"My most luscious of Monsieurs, it pains me to hear that you have been condemned to suffer such an ill-gotten fate. It is often unkindly said, that a Chief Executive Officer such as myself were not to persuade to kind emotions. I reject these accusations, as near to tears my heart cannot bear such injustice you have been met with. A kind hand I wish to reach to you, in going forth to fight such miserable persecution of the high-of-class. We are more than ready to offer our company's help in your aid, for you to use our services to transport yourself and all that is under your ownership into a save haven of the more ascended folk. You can assured that the Wardens of all our Wealth hold their duty sacred. From ours most fabulous." The bottom of the letter was marked with the logo of FABOLOS.
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Miss Baker was a woman of high ambition. The liberation of the Chromafey Season from the grip of Evergreen had transformed it into a massacre of competition, and the types of Miss Baker, the overly competitive and ambitions and not with a singular ruth, were the ones of excellence in such an environment. Half her face was black, the other golden. Both her wings and antennae were relatively small for a Switterlind. She wore elegant but simple black-white clothing, looking very professional. Her expression was never one of joy, but of predation. "Miss Baker" was a nickname, for the vicious owner of a bakery chain notorious for hunting the opposition. Her company had eventually been bought out by FABOLOS, but employed her and made made use of her talents to hunt down what FABOLOS didn't like. With her she carried a bolt-action rifle, originally Teprorian bought, but had over the years been tinkered and taken on a mystic on its own, as objects in feyland usually did, if having played significant roles, like for example being the death of several potent fairylords and -lordesses. Baker's Rifle looked like obsidian, but with fine gilded linings. It clang ominously on load and shot, and the munition flickered glowing scarlet and sparked and flamed and steamed of crimson, and smelled of charcoal and burnt bread.
Miss Baker entered the room, a room of luxury and artifacts of many kinds. In the centerpiece he stood, Ciryeci, Chief Executive Officer of FABOLOS. He was lanky and tall and had the air of eternal youth. His form was gildened in every way, shining with this most precious of metals. He smiled the smile of a thousand snakeoil salesmen, eyes sheening in like clear-cut aquamarine, giving him a cyan-tinted glance of fanaticism. He was in many ways the devil, especially in the way that he looked like an angel, so perfect and flawless and porcelain. On is lower right arm was the imprint of a burnt-in golden marking around the wrist, a symbol of having signed the exclusive contractual treaty called marriage. And who else would the perfect self-loving golden boy marry but himself. In Indefinite Color, you can marry anyone you love, and who would narcissist love more than themselves.
"Missss Baker" he spoke preciously. "You know how you have been tasssked with taking care of the Carmine Corrosssian?" The way he spoke, with the ironic and passive aggressive pronunciation, and sarcastic smile, and the perfect voice, it all infuriated Miss Baker violently. "I jussst checked in yesssterday in the lovely province of Aussstermina." She had fought herself up through her virtues, but there was one thing she lacked, and that was the pure and natural perfection one had to be born with. The blood and body which was noble intrinsically, not because of actions. And that is a thing no amount of effort can change. "But the lovely people there ssstill wanted my head under a guillotine." Oh how she hated his perfect little voice. "Ssso I have come to make the decisssion to use your incompetencesss elsssewhere." She just wanted to demolish his gilded porcelain face, but not with a clean shot or swipe of a blade, no, she wanted to bash it in repeatedly and imperfectly and savage with the ugliest brick she could find! It should be not a glamorous kill, but a pathetically undignified one, so Ciryeci will be remembered not as the perfect golden boy, but as Mister bashed-with-a-brick.
There were smacking noises, from an enormous lavishly decked table in the back. The noises came from a large fluffy ball colered ivory and chestnut, going by the name of Lativinella Feiredeif. She was large, and her wings didn't look like they were up to the task of carrying her weight in flight. Despite her ravenous appetites having made her almost spherical, she still somehow managed to bend all these attributes in her favor, radiating a certain elegance of her own. Lativinella was a capitalist. It meant her point wasn't to be useful, but to own things, to have capital. And she was indeed professional in her unproductiveness. With her was her pet swine, even tough one might rather call her the swine's pet. Her animal companion was a capitalist as well, and it was in fact not her but them who owned the shares of FABOLOS. It was the notorious Capitalist Pig, the well-familiar enemy of the Communists.
The Capitalist Pig provided Miss Baker with her new assignment. Mister hopefully-one-day-bashed-with-a-brick spoke again. "You sssee, Tepror laysss heavy importance on itsss taxesss. But asss you know, Indefinite Color laysss heavy importance on itsss not-taxesss." Ciryeci suddenly switched from his needle-like speech to a more basic form of talkin. "Shoot the problem, or hire people to shoot, or whatever. Make it go puff-puff away. Now hush-hush." He performed a dismissive motion. Miss Baker left the room, after making a small bow to the Capitalist Pig, and mentally dragging barbed wire through Ciryeci's body.
