The room was dungeon like in quality. The air was crisp and cold and smelled somewhat of mold. It was vacant of furniture and was early not meant for comfort. That was why it served it's purpose well as the place he would hold his death eater meeting. The information he had received required immediate attention and that meant immediate action.

Tom had given days of thought to his next move and it still wasn't a clear picture he had. There were too many unknown factors for it to be clear and that no doubt had something to do with Dumbledore. That old, despicable, fraud! One day Tom would have the honor of wiping the twinkle from the old wizard's eyes but unfortunately that day was not today.

Not for the first time Tom was astounded by how clear and sharp his mind was now that it was free of insanity and now that he was not just some crazed delusional killer. He was still a killer there was no doubt about that and he would still kill at a moments notice. If he needed to and if something or someone was in his way. He still enjoyed torture and the darker sides of magic and life and he knew that would not change.

But on the inside Tom knew something had changed when he regained his sanity. A conscience had developed and emotions had plagued him like death. Guilt over things that had come to pass because of his trip down insanity lane. Remorse for actions he had performed. He chose not to spend too much time on those and instead focused on the memories now unlocked for him to play and how he would make Dumbledore pay.

For now he had a meeting to conduct and he pressed his finger to the snake on his forearm and waited for his servants to arrive.

The day had been a stressful one, to say the least. Without a case to drag him into the field, and with his paperwork having all been submitted, Fletch was left with the task of training new Obliviators. It was one of his most hated tasks at the office, and he had a headache before noon. It seemed like they were taking on less and less capable minds lately, and he intended to figure out a way to never be stuck training the fools again if he could help it.

Fletcher hungered to alter the memories of some foolish witch or wizard. He wanted to perform dark deeds that would tear families apart. He didn’t want to waste his time training people who would never make it one day in the field if they were sent into a bad situation. The things he’d seen on the job… These dolts could never even imagine.

Thus, when the man finally made his way into his flat, it was to pour himself a tumbler of Ogden’s and flop down into a comfortable chair. He ran his free hand through his shaggy hair, then winced as pain shot through his forearm. His mark was glowing, glaring at him in a summons. Perhaps he would get his wish and exact some darkness upon a lesser being tonight after all.

The man downed his whiskey in two gulps, then threw on thick black robes and fetched his mask. His goal was always to be one of the first to his Lord’s summons, and this time he was prepared enough to potentially be the very first. That would be wonderful, and a smirk crossed his lips as he placed the mask over his face and turned on his heel, apparating with the pull of his Lord’s call.

Fletcher showed up with his knee already bent and head bowed before the man he lived to serve. “My Lord,” he said simply, remaining on his knee before the man. “It is good to see you.” He knew he technically should have kept to the simple greeting, but as it was just the two of them he did not feel so strictly held to code. It truly made him happy to kneel before his Lord, and he wanted the man to know it. Now if only the others would show up so that the meeting could begin. Fletch was hungry for an assignment. He wanted to play with some memories.

A low and deadly hiss could be heard as Bellatrix gripped her right forearm. Pulling up the sleeve of her tailored black dress robes revealed the black snake and skull that burned there. The Dark Lord was calling a meeting. A slow smirk crept upon her lips and she turned on her heel and apparated away.

Unlike so many of his other followers, Bellatrix was not obligated to wear a mask. She, unlike so many others, had given everything to their lord and had nothing more to lose, and everything to gain. To Bella, it was a disservice to their lord, and she sneered in disgust at the rest of the death eaters as she past them on her way to her place in the circle around the room. Her graceful gait was imperious and she held her head high and looked down at everyone except her lord, who she kneeled before. "My Lord."

One by one they arrived, those who claimed loyalty to him. The undeniable fear and anxiousness that clouded them he soaked up like a sponge, basking in it. It was a thing of beauty to ignite such feelings in those who considered themselves above such things. To have the power of having the most connected and powerful wizards dropping to their knees in front of him like he were a god.

Part of Tom still realized this power, and another part of him saw it as a weakness. So easily led, they were like spineless jellyfish. Doing whatever it took to survive. Some he knew would turn traitor the moment things looked bad. They would have to be weeded out, and soon. For now, he had a mission. His eyes roamed around the circle, piercing with a burning intensity into each pair looking back through the masks. Some flinched, and he sneered, disgusted. "I require," Tom paused, speaking lowly as he continued to search them all with his glare, "a volunteer."

