O-Rinn

 O-RINN

The sleek elevator doors whisper open, revealing the lavish interior adorned with polished ebony wood and platinum accents.  Regina strides in, her latex catsuit hugging her curves like a second skin, the black velvet cloak billowing behind her.  The platinum bob frames her porcelain face, highlighting her piercing emerald eyes that seem to penetrate the very soul of anyone dared to meet her gaze.

She presses the button for the top floor, a small smirk playing on her crimson lips as the elevator begins its ascent.  The tower's exterior races by the reinforced glass, offering a breathtaking view of Echo City's sprawling skyline - a chaotic mix of ancient ruins and neon-drenched skyscrapers.

Regina's mind drifts to her secret pact with Dr. Voss, a devious smile spreading across her face.  The enhanced males are proving to be even more potent than she had hoped, their stamina and aggression surpassing that of any Echo City native.  She could feel her power growing, seeping into every corner of the metropolis as her personal army expanded.  Soon, no one would dare challenge her reign.

The elevator pings softly, signaling its arrival at the penthouse level.  The doors glide open to reveal an opulent foyer, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.  O-Rinn van der Bilt stands before a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette an elegant contrast against the fiery sky.

Regina saunters in, her stilettos clicking a staccato rhythm on the polished marble.

"O-Rinn, darling," she purrs, "You wanted to see me?"  Her voice is a low, sultry tone, a perfect blend of charm and menace.

O-Rinn turns to face Regina, her porcelain skin glowing in the warm light of the penthouse. She's an exquisite vision in a tailored ivory silk dress, the delicate fabric clinging to her lithe, muscular frame. Her raven hair cascades down her back in loose waves, contrasting with her alabaster skin.  Emerald eyes, mirroring Regina's own, regard the Dominatrix with a mix of curiosity and wariness.  Her companion, Faye, stands sentinel beside her.  The assassin is a striking figure in a crimson dress, the deep V-neck showcasing her ample cleavage and toned midriff.  Her hair is a pitch black, a shocking contrast against her light skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes.  She exudes an aura of danger and grace, a lethal beauty honed by years of training.

The penthouse is a testament to van der Bilt opulence, with its soaring ceilings, expansive windows offering panoramic views of the city, and lavish furnishings.  A grand piano stands in one corner, a sleek black piano bench tucked beneath.  Plush velvet sofas in rich sapphire and emerald tones are arranged around a glass coffee table, upon which rests a silver tray laden with crystal decanters of amber liquid and delicate champagne flutes.

Regina strides into the room, her platinum blonde hair gleaming under the lights.  Her emerald eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, miss nothing as she takes in the opulent surroundings and the two women present.

She comes to a halt before them, her crimson lips curling into a confident, almost taunting smile. 

"O-Rinn, my dear," she purrs, "Your invitation was intriguing.  I do hope you have something of interest to discuss, as I have matters of great importance to attend to."  Her voice is a low, silken purr, a perfect blend of charm and menace that hints at the vast power and influence she wields.

O-Rinn's eyes narrow slightly as she meets Regina's gaze, a flicker of something akin to suspicion or perhaps envy in their depths.  She knows Regina's power is growing, the whispers and rumors reaching her ears, but the details remain frustratingly elusive. She takes a step closer to Regina, her voice lowering to a more serious tone.

"Regina, my dear, I couldn't help but hear whispers of your new... allies.  The Freedom Angels, I believe they call themselves?" She raises an eyebrow, her eyes searching Regina's face for any hint of reaction.

Faye shifts slightly, her hand subtly hovering near the concealed weapon hidden beneath the folds of her crimson dress. She watches Regina with a guarded expression, ready to react at a moment's notice should her mistress require it.

Regina's smile only grows wider at the mention of the Freedom Angels, her emerald eyes glinting with a predatory light. "Ah, the Freedom Angels," she murmurs, as if tasting the name on her tongue. "Such a noble name for such... formidable soldiers.  I must say, O-Rinn, your sources are quite well-informed."  Her voice is a low, silken purr, a note of warning beneath the honeyed words.  She takes a step closer to O-Rinn, her stiletto heels clicking on the polished marble.  "But I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss my... arrangements... at the moment.  Suffice it to say, I have plans, grand plans that will reshape this city in ways neither of us can imagine."  Her voice is a low, intense whisper, a promise and a threat rolled into one.

