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Cold Calling (IC)


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Okay, let's see. Next name on the list is. No way. Him?!

Vivian hurriedly picked up the phone that lay on her desk. There were papers scattered about everywhere, they only became more shuffled when the base of the corded phone slid across the desk. She quickly dialed the number listed in the directory, and waited. The phone rang several times, before it was picked up. "Hello, Samael? My name is Vivian, I'm a history student at FCU, and I'm writing a paper about Russian Immigration. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?" Vivian winced. This was the part where most people hung up on you.

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There was a bit of a pause on the other end of the line while Samael mulled his options over. This was one of the few people that had called him recently and didn't immediately start out screaming or yelling death threats. If it was a set up for something, he had to commend them. "OK. Zat vould be fine. Vhat did you vant to know? I assume zat zis von't take too long da?" He didn't really care if it did or not, but he didn't want to come off as someone desperate to talk to another human being. If he didn't have Sprinkles he would have likely gone a little nuts.

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"No, sir." Vivian peeped, trying to sound as pleasant as possible. If she lost this one, she didn't want to think about how bare her prospects of finishing this paper would be. "In fact, I can meet you somewhere close by, if you want. If that would make it more convenient for you. All I really need is to ask a few questions and that should be all."

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!

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There was another pause on the other end of the line, and what sounded to be like purring. In truth, Sprinkles had started nuzzling up to the phone and Samael took it as a sign. "OK." said Samael while he started thinking of where they could do this. He'd invite her to his place, but that's a lot sketchier than he'd be comfortable with. But figuring on the fact that it was a hot summer day, they might as well get some use out of the destination. "You ever been out to ze Dari King on 17? Zey have ze best ice cream around and zey have a nice little dining area. Sound good?"

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"That sounds great!" Vivian chirped. "Can you meet at lunchtime tomorrow?" She asked him, hoping that would give her enough time to get her list of questions squared away. She looked down at the paper, in front of her. She'd already scribbled down the first while on the phone.

"Are you really the Atlas?"

Clearly she needed time to come up with some ideas for the actual interview.

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"Sounds good me. Be there at quarter after twelve." replies Sam. After a few more closing remarks, he hangs up the phone. "Vhat did I get myself into now?" he mutters as he scratches the cat's ears.

The Next Day:

Samael has arrived a little early and has order himself a banana split. He's sitting in the back corner like he said he would. He's too engrossed in his ice cream to pay much attention to those coming and going so Vivian can waltz in unnoticed.

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And waltz she did. In fact, Vivian practically swaggered. The chance to meet the great Atlas face to face, AND do a paper on him? I am the luckiest girl alive!

Vivian pin pointed his table and went in for the kill. She stood next to the table clutching the strap of her shoulder bag over one shoulder. She wore a black t-shirt with Aerodynamically Curvacious written across the front. Atlas was forced to stop and regard the truth of the garment. Her skirt was pink to match the writing on the shirt, and had ruffles. Underneath the skirt she wore black tights, and small flats on her feet.

"Hi!" She beamed at Samael, "I'm Vivian." Throwing her extremely long hair out of her way, she managed to thrust her right hand forward, eager for a handshake.

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It's worse than I thought; she's chipper. Thought a bemused Samael as he caught sight of Vivian. "Sameal Nitorvich." said Sam as he extended his hand to Vivian. It was like shaking hands with a brick; there wasn't any give at all. His hands were huge too. "Have a seat. Order somezing vhile you are at it. I recommend zis obviously." he said as he motioned first to the booth on the opposite side of him and to then to the bowl of ice cream before him.

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Shaking hands with Samael may have been like shaking hands with a brick wall, but Vivian's own grip was nothing to schoff at. She was tall, with an athletic build, but not very big. Which made the lack of a wet-noodle handshake that normally came from girls her size surprising.

"Oooh, nice handshake," she crooned. she scooted into the booth across from Samael. She tossed her bag into the corner, pulling the strap over her head as she did so. "Hmm, I do like ice cream," She admitted as the waiter came to their table. "But I think I'll take one of those double fudge brownies instead." She told the waiter, who scooted off to get it ready. "And a water, please!" she called after him.

"So, Samael," Vivian smiled, "Let me just start, by saying it is amazing to be able to meet you like this!"

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"Vell education is very important. An education is one zing zat zey can never take avay from you. You vill alvays have zat. I just vanted to make sure you have opportunity I did not." replied Samael simply. "So is zis a project of your choice, or vas zis somezing zat everyone in ze class has to do?" said Samael, unsure of which answer he would prefer. If it was the former, she'd be interested, but also more of a nooge. If it was the later, then she didn't care, but the interview would be a lot less painless. Either way, it was an excuse for ice cream so it couldn't be all bad.

