Ah, and finally they were all assembled before him and their first meeting could begin. Nikolas was about to say something when suddenly he was asked something. “I am Midas,” he replied rather good-naturedly when the redhead asked him for who he was. “That’s what you will refer to me by.” She was the singer, he recalled her face from the photos he had seen and he had heard her voice filling the room only moment before.
“Greensleeves – believed to have been composed by Henry the eighth for his love, Anne Boleyn; pity that she was beheaded on the 19th of May, 1536,” Nikolas commented about the song that she had sung, unable to keep himself from throwing in a random fact to go along with it. “You hit the notes very well.” He gave her a nod of satisfaction and then refocused his attentions on the others.
“As I have just introduced myself to our Nightingale, I am Midas. Within the confines of my home, I have three rules,” Nikolas said as he addressed the young women before him, standing with his hand clasped behind his back. He would not tolerate any dissension from them and hoped to make that point crystal clear for one and all. “Do not call for help. Do not try to escape. Do what you are told to.” He fixed them each with a rather pointed stare and allowed a few moments of silence for his words to sink in.
“I am not a patient man, but I can be a kind one,” he went on to say and swiveled his body so that he was facing the two girls huddled together – the writer and the musician. “You two are friends? Very good. If one of you disobeys me, the other will pay. If you, my little Drummer Girl, don’t play me sweet music – I will break one of Jane Austen’s teeth, and perhaps cut off a few toes with garden shears if I’m feeling particularly cross. And vice versa, of course.” He shrugged his shoulder in a languid manner, as if to say that it really would not be much of a hassle to him to have to physically mutilate or harm them.
“All any of you are here to do is that which you are good at,” he continued, turning his back from the two young women who had found solace in a common friendship, “provide me with your talents – amuse me with your writings, your art, your dancing, your music, your songs – and in turn I will be good to you. I will buy you whatever your hearts desire, within reason, and I will make sure that you are all comfortable. But, fail to do so, and I will be forced to exact punishment. Punishment involves the removal of body parts, painful torture, breaking bones, as well as being forced to watch another being tortured – oh, and rape if the other options are not enough.”
His feet brought him over to the small dancer girl – the one who had not taken a seat as the others had. He made a soft tutting noise and reached out to cup the chin of the girl who he knew was good at gymnastics, as well as dance. “And I do so much hate raping – I leave that to Geist.” He jerked the beak of his mask in the direction of his helper, just to make his point clear. “Now, speaking of punishment…you and I, Tiny Dancer, have already gotten off on the wrong foot. I said to take a seat and you, love, are still standing.”
He suddenly grabbed at her hair, the gloved fingers of his hand twisting viciously through her locks and jerking her head back at an awkward and doubtlessly painful angle. “I do not tolerate disobedience.” He told her in rather pleasant tones as he walked her backwards over to the nearest chair. “Sit. Down.” Nikolas paused a few feet away from the chair – then, without any warning, he let go of Mayu’s hair and backhanded her sharply across the face. The slap echoed through the room and Nikolas was well aware of its force – getting struck by him was roughly equivalent to being hit with a brick.
“Now, I would hope we are all understood,” he gave the dancer girl a warning glare and turned away from her, leaving her to do as he had instructed her to, “there are two more things I wish to speak of.” Nikolas let out a laugh, which came out as a strangled growl through his mask, and reached into his belt to withdraw a gun – a nice Glock 19.
“I’m always armed, so coming at me in attempt to attack would be silly” he waved the gun in front of them, almost as a taunt, and found himself grinning behind his mask. There were no bullets inside – it was empty, merely a distraction to provide them with the smallest sliver of hope that perhaps they could steal that gun away from him and use it to get out. Ah, how he would love to toy with their fears. He put the gun back into its holster. He did not need a gun to subdue people – not with his physical strength.
“And the second bit is – Chuckles. You ladies absolutely must meet Chuckles.” Nikolas looked over his shoulder at Geist, and gestured for the man. “Do bring Chuckles out of the cooler to say hello – I do hope he won’t smell too bad at this point.”
Nikolas turned back to the girls and let out another laugh. “You ladies are lucky! Normally I have the bodies disposed on the first day, but I thought maybe you all would benefit from meeting with dear Chuckles,” he let out a quiet laugh and circled in on the artist, leaning over her to peer at what she was sketching, “good girl, drawing already! You see, the difference between you and Chuckles, Da Vinci, is that he refused one day to do that which he was good at. Chuckles used to tell the best jokes…what a pity.
He reached out to give Alexandra’s shoulder a comforting pat. He would never refer to any of them by their real names, not if he could give them new pet names. Nikolas rather disliked it using real names. “Chuckles will be sleeping over with one of you tonight, just so that the message sinks in. And…I think I know just the person who would benefit from his company,” as he said this, he looked over at Mayu, “didn’t you ever want to have a corpse at the foot of your bed?”