O-Rinn's eyes narrow further as she meets Regina's gaze, a flicker of something akin to anger or frustration in their depths.  She knows she's being kept in the dark, and it rankles the proud, ambitious woman.

"Plans, you say?" she asks, a sharp edge to her voice.  "I would think, as respected allies, we should have a mutual interest in sharing such... information.  After all, your success is our success, is it not?"  Her tone is a not-so-subtle reminder of the van der Bilt family's power and influence.

Faye watches the exchange intently, ready to intervene if needed.  She knows the delicate dance these two powerful women engage in, a blend of friendship, rivalry, and a deep-seated desire to maintain their respective thrones.  And she knows that the Freedom Angels are a wildcard, a new player that could tip the scales in a way that would be difficult to predict.  Regina leans back slightly, a smirk playing on her crimson lips as she regards O-Rinn with a mix of amusement and disdain.  She takes a sip of her champagne, the crystal flute glinting in the light as she brings it to her lips.

"Oh, my dear O-Rinn," she purrs, "You know I have nothing but the utmost respect for the van der Bilt family.  But even I have my little secrets, my ace in the hole, as it were."  Her voice is a low, silken whisper, a hint of a threat beneath the honeyed words.  She sets her glass down on the silver tray with a soft clink, her eyes never leaving O-Rinn's face.

"As for the Freedom Angels, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting their leader, one… John Smith.  No, they are not my allies.  Not yet, anyway."  A wicked glint enters her eye as she speaks, a hint of a plan already forming in her mind.

Faye watches Regina intently, her hand still poised near her hidden weapon.  She knows the Dominatrix is playing a dangerous game, keeping secrets from the van der Bilt family.  But she also knows that Regina is a master of the game, a player who always seems to come out on top.

Regina turns to O-Rinn, her smile widening into a predatory grin.

"But I must say, the idea of allying myself with such a band of... warriors, it's a tempting notion.  Perhaps you and I could work together, my dear.  A van der Bilt and a Lord, united in purpose."  Her voice is a low, seductive murmur, a hint of a promise and a threat rolled into one.  She reaches out, her gloved hand coming to rest on O-Rinn's bare shoulder.  Her fingers trace the delicate ivory silk, a soft caress that belies the power that lies beneath. "What do you say, O-Rinn?  Shall we make a pact, a bargain of sorts?  A joining of our families in more ways than one?" Her emerald eyes bore into O-Rinn's own, a challenge and an invitation all in one.

O-Rinn's eyes narrow as she regards Regina with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.  She leans back slightly, her black silk dress whispering softly as she moves.

"A pact, you say?  That's a tempting offer, Regina, but I find myself... hesitant."  She pauses, her gaze searching Regina's face for any hint of her true intentions.

Faye watches the exchange intently, her hand still poised near her weapon.  She knows her mistress is a shrewd negotiator, but she also senses the undercurrent of secrecy that surrounds Regina's true plans.

Regina's smile remains in place, but there's a new tension in her eyes, a guarded look that reveals her reluctance to share all the details of her schemes.

"Hesitant?  Now why ever would a strong, capable woman like yourself be hesitant, O-Rinn?"  she asks, a note of teasing challenge in her voice.

O-Rinn's lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with a sudden intensity.

"Don't play coy with me, Regina," she says, her voice a low, serious tone.  "We both know there are whispers, rumors of... an army, a force that you've assembled in secret."  She leans closer, her face inches from Regina's own.  "If we are to be allies, to join our families in the way you suggest, I need to know the truth.  I need to know exactly what it is you intend to do with your... private military."  Her voice is a low, demanding hiss, a clear indication that she will not be brushed off lightly.

Regina's eyes glint with a dangerous light as O-Rinn presses for answers, a flicker of annoyance crossing her porcelain features.  She leans in closer, until they are nose to nose, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr.

"Oh, my dear O-Rinn, always so... curious.  So eager to know the intimate details of my... operations."  Her tongue flicks out, a quick, teasing caress against her crimson lips.  "But I'm afraid some things are best left as surprises, at least until the time is right."

Faye watches the tense exchange, her grip tightening slightly on her pistol.  She knows the Dominatrix is playing a delicate game, one that could easily backfire if not navigated with the utmost care.

Regina's eyes narrow, a sudden, sharp intensity in their emerald depths.

