Velvet Deep
Anything that anyone knows about the Velvet Deep is not learned. It is overheard. Absorbed. Assumed. Intuited. It's the same sort of social communication that teaches kids about Santa. Or sex. Or which hidden corner of the school is safe for smoking.
Among the Box's staff, they're viewed the same way Americans see Chase: I bank with them and owe them money. The Velvet Deep are always there to lend. From medical bills to legal troubles to the unpaid tab because your wallet got lifted on the casino floor. These aren't your sleazy loan sharks or mob-funded pay-day loan people. No, the Velvet Deep don't deal in broken bones or pounds of flesh. Thye communicate through detailed contracts, subtle cues, and whispered conveniences.
Their most visible sign is a receipt of full payment accompanied by a length of ink-black velvet ribbon with "On the House" stamped in gold foil.
An outstanding example: the Velvet Deep covered Adelaide Parallax's medical bills after the accident. There is a repayment structure attached to her earnings, but it is far from indenture. It is less than she would pay for a Las Vegas apartment the size of her suite in the Casino. And the Casino matches her repayment dollar for dollar. That is, so long as she maintains her employment. Not dissimilar to how another employer might match contributions to a 401(k).
Adelaide can leave whenever she wishes. Her contract can be dissolved without too much fuss. Of course, she'll have to repay the debt one dollar at a time. And she'll have to pay rent, or find a new place to live and pay rent there. And she'll lose her employee discount in the shops and restaurants. She'll be subject to the banking fees that are waived for employees. In short, quitting would cost her a lot more than just the job.
We are the move unseen, the touch unfelt, the whisper unheard.
The Worldbuilder's Notes
Originally the Black Aces. I have brainstormed and fretted over this name for hours and hours because it needs to be chef's kiss perfect.
It started as a placeholder name, a way to denote arbitrary creative choices. Or, at least, choices that didn't yet have obvious roots.
For a minute, the Black Box was going to be the setting for a writing circle/workshop idea. When that didn't gel, I let it sit for a while as the story reorganized itself in my mind until all the gears snapped into place.
Now, I have morphed the Velvet Deep into a mysterious organization that owns the Black Box. And, some say, everyone who works there.
The Black Box is selfish, lonely, hungry for family. She pulls the Strange and Unusual toward her. She shelters them and consumes them. She reshapes them. She loves them, the way a void loves, with gravity. By holding them close and never ever letting go.
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