#In professional settings he emulates Clockwork

[catpriciousmarjara]

DP X DC

Ao3

The Job Offer

"And why not you?", said the man. "You're intelligent, skilled, and adaptable. Most importantly, you're entertaining. That last part becomes very important when dealing with my kind".

A ring glinted in the dim light as he gestured with his hands. "Plus, there wouldn't be any danger in the first place! Our lot tend to stick to the Rules, you see? And not harming the messenger is most certainly a Rule".

A sip of coffee. Eyes filling with mirth.

"In the off chance that someone did take offence, all you have to do is amuse them for a while, and as I said, you're very good at that. But don't worry, they won't take offence".

Dick Grayson, attention still half focused on the vicious black claws on the man's hand, had to ask, "And why won't they?"

The man's pleasant smile didn't falter. But it did slowly morph into a grin with way too many teeth to be normal. The young vigilante had to suppress a shudder.

When the man?it spoke, the voice resonated. "Because you'll be one of mine. And they won't dare touch what's mine".

The teeth gleamed.

And just as abruptly as it shifted, the air changed, the pressure lifted, and the man was smiling once more.

Dick was left off-footed and tightly clutching the arms of his chair, his breath fogging in the still frigid air. He hadn’t even noticed the temperature dropping.

He looked at the man nonchalantly sitting across from him as if he hadn't just taken years off of Dick's life. The vigilante was not one to scare easily. Yet, mere moments ago, Dick had felt a fear so primal that it was maddening. It was not the kind of fear a human being could evoke, no matter how frightening their actions may be. Dick had seen the worst of Gotham, and Gotham was a cesspit on a good day. But he hadn't ever felt like this before today. If there was ever a question about the humanity of his companion before...well it was answered now.

To be honest, he couldn't quite recall how he got here in the first place. Everything was a blur.

No...not quite. His memories were alright, it's just that his mind couldn’t grasp them. 

And every second in this...space, had felt muted. As though he was lying beneath several layers of sheer fabric; he could somewhat feel things, see things, but his senses were muffled.

The spike of fear from before wasn't him breaking through as much as he was allowed to break through, and now he was safely back beneath the dampening cloud once more. It was almost comforting.

Dangerous.

Dick only remembered what had happened in bits and pieces. Being fired from Robin, the legacy he had forged for himself, named after his mother's love, and garbed in Grayson colours.

Being angry and distraught. Not knowing what to do.

It had taken him weeks to reorient himself. A month to gather his composure.

He vaguely recollected a cafe in Jump City. He had been sitting in a booth, contemplating his options...

Someone had sat right across from him, right?

He had looked up…

“Hello. May I sit here?”

“...Sure. Go ahead.”

“Daniel Nightingale.”

“...Richard Grayson.”

" I know. You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way. Also, could I have a bit of your time?"

"Um...yeah, sure?"

“Perfect!”

And the next thing he knew, he was Here.

Wherever here was.

(Why had he said yes then? He would never have done that normally.)

At first his mind had been adamant in believing that here was the very same cafe he had been sitting in. But Dick wasn't trained by the man known as the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. However, it had taken him an embarrassing few moments to start noticing the abnormalities.

For one thing, he had been sitting in a booth in a cafe, not at an ornate wooden table, much like the one in Bruce's home office. The only thing the cafe table and this one had in common was that they were both rectangular.

Secondly, their table was covered by a veil. A huge gauzy one hanging from above. But try as he might he couldn't see where it was hanging from, just a yawning darkness.

Finally, he could see shadows moving beyond the veil, and the more he looked, the more bizarre they became. And at one point, the shadows lost all pretence of humanity. They weren't even humanoid, let alone human.

He definitely wasn't in Jump City anymore.

It had taken him even longer to notice the man sitting across him. That he hadn’t left this Daniel Nightingale behind.

Wispy white hair.

"Ah! You noticed so quickly. You really are the perfect fit for the job!"

Green. green eyes.

