Sigmund's Toolbox [Freezn x E I G H T]

[Freezn]

It was a warm and sunny day at Sigmund’s hall. Such as they tended to be when a full club meeting was called. Their members were not the sort to bother themselves with traveling where and when rain was a prospect. Not that they couldn’t meet in such dismal conditions, just that they didn’t wish to deal with the hassle. After all, who wanted to hear the bothersome squeak of wet rubber on marble flooring or deal with a damp hemline while socializing with their peers?

The venue was owned by Mr. Chairman as he was called during such official events. Every member had one such title, each distinct and their own. Each member brought something to their little club of exclusive tastes. Many brought political connections. Some brought corporate connections. Others yet brought connections to the seedy underground that made their exclusive tastes possible. But all brought with them wealth. It was that wealth that paid for their exclusive offerings. It was the wealth that provided them protection and it was in respect to this status of wealth that each member was given a proper title. To do less would be disrespectful and respect was all that separated the members of Sigmund’s Club from the animals upon the streets.

Speaking of animals, today was the day to finalize this year’s applicants. Every three years Mr. Chairman oversaw the recruitment process. From the gathering of funds. To the carefully placed advertisements. To the filtering and vetting process and of course, to organizing and hosting Scholars Day. Thirty young hopefuls would be invited to earn their scholarship today. A blank check that would pay for a full four year degree to the collegiate institution of the receivers choice. An enticing prize these days, or so Mr. Chairman had heard.

They would begin arriving soon. Valets were already racing about, making certain the applicant and only the applicant made it to the Sigmund Country Club proper. Any other accompanying guests would be shown to the guest wing where they would enjoy a pleasant meal, a heartwarming video and then be sent on their way. Most who made it this far wouldn’t have such company with them. Those that did certainly wouldn’t bring along company that would cause a fuss at not being able to watch the awarding ceremony. And those who did create such a fuss… well security here at Sigmund’s Country Club was well paid. Doubly so on Club nights.

The three winged building had dozens of staff expertly trained flowing about, offering drinks, hor d’oeuvres, and basic housekeeping services. The main hall was filled with fifteen tables. Two members to a table allowed for them to jockey for and pick between three possible applicants. Only twenty of the thirty prospects would be selected. Silverware was spread out upon each table. Covering every table was a dark burgundy tablecloth, inlaid with gold trim. The color was a bestial eyesore; however Mr. Chairman had a strict policy against white material before Scholars Day was complete. Back in the early days of the Club’s formative years, some members had… difficulty controlling themselves. A splash of crimson on white was an intoxicating sight. Especially for those newly minted members.

A large section of marble flooring had been made available for everyone to mingle and greet each other before the dinner started. Every member knew in advance who they would be sitting with. It helped ease the taste of dissatisfaction should an awarded applicant not perform amicably due to some facet that had not been made clear at dinner.

At the head of the room was the stage. Behind its heavy curtain the artwork from last year’s awarded applicants waited. Two years worth of toil and struggle, culminating in the crown jewel of the remaining applicants receiving their scholarship. This year he would have two to present. That was very rare. There were many years Sigmund’s Club had not given any applicants the scholarship. None of the applicants those years were simply up to snuff.

It was always Mr. Chairman’s favorite moment of the evening to display such art work to his fellow members. So many fond memories were visited upon those reveals. Such would only be done only after the current years applicants had been selected of course. No sense in letting those not fit to participate in Sigmund’s Club events see such beautiful artwork.
When the first of the applicants began walking in Mr. Chairman stood behind the podium. He buffed his glasses briefly and then looked upon the new arrivals with a warm gentlemanly smile. The crescendo of the in-house orchestra spoke to the older man’s fluttering heart. He was eager to see just what this year’s applicants could provide.

 

[e i g h t]

When Parker Campbell turned fifteen her father bought her an apartment, it was the first of many big purchases he had done for her - and contributing factors in making her the person she was today. He claimed it would help build character; help in the long run when it came to investing. Ask anybody what they thought and they'd all tell you the same thing; it did nothing but turn her into a spoiled brat.

Fast forward a few years and the girl was thriving - it wasn't that hard to thrive in a place where money mattered, she had way too much of it. Hell when she sent out the application for the grant she was hardly expecting to be invited to a ceremony. Her friends had made snide-y comments 'bout how she didn't need the money and was taking it from someone who desperately needed it, but it wasn't like she was going to bribe hem to accept her. If they wanted to give it to someone else, they could.

An elegant white dress flowed off of the woman's body, the fabric barely brushing the floor she sauntered across. Normally she wouldn't be so daring as to broadcast such a draining colour - white didn't look good on anybody - but this was a special occasion, and though it wasn't a flattering colour, it did do wonders for her figure. That and she had promised her daddy she would wear it, considering she spent nearly a thousand dollars on the damn thing.

