Match of the Millennium

Description: Rochelle visits Mr. Burr, a street chemist with an unusual product named Pledge, with an idea for a business deal to advance her need for approval from the warrior sages of Southtown's criminals. In exchange? A realm for the Devil to rule over, all his own.

[MR.BURR]
Sunshine City. Such wretched hive of scum and villainy!

Well, maybe. The Illustrious Mr. malcolm burgess (alias Mr.Burr) knows that in this particular district it is at least. He has yet to expand into the inner city areas yet. Still, best to start somewhere!

While he has mostly kept a decent income while remaining mobile, after the meeting with Vega he has decided now is the time to stake a claim. Unfortunately for the Black Dragon Cult, he has chosen this (not so) fair city to start with! His lab and experiment facilities are safely elsewhere, allowing him total freedom with his men to begin 'advertising'. The more Pledge that passes hands, the more money he has, the more power he has in the area, and most of all.....

When shenanigans start, the bigger his forces will be when everyone plays their final hand!

Burr always likes to have an ace hidden up his sleeves. One for each!

At present, he is outside the loading area of the docks, making 'arrangements' for shipping with a few dockhands, dressed as impeccably as ever.

[ROCHELLE]
While Southtown Syndicate has few ties in Sunshine City beyond prominent members of various legitimate conglomerates, corporations, and cartels, Mr. Burr has gotten their attention. Charity is a common way for a corporate criminal front to ingratiate themselves to a victimized populace and sucker their elected officials and legal functionaries into collusion via necessity. And Mr. Burr's drug, Pledge, has necessitated a degree of drug rehab from an unusual substance. Hence a psychiatrist or two with a severe personality disorder, greedy due to their disordered economic behavior as it relates to personal status judgement, contacting a SouthSynd representative. Evil men were always the easiest to buy, but the hardest to trust. That's why you let the law deal with them when they betrayed you.

A motorcycle can be heard nearby Burr's warehouse, the high engine revolution of a Ducati street bike of moderation price (relative to the others in the line). The black street rocket pulls up to the warehouse, a woman on top dressed in all black, complete with black helmet, the color theme only disrupted by the ivory white of her generous cleavage. She climbs off the motorcycle and pulls her helmet off with deliberate sex appeal, even if nobody watches, tossing her red ponytail about and placing the helmet on the motorcycle's handlebar, hanging off.

[MR.BURR]
Turning from worker to worker, Burr gives each instructions in turn when he hears the sound of a vehicle several dozen feet behind him. He stops speaking, listening, before nodding to the workers and waving them off.

He turns around, hands resting atop his cane, his unnervingly 'nice' smile in place as Rochelle takes off her helmet and approaches "Aahh. Missus Howard. My, you are far from your usual stomping ground! To what do i owe the honor of this.... visit?". He tips his hat to her and gives a half bow.

[ROCHELLE]
Rochelle puts her left hand on her hip with a sidewards cant, a mild frown on her face as Mr. Burr uses that name. "Rochelle, please," she replies with a faint, mysterious tone beneath her voice, as if she's just been insulted by a loved child. A smile moves to her ruby red lips as she shifts off her hip and walks forward in response to the tip of the hat and a bow. "A gentleman would know that a woman's name is her decision," she says with a little movement of her cheeks to a faint, playful dimpling. "And that's a Miss, pleasure, monsieur," she corrects with a polite purr, an actress upward tilt of her chin to the side, false lowering of her eyelids to indicate haughtiness accompanying the movement. Merely a play at those that hold them above both of them.

"I'm here for business, not pleasure, since we've hardly had time to exchange pleasantries between fine footwear." Rochelle gestures at the warehouse door with an upturned point of her right hand, thumb extended to the side as she gestures at it, before her wrist turns gracefully back down with practiced martial arts precision. A natural actress, as well as one who mocks them, it appears. "We'll start beneath the table. Where nobody can see." She winks.

[MR.BURR]
Her response is a slow nod of the head as Burr replaces his hat upon his head "As you wish. My apologies, m'lady". Stepping to the warehouse door, he turns the knob, steps inside, and turns to hold the door open for her, gesturing inside with his free hand "Very well. Buisness it is. Shall we?". Under the table is indeed always best done where nobody can see!

[ROCHELLE]
Rochelle nods and steps into the warehouse, her head turned to watch Burr with a cocked half-smile so he can see it, a quiet way of placing a potential lascivious glance from him off the table in a manner both of them can see. Visible on her back is a titanium rod with a switch in the middle, held on a shoulder harness that runs over her left shoulder, the rod held slightly diagonal, the tip in the center of her upper back. "We shall, sir."

Rochelle moves about to face him, after entering, and moves to lean against a table, her red nails, combat capable but with a slight tip to each as a concession to beauty, gliding across the surface, before her fingertips take their place atop the wooden plane. "I hear good things about Pledge. Nothing I've tried, of course, but this product of yours is most interesting. I represent a business concern in Southtown, the dominant player out there. We are not allied with the dominant player here. I'm curious, are you a welcome guest in this particular host, or would you prefer a sanctuary that supports your interests as a partner?" She looks to the right, across the interior of the space, saying, "I apologize if I've offended more than you by asking," with a low tone that drops to a shallow uncertainty with the word 'asking'.