"Apologies for the veiling. It's necessary however.., some things are not just meant for mortal eyes, you see. Without it, you might just go insane! We wouldn't want that now would we?"

Unnaturally pale skin.

"Enough dillydallying! But first, introductions. You may call me either Daniel or Nightingale. By what name would you prefer to be called?”

Something about that question made the ex-Robin’s hindbrain pay attention. The wording of it, the tone…

You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way.

Could I have a bit of your time?

Something had felt incredibly off, so he had gone ahead and given one of the alternate names he had been thinking of taking up now that Robin was over.

“You may call me Nightjar.”

Nightingale had looked incredibly pleased then. And a bit smug too.

“Let me cut to the chase then Nightjar. I’m here to offer you a job. You’re a perfect fit for the role. We offer excellent compensation, and flexible work hours. Considering you’re out of work now that you’ve been fired from Robin, I believe my offer would be interesting for you.”

For some reason, perhaps because of all the strange things that happened, the fact that Nightingale seemed to know his alter ego hadn’t surprised Dick. Instead of asking how he came to know about this particular information, including the fact that he got fired, he decided to keep the conversation rolling on this supposed job offer. He had an inkling that he won’t get anywhere even if he asked, so might as well mine some information by making the other man talk.

“What kind of job is it? And what exactly would be included in the compensation?”

In response the man had snapped his fingers, and produced a file out of nowhere. He opened it, turned it around and slid it across the table. Dick started. Nightingale made a go ahead gesture, a smile on his lips once more. Dick gingerly dragged it a bit closer, and took a look.

“As you can see Nightjar, the position being offered is that of a courier. Due to many reasons, delivery across the realms is a cumbersome affair, not the least due to political complications. The best system to lay down in this situation was to have an impartial party be in charge of the work. You can say that I am a representative of the aforementioned impartial party that took over the role. If you would turn a page over-

Dick had dutifully turned the page.

-you’d see that we offer great compensation. In addition to your salary, you’ll receive health insurance, life insurance, death insurance, medical insurance, dental, vision care insurance, paid vacation time, overtime pay, paid time-off, flexible time-off, paid medical leave, free medical care, maternity leave, paternity leave, all other forms of parental leave, a good retirement package, loan assistance, wellness programmes, child care assistance, regular bonuses, promotions, raises, accommodation, a provident fund, and a whole host of other benefits that are clearly listed on the page. And of course at the end right there is our offered starting salary, which is highly negotiable up to the amount listed right below it. Please take as much time as you need to read through them.”

To say Dick had been overwhelmed was an understatement. He hadn’t thought that this was going to be an actual, honest to God job offer. If anything he just thought the entire job thing was an excuse or prelude to something much worse. But as he parsed through the file, getting increasingly bewildered as the man rattled on, he had to admit that this really looked like a weird recruitment effort. And then his eyes had fallen on the salary figure, and the amount to which it could be negotiated upwards, and he froze. Because even for the ex-ward of a billionaire, it was a ludicrous number. He couldn’t even accurately count the zeros on the thing. Even Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be able to match a deal like this. 

At that thought Dick had felt a pang of pain as he remembered Bruce still hadn’t called him, or even made an attempt at apologising. There were no texts, no missives. Just radio silence. The pain in his chest increased and Dick had felt the ever returning feeling of being unmoored. He pushed those feelings to the furthest corners of his mind. He had to focus now.

Feeling marginally calmer, he had taken a deep breath and closed the file. He looked up at Nightingale who had been watching him avidly over the rim of a coffee cup which definitely wasn’t there before, and asked the most pertinent question.

“Why me?”

And now they are here.

Dick scoffed at the white haired being’s answer. Oh he didn’t doubt that it was the truth. By now he had somehow come to an understanding of how this worked. It was fae rules. Meaning he had to watch his mouth. Similarly Nightingale won’t lie, but he can certainly obfuscate.After all withholding information wasn’t technically a lie, especially if it was masked with a half-truth. In other words, Nightingale hadn’t lied, but that wasn’t all there is to it. And Dick wasn’t going to let it slide. 