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"Well, it's a little bit of both. We got to pick our topic, as long as it was on a type of foreign immigration. I wanted Scandinavian, but someone took that. Mexican immigrants were already taken. I chose the next best thing." She smiled at him across the table. She just kind of stared for the moment. Atlas is strongest there is...This. Is. Awesome.

Without bothering to even find a pen, she started grilling him right away, "Okay, so... Are you really him? Atlas, I mean? the Big Red Man? The strongest hero Freedom City has seen since the Centurion?" Big smile.

Awesome!

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"Good to know I vas your top pick." joked Sam as he ate another spoonful of ice cream. A spoonful of ice cream he would choke on as soon as Vivian asked her first question.

Son of a... thought Sam as he thumped his chest to get that piece of banana dislodged from his throat. He waved off on lookers that may have been concerned about him choking. "You are not really writing zis paper on ze Russian immigrants now are you? Vhat is it you really vant?" replied Samael, his voice chilling a few degrees.

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"No! I am! I swear!" Vivian held up her left hand with the 'scouts honor' symbol displayed. She quickly pulled it down, and put up her right hand with the same symbol, looking a little embarrassed. "This is just one that's, you know, off the record." Vivian reached across the table and grabbed one of Samael's hands. Giving it a back and forth shake, she pouted at him. "Come onnnnn. Tell meeee!"

It was at that point the waiter showed up with her order. She promptly released Samael, squeeking in the process, "Meep! Brownie! Thanks!" She excitedly accepted the frozen delight from the waiter. Samael was quickly getting the impression that this girl was very much in touch with her inner child. Looking around himself, he realized that he'd brought her into a candy shop!

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Samael suddenly snorted and cracked up laughing, looking away from Vivian as he tried to keep a straight face, his face turning red from the effort. The look on Vivian's face was a perfect match for the expression his cat Sprinkles had when he gave her treats, or as he referred to it: crack.

Taking a few calming breaths Samael was able to regain his composure. He looked her in the eye, and then she felt a voice in her head "--I am.--"

Samael took another spoonful of ice cream before asking "Vhat ozer questions do you have?"

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Vivian was stunned, briefly by the telepathy. She had a bite of frozen brownie half in her mouth as the message hit her, a second later, the frozen treat was still hanging there. Then she smiled, a big smile, and shoved it in her mouth. "It knew it!" She talked with her mouth full, digging something out of her bag at the same time, while repeatedly glancing up at him and back down. She seemed quite adept at doing five or six things at once.

She slapped a spiral bound notebook on the table. Opening it to a page with a lot of writing, she decided to get the show on the road. "Okay, lets see, I guess we'll start with the hard ones first..." Vivian spent the next few minutes asking him questions about his experience as an immigrant to the country. The questions were mostly common ones, like how was the trip, and do you have family here. Samael had heard them all before, and they were all relatively easy to answer. A few minutes later, Vivian had run out of questions, "Well, I think that's about it. You have anything to ask me?" She shoved some of the rapidly dwindling brownie into her mouth.

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The answers were also pretty typical: trip was terrible, and there was no family here, or there for that matter. "Vell, how many ozers have you interviews so far, and how many more do you intend to do? I am not sure if my travel vas typical." cautioned Samael. "How do you like ze class so far? Or razer how vas it? I am not sure how far you are into ze program."

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Vivian sighed, sounding slightly defeated, "Actually, your my first one." She closed the notebook and set down her pen, "You may or may not be surprised, but when someone who isn't a news reporter calls and asks for an interview, people are not too inviting. This is going to be a hard project. Though, maybe ..." Vivian's eyes squinted at him, "Maybe I'll only need one... that is if you don't mind asking a few more questions?" She placed her hand on the notebook once more, ready to go in case he said yes.

Her eyes briefly flickered downward at the last piece of double fudge brownie on her plate. Suddenly, her right hand lashed out from under the table, snatching her fork and forcing the bite into her mouth. Samael was somehow reminded of a frog catching a fly. The only thing that had moved was her hand and her mouth, similar to how a frog uses its tongue. If you blinked you would have missed it. Brownie in mouth, she quickly flashed him a toothy grin with teeth somehow devoid of chocolate. Samael was left wondering how girls somehow always did that?