Despite having grown up around balls and dinner parties, Parker couldn't hide the anxiousness clawing at her heart. She felt so out of place here, it was way too fancy, even for her. She seemed to be one of the few people here, a few girls in their own dresses were stood off to the corner, conversing with one another. Green hues flickered to the front of the room, gaze latching on the man stood behind a podium. He was watching them all; studying them it seemed. Still she offered him a smile of her own.

---

"Remember Wren, smile and be polite, yeah? We can't afford to screw this up."

By we she definitely meant her. Wren knew the consequences of not being accepted: she knew it would mean the end of her education, and honestly that was a pressure no sixteen year old should ever have to go through. But here she was, regardless. She had never worried about money before, never had to, really. Her mother had always been careful to hide any troubles they were having away from her - and she wasn't sure if she preferred it that way or not.

Back before she knew they were struggling she lived freely, she could spend as much time watching tv, could charge her phone whenever she wanted and fuck she could even shower as much as she wanted. Everything was different now; now she had to limit how long she watched TV for, she had to stop showering before the hot water ran out, goddamn, she even had to watch her weight. And now this? She had to dress up for her education? Smile and be polite?

The shirt her mother had dug from the bottom of her closet wasn't fancy enough and the fabric itched against her skin; she didn't have a single doubt that a nasty rash would be present when she finally changed later that night - even the jeans didn't fit her anymore. She supposed it was a good thing if she cared about having a good ass, the materiel was way too fucking tight.

She had been the first to arrive, her fingers clutching a glass of what she assumed to be sparkling water, it sat untouched. Even if she did like the fizzy stuff, she would've been too nervous to stomach anything anyway.

---

It came as a surprise to Delaney when she received a letter in the mail telling her she had been invited to the final process of a grant eremony, mainly because she hadn't applied for one in the first place. She was already busy enough and besides she knew she could continue her education when she was much older, she didn't have to race to do so now.

But her dream had always been to be a neurosurgeon and that was something you needed top grades for, and well, you couldn't exactly be one when you were nearing sixty, even if you could she would've preferred to have been given the chance to be one now. Turns out her brother had been eavesdropping in on her phone calls with her best friend and had gone out of his way to apply for it in her name.

A grant which promised to continue to pay for any winning students education.

At first she had been adamant on not going - how could she leave her brother alone? Sure her mother was there, but the woman had blanked out since the departing of her late husband, Delaney would be surprised if she knew what day it was. It had been Maverick who convinced her in the end; something about how she'd still be there for him, just a lot less with studying and everything. Besides he was fourteen! He didn't need a babysitter anymore, according to him, at least.

That was how she had wound up in a room that looked as if it had come straight out of that titanic movie, with businessmen and their families all chattering away to themselves. The orchestra lured the girl away, leading her to another room with about nineteen other girls, and a man who boasted a proud smile behind a podium. Huh, so this is what it was like being stupid rich?

 

[Freezn]

When his vision was fixed anew with cleaned glasses Mr. Chairman was pleasantly surprised to find one of the applicants smiling in his direction. She was a pretty little thing. All of those invited to the day's event were. In the back of his mind his aged mind, he scrambled up a memory of a particularly interesting application. It wasn't often they received interest from one not born of desperation. Mr. Avarice was always quite taken with such applicants. Mr. Chairman returned the young woman's smile with a warm grandfatherly smile of his own, complete with a reassuring wink.

As the young women began to gather into their cliques Mr. Chairman gave the silent signal to let the day's festivities begin. A nod of acknowledgement to a camera in the upright corner of the room, and the far side door towards the east wing swung open. Slowly the members of Sigmund's Club began filtering in. Some made their way to their seats. Others chatted with cohorts as they strolled through the room. A slim few wandered off to the side to gaze upon their applicants from a distance. Plenty more waded into the congregation of hopefuls with charming smiles born of the confidence that they could buy their very souls back from the Devil himself.

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"Sickening, isn't it?" Mr. Burden murmured over Delany's left shoulder. The gentleman was soft of voice, like the low rumble of a passing storm. He had arrived in much the same manner. Quiet, calm, without warning, as though he may have always been there. "All the money in this room and only twenty awardees." The taller man leaned back to his full height, away from one of the older applicant's ear.

"Miss Bennet if I recall correctly?" He stepped aside so that he was more appropriately within the young woman's field of vision. A warm hand engulfing her own in a confident shake. He was a fatherly man, likely in his forties with horn rimmed glasses with white and grey beginning to pepper his groomed beard and slicked back hair. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your application was quite interesting. Might I ask you to join me at my table for the evening?"

