Name: Jackson Sinclair
Location: Miami, Florida
Date: Months Before the Trial
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"So, as you can see, Mr. al-Ahteen, my company is in prime position to handle all of your assets."
Sinclair smiles warmly at the elderly Arabian man sitting across from him. His translator relays Sinclair's words to al-Ahteen, who nods and smiles before speaking in rapid Arabic back.
"Da'ja al-Ahteen is most impressed with your company, Mr. Sinclair. It would seem that we share a common vision, and al-Ahteen would be honored to put Dragon Head Industries under your company's control."
Sinclair smiles.
"That is simply marvelous news. Now, before we continue, I think-"
Sinclair pauses, eyeing something over al-Ahteen's shoulder.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Sinclair?"
Sinclair shakes his head.
"Nothin', sir. Nothin at all. Just, ah...something came up."
He slides his business card across the table to al-Ahteen.
"I'll have my people call your people."
Sinclair bows to Da'ja al-Ahteen, and rushes out of the restaurant. He bursts through the door, and sees who he's looking for. He grabs the man by the shoulder, turning him around.
"Jackson Sinclair. What a surprise."
Sinclair narrows his eyes, looking at the man.
"You were spyin' on me, weren't you?"
The man smirks.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I happen to frequent this place. I love their s-"
"You work for Ramsey. I'm not dumb. Now you tell me, what were you doin' back in that restaurant?"
The man smiles.
"Mr. Ramsey pays good money to keep eyes and ears on his competition. It's just business, Mr. Sinclair. Surely you can appreciate that."
Sinclair sneers.
"You can go an' tell you boss, then...you tell him I got my eye on him. You tell that slime Ramsey that his time is comin', and it's comin' soon."
"Is that a threat, Mr. Sinclair?"
"It's a promise. Now git."
The man smirks, and walks off. Sinclair watches him head off, growling.
"You'll get what's comin', Ramsey..."
He shakes his head, and heads off the other direction, pulling out his cell phone. He flips through his phone, reading an email. He crashes into a young woman, leaning against a wall near an alley. She holds a lit cigarette between her fingers. She catches herself on the wall, managing to keep her footing. Sinclair catches her, helping her stand up straight.
"Terribly sorry about that, ma'am."
The woman smiles at Sinclair, running her hand down his face.
"Ah..Merci, monsieur."
Sinclair's smile fades slightly as her other hand comes to a rest on Sinclair's leg. She gives him a rather seductive smirk.
"Irons-nous à votre endroit?"
Sinclair takes a step back from the woman, and shows the ring on his finger, laughing nervously.
"Sweetheart, I appreciate the offer, but I'm married."
The woman stares at him.
"I don't sleep around."
The woman smirks, her hand on her hip.
"But you speak French? I must admit, Mr. Sinclair, I'm impressed."
She stands up straight, extinguishing her cigarette on the brick wall. She suddenly seems to have dropped her helpless nature. Her stance is confident. Powerful. Sinclair appears taken aback, but smiles at her.
"Well, what can I say? I'm a man of many talents, Mrs...?"
The woman offers her hand.
"Miss, please. Moreau. Colette Moreau."
Her voice, though now speaking English, still maintains a strong French accent. Jackson takes her hand and gently kisses it.
"A pleasure, Miss Moreau."
Colette smiles, and makes a waving motion with her hand. A stretch limo pulls up, stopping at the curb. Moreau motions towards her car.
"Let's talk business, shall we?"
Sinclair graciously opens the door, allowing Colette to slide inside. Sinclair crawls in after her, taking a seat opposite her in the back of the car.
"Such a gentleman, Mr. Sinclair."
Sinclair smiles.
"Is this how you greet all your potential business partners, Miss Moreau?"
Colette smirks, and unwraps the shawl from around her neck, revealing a tight-collared dress that clings tightly to her slender body.
"I should think that you, of all people, can appreciate the importance of looking inconspicuous?"
Sinclair laughs.
"You'd be surprised."
Colette nods.
"Well...I think you will be most interested in what I have to offer."
Sinclair raises an eyebrow.
"And what might that be, darlin'?"
"Information on the Horus Corporation, and Blake Ramsey."
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Name: Pariah
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Date: Present
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Pariah: "So last week, I found myself back on the winning side. That's good. That's what I was hoping to do. Bobby O'Day, hyped as one of the best up and comers in the Underground, and he couldn't stop me. In fact...aside from a minor slipup against Cryptic, I would go so far as to say that I've been unstoppable.
And now, I find myself against you, Mr. Chovsceh.
You're a military man, aren't you? You're a fighter. You're trained for combat, and I'm not sure you really know anything else.
So what's your plan, Chovsceh? See, there's a thing about the military types. They always follow orders. They're cogs in the machine. That's what you are, isn't it? You're a gear. A cog. You're just a piece of something bigger. Now, I won't pretend I'm not concerned with who those higher powers are...but I do know that you're not it. You're answering to someone else.
And that's what sets us apart, Chovsceh. Yeah, I'll admit. I'm here because I was assigned to be here. But...I'm free to do what I please. I'm not on anyone's agenda. I'm not following anyone's orders. I'm here to win. I'm here to fight.
I'm here to beat you."