He did not say for what, or why. Those were questions he would answer in due time. He knew none of them were stupid enough to ask. They all valued their lives too much. He knew a brutal battle was warring within them. Their survival instincts battling with each other. It was suicidal to volunteer for something you did not know all the details to, and yet, in this circle, it was suicidal not to volunteer. He had them between a rock and a hard place, and Tom enjoyed every minute of it.

When Bellatrix entered the room, Fletch felt himself fill with a mixture of admiration and pure green jealousy. She was an amazing woman, he couldn’t deny that, but she was so… ugh! The way she held her head so high as she pranced through the throng of other Death Eaters, proudly wearing no mask before their lord. It was beautiful and irritating and Fletcher couldn’t help but want to join her in her dangerous dance. He wanted to pull his mask from his face, and pull her to the floor, giving in to the glory that was the female Lestrange.

The man shook himself from these thoughts as his Lord spoke, asking for a volunteer as if he knew that this was a difficult question to pose. The thing was, Fletcher didn’t live for anything else. He didn’t have anything else to live for. His sister didn’t really need him anymore, and his job was but to let him better serve the man he knelt before. The Death Eater did not think his master completely sadistic, so he did not expect some suicide mission. Plus, he was sure the man valued his worth as a skilled Obliviator. The ability to manipulate memories and meld the human mind was really something to keep in one’s arsenal, after all.

“My Lord,” he growled, standing and approaching closer before bowing again. “I volunteer.” It barely took him a minute to speak after the question was posed. All his thoughts wrapped up in no time for him to come to an easy decision. “As always, I am yours to command.” He hoped the man knew that he had earned Fletcher’s trust, and that this follower was also a leader of sorts. He did not blindly follow, but believed in what this man stood for. Someday, he wanted to be as valued to the Dark Lord as the master was to him. Or as Bella was to their master.

Glancing at the woman who plagued his mind, Fletch couldn’t hold back a small smirk and a wink. He wanted to tell her how she made him feel, but her husband was still around somewhere, he thought. Not that their kind were the most faithful, but he didn’t want to cross the famous Lestrange. Settling for the simple thought of her in a more sexual situation to satiate his hunger, Fletch turned his eyes back to his Lord and master, awaiting his orders.

Bellatrix watched the Dark Lord with a reverent look and listened in rapture, a smirk unfolding as he got to his point. His request was nothing more than a cloaked order, and she knew it was not without purpose that he made it in this way. Bella could practically see the fear and reservations in the eyes of those around her, sure it was also reflected in the their faces that they hid behind their masks.

The pureblood witch sneered at them all, seeing nothing but spineless wizards who did not deserve to even be in the same room as her lord. Her face twisted into one of disgust as her dark eyes narrowed when only one stepped forward to claim the prize. One who thought it wise to wink at her. Bellatrix's hackles rose, and a fierce sneer was the only reply she gave as she barely kept a snarl from falling from between her lips and her fingers grazed over the smooth end of her wand in a deathly caress as she considered the possibilities of torture she would love to exercise on the wizard.

"If I may, my Lord." The witch stepped forward from her place, addressing the Dark Lord in the reverent tone she so often used in his presence, bowing her head forward in a show of loyalty, and respect, and even in this vulnerable position her posture radiated a confidence and pride no other in this circle had ever come close to matching. "I am always available for your wishes, and ready to serve you if you will it."

The angry hiss could be heard to the far corners of the room, and seemed to echo off it's walls. His burning glare could strike fear even into the fearless, and it seared through the circle of death eaters gathered before him. If looks had powers of their own, Tom's furious gaze would have burnt them where they stood. His anger made him both stronger and deadlier, a dangerous combination his followers seemed to have realized, because there was suddenly an outcry of volunteers, no doubt trying to salvage some semblance of loyalty by offering themselves to him at the last moment out of fear for their lives. This incensed him further. "Silence!"

