with sound, and (for good measure), took a second whiff of oxygen.

"I do have the pleasure of being that personage, however may I broke that your pronunciation… is a trifle off." A fusillade of fingers drummed upon the desks's edge, splintering it. "May I also bridge the somewhat universally evident fact that your dialect is deplorable, your manner avaricious, your shirt dandy to the point suspicion, your necklace uneffeminate, your cuffs unfastened in the most frivolous manner, your tan too deep for the season and thus obviously either falsified or roasted into you, your belt too loose for your midriff, the potarette suspended from that gigantic mine shaft you so drolly monicker a mouth emits a miasma both vile and vastly overcontaminatory for a place of labour, and does not contain even the slightest percentage of Cardimine. Any of your redeeming physical features - your rakish and debonair angle of your waistline say, or those luscious locks of yours - are spoilt irretrievably by your overall impertinence and marked deficit of common curteousy; Dieu aid whatever idiot you happen to work for, because heaven's name (under the assumption that you do actually work, as opposed to slob); he's going to need it!"

"I am Achill-e Augustain Nadeau, head of the Commonwealth Research Division until the foreseeable end of time. Now, Sir, would be a good time to tell me who the hell you are and why the precise fuc<censored>k you happen to be trapasing around my shrine, hmm? I believe you're interrupting something here."

He raises a hand witheringly.

"…And now monsieur, you may offer your excuses."

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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[Remnant]

Jacks face splits into a wide grin. "Ah, so you are the big Achillie man I have heard so little about, nice to meet you. Thank you very much for your kind words, fits myself pretty accuratly, and the fact that you did not lie about it is 'revolting', come on, are you supposed to be one of the know it alls or what?"

Standing up once more. "As for work? Me? Never, you must be thinking about someone else Nadeau san, as the kusariains would say it anyways. Now. To answer your question about the precise fuc<censored>king I am performing, by trespassing around your shrine, because first of all, there was a big sign on the front door which said authorized personnel only, and who can refuse something like that, as well as perhaps wanting to meet you and that messy hair which looks beautiful enough to have been uncleaned for a day or so now.

If you ever so wish, i'll a list of excuses later, so don't worry your pretty little head about that part of things, I tend not to disappoint. Unless you challenge myself to bowling, then perhaps I may disappoint a little, though all in all? I can do descent. I'm not horrible. Pins are too freaking small, you know what i'm saying? Say. You are the head of Research or whatnot, how about mega-sized bowling pins."

Standing up straight for a moment. "Anyways, on to more pressing matters..."

A few seconds silence.

"There are no pressing matters. Would you like me to repeat anything I just said? Or do you think you have memorized all the things of dire importance that I have spammed from my mouth, eh?"

[Enkidu]

For a few moments, Achille remained aloof, a headland of gracious, civilised silence surrounded by a maul of barbarian tides. Then followed meaning, then the ice-shank of comprehension, before the simplistic pulsations of psychotic rage.

"Well then, if the Neanderthal wishes to magnify his dialogue to twice the audible scale, then two can play the same flute..." His mind eventually hissed.

"Well Sir, may I point out that it is indeed benign for you that the door did indeed see fit to recognise you as a respectable personage worthy of presence within this estimable institution, otherwise it would have scythed brutally closed, mid-transition, and dismembered you firmly. Thus I may conclude you are one of my employees and consequentially on my payroll; in other words, fireable at a moments notice if reason for such a dishonourable discharge is sufficiently given. One such example of sufficient reason (as an Ontologist may similarly postulate), is impertinence to myself - your boss, the perfect being omnipresent in every possible reality in which this deck remains existent, which is (naturally) all of them, I've taken the liberty to check..."

The tirade halts, but only for air's sake.

"...And as for my hair Sir, it is conditioned, pristine, and immaculately well-kempt. Besides, as for not washing it, I make no clandestine fact of my tendency to take the liberty of adopting a shower cap, one knows, to preserve the natural oils. You should certainly try as much. My compliments on the bowling metaphor by the way; it played to Libertonian stereotypes most aptly".

The juxtaposition was immediate. Within a rate of nanoseconds, the initially aggressive, impertinent Gallic had suddenly metamorphosed into the very personification of amiability, hand dandily extended, smile flaring.

"...Apologies ami, a social experiment purely; I'm often fond of gauging the situational reaction times of my associates, welcome to the Research Department monsieur, ah, Starr, is it?"

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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(Links pending redevelopment).

[Remnant]

Jack watches amusingly as Achillie begins his triad of words, nodding periodically.

"Ah, so someone does have the sense to retain the natural oils within ones hair, a beautiful subject of controversy if it works or not. As for the door, Doors tend to like me. They usually open, and I go strolling in as I please, after-all, what fun is not knowing whats on the other side, eh?"

With a small smirk, swiping an empty piece of paper from the desk, grabbing a pen from his pocket, beginning to write.