"But you're right about one thing," she murmurs, her voice a low, silken rasp.  "I do have... plans.  Plans to dominate, to reshape this city in a way that will leave all others trembling before me."  Her smile widens into a wicked grin, a predatory gleam in her eyes.  "Justice for the weak?  For the downtrodden?  No, I don't believe in such altruistic nonsense."  Her voice is a low, dismissive hiss, a clear indication of her disdain for such ideals.  She takes a sip of her champagne, the crystal flute glinting in the light as she raises it to her lips.  "No, O-Rinn, my version of justice is a different beast entirely.  A justice where the strong rule, where the weak are left to reap the rewards of their own inadequacy."  Her voice is a low, ruthless murmur, a chilling reminder of the power that lies behind her words.  "And I intend to see that justice carried out, one way or another."  With that, she sets her glass down, a soft clink against the silver tray, a signal that the conversation is over, at least for now.

O-Rinn's eyes flash with a mix of anger and frustration as she watches Regina's defiant display, her jaw clenching at the Dominatrix's refusal to share her true intentions.  However, she knows better than to push the issue further, at least for now.

"Very well, Regina," she says, her voice a low, tight murmur.  "Keep your secrets.  For now."  It's a clear warning, a promise that this conversation is far from over.

Regina simply smiles, a wicked, taunting grin that only serves to annoy O-Rinn further.  With a swish of her velvet cloak, she turns and strides towards the elevator, her stiletto heels clicking a staccato rhythm against the polished marble floor.  Faye follows close behind, ready to escort the mistress out of the van der Bilt penthouse.

As the elevator doors slide closed behind them with a soft hiss, Regina reaches into the folds of her cloak and retrieves her sleek, black smartphone.  With a few quick taps, she connects to her assistant, a brilliant mind named Lila who manages the logistics of her sprawling empire.  Lila's face appears on the screen, her dark eyes widening slightly at the sight of her employer's name.

"Regina," she says, a note of concern in her voice.  "Is everything alright?  I heard you had a meeting with the van der Bilt family tonight."

Regina waves a dismissive hand, her crimson nails glinting in the elevator's dim light.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine," she says, a note of impatience in her voice.  "But I need you to gather some information for me.  I want to know everything there is to know about a group called the Freedom Angels.  Their leader, a John Smith, and his band of... warriors."  She says the word with a hint of disdain, as if the very notion of a group of rebels threatening her power is laughable.

Lila nods, her fingers already flying over the keyboard of her own laptop as she begins to compile the information Regina requires.

"Of course, Regina," she says.  "I'll have a full report ready for you by the time you arrive at Solaris Lights."  It's a testament to her efficiency and dedication to her employer's needs.

Regina leans back against the velvet-covered wall of the elevator, a satisfied smirk playing across her cruel lips.

Back in the penthouse, O-Rinn leans back in her chair, long legs crossed elegantly as she ponders her next move.  Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scan the stream of information flowing across her secure desktop.  She turns to Faye.

"Regina thinks she can play this game?  She underestimates the depth of my reach."  A cold smile plays at the corners of O-Rinn's mouth.  Her mind races through the possibilities, the strings she can pull to regain control over the tightening grip the Lord heiress has on Echo City's most desirable assets.  "Gutgash's little stunt planned for the graduation ceremony... invaluable cover.  We can use the fallout to our advantage…" she pauses and considers, her eyes darken.  “But it’s horrific, even for him. For any Freemen.”

She swipes to the upcoming AI conference details, a plan beginning to take shape.

"And with the elections looming... there will be plenty of chances to manipulate the puppet candidates.  Leave that to Warren, he loves playing politics."  She chuckles, then, she stands abruptly, straightening her dress, as regal and imposing as a dragon queen.

"And I want you to dig into John Smith and the mercenary faction, those Freedom Angels.”  She pauses.  “He's new, yes?  Not on our payroll.  Intriguing.. hmmm... send them a generous 'welcome to the neighborhood' donation.  Might as well keep them in our pocket from the start.”  She taps her chin thoughtfully.  “Get me everything on Smith.  Every.  Last.  Fucking.  Detail.  I want to know what he eats for breakfast, for fuck's sake.”

O-Rinn begins to pace the room, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished marble floor.

“The graduation massacre... Gutgash is getting bold.  Too bold.”  She shakes her head.  “We can't have that, now can we?  Arrange a meeting.  Tonight.  I'll deal with the dear Mr. Wayne personally.