The room quieted as if he had yelled, but he had barely hissed it through his thin, pasty lips. His eyes flashed dangerously as a deadly silence filled the room and the fear and anxiousness swirled around in it until it was almost visible. Had Tom still been insane he would have killed someone for the hell of it, but this was a waste he could not afford at this point in time. Very soon though he would reevaluate his followers, and weed out those who were not trustworthy or of any value to him. His organization would be going through some drastic changes in the near future and Tom was looking forward to it. Those who didn't fall in line would be disposed of, and this thought was the only thing saving someone's life at that moment.

He zeroed in on Bellatrix, his most faithful and loyal of servants. It was true that out of all of his followers he kept her in high regards, along with Severus. The two were his most trusted which was why he had set them the task he did. "I appreciate your offer Bellatrix, but I would rather you focused on the task I have already set for you. That is of the highest importance." His fiery gaze turned on to the first wizard who had volunteered. "LeBeau will do." Tom stepped right up to the man and pierced him with a deadly look. "You will need to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. There is a package I require you to retrieve for me in the form of a young witch. Draco Malfoy will deliver her to you. Subtlety and caution is advised. You will bring her here, unharmed. Is this understood?"

He could tell that he had struck a nerve when Bellatrix approached the Dark Lord and offered herself for the job. It brought a smirk to his lips when the man shot her down, announcing Fletcher as the appropriate man for the job. When the man continued, explaining just what his task would be, the smirk grew to a full on smile. Collecting prizes for his Lord was one of his favorite things to do, and the idea of taking a young witch from the Malfoy heir was too good to imagine. Oh, the boy would surely be furious when he saw the Obliviator at Hogsmeade.

“Yes, my Lord. She will arrive safely to you without a hair out of place.” He stood before the Dark Lord, eager to prove himself to the man. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I am here but to serve.” Fletch let his eyes wander over Bella once again before focusing on his master. If he needed anymore tasks completely, Fletcher would be quick to volunteer. He was eager to prove himself as worthy as Bellatrix, and this was surely the best way to do so. “And what time is the young Malfoy expected?”

Bellatrix bowed her head in acquiescence, a proud smirk uncurling over her lips as she backed up back into her place in the circle of death eaters. She was not bothered by the fact that she had not been chosen for this task, now that she knew what it was. She could not be seen out in public in any form, it was too dangerous and the Dark Lord was not willing to lose her again. Plus, the task she had already been given was deemed of the highest importance. He had trusted no one but her with that, and that was the highest honor he could give.

Once again, a sneer of utter disgust graced her face when the death eater smirked at her. Who did this wizard think he was? He was not worthy to be in the presence of her master, nor of the task he was given. Bellatrix caressed her wand affectionately, it being the only thing she could say she loved. The desire to see this man's blood spilling onto the ground filled her, but she would have to hold back. The Dark Lord would not be pleased if she dwindled his numbers. Narrowing her dark eyes dangerously on the wizard, Bella felt a dark smirk come to life. It wouldn't be so hard to catch him alone.

Tom watched the interaction between his most faithful and the death eater before him with a furious gaze. Did this look like a dating service to the wizard? "Crucio." Before he knew it, his wand was in his hand and the unforgivable past his lips, his anger giving it a satisfying edge. "Let me make this clear." Tom hissed dangerously, not amused by the gloating and showing off. He may be sane now, but he was still as dangerous as ever, and he would reinforce that knowledge whenever he saw fit.

"This mission is a rats work. For the bottom of the food chain. That is why you have been chosen." Every would was hissed through his teeth with poison. Tom lifted the curse only when he was sure his point had been made, satisfied with lesson he had made out of the man. Tom was not going to let anyone make a mockery out of him, or his most trusted followers. He would not allow them to be taunted and gloated over. He sneered in the man's face, spitting venom. "Nevertheless. This task will be done. And you will make sure it is done correctly. Or else."

Tom allowed the implication of what would happen to the wizard if he failed this task in any way to hang in the air for a few long moments, and then turned away. "The young Malfoy will meet you mid afternoon, at the shrieking shack." Turning back around after having stepped a few paces, Tom leveled Labeau with a deadly narrowed gaze. "If the girl is harmed in any way before I get to her, you will be begging for death for hours and still not receive that mercy." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, signaling for them to leave.