I'm the Bad Guy

[Mortaray]

The responses that came from Crow and Nasira were somewhat comforting. He wasn't particularly close to either of them but knowing he was on the same playing field was a reassurance that he did not know he needed. He still was unsure as to how he became an Overseer in the first place yet he did not question such events regularly. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be as one of his father used to say. His father was a wise man, a man he often wished was still there with him assisting him whenever he needed. Though at other points of time he was glad to be away from him.

If he were here there was sure to be more than one conflict between them. While Mortaray was stable, that father, in particular, wasn't quite so. He had moments of clarity but at other points, he was dangerous even to himself...

He found his mind becoming sidetracked once again but the sudden appearance of Facilier had the somewhat serious skinwalkers' thought and entire demeanor change. Returning his attention back to what was happening in front of him. A wide, genuine grin, crossed his features as the Voodoo Doctor turned his attention to him even though it was brief. Mortaray was eager and elated at his companion's arrival to the scene. He simply could not contain himself. "Facilier," He 'barked' with enthusiasm. "Good of you to join us!"

His excitement was clear and if he could purr he probably would have done so. However he could do no such thing, instead, a mere rumble of a growl bubbled in his chest though it didn't sound threatening. In fact, it almost sounded like that of content. Such eagerness usually resulted in him becoming overexcited like a young pup when he himself was younger. Luckily though, age and experience taught him better. He forced himself to keep some distance between him and his partner though the only thing he wanted to do was stand by the other's side. In all the abundant elation, the arrival of Scar almost had been completely missed by him as he tried to correct himself. The skinwalker finally giving an answer to Crow's question.

"The days have been fairing me well. The soldiers have been doing well with their sessions, they still have a ways to go before they are battle ready but I'm sure once I have more assistance with their training it will be no issue." The statement was said in a somewhat neutral voice had it had been before, the previous elation perhaps having dissipated somewhat. Tabs' voice warranted Mortaray's immediate attention within an instant, brown and red hues turned towards the creature and his body visibly tensed at the furniture spawned out of nowhere. What a curious occurrence. With some hesitation, Mortaray said down in one of the office chairs allowing himself to get comfortable with some reluctance.

[Nasira]

"Thank you, Tabs." Nasira fixed herself a cup of coffee. 

"The days have been fairing me well. The soldiers have been doing well with their sessions, they still have a ways to go before they are battle ready, but I'm sure once I have more assistance with their training it will be no issue."

Not all of them, Nasira thought acrimoniously, thinking of Thomas and what she, Perthmail, and Mystic had to do the other day. Nasira could already tell Thomas was going to be a problem, and she would not be surprised if the whole army felt the same way about him. Yes, what happened the other day was, at least partially, Perthmail's fault. He should have put Thomas back in his cell instead of asking somebody else to watch him. But Perthmail learned his lesson. Thomas, on the other hand, did not. Thomas would not dare say what he felt aloud, but Nasira did not like the way he looked at them. There was challenge in his eyes. Then again, maybe the boy couldn't help it. Nasira imagined she would be pretty cranky too if she had to go seven days without food or water, regardless of the context.

Nasira put two shots of espresso in. Maybe she was expecting too much out of him. 

She blearily stared into her coffee as the foam took the form of a cyclone. Mortaray had not been wrong. The majority of the army seemed to be doing well, and they were growing. All things considered, it had not been a bad week for the Blackblood Legion. It wasn't easy, but that was kind of a given. Nasira was staying optimistic. 

Now to hear Tabs' proposition. Nasira placed her coffee on a coaster and took a seat on one of the vacant revolving chairs, giving the ghazi her undivided attention. 

[Turbo]

Sniff.

Turbo stood at the entrance.  Frankly, he couldn't have looked more disinterested if he tried.  The little man's yellow eyes drifted slightly to one side as he began to part his jaws to click his tongue obnoxiously.  His attention stayed on the table of snacks for a while, before he turned his head to one side, the corners of his mouth wrinkling as he gave the biggest, Grinchiest smile he could muster.

"Please, please.  No autographs," he chuckled.

He waved a dismissive hand as he went to the table.  He picked a doughnut for himself and with his free hand, leaned so heavily against the table he seemed to defy gravity.  Only after nearly taking out half his doughnut with just one bite, he dropped his arm and put the back of his wrist on his hip.  Seconds later his sneaker begin to tap the floor impatiently.

[Dr. Facilier]

Facilier reached out to shake Crow’s hand, and then turned his attention towards Mortaray. He had to stifle a chuckle at the other’s sudden change in demeanor. It was like they were kids again—Mortaray had always gotten so excited when he spotted the young Jacques scaling a nearby fence, almost like a puppy who hadn’t seen its owner in several hours.

Although he’d never admit it to anyone else, it warmed his heart.

But for the sake of keeping his image clean while he was here, he resigned himself to grabbing a refreshment from the table that Tabs had conjured up, taking a seat next to Nasira. He had some things to finish with the Loa, but before he could continue, he wanted to get this little “meeting” out of the way.