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"Parker?" The voice questioned from the crowd. Drawing near the green eyed youth Mr. Avarice offered up a winning grin as he shook his own folded pair of glasses at her. "You are aren't you? Parker Campbell? You know I think I worked with your father once. He was so proud of you, spoke constantly about his daughter." Sauntering up towards the smaller woman, more girl than proper woman in his eyes, the older gentleman gave her a once over.

"For good reason it seems. You're quite the beauty." An easy chuckle rolled from the man's lips. His square jaw supported his wide grin as his hand wandered down to her lower back. It settled there as naturally to him as though the casual gesture was as normal as breathing. With gentle pressure he lured the young woman towards his table, walking beside her as he spoke. "Gosh you know, the way he spoke about spoiling you, I'd have expected you to come in something a bit more fashionable. Ah but I understand, this is just a boring old awards ceremony with a bunch of old farts after all. Not something to get a fine young lady like yourself excited, eh?" His weathered old nose wrinkled as that grin widened just a touch more.

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Slowly, one by one, then two at a time, the members of Sigmund's Club drew in their favored applicants to their seats. Those who's prospective members had not gone to collect them were gently guided by staff to their appropriate seat. An allotted ten minutes was given before dinner began. Mr. Chairman had originally scheduled more time when he first took up his position, but the resounding response from his fellow members was that they didn't need such time to make their choices. Most were quite eager to be on their way to the end of the night festivities.

A little over half the applicants required the staff's assistance in finding their seat. Mr. Chairman was unsurprised to find Wren Moore was among them. It was difficult to drum up interest in that young lady. She was from such poor environs that she had been nearly disqualified from the application process prior to the night's events. At her table sat Mr. Numbers and young Mr. Measured, each of whom were already talking to their other two prospective applicants. Mentally he wished Miss Moore luck, as it was not often the third option was chosen from but it did happen on occurrence. And Mr. Chairman's instincts told him the little lady would produce some wonderful memories if given the chance.

Assessing the room he was all together unsurprised with the night thus far. The content smile on his lips told of his pleasure at such a fact. A lack of surprises at this point in the evening meant he had done well in his recruiting process. Mr. Avarice in particular seemed to have enjoyed his choice, as was his companion Mr. Burden. Their focus was entirely upon the young women that had spoken with upon the floor, the third option at their shared table all but forgotten about. In all likelihood she would be dismissed to another room before dinner ever began.

 

[e i g h t]

"Something like that." Delaney found herself uttering back, dragging her gaze away from the man at the front. "Twenty?" It hadn't occurred to her that so many people were going to be awarded a grant - nor had it really became apparent that for some reason all of the awardees were women. If she had been paying attention that was something she definitely would've brought to light.

His hand met her own, fingers lacing around her palm in a shake that reminded her of something she probably would've done with her father had he been around. He looked comforting, radiating an energy she couldn't quite place. "It is, yes." She felt out of place standing beside him, hell, she felt out of place standing before any of them - they were all swimming in money, living lifestyles she could only imagine. "Of course." Despite the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she allowed him to lead the way to his table, anyway.

At least she wouldn't be sitting alone.

---

At the sound of his voice, Parker spun on her heel to greet the man calling out her name. One eyebrow rose, an easy smile of her own curving her lips upwards. "You did?" Despite having a close relationship with her father; he was still a business man at heart and so she never hung around when meetings were held at their house, nor did she ever tag along. Therefore it was impossible to know whether this man was lying.

Was that why she was invited? Because somebody knew her?

"Thank you." The slight discoloration lit her cheeks like a goddamn Christmas tree, a compliment she received more times than she could count, but one she appreciated all the same. "You don't like?" A pout accompanied the teasing tone of her words. "I wasn't sure what to expect, this was just the first thing I found laying 'round." Before long Parker had found herself standing beside a table, another girl and man sat down already.

She offered a smile to the woman sat down, who returned it a little less enthusiastically.

---

To be completely honest, Wren didn't care about being chosen or accepted for the grant as much as her mother did. It meant the end of her education, yes, but an education she could get at any time. If all else failed she could get a job and help towards everything they were struggling for - like life. It didn't bother her when she was ushered towards a table, a table where four other people sat.

However, it did make her uncomfortable, if only because of how conversed they all seemed to be. Wren wasn't aware you were supposed to mingle with anyone, all she assumed was that you were either handed the grant or you weren't. it all felt a little too clique for her liking. She had an inkling nobody chose to converse with her because of how underdressed she was compared to everyone else.

It is a ceremony, Wren, you could've tried a little harder.

Clenching her jaw, the brunette's fingers tightened around the glass, gaze focused blurrily on the older man behind the podium. She didn't care enough to insert herself into anyone's conversations - and even if she did? She was way too anxious to do so.