Glancing out the towering window at the sprawling city below, O-Rinn pauses, considering a massive shipment poised to depart from Echo Harbor.

“And lastly... see to it that the shipment to Janus City is... delayed.  We need the bodies here, not there.”  She gives a cold smile.  “Plenty of work for the girls in the noodle shops and pleasure palaces of Echo City.”

Sitting back down, O-Rinn takes a sip of her champagne and nods to Faye.

"Regina is just the beginning.  Gutgash's massacre plans, those pointless elections, the peacekeeper's stunt with raising the dead... they are all diversions.  Opponents attempting to gain leverage."  Her focus turns to a holomap detailing the Wastelands.  "The real power play is happening out there, between the various Freeman factions.  Queen Nymeria's party is her way of showing she's indispensable, that she can't be touched."  O-Rinn returns her attention to Faye.  "We can't let them destabilize the equilibrium. It would be... unproductive."

With a swish of her hair, and a glinting smile, she’s ready to make her next move.

* * * * *

Later that day, O-Rinn finds herself The Bare Mare, the exclusive Echo City riding academy, a sanctuary nestled near the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis.  She watches as Bea, astride a magnificent chestnut mare, canters gracefully around the outdoor arena.  It's clear the young heiress is a skilled and passionate rider.

O-Rinn approaches the edge of the arena, her impeccable tailored suit draws appreciative glances from the stable hands.  She watches Bea guide the horse through a series of complex jumps and maneuvers with utter concentration and finesse.  As Bea finishes her circuit and guides the mare back to a trot, O-Rinn gives a subtle wave.  Bea looks over and her eyes widen in surprise, a hint of panic flickering across her youthful features before schooling her expression into a cooler mask.

Bea dismounts and hands the reins to a waiting stable hand, smoothing down her riding habit before striding towards O-Rinn with a less than enthusiastic smile.

“Auntie O-Rinn, this is... unexpected.  What brings you here?” Bea asks, trying to keep the wariness from her voice.

O-Rinn returns her smile, warm and reassuring.

“Ah, darling Bea, your mother mentioned you'd taken a keen interest in equestrian pursuits lately.  I simply had to see for myself.”  She looks Bea up and down, taking in the expensive riding gear that hugs her lithe figure.  “You look absolutely stunning out there, my dear.  Natural grace and control, I'm impressed.”

Bea flushes slightly at the praise, unused to such direct admiration from her aunt.  She recovers quickly, lifting her chin.

“Mr. Shahini has been an excellent instructor.  I’m lucky. I guess.”

O-Rinn nods, her smile not wavering.

“Indeed, I've heard nothing but glowing reports of his tutelage.  Tell me, Bea, have you considered competing professionally someday?  With your natural talent, I believe you could go far.”

Bea looks away, trying to hide a sudden blush. 

“I... I..” Bea looks back to O-Rinn, a hint of defiance in her eyes as she meets her aunt's probing gaze.  “I... I don't know if I'm ready for that.  Competition is so intense, and with everything else going on…” She trails off, unconsciously crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

O-Rinn's smile doesn't falter, but her eyes sharpen with interest at Bea's uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Everything else going on?”  She asks lightly, but with an underlying edge to her voice.  “Such as your studies?  Or perhaps…” She pauses, letting the moment stretch. “...your new suitor?”

Bea's eyes widen, and she takes an involuntary step back, her face flushing a deep crimson.

“I... I don't know what you mean.”  She stammers, clearly flustered by O-Rinn's direct accusation.

O-Rinn laughs softly, the sound low and melodic with a hint of danger.

“Don't play coy with me, my dear.  I have eyes and ears everywhere in this city.”  She takes a step closer to Bea, her voice dropping to a low murmur.  “It's this John Smith character you've been cavorting with, isn't it?  The one leading that ragtag band of mercenaries?”

Bea swallows hard, her mouth opening and closing as she grapples for a response.

“I... he's just a friend.  A tutor for my... my studies.”  She manages to stumble out.

O-Rinn tsks softly, shaking her head.

“Stuff your studies, Bea.  We both know that's not all he's been tutoring you in.”  Her voice is still low, but with a harder edge.  “He's a dangerous man, Bea.  Not family.  Not Syndicate.  A glorified thug.  You can't be seen with him anymore.”

Bea lifts her chin, a spark of rebellion in her eyes.

“I won't be told who I can and can't see.”  She says, her voice rising in pitch.  “You can't control me, Aunt O-Rinn.  I'm not some pawn in your power games.”