Eyes turned towards Turbo, and he raised a brow at the small man’s attitude. Such a big attitude for a small man.

And autographs? What an arrogant bastard.

“So Tabs…what do you have for us?” Facilier asked, as he slightly reclined in the chair.

[Crow]

Crow was pleased that Facilier accepted the handshake.  At least, he seemed pleased.  In any case, there was a shift in his weight, fingertips idling over the head of his cane as he watched the remaining Overseers arrive at last.  Good, Crow thought, quietly taking note of each body in the room in turn.  He was looking forward to this presentation.

"No objections here, Mr. Inquirer."  There was scarcely a hint of motion from him when the refreshments and seating materialized from thin air, even though he was standing near one of the provided chairs.  "Though I prefer to remain standing, thank you."  Crow's back straightened, if only out of habit, with his hands folding neatly over the top of the cane.

[Tabs]

“Excellent,” Tabs said, still floating, lifting one of his arms and raising two claws, “Then we can get this show on the road!”

The creature gave a little pause, allowing some time to let the odd aura of his alien magic fill the room. Tabs wanted to leave an impression. His eight brows knit before his faces suddenly flashed back into his usual smarmy grins. He would not be relegated to grunt work; he was better than that.

“Dearest Overseers, and Vizier,” Tabs projected, lowering his black eyelids, “Your work for the Legion is not underappreciated by this old monitor monster; therefore, it is my goal, with this proposition, to ease the burden of keeping the army afloat, using my special brand of expertise.”

The end of the creature’s tail flicked to one side and he brought his arms in front of him, touching the tips of his claws together.

“Over the past tens of thousands of years, I have been everything from a journalist, to a politician, to a storyteller, to a historian, to a philosopher, to a media personality, and so on and so forth. I’m a wordsmith who has visited many lands in my time… including here, Earth. But that was a long time ago,” he said, “I don’t think the power of words should be underestimated. They really can provide so much… influence.”

He lifted his heads, eight red eyes glinting.

“To cut to the chase!” Tabs stated, “I can keep the underlings loyal and happy to serve us. I can negotiate problems. I can sway their mindset. I can bring new blood in. Think of me as a sort of… propagandist.”

[Mortaray]

His head turned to glance at Turbo as he entered the room. His own expression mimicking that of escalating annoyance at the arrogant behavior that the small man portrayed. In his mind, he had immediately written the man off as a mere irritating issue than anything else. Sure, he would respect the fact he was his equal but that did not mean he had to like him. But as always Mortaray would keep such things to himself. He was no fool.

His focus shifted back to Tabs. His keen gaze watched as the beast in front of him spoke of why they were there. His interest somewhat being perked but not entirely. The only that that truly grabbed his focus was how long Tabs claimed he had been watching over Earth. Could such a thing actually be real? His dark brows knitted together, his questions bubbled just under the surface. Temptation strong to question things that weren't really all that important at the moment.

"A propagandist?" He echoed in the somewhat now hushed room. He had seen things like this before, they did quite a bit to sway those around them no doubt but would it really work for this war? He was obviously spectacle. "If you were to be our propagandist what would be your first movement of action? How would you rally more people for our forces, Tabs?"

[Crow]

  "Mortaray makes an excellent point." Crow's head inclined, his gazed fixed firmly on the group's host. In truth, this was exactly the kind of thing the Legion needed. He recalled Maleficent's concerns with the loyalty of this army. There was little more than fear and personal agenda to unify them together, and those could only last so long. But these were things that didn't need to be brought up, for many obvious reasons.



  "Furthermore, Mr. Inquirer," He leaned back, his cane following the motion to support his weight, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. "What are your plans for those who are already here? Do you think you have what it takes to keep up morale?"

[Nasira]

Nasira leaned forward. Ah, propaganda, the capacity to control the masses and mold the collective mind. Propaganda was so prevalent that it can be a challenge discerning what was real and what was not. It was much easier and convenient to take something at face value as opposed to taking the time to look for the hidden meaning or ulterior motives, especially for those who did not have a whole lot of time to themselves. It was an ingenious way to have more and more people flock to their cause and to keep the legion as one entity in the ugly face of the rebels.

But it had to be done right. Tabs was more than qualified to be their propagandist, assuming what he said about his past was true. It was more of a question of how than whom. Nasira mulled on the overall outlook of the legion as a whole. The people may seem to support Maleficent's regime, but how many of them were actual genuine hardcore loyalists? Were they only here because the alternative was death? What would it take to win them over? 

"How do you intend to counter long held and deep beliefs?" Nasira inquired.

[Scar]

Scar listened intently as Tabs explained his proposal, head tilting slightly as Mortaray, Crow and Nasira all posed very important and relevant questions to the prospective propagandist. The older lion stretched out on the recliner he'd claimed for himself before sitting up, the very tip of his tail flicking slightly as he looked Tabs over critically.

The only question he could think to pose towards Tabs was why he would choose to support their army over the Rogues; The Freedom Fighters were probably too noble to turn to Propaganda to control their forces.

"How do we know we can trust you?..."

Scar's tone was level and mildly curious.