"Jack Starr, that is correct. Took me long enough to find this place, I truely did want to meet you, you seemed an.. interesting kind of person when I read over what you gave me in acceptance to that form I sent in electronically a while back about admittance to the Commonwealth."

Folding the paper in half, offering it to Achillie. "Here, I believe I did promise a list of excuses, as you so asked for me to provide."

"Now, that we have made acquaintances, how may I be of service." His expression changing slightly, looking a little more serious. "I've heard about this place, and have been rather interested in its innards. Now that I am finally here, i'd like to get to know what all is going on. Of course you may be hesitant to speak of such matters right after meeting me, but I get to the point, as it is much more efficient than wasting petty time on verifying information, why do that when you can do it later. "

___

Attached Document:

Code:

List of Excuses
1. Some guy who was walking a dog caught my attention, hid in bushes merely watching for five minutes.
2. Took a few minutes on my way in, peering over the shoulder of a scientist, something about 'melting doors'
3. Got lazy, and forced myself to think of 'melting doors'
4. Decided that 'melting doors' is an excellent idea
5. Saw a 'Authorized Personal Only' door. Dude. I cannot resist that.
6. Attempted to melt door with my mind.
7. Gave up, and merely walked in anyways.
8. Began to bother yourself, out of pure amusement

[Enkidu]

Achille appears more glazed than a over caramelised custard tart upon glancing up from the paper which he was handed, before calmly, expediently and implacably, crumpling the befuddling thing into a compound possessive of sufficient aerodynamic qualities to expediate its minuscule arc into a neighbourly waste receptacle.

"...I admit Sir, dogs can prove rather intimidating at times, as can human males. The individual which you are depicting may potentially be our founder, Robert Carol, who has a particular fetis..." He shakes himself, "...fancy for fur clad kind. And whilst I admire your strength of will, melting through several foot of nanotube weave may prove a mite adventurous, even for you, oui? But as for what is, ah, 'Currently going on', well as of present we have been indulging ourselves in the interminable endeavour of attempting to manipulate a field of pure energy into the compact, adorable, sustainable format of a cat. A huggable cat I might add".

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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(Links pending redevelopment).

[Remnant]

"Sounds like you need an energy generation mechanism compact, with the extension of the field generator to be housed around said energy generation mechanism, without being burnt to a crisp, seeing as a lovely little kitten is a little small. The safest would be fusion, no? Though containing a reaction, and keeping it prolonged for long enough in the space given seems rather difficult. Though the lack of byproducts would be interesting, perhaps replace the hydrogen compound now and then, and you will be alright. Of course, after miniaturizing the thing, and keeping the source going. The rest, i'll leave to your big brains, I must figure the rest out on my own as well. Look at what college does to a person. Its rather ugly. I would love to be running around only making fun of people, and getting paid for it, but sadly, thats not how things work."

I''m not 'that' stupid, though its fun to appear as such, and watch people's reactions, no?" Leaning in with a small smile, which looks slightly fake.

His expression changes. "Robert you say? I've heard that name before, I admit, I find his hat extremely stylish and fine for this day and age, makes me slightly jealous. Perhaps I should groom this 'dog' of his, which actually looked large enough to be a slightly different animal, and then buy a hat to match his. Matching animal, and owner. Do you know how amazing that would be? People would be obligated to invite him to parties, all that cool stuff."

[Enkidu]

For a second Achille stood, jaw ajar, in a manner not-too-detached from that of Robert's 'dog'. But that was a second and a second alone.

"...Actually I believe he prefers to be the master of ceremonies at social gatherings, as opposed to a merely making up the weight". Achille gurnied quirkily, pushing his newfound associate on the shoulder with an affectionate, leading tap towards the confines of his workstation. "...Although seriously now, a cat adorned with a hat? Hm, it possesses a particularly Seussesque bent to it, does it not? Perhaps one may advise it to him". He soothed, gently navigating the Libertonian as tug does a tanker.

"...Pardon my surprise Sir, as, ah, you so acutely gauged, I wasn't entirely aware I had hired such an accomplished physicist. More than just a pretty face, eh? And here I was about to fill the blasted things up to their follicles full of antimatter..." Another shove, and Jack found himself staring directly into the functional (yet artful) leading face of yet another aperture plug.

"...Stare down that particular door if you will, Jack, you may find it's contents... to your pleasure". The gaul grizzled.

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[Remnant]

Jack looks slightly confused for a second, taking the moment to pause, glance back at Achillie before nodding in agreement with himself internally. "Yes. I believe so. You do look like the such, to be a mad scientist yelling, 'GIVE IT MORE ANTIMATTER' like in the tri-d movies we have out right now, and eventually blowing up the station they are on, I can indeed see it. I agree with stuff like that.

Glancing back forward at the location he has been relocated to. "Well? What now my socially elitist friend?"