“How am I supposed to believe you to be a good employer if you’re already lying?”, he asked outright. You know, like a reckless fool.

Nightingale’s pleasant smile instantly froze, and then it gained an edge. A sharp, lethal edge.

“I don’t lie”, the man said, a cold cadence to his voice.

Dick could feel the figurative whetted blade on his throat, but he pressed forward. This was the first time he had taken blood in this fiasco and he wasn’t going to concede just like that.

“Lying by omission, is still lying.”

Nightingale’s entire mien darkened, and frost spread across the table. Dick didn’t back off. 

There was silence. Suffocating silence. And then the vergals receded and Nightingale sat back with a satisfied air. Dick blinked in surprise.

“Good. You didn’t cower.”

Dick sat back on his own chair, his breath fogging in the still cold air. “Was that a test?”

Nightingale took another sip of his coffee. Was it even coffee? It looked like coffee, but who knows what anything is in this bizarre space. Certainly not Dick.

“It was a test. The position of a courier in this part of existence requires mettle, and a strong mind. You would be dealing with beings ranging from the divine to the demonic. I’m sure you know they are a stubborn lot. You’ll have to stand up to them often. Plus you would be representing Us. We can’t have an unprincipled, craven fool take the job can we now? So I had to test you. Congratulations! You passed with flying colours.”

Dick glared at the man. “I still haven’t agreed to anything. And you still haven’t told me why I was chosen.” 

Nightingale chuckled. It was an unnatural, but pleasant sound. “Aah you caught that. Very well then.”

He clasped his hands together and put them on the table, bringing Dick’s attention to the black, razor sharp claws once again, as well as to the extremely ominous ring he wore on his left hand’s little finger.

“You were chosen because you are a multiversal constant. This job requires much interdimensional, interuniversal travel, and a multiversal constant is ideal for the role. And before you ask, a multiversal constant is essentially someone whose soul acts as a consistent axis across worlds through indelible aspects of their existence. They are rare, and their axial quality makes multiversal travel easy for them.”

The white haired entity’s eyes shone in the dim light. “You are a multiversal constant Nightjar. Centred around your potential, And also, I know you will agree to do the job. So I’m not worried.”

Even as he struggled to process what was just revealed, Dick found the energy to scowl at the impishly grinning man. “And how would you know? What’s in it for me? All I’m seeing is a job, the benefits of which, doesn’t make up for how dangerous it is.”

“But you will accept it nonetheless”, replied Nightingale with an amused air. “Think about it. You’ve been fired from Robin but still intend to continue being a vigilante, and vigilantism is expensive work. Now that you don’t have the Wayne coffers to pull from, you would have to find alternate means to acquire resources. You’re brilliant and I have no doubt you will find those resources and do spectacularly under your new mantle. But that would take time. And calling in favours that could either be used somewhere else, or make you indebted to someone. The salary this job provides you will allow you to finance your quest for justice, and still have plenty leftover. Not to mention the other benefits, such as the free medical care provided by Us, people who will never question your injuries the way a normal hospital might, or put your civilian identity at risk like a back alley doctor.”

Nightingale’s verdant eyes stared a hole through Dick as he spoke. “You wanted to get out of Batman’s shadow. This is your chance, Nightjar.”

The young vigilante had to give it to Nightingale. The man sure knew how to pitch an offer. He found himself agreeing to most of what Nightingale said, especially the finances part but he still wasn’t going to agree to a job that would put him in the crosshairs of gods and demons. That was just monumentally stupid.

“You make good points”, Dick said as he slid the file sitting idle on his side to Nightingale. “But I’m still not gonna agree.”

Nightingale slid the file back over to him without missing a bit.

“If I thought you were the type to easily capitulate I wouldn’t have approached you in the first place,” the man said, not a single sign of ire at Dick’s repeated refusal in his voice. In fact he seemed rather glad Dick was being difficult.

