Current mood:

amused

Files and Records
Jason looked out the window of his office at the Las Vegas skyline. He had been looking around Searchlight the past few days, avoiding contact with the visitors, and using his charms on the locals. They had been friendly enough, with a wink, a smile, and a little money. Oh, yes.

His office was not in the Las Vegas branch of Wolfram & Hart, but in one of the other business high rises. It was comfortable, spacious, and decked in the trendiest executive styles. He had hired two secretaries: one who was in her late fifties, and could type eighty words a minute, and one is was 22 and could barely read, but she looked great in those little suits. He smiled at the thought of this evenings plans with her.

Earlier that day he had collated what information he had gathered in Searchlight, and headed to the main offices in Vegas. Walking into the basement, he found one of the identical women who served as Files and Records. It was unsettling to realize this was the same women in New York, Vegas, Rome, and even in the now defunct Los Angeles offices. If she existed in all places at once, or there were hundreds of her, he didn't know. Nor did he want to.

"Good afternoon," he had said with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Toren. How can I be of service?"

No charming her, oh no. "I have a list of names. I'd like to get what files we have on them, if we have any."

"Of course we do, Mr. Toren. We're--"

"--Files and Records, I know." Jason sat for less then ten minutes, when the woman returned with a large cardboard box filled with files. He took it, and let out a long breath. It was a lot heavier than it looked. "Thanks a lot."

"No thanks necessary, Mr. Toren. It's my job."

Jason sat at his desk now, with twilight falling, having divided the files into four piles: Vampires and Demons, Slayers, Watchers, and Other. He could have had the secretaries do it, but this was part of his job he loved, the plotting, the preparing to bring down his target.

He looked at the top record in the Slayers pile, and smiled. He had left her stewing long enough, he thought. He reached for the phone and called the number for Bethany's office at the bar and got her voicemail.

"Bethany, Jason Toren here. Sorry for the delay, but I had some business to attend to. I'll stop by your office in the next day or so, we'll chat. Some things I think we can do together that will be most pleasant. Talk to you soon.

Satisfied with that message, he turned around and opened an oak filing cabinet (no tacky metal for Jason Toren, oh no), and slid the files into the first of the three drawers. Quickly going through the files, he separated a few out of each pile, and placed the remainder in the third drawer.

There were nine files left in front of him, and he paged through each of them before placing them into the second drawer, his "To-do" list drawer. The files were each thick, and contained far more than the subjects would have liked.

"Revere, Aidan"
"Brown, Destiny"
"Lachlan, Dyan"
"Darian (no known surname)"
"Æðelflæd (Elfleda)"
"Tristan (no known surname)"
"Summers, Dawn"
"Reilley, Connor"

Placing them in, Jason held the last one for a monet, scowling at it before he placed it in. "Carruthers, William," it read. You might have screwed me over in Colombia, Carruthers, but you're on my turf now, and we'll see who comes out ahead. Dropping the folder into the drawer, he slammed it shut and rose from his desk. Putting on his jacket, he opened the door to the reception area. "Mrs. Dalrymple, you can go for the evening. Holly, I need you to take some... dictation." Smiling, he shut the door and headed back to his desk, putting his feet up on it and waiting.