"Alright, alright, you can spare me all the nitty gritty details." Wendel had just cut off his lead scientist mid-presentation. They had spent months working with the frozen Rashja plant, determining how to safetly revive it, and months more figuring out how to pollinate it. Despite habitually expressing his non-impressed attitude, he was quite pleased. They had four active plants, that all seemed to be staying alive. "Do you have a test sample yet?" The lead scientist looked to others in the room, as if in shock that Wendel didn't want to hear the rest of a presentation that they obviously had spent days, even weeks, preparing. 

"Yes, only a small sample." He nodded to one of his teammates, who produced a silver metal box for their superior. Wendel took the box, opening it to understand it's contents. It contained a test-tube only barely filled with a pinkish liquid. "We have not done any scientific analysis on the sample, other than to verify it seems to be unsurprising organic plant matter." Wendel wasn't listening. He had stood up and was almost at the door. The scientist was looking around at others in the room, surprised at how to react. "Mr. Varden?" 

Wendel walked with purpose through the halls of his high-tech lab. He'd spared no expense to prepare it for the day he would finally get his hands on the Rashja plant, and he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment that it was finally in use. He reached the central elevator, punching himself to his private executive floor before letting himself feel even a shred of excitement that he'd finally be able to test the Rashja. Opening the box, without any hesitation he uncapped and swallowed the liquid. 

The elevator made a few of it's typical sounds before finally opening. His executive assistant was sitting at her desk as always. Poised to jump at his any need whenever he was in the office. "Judy, are the test subjects here and ready?" He was looking at her, but still heading full-stride for the double-doors of his office. 

"Yes sir." She stood, prepared to follow him if it seemed like he expected it. Most of her friends were shocked at how ridiculously well paid she was to sit at a desk and only occasionally do any real work. To Wendel, however, money was no object. To him, she had a chemistry degree from Princeton, was the only of the six assistants he started with who always delivered, and of course, was stunningly beautiful. "Shall I send one in?" Wendel also liked that she didn't second guess him, and didn't ask questions. Such as when he asked her to find three truly beautiful women high-class sex-professionals. If she had a prim and proper morale compass, she didn't show it. For all she knew, he was just asking her to hire him high-class hookers for pleasure. Which, he realized, wouldn't at all be his strangest request.

"Not yet. In an hour please." He pushed through the doors to his office, if you could call it an office. It was more than fifteen-hundred square-feet, with couches, a wet-bar, numerous pieces of art, twelve foot ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on two sides. Ohh, and it was built such that the freight elevator opened onto the far wall. Wendel had planned for everything. His building overlooked Los Angeles, and off in the distance he could see the Hollywood sigh propped up against the hills. Finally reaching the far side, he dropped his suitcoat on a small chair and sat down behind a modern interpretation of the giant oak desk, trimmed in platinum and black leather. He started off into space, his mind awash with dreams as the time ticked by.