[Someone has been hit hard by the Tax Man curse, and when he turns the video on, he's sitting at his desk, looking for all the world like a king surveying his kingdom -- although he wouldn't like that analogy, and anyway, the kingdom he's surveying is nothing more than what's strewn across his desk, all of which he's apparently placed there so that people can see it.]

There are some who might consider it... gauche to discuss the value of ones' assets. These people might say that divulging how much you own is inappropriate, that you should keep this sort of thing to yourself. These are the same people who say you shouldn't discuss money or politics in polite company. Put simply, these are generally people who have nothing of worth to discuss.

[The camera pans across his desk, showing an assortment of paperwork, a paperweight, several nice pens, and an expensive bottle of brandy.]

As you can see, the things I own are worth quite a bit. This one of a kind paperweight alone, for example, could be valued at a hundred dollars.

[There's a pause.]

In your time, if your time is sometime in the new millenium, that's more like seven hundred and fifty dollars, if my calculations are correct.

[And boy, does he look smug about it.]

This engraved pen is, of course, worth even more. And the value of my desk alone could pay rent for several months.

[A sigh.]

As you can see, these are important things to discuss. This is what you can gain from the value of hard work. This is what capitalism and the free market are all about.

[Yes, everyone cares so much, Andrew. Especially about your decorative paperweight.]

[Voice Post;]
[Low and quiet (one might almost think this was an accidental post given how it starts, but one has to wonder), with an accent of clicky-clocky bootheel strikes on the beat:]
One...two...three...four... One...two...three...four...

[A little whistling here, the chirping imitation of electric guitars. And, mercifully, quietly and mostly on-key:]

Let me tell you how it will be...
There's one for you, nineteen for me
'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah, I'm the Taxman~

[Familiar song, yeah? Maybe. He sounds like he's grinning as he goes along singing.]

Should five per cent appear too small--Taxman!
Be thankful I don't take it all
'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah I'm the Taxman~

[He just keeps going... No, wait, there's a pause. Not an accidental post at all, though he's not being too...serious about it.]

Aww, didn't I tell you that the Ides of April didn't look too good? Hey, it's still close enough to the day to count--close enough for government work, as they say. And ain't that the work of the day?

[Clicky-clocky bootheels click-clock and stop.] Say, hey--that's a mighty fine looking piece of silver there. Better be careful with that. Here, I'll hold it while you hold the--no? Well, okay, don't blame me for trying to help. Same goes for the gold cups over there. I'd help if you wanted me to. Property taxes are a bitch, aren't they? But lemme say, it's a good thing they don't have sumptuary laws in the City--at least, I don't think they do.

[Joyous laughter (on his part, at least). The bootheels resume. A little more whistling, but then picking up where he left off.]

If you drive a car, I'll tax the street,
If you try to sit, I'll tax your seat.
If you get too cold, I'll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet.

Taxmaaaaaaaaaaa~an!

[He's just about playing an air guitar at this point, really. He's grooving along down the street, that's for sure!]

'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah, I'm the Taxman~

Don't ask me what I want it for--ah ah, Mister Stockworth!
If you don't want to pay some more--ah ah, Mister Heath!
'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah, I'm the Taxman~

Now my advice for those who die--Taxmaaa~an!
Declare the pennies on your eyes--Taxmaaa~an!
'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah, I'm the Taxman,
And you're working for no one but me.

[More chirping twangs to finish it out--but it seems like it's on endless loop, maybe even in his head. Hey, there are worse songs to have in one's head.]

'Cause I'm the Taxman, yeah, I'm the Taxman~

[Click.]
[//voice post ends]

[ooc: And this little Covenant Man shout out goes to all my Tower Junkies. You're the best, kids. If you want to cross paths with this guy as he walks around town, feel free! Action or Network. I'm game!]

[Ne's been watching all the commotion on the network with everyone showing off their items, listing prices and taking bids. Pathetic. Mammon would be beside himself with glee and that alone is enough to make nem nauseous at the display.]

Such greedy, gaudy things you are. Showing off the prized possessions of your hard work as if wealth were worth...well [ne laughs, too amused at it all] it's weight in gold. Beware becoming too attached, for all is easily taken in the blink of an eye.

[Gazelle is sitting down on a king-sized bed with an assortment of things from trinkets to pictures to clothing to even one young adult dog sitting around her. To start with, she gathers a couple of her most treasured things: the not so magical flying skates called air trecks, a man's and her wedding ring, and a picture.]

[As the air trecks are one of a kind, she starts with them, holding them up close to the camera.] Okay, listen up and take a look! These are worth a hundred cool points just because I can see the sky and help do stuff with them. Everyone said so.

[She beams at the 'memory' of everyone as if she was just complimented. And after putting down the skates, she flashes the rings to everyone.]

These rings are worth even more, though. [Given that they hold the memory of her most loved.] I'd put them higher than the glowing upside-down ice cream cone tower back home. Kaito was the best.

And this... [With care, she holds up a picture (which she obtained from a curse) of Kaito looking happy along side Akito, from a time after her death. It's value is that it brings her happiness in knowing her Kaito is still happy back home.] It's worth as much as the sky...

[With that said, she gives herself a moment to keep from getting emotional - Kaito wouldn't want her to be, after all - before moving onto all the other items, rating them with cool points or sky references until finished. After which, she gives one last bright smile and turns off the feed.]

Can't say I've got that much, just what I need. I dunno what the bar's worth. Not bad, I'd guess. Not like I can sell it, so I don't know why it matters. Better than I ever figured I'd do so I can't complain.

Rest of my shit's not worth much. All together maybe an Indigo. Probably includes the furniture, not that most of that's mine really. Probably would've bought a car at home, or something.

Got a couple things worth having, can't put a price on those. Heartbeat's a good start. Eden, too. Couldn't buy either off me for everything else in the City.

Not saying any more. Too much sappy shit already.

[Lockdown has a few gadgets and weapons lain out on his workbench.]

This is just a taste of what I got.

The laser cutter's worth a few hundred, the spare arm maybe about fifty credits, and the buzzsaw maybe two-hundred. Tops.

[The video feed begins and there's a very handsome young(?) man on screen.



Viewers probably recognize him - and it's quite obvious who's filming this as soon as the person off-screen begins speaking. Not very men have such a high-pitched voice like Raikov does.]

This is Nathan Mahler. I'm sure plenty of you out there know him and are customers of his. He is the owner of She'ol, the Underground strip club.

I bet you're all dying to know how much this man is worth, aren't you? Well, I have news for you: There isn't enough money in this City to buy him. He's mine. All mine. And I rarely share what is mine.


[OOC: Backdated to a few hours ago.]