[MR.BURR]
Taking a seat across the table from her, he plants his cane before himself, hands resting upon it as he looks her directly in the eyes, smile never wavering. "An..... interesting proposition you offer. I trust you bring with you some proof of the validity of this offer from your superiors? You yourself cannot be making this agreement all by yourself". He gives her an appraising look, not answering her question about the current location, though acknowledging it by saying "Oh, no offense is taken, i assure you".

[ROCHELLE]
"If I was a snitch, I'd be buying for police analysis of your product. And if I was an undercover officer, I'd be infiltrating, not offering a link," Rochelle responds quietly, looking Burr straight in the eye as she turns back to look at him. Her breathing pattern matches his, as if a flirt from a man to a woman, but it is much deeper and empathetic, lacking actual sympathy. A martial arts manuever from her derivative of Silat, developed specifically in Java.

"That leaves Interpol officer," she murmurs, lowering her eyelids. "That means I lure you to Southtown, or another location, for a safe capture. Safe for us. It's of questionable legal viability, unless your government believes it's God. And you know how Gods are. Foolish." She purses her lips, one of her nails tapping the table. "I suppose it's really a matter of trust between criminals, Mr. Burr. I wouldn't be crass enough to offer to commit a capital crime on one of your employees. Or coerce you for an entrapment charge that I'd deny later, again assuming I'm a police representative. So how about I kill someone? Not anyone that would have motive for either of us. Would that prove it?"

[MR.BURR]
At this, Burr laughs, his amusement not hidden in the least "Oh, my dear girl. I feel i must apologize. I did not intend to paint you as a betrayer on behalf of the authorities in the least. You have too good a reputation for that". He returns his gaze to lock eyes with hers "What i was inquiring was for the sake of proof of the offer from your esteemed organizations leaders. It IS customary to do so when sending a subordinate, after all. I would hate to accept an offer, pack up, and move everything only to find out that the proper individuals up the chain of leadership were unaware and or had not approved the offer. Many a subordinate has taken such initiative hoping to climb the ladder, and ended up causing only trouble for themselves and all involved".

Burr then leans forwards, the grin suddenly seeming insidious somehow at the changed angle.... "You will have to forgive me for taking such things very seriously. Stepping on toes particularly as big as Geese Howards is not something i particularly relish, after all". He leans back, awaiting her response. He doesn't respond to any use of feminine wiles or motions on Rochelles part. If he is even noticing them at all.

[ROCHELLE]
"I don't know what Geese Howard has to do with Southtown Syndicate," she murmurs with an edge to her voice, looking at Mr. Burr with a thousand yard stare briefly, before her eyes resume their normal dominance. "I'm not asking for commitment to a plan immediately, Mister Burr. I just need to know a little more about your product. Without a proprietary secret, or using it myself. Let's just say, we've seen its effects. We learn about the product, then I have something to sweeten your teeth with. You do, however, understand my situation very well. I am merely a scout for a shark in a sea connected to a larger ocean. I'm asking for an investment from you, in the form of information, for a potential boon later. You would gain safety, we would gain a luxury good of variety. Our primary business is not business, as it were, it is just the support structure." She lowers her eyelashes, but it is not a flirt gesture. "If you're worried about being betrayed to Johann, rest assured, our organizations are not friends, and we might profit from you as a thorn in his side. Or perhaps as a burnt offering. He is a religious man at times."

[MR.BURR]
Burr ponders her words a moment, the gears clearly working behind his mismatch-colored eyes.....

"Personally, i have no wish to remove anyone from an area. It is the customer, NOT the merchant, that decides a goods value after all. I merely offer a service to those who desire it. Sadly, few other leaders agree with this mindset, and alas i need to operate SOMEwhere. This seems one of the most practical at the moment, is all". He tilts his head "So.... what specificly about my services do you need to know besides my place in the pecking order of the current location? Let us assume i am interested, and that those in charge have indeed approved this little venture you speak of."

[ROCHELLE]
Rochelle's chin dips downwards as she pouts briefly. "An honest merchant, Mister Burr?" She moves out of the expression and crosses her arms, over her breasts rather than beneath them, shifting off the table without the theatrics of a push away. "Pledge appears to have a highly addictive effect on people with a poor connection with the Goddess. That's what we'd call it in Java, at least, from what culture that survived the Dutch. We are particularly interested in it since it is sometimes very addictive, and potent, on those that use Psionic abilities. Not always, however. It is a drug that preys on those who are not wise in the way of the world. And Southtown Syndicate?" She smiles. "We are often very wise. Our purpose is wisdom. We merely need heraldry to attract those who seek power through animal cunning. Not through the works of an ivory tower." She uncrosses her arms, a very faint arch of her back occuring despite having given up the attempt to ply Burr with charm. Merely a reflex from personality.