O-Rinn's eyes flash with a harsh light at Bea's defiance.  She leans in closer, her voice a low hiss.

“Listen closely, you ungrateful brat.  You are a van der Bilt, and that comes with responsibility and expectations.”  O-Rinn sees the stubborn set of Bea's jaw and knows she'll have to play this carefully.  She leans back slightly, her voice taking on a more conciliatory tone.  “Very well, Bea.  I can see this means a great deal to you.”  She pauses, choosing her next words carefully.  “But you must understand, my dear, that associating with someone outside of... suitable company... can have consequences.  For both you and this John Smith.”

Bea's eyes widen slightly at the implication, but she holds her ground.

“What are you saying?”  She asks, a hint of fear coloring her voice.

O-Rinn sighs softly, as if explaining something obvious to a particularly dense child.

“I'm saying, my sweet, that the people I associate with - your father, your mother, your ‘soon-to-be husband’... we have enemies.  Powerful, ruthless enemies who would stop at nothing to destroy our family and everything we hold dear.”  She reaches out, lightly gripping Bea's chin and tilting her face up to meet her gaze.  “This John Smith, he's a wildcard.  A loose cannon.  If the wrong people find out about your association with him…” She shakes her head slightly.  “It could bring ruin to us all.  Especially if…” She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “...he gets interested in your Syndicate ties.”  She holds Bea's gaze for a long moment before releasing her chin and stepping back.  “So you see, my dear, it's not about me controlling you.  It's about keeping you safe.  Keeping all of us safe.” Her voice is hard, but there's a real underlying concern in her eyes.  She looks away for a moment, then back to Bea.  “I'm not asking you to stop seeing him altogether.  But you must be discreet.  You must be smart.”  And then, she makes her move.  “Give me this number,” she orders, holding out her hand.  “I'll make sure he knows the stakes, and the terms.”  She watches as Bea gets out her device and looks up John’s number.  “And keep this between us.  No one else can know.  Nobody.”  She looks at Bea sternly, her eyes hard.  “Do we have an understanding, my dear?”  She asks, waiting for Bea's agreement before proceeding further.  “I'm only trying to protect you, Bea.  You must trust me on this.”

Bea hesitates, her lower lip trembling slightly as she weighs her aunt's words.  After a long, tense moment, she texts O-Rinn the number.

“I... I understand.”  She whispers, her voice barely audible.  “I won't tell anyone.  I promise.”

O-Rinn gives her a sharp nod, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

“Good girl.”  She murmurs.  With a final, warning look, O-Rinn turns and strides away, her heels clicking sharply on the stable floor. As she exits the arena, she calls over her shoulder.

“Think carefully about what we've discussed, Bea.  And choose wisely.”   Her voice echoes in the chamber before fading away.

* * * * *

O-Rinn returns to her lavish penthouse suite at the top of the van der Bilt tower, the sprawling space a testament to her wealth and power.  She kicks off her heels and pours herself a glass of vintage Bordeaux before settling in at her desk.  With a few deft keystrokes, she initiates a secure video call, a feed popping up on the large screen before her.  Just a few moments later, the face of Lorraine Arno fills the screen—striking and exquisitely made-up.  Lorraine leans in closer to the camera, her full lips curling into an amused smirk.

“O-Rinn, my darling.  What a pleasant surprise.”  Her voice is a throaty purr.  “To what do I owe this honor?  And more importantly, what does this mean for our little... arrangement?”

The "arrangement" was a mutually beneficial agreement forged when Lorraine found herself in a particularly compromising position with the tabloids.  A few well-placed favors and dirt on her competitors, and she'd been reformed into a shining beacon of charitable virtue.  The real reason, of course, was that veneer made it that much easier for the Syndicate to use her as a front for their interests in the vibrant world of entertainment.  In truth, Lorraine was more than happy to play the altruistic celebrity, so long as the perks kept coming.  And nothing was more a perk than the luxuries O-Rinn showered upon her in service to the... arrangement.

O-Rinn leans back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Dreadfully sorry, darling.” She says with a wry smile.  “I know how much you detest our little divulgence sessions.  But I have something I believe will pique your interest quite thoroughly.”

Lorraine raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Oh?  And what might that be?” She asks, a hint of deliberation in her tone.  “Bear in mind, my dear, that there's not much room for surprises in my...encilous schedule.”