“You want to know more about being a multiversal constant correct? That is not the kind of information you’ll find lying around on earth.”

A pitch black claw scraped across the table, but there was no noise, and the deep scratch left behind instantly stitched itself back together, the tabletop pristine once more.

“By now you must have a rudimentary idea of the world you are being invited into. You would not have called yourself Nightjar otherwise. You also know that this is not a world Batman has access to.”

The man pointed opened his right palm, still resting on the table, and brilliant emerald fire blazed to life on it. Something in Dick’s lizard brain told him this fire ran cold rather than hot.

“Magic and everything associated with it is not something the Dark Knight can handle by his usual methods. And magic is just one of the aspects of our Realm. An infinite more mysteries keep it company. This world is yours for the taking. No mortal would be able to access what you can and you would be able to help so many people.”

Blue eyes met green.

“This will set you apart from Batman once and for all. An identity that no one can take away from you at their whim. Just think of this as your day job, as being a CEO is for Bruce Wayne.”

Nightingale clasped one of Dick’s hands resting on the table and transferred the fire over to it. Dick stared as the flame danced merrily in his palm. It really was cold. By the time he had his wits about him, the fire had vanished. Nightingale had seemingly finished his coffee, as the cup was nowhere to be seen. 

Dick glanced at the white haired man who watched him calmly. Then he took the file and started reading through it. If he was going to take this job, he was going to make sure to read the fine print. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy Nightingale’s gleaming, triumphant smile. Dick couldn’t help but feel annoyed. 

He didn’t know how much time it took for him to read the file completely. Time ran strangely in this space. What he did know was there was an ornate, silver pen right next to him, which definitely wasn’t there before. He had to roll his eyes at Nightingale's antics. 

Nonetheless he uncapped it, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment, and signed on the dotted line in his Alfred approved best cursive, bells, whistles, hoops and all. 

Nothing happened. Dick felt kinda disappointed. He had thought signing a magical contract with a possible fae creature would be a little less anti-climactic. Across from him, Nightingale chuckled as if he could read his mind. Could he?

He slid the file over once more, this time for last. Nightintingale just skimmed through before sliding over an envelope. 

“Your appointment letter”.

“You had that ready?”

“Of course.”

Dick snorted inelegantly at that. Obviously the man had foreseen how this would go. That should make him more wary than what he was feeling, but just as he had known the fire was cold before, he knew Nightingale wouldn’t harm him. Bruce would call him an idiot for this kind of illogical thinking, but Bruce wasn’t here now was he?

He was about to shove another medley of complicated emotions down, when Nightingale reached over and viciously ran a claw down his right arm. Blood spurted in a gruesome display and Dick scrambled back, chair falling down, and his body hitting the surprisingly sturdy veil.

“What was that about?”, he shouted as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Just when he had thought the man didn’t mean him any harm…

Nightingale had the audacity to look nonplussed. He simply brought his palms up as if to show he meant no harm, but it was a moot point when one of his claws was dripping with Dick’s blood.

“Just testing something”, the man said calmly.

“Testing what?’, Dick asked angry and confused.

In response, Nightingale simply pointed to his arm.

“What? Testing whether your claws could tear me apar-”

He stopped short. There, before his eyes, the flesh of his arm was knitting itself together. In mere moments, the wound was gone, not even a scar where it should be. Dick was reminded of the table from before. What just happened?

“What did you do to me?”, he asked, voice soft, and emotionless. 

“Don’t worry. It's your compensation. Part of your medical aid.”

He waved his hand, and the blood vanished. “Do sit down, Nightjar. Lets order something to eat.”

Robotically Dick walked to the table once more. The upturned chair was somehow rightened, already pulled out as if waiting for him.

“That was a healing factor”, he said rather than asked.

Nightingale nodded unbothered. “Yes, you’ll be needing that in your line of work.”

The veil opened and admitted a two-headed woman in, carrying trays of food in her four arms.