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"Ah zis reminds me of ze first zing I learn in America; zere is alvays a catch." answered Samael. He didn't give a straight answer right away, or even talk after that. He just looked at here for a few moments. He had already made up his mind, he just wanted her to sweat it out a little. "OK. I vill help you out. Fire avay. Zough do you zink your professor vill allow a change in ze topic?" Samael also signaled the waitress over to their table. If they were going to have more of an interview, they needed more ice cream.

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Vivian pouted when he tried to sweat her. But she smiled again when he agreed. "Okay, here goes nothing," She quickly cracked open the notebook and again and scribbled something down. "Do you believe your heritage, and your experiences as an immigrant have affected your decision to be a super hero? If so, how?"

Suddenly, Samael knew he was trapped.

Man, when the Prof sees this, he's gonna go nuts!

At that point, the waitress arrived at their table. Vivian held up her plate and with a smile asked, "More brownie, please?"

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"Vell, I vould have to say zat it did have an impact. Maybe it vas because I vas so young, but much of ze propaganda is still in my head, you know? Ze idea vas zat if ve all vorked togezer ve vould all have zat ve needed. Vhen I came to America, I see zose zat have more zan I ever zough vas possible. ANd zere vere ozers zat had even less zan I did. I knew zat zere vas a better vay. I had to try and show people zat. I don't know if zat worked out ze vay I vanted it too, but it vas vorth a shot da?" replied Samael as he dug into his South Lemon pie ice cream in what had to be the biggest bowl they had in the back.

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Vivian wrote furiously, taking down every bit of information that she could. "So, what would you say motivates you when you fight crime? Is it 'the motherland'? Or is it something else? You mentioned wanting to show people a better way. Do you think this is it? Or is you crusade against the unjust just your way of ensuring your friends and family are safe? Like how some men keep a pistol under their pillow at night?" Vivan jotted down the question she was asking in shorthand in the notebook. She would fill it out explicitly later. While she waited for him to process it, and for his response, she dug into her new double fudge brownie. Mmmm brownie brownie brownie! Her eyes were shining with delight.

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"It is ze fact zat I know ze vorld can be better. If a criminal cannot succeed vith a life of villain, zey may go back to trying to valk ze straight and narrow as you Americans call it. If people see zat crime pays, zey zemselves may attempt it, and zat leads to a future I do not vant to see. It also strikes me as one of zone personal offenses if people zink zat zey are above ze law. Maybe it is ze propaganda again, but I zink of ze law as absolute." While Vivian wrote down his response, Samael took the opportunity to much on more of the ice cream. They only had the lemon in the summer and he intended to get most of it.

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"So what you're saying," Vivian wrote as she talked, "Is that your heritage really doesn't have much of anything to do with your desire to be a super hero. You're simply pulling from your conscience?" Vivian grabbed a bite of her brownie, and then looked up at Samael. So I guess I'll have to write my paper about how Russian heroes are the same as all the rest? That's boring!

When she finished chewing, she laid it out for him, "Come on, Sam! That's no fun! It must have been your pure russian grandmother or something that instilled these values in you! You gotta sell it!"

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Samael leveled his eyes at Vivian, and spoke in a flat voice. "All of my grandparents vere dead before I vas ever born. My parents vere outspoken against Stalin; zey disappeared one day, never to be seen again. Zey are no longer found in any documentation of any kind, likevise for any photography. Stalin vas very good at making people disappear. Ze only hint zat zey ever existed is sitting opposite you right now. And even zat is not full proof, Samael Nitorvich is not my given name; Stanislav Polyakov is. After my parents disappeared, ze state saw fit to change my name. I use Samael out of habit, and it is ze only vay I could get a passport to get into ze country. Vhen I arrived here, I had the shirt on my back, an address vhere I could get some vork and $5.32 to my name. My conscience vas all I had."

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Vivan desperately tried to keep up with Samael as he talked. Though the speed of his words wasn't the problem. As he got into relating his tale, her pen hit the table, and she looked at him, stunned. "I'm so sorry," She whispered when he had finished, the double fudge brownie in front of her forgotten.

"I... didn't know." She quickly jolted herself back to attention, lifted her pen, scribbled a few more lines quickly and, shut her notebook. "Okay, no more questions." Her mouth was thin, "At least not for now. I think I'll have enough info." She slid a paper towards him. It had a lot of writing, and a blank line at the bottom. "This is just a basic consent form. It says that you agree that I can use the information you've told me. It's just to cover my rear, you know." She looked nervous for a second before saying once more, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I really shouldn't have pressed that hard. I'll try and keep as much about that out of the paper as possible. I promise."

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