O-Rinn chuckles, taking a sip of her wine before setting it aside.

“Now, now, don't be like that.  Where's your sense of adventure?”  She teases.  “Boldly go where Regina Lord fears to tread, as they say.”

Lorraine leans in closer, her diamond-encrusted earrings glinting under the lights.

Being frank, things have been... out of the ordinary with her lately.  Running her mouth, running off at every opportunity, as if she owns the place.”  Her voice drips with disdain.  “The last thing I heard her say was at the launch of her latest foundation, some nonsense about "empowering women" while wearing a dress that cost more than half the guests' annual salaries put together.  The hypocrisy, I tell you!”  She shakes her head in disgust.  “So, tell me, why do you mention our little Regina?  And please, do not say "kill her".  I've heard it all before.”  She rolls her eyes.

O-Rinn listens intently to Lorraine's tirade, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.  When Lorraine finishes her rant, she holds up a hand.

“Very well, darling.  Put your mind at ease.  I have nothing so crude in mind... at least, not yet.”  She pauses, letting the anticipation build.  “I want you to create a role for Miss Regina Lord in your next... let's call it a 'production'.  Give her a juicy part, front and center.  The kind of role that would have the paparazzi drooling and the tabloids in a frenzy. She takes another sip of her wine, her eyes glinting wickedly.   And of course, you'll be starring alongside her.  A stunning on-screen pairing, the talk of the town... but with a twist.  Make it look like a romance blossoming between takes.  A passionate, can't-keep-your-hands-off-each-other kind of love story.”

Lorraine stares at her for a long moment, then bursts out laughing.

“You want me to what?”  She asks incredulously.  “Throw a wrench in my works, you mean? Make Regina lose what's left of her mind when she realizes it’s a scam?”  She shakes her head in amazement.  “You want to torture the bitch?  Feed her own ambitions back to her in a way she can never resist?”

O-Rinn smiles enigmatically.  “Precisely, my dear.” she says, “Let’s arrange a private screening for our dear.  Show her a glimpse of what the good life truly is.”

Lorraine breaks into a wicked grin, her eyes sparkling with mischievous glee.  She leans in closer to the camera, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“You devious minx, you want me to be... Regina's false friend?”  She chuckles darkly.  “A Trojan horse, baiting the trap with the promise of stardom and success?”  Lorraine throws her head back and laughs, a rich, throaty sound that echoes through the penthouse.  “Oh, I love it!”  She exclaims, her face alight with wicked delight.  “We'll invite that insufferable hag to an exclusive private screening, just the two of us.  I'll gush about her 'talents' and 'potential', telling her that this new role is the key to launching her career to new heights.”  She smirks cruelly.  “I'll make her believe that I'm her secret ally, her champion, her ticket to the big leagues.”  Lorraine sits back, laughing gleefully.  “And all the while, she'll be walking straight into the lion's den, completely oblivious to the trap that awaits her.”  She shakes her head in amazement.  “What a glorious, delicious scheme!”  Her eyes dance with wicked mirth.  “I must say, O-Rinn, your mind is positively devious.  I absolutely adore it!”  Lorraine raises her glass in a toast, a cruel smile playing across her lips.  “I'll make the arrangements at once.  A private screening at the hottest new cinema in town, a cozy little booth just for we girls... and a front row seat for the spectacular show that awaits our dear Regina.”  She grins wickedly at O-Rinn.  “I'll have my people call her people to set up the screening, and I'll make sure to paint a picture of the glittering future that awaits her... if she plays ball with me.”

O-Rinn grins, easily visualizing the delicious scene unfurling as she intended.  With a satisfied nod, she raises her glass in return.

“Capital idea, my dear.”  She says, taking a sip of wine.  “I look forward to seeing the glorious destruction you'll rain down upon our dear Regina's head.”

On the screen, Lorraine laughs softly.

“You'll have front row seats to the show, I promise.” She says, a wicked gleam in her eye.  And in the meantime... I'll make sure we have some 'rehearsals' for that big budget spectacle.”  She leans in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially.  “Ones where the sparks in my eyes won't be from the camera lights.”  She winks salaciously.  “Get ready for an up close and very personal... screen test.  Her grin widens.

O-Rinn chuckles wickedly in response.

“I'm counting on it, my dear.”  She purrs.  “I'm counting on it.”  With a final, enigmatic smirk and a nod, she ends the call.