When she left, Nightingale eagerly took up his cutlery, looking excitedly at what looked like a luminescent crepe. He glanced at a shell-shocked Dick and frowned.

“Please eat. It's safe to consume, now that you’re one of us. If you’re worrying about your job, don’t. You have been assigned an excellent mentor in Harker. The White Grim will train you well.”

With that, he dug in, clearly enjoying his glowing crepe.

Dick just stared at the man, at his no longer injured arm, and sighed. Might as well eat. He hadn’t gotten to eat anything at the cafe and was beginning to feel hungry.

He scooped a spoonful from what seemed like an overly fancy bowl of cereal.

One of them huh?

He took a bite.

[hilarieburtonmorgan]

Ten Years Later, the One Tree Hill Cast Is Setting the Record Straight

Ten years after the finale of One Tree Hill, the actors Hilarie Burton Morgan, Sophia Bush, and Bethany Joy Lenz have never been closer. Despite their shared experience growing up on screen, the trio— who played Peyton Sawyer, Brooke Davis, and Haley James in the heartland-set high school soap for nine seasons—were kept largely isolated from one another during those years.

That distance began to dissipate with age, and when the #MeToo movement alerted the actors to some of their common experiences while working on One Tree Hill. In their new weekly iHeartRadio podcast Drama Queens, the three actors unpack the moments—nostalgic and traumatic alike—that unfolded behind the scenes of the wildly popular drama. To celebrate the podcast’s success, Burton Morgan, Bush, and Lenz joined us for a bit of reminiscing. —BRIAN ALESSANDRO

———

HILARIE BURTON MORGAN: Sophia, you were the person that called me about a podcast. What was the catalyst for you to be like, “It’s time”?

SOPHIA BUSH: When we first finished the show, I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t want to be close to it. And then as time went on, and we all started being able to get together, and share stories, and talk some shit. We all finally told each other the stories we’d been afraid to share — I wish we’d been able to have the friendships we have now back then! — and hearing everyone’s stories really made me so furious. It lit that fire in me, and I thought “well, we just have to burn it down.” But, I also had to remember how much our fans love the show, and to realize that despite so much that was insidious we also had fun. We’ve shared stories about what was painful and hard, and I think especially because of what you were put through, I wanted to call you first and just say, like, “Does this idea feel triggering?” You said “No, this feels quite cool.”

BURTON MORGAN: What was your first reaction, Joy?

BETHANY JOY LENZ: I was definitely hesitant about more One Tree Hill anything. But the more we talked about it, I was like, “Wow, this is actually a chance for redemption.” Also, I don’t want to throw shade on the show that did give us amazing opportunities. I always try to temper my frustrations with a good bit of gratitude. But as for the bad stuff, I really do love the opportunity to redeem that. Some of it was us being young and stubborn twenty-year-olds, but a lot of it was the people around us who were using our youth and naïveté to keep us from arguing back. It was always, “Joy, you’re the odd man out. Sophia, you’re the odd man out. Hilarie, you’re the odd man out.” So we never reached out to each other. I’m incredibly grateful for the relationship I with you amazing women now.

BURTON MORGAN: I left the show first, and it was the divorce of my life, because I’d committed so much to being the good soldier. “I’ll do whatever press you want. I’ll go on whatever mall tour.” And so, the loss of that was traumatic. But the next relationship I got into professionally was with White Collar, and the best person I could have ever encountered was Tiffani Thiessen, who was an icon to me. She told me right out of the gate, “Don’t bad mouth the show that got you started. Defend your character, forget the bad guys, take what’s good.” That was such great advice. She was someone whose opinion meant something to me, because she’d been a teen idol of mine. Who were some women on TV that that you felt like we were trying to emulate while we were doing the show?

LENZ: I don’t think I ever really knew how to process it. I actually feel like I missed a lot of the excitement because I kept asking myself what it all meant.

BURTON MORGAN: I was the opposite! I like experience. But I made terrible choices.