[MR.BURR]
"An ivory tower?" Burr grins "... and just what do you define as such? The 'legal' authorities and their 'laws'? or something else?" he tilts his head to the side, his gaze intensifying, making his constant smile all the more unnerving "What is so wrong with being an honest merchant? I ply my trade to those in need of it, for whatever they feel it is needed for. Is that not what an honest merchant does?". He chuckles at some untold amusement as he awaits her response....

[ROCHELLE]
Rochelle puckers her lips slightly as the gaze grows stronger. "Fallen quite a ways from the Heavens, haven't we, Lucifer?" she questions faintly, before she cocks a grin on the left side of her mouth briefly, a sneer. "God is always a bastard, isn't he? Personally, I'm just a forgotten cherub." She begins walking around Burr, her arms swinging a faint bit too much to indicate the hint of a sashay, a challenge now instead of a flirt, as she watches you and keeps the gaze to force him to turn to his right. "A honest merchant is only an honest merchant when they know that the customer is assisted by declaration of value." She stops and turns to face Burr, both hands on her hips. "Otherwise, you're just a pusher making someone tread water in shark infested waters." She grins knowingly.

[MR.BURR]
Burr laughs again "Oh, i never claimed to be GOOD, my dear..... nor do i claim to be evil. I am the man in the middle, letting my customers choose heaven or hell by their choices". His head slowly turns to look at her sideways as she moves around, unconcerned "A young lad taking down the local bully. A robber wishing to overpower the security guard at the bank when he attempts to rob it. A protester defending themself from aggressive police. Maybe a gal much like yourself putting her boss in place in a more.... long-term manner". His grin gets twisted "THEY make these choices. All i provide is a means to improve the odds of success. Nothing more".

Burr stands, turning to face her ""As fascinating as this discussion is, you still have yet to tell me EXACTLY what it is you want of me as a result of this deal. Am i to take it your goal is nothing more than 'make addicts, and make a profit', the end?

[ROCHELLE]
"Both very British, aren't we?" she quips softly, with a faint uptilt of her chin that survived her exile from being an Anglo-Saxon Protestant. "In all honesty, we would likely leave you to disrupt this community, since a standard drug would destabilize our entire operational base for short term profit." She raises a finger. "However." A smile curls about those lips as she lowers her hand gently. "Your drug targets a certain portion of the community that is often in the way of our wars within Southtown. The individuals we want to fight? Our own soldiers? We both have to deal with the potential addicts. This drug would give them the disadvantage of broken hearts, and us the advantage of an overburdened police department." She grows into a curt tone again. "My idea. With your consent, I can attempt to sell it. Then, I will broker a meeting. Does this sound agreeable?"

[MR.BURR]
"Hhhhhmmmm....." Burr ponders this "Teams up with SouthTown Synd and has their considerable resources potentially if needed for something serious should it occur...... cops are distracted..... heroes are distracted...... and... Very well. I'm in. On one condition.....". Burr abruptly gains an air of grave seriousness. All hints of jovial persona and amusement are gone as he says "I have one parameter i expect to be followed: Pledge must never be forced on someone. If offered, and the answer from them is 'no', it MUST be honored without retribution or scorn. Even the organizations own soldiers. There will be no 'take this or else' in it's application to human beings, regardless of their abilities or value".

[ROCHELLE]
Rochelle lowers her eyelids at the condition, lips quirking to the left briefly. Is this a property of the drug, or an issue of Mr. Burr's? She will leave this to the Southtown representative to find out. She's a mimic, not a safecracker, when it comes to people. "Very well, Mister Burr. I will report your condition." She does not add anymore, knowing that she may blow the deal if she digs too deep into Burr's reasoning, but she's clearly holding something back, from the petulant look of her lips as she regards Burr, as if imagining herself a succulent treat for a man that has just been panned at. She ponders, briefly, sampling Pledge herself, before she turns about, pushing the thought away and walking towards the door, her heeled bike boots clicking with dull resonance against the concrete. "Be seeing you, Mr. Burr."

[MR.BURR]
"We shall be in touch, then". Burr escourts her to the door, which he holds open for her.

He IS a gentleman, after all!

As she gives her farewell, he tips his hat, his smile only half-returned and eyes so intense they could cut metal. His tone, however, is the type that would make most feel like someone had walked over their graves as he says, having juuuust the right mix of brooding and gravelly "Farewell, my dear. Drive SAFEly". Slooooowly the smile returns, and his eyes stay locked with hers as he closes the door right up until it's closure.

[ROCHELLE]
"Images are masks, Mister Burr," she says quietly, as his smile returns. "Is the mask you?" At that, she allows the door to close and steps to her motorcycle, sliding her helmet on. She mounts the bike and it produces a low rev as she turns the ignition, before a throaty, low whine of a rage stomp on the pedal sounds out as she takes off down the street, putting too much strain on the motorcycle as she leaves. She'll have to apologize to its owner, in the only way a grease monkey understands.

Log created on 21:47:55 11/03/2016 by Rochelle, and last modified on 00:48:06 11/04/2016.