BUSH: I’m with Joy. Now, I over intellectualize everything because back then, I was always soaking up all the experiences and I got my ass handed to me. So now I’m like, “What does it mean? What is it all?”

BURTON MORGAN: How many years out are we now? Like 17 years out from the first year?

LENZ: I don’t even know how to process that.

BURTON MORGAN: 18 years out? Jesus, we could have children in college at this point. Why do you think people still care?

LENZ: Comfort food. I mean, that’s it, like especially now that there’s so much content. I can only speak from my experience, but when I settle in to watch TV, I will spend 20 minutes scrolling before saying, “You know what, fuck it,” and turning on Frasier. And that’s what I watch because I know those characters, and I just want that familiarity. I honestly think the over-saturation has played a huge role in our fans’ need for One Tree Hill.

BUSH: And I would also say that there is something about how — as outlandish it got at times — there was also a lot that felt honest. People write to us about how they feel seen, how they feel represented, how they see their own struggles in our show. When I meet new people who are just discovering it and I think, “You could be watching anything! Why? Thank you?”

BURTON MORGAN: Honestly, having an older kid, and seeing the things that he’s drawn to, he loves watching TV shows from our era. Probably the same reason I loved watching Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie and What’s Happening – it’s retro. They’re mystified by it because there’s no social media on our show and so people are actually talking to each other. You actually had to show up at Karen’s Cafe to have that important conversation. It’s a wish fulfillment for these younger kids where they’re like, “Oh, my life doesn’t look anything like that.” We are the time warp, which is super fucked up.

LENZ: And we were also the last show that was doing, dare I say, wholesome content? I mean I know our show, like, jumped the shark several times in many regards, but in terms of the“hometown kids, middle of America, just dealing with regular emotions and life stuff,” those shows became very rare. Everything that came after us was like rich kids—Gossip Girl and The OC, and then it was all brought to a high-concept place like the Vampire Diaries, Riverdale stuff. And I don’t know that there’s anything out there that’s kind of gotten back to the roots, like One Tree Hill.

BURTON MORGAN: Can you imagine pitching One Tree Hill now? Like, “it’s about some kids. Two of them play basketball, and the rest are just moody.”

BURTON MORGAN: What episodes are we all excited to review the most? Some of them are cringey as hell.

BUSH: I’m sure a lot of them will be.

BURTON MORGAN: I like the Halloween episode we did at Tric [the “all-ages” nightclub]. That was batshit. It was 1000 degrees in there and everyone was dying and miserable and we’re dressed up like cartoons.

LENZ: I know. The one with the car, where they made me fucking siphon off gas.

BURTON MORGAN: That was fun cause that was really the first time the three of us were put together.

BUSH: Having to pretend to be high on pills when I never had been, I was like, “I’ll try!” Hilarie, your wedding episode was…

BURTON MORGAN: Christ.

BUSH: That was such a shit show, man. You said the Halloween episode — you’ll cackle when you see we did a Halloween episode after you were gone. And I had to be dressed up as one half of A Clockwork Orange, but was abandoned in my costume, and I was written to be dressed as a giant orange and Carol (Cutshall, costumer) papier-mached a workout ball and drilled armholes in it, and I had to wear it. AND I directed that episode!

BURTON MORGAN: That’s perfect! That’s a chef’s kiss.

BUSH: I had little T-Rex arms, being like, “well, if you go over there” – And they’d say “Where?” And I’d be like, “I can’t show you! I’m stuck in an orange!” It was, it was so humiliating. But when I think back on it, great comedic fodder.

BURTON MORGAN: What is your favorite keepsake from the show?

LENZ: I have the Julius Caesar book that Haley gives to Lucas in the pilot.

BURTON MORGAN: I have the leather jacket that Peyton takes after Ellie [Sheryl Lee] dies. That was an intense crying scene for me. My body has a physical reaction to that jacket.

LENZ: What’s yours, Soph?

BUSH: I have, like, a bin.

BURTON MORGAN: You have everything!

BUSH: There’s like this sad episode where Brooke celebrates her birthday alone in her room with a cupcake. I have the photo album from that scene, which is very sweet because it’s all photos of you and I, Hilarie…

BURTON MORGAN: You have that?

BUSH: Oh yeah, I took that immediately. There are real pictures of us from growing up, because it was this story of these friends who grew up together…

BURTON MORGAN: Joy, we’re gonna photoshop you in.

BUSH: Honestly, we should just make a new one. Of all the stuff that feels sentimental, that “Brooke Davis for President” pin kills me. It’s up on the wall in my office, because it makes me laugh. When I think about why that’s the one thing I’ve displayed—next to a photo of the three of us— it’s because it symbolized something that at the time really embarrassed me, but now I respect. Brooke Davis took the thing she was made fun of for, and turned it into an anthem. She was this bad bitch who owned her shit. That’s something I’ve tried to emulate.

BURTON MORGAN: One thing that I keep thinking is, “we deserve this.”

LENZ: Because we do! It’s hard to say that as women, I think.

BURTON MORGAN: What makes you two feel like we deserve this?

LENZ: Because we’ve worked our asses off, and because it’s beautiful to experience friendship with each other in a way that we were robbed of in our younger days.

BURTON MORGAN: We were really good girls. I’m excited to set things straight.

[oliver-kellman-blog]

Fake Reviews about Oliver N.E. Kellman JR

With the advent of internet, spreading misinformation about an entity or person for some political or financial gain is no clockwork. For the attacker, the propaganda works like a charm but the repercussions for the victim are immense, as his credibility is left in tatters, and his social standing and career prospects also take a beating. As the victim is wrongly accused or held responsible for something that never happened, his popular perception takes a paradigm shift. His past achievements are undermined, his abilities are questioned, and his integrity is rejected outright.

Oftentimes, such malicious attacks are intense, relentless, and multi-pronged, which makes countering them hard if not impossible. Lately, Mr. Oliver Kellman, the President and CEO of OKW Holdings, is facing a similar ordeal when few rip-off reports surfaced, accusing him on several accounts of forgery and misconduct. The reports are a work of a propaganda mill that is out to demolish his hard-earned reputation and keep him bereft of the future success he richly deserves. Typical of a victim of unfounded aspersions, Mr. Oliver is geared up to combat the propaganda with all the resources at his disposal. After all, truth needs to be told.

If you wonder why Mr. Oliver Kellman is subjected to such attacks, look at his past life, which is a story of dazzling success. Remember, no one is interested in mounting attacks on unsuccessful people, as the gains would not commensurate the effort. Mr. Oliver is an emerging markets consultant and strategist with a proven record and lobbyist with significant connections. As an authority in National and Offshore Public Policy and Geopolitical Engagement, Mr. Oliver is helping various stakeholders achieve their engagement goals in several European, African, and Gulf Nations. The cornerstone of Mr. Oliver’s success as a consultant is his ability to create progress for clients without compromising integrity.

Mr. Oliver Kellman has also served the United States Congress for many years in varied capacities. He took up his initial assignment with the US Congress as a Counsel and, in quick succession, attained the designations of Legislative Director and the Chief of Staff. Here too, he set benchmarks in terms of commitment, integrity, and work ethics for others to emulate. Additionally, Mr. Oliver had the opportunity to work with likes of Congressman Eliot Engel and Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee during his stint at the Capitol Hill.

Posted by an anonymous person, the Rip-off Report accuses Mr. Oliver and his brother of illegal arms running, cement, soliciting hookers, and on several other fronts. However, the man’s involvement in any of the fronts is unlikely, as he has remained in the public eye during his entire professional career. The report also states that Mr. Oliver severed ties with the Democratic Party in the wake of charges and lawsuits filed against him. In fact, the development was to protest against the raw deal that African-Americans received in the party. The accusations are not only politically motivated and baseless but abusive as well. The author goes on to the extent of name calling, which is highly uncalled for when the subject is someone with a social status and pedigree.