Match of the Millennium

Description: Following the theft of an ancient dagger (which she herself stole in the first place), Salem meets with a buyer that had been interested in the now missing merchandise. Words are traded, alliances are formed, and secrets are kept for now.

[HONOKA]
For those in the know, the black market is a wonderful source of information, resources, and rare collectible goods. Duke Burkoff -- a top executive among the Southtown Syndicate -- is one of the most prolific purchasers of the latter category. But even -he- was slow on the draw to acknowledge the fencing of a rare dagger -- the Soul Dagger of Nagoro.

As it happens, a user with the name sd121994 was the top bidder at the time the dagger was withdrawn from sale. Said user was most displeased. Messages were sent. And, apparently, plane tickets were purchased.

The address given was pretty standard an unassuming. The building itself is a skyscraper, some forty stories high. The location suggested an office on the sixth floor, on the south side, with a decent view of the city's central skyline. But... there are no offices on the sixth floor -- the previous tenant was abruptly evicted, and the walls are bare, providing a unique and unmistakable view of the skyscrapers on all sides as one exits the elevator.

There is no furniture on the sixth floor, aside from two executive office chairs and a small mahogany desk. The kind with high backs, and five wheels each. Three gentlemen in all black sport coats, with red collared shirts, standing all gruff near the chairs with their arms crossed. And one of the chairs is occupied by... a figure, seated to look out the window. The only sign of the occupant is a slender arm, sleeved in black and resting on the armrest, idly twirling a pen about her fingertips.

Clearly, this was arrangement a bit rushed. But the area seems to be a secure in its obscurity, if nothing else.

[SALEM]
Since the incident with the dagger's theft from her own possession Salem had been very busy. She'd had a new apartment to locate and move her (admittedly few) possessions into while also fielding messages from a displeased potential buyer. It hadn't improved her foul mood since she'd woken up a couple days before aching and with blood to clean from the inside of her mask.

The more insistent the messages, however, the more that Salem realized she'd have to give in and meet with the buyer or at least their associates. She would far rather have been able to simply be wired the funds and ensure that the dagger was delivered as promised. Instead because of a meddling stranger she was no richer. Under normal circumstances Salem wouldn't have bothered attending and agreeing to such a meeting were she not looking for benefit out of this herself. She wanted information. These people might be able to give it to her and that was enough reason to risk them not being understanding of her position in all this. Besides, after one home invasion the young woman would prefer to not invite another due to lack of compliance.
hus the masked psychic found her way to the meeting place. The elevator doors sliding open to reveal her slender form. With an air of confidence she stepped forward, approaching the desk with seemingly no concern to the men standing like waiting attack dogs nearby. As always it was hard to tell much with a lack of facial expression to go by, but Salem had long adapted to showing with her body language what she didn't with her face. Stepping up to the chair Salem sat down, one leg crossing over the other as she exuded far too much of a casual air for someone that might be in trouble. She always was a confident one. Besides, if push came to shove, then she'd be more than happy to send whoever necessary careening out the windows with a blast of telekinetic energy.

"Fancy meeting arrangements." Salem commented, gloved finger tapping on the arm of the chair idly. "Are you trying to make a girl feel special?" The sarcasm is there, light but all the same present.

Since the incident with the dagger's theft from her own possession Salem had been very busy. She'd had a new apartment to locate and move her (admittedly few) possessions into while also fielding messages from a displeased potential buyer. It hadn't improved her foul mood since she'd woken up a couple days before aching and with blood to clean from the inside of her mask.

The more insistent the messages, however, the more that Salem realized she'd have to give in and meet with the buyer or at least their associates. She would far rather have been able to simply be wired the funds and ensure that the dagger was delivered as promised. Instead because of a meddling stranger she was no richer. Under normal circumstances Salem wouldn't have bothered attending and agreeing to such a meeting were she not looking for benefit out of this herself. She wanted information. These people might be able to give it to her and that was enough reason to risk them not being understanding of her position in all this. Besides, after one home invasion the young woman would prefer to not invite another due to lack of compliance.

Thus the masked psychic found her way to the meeting place. The elevator doors sliding open to reveal her slender form. With an air of confidence she stepped forward, approaching the desk with seemingly no concern to the men standing like waiting attack dogs nearby. As always it was hard to tell much with a lack of facial expression to go by, but Salem had long adapted to showing with her body language what she didn't with her face. Stepping up to the chair Salem sat down, one leg crossing over the other as she exuded far too much of a casual air for someone that might be in trouble. She always was a confident one. Besides, if push came to shove, then she'd be more than happy to send whoever necessary careening out the windows with a blast of telekinetic energy.

"Fancy meeting arrangements." Salem commented, gloved finger tapping on the arm of the chair idly. "Are you trying to make a girl feel special?" The sarcasm is there, light but all the same present.

[HONOKA]
The seated figure remains facing away from Salem for a good while -- only swiveling about to face her once she's crossed two-thirds of the distance to the desk. It becomes clear, then, that Salem is dealing not with an aged art collector, but with a woman of similar age to herself. Her skin tone would definitely place her as 'Asian', but her features are bit more rounded than those of a pureblood Japanese native. Her face shows scarring, as if she was burned from the mouth down.

Scarlet Dahlia wears a black sport coat, similar to her 'guard dog' coats but obviously tailored for a more slender form. She wears a white blouse and a necktie, checquered in black and white, and a white mini-skirt to match. Black leggings are pulled up to just above the knee -- and her left leg shows a considerable burn scar along with some signs of surgical repair. The scarlet color itself is shown only in a pair of ornamental cufflinks.

Amber eyes glisten back at Salem's mask, attentive and piercing. To Salem's sixth sense, it would become clear that the mind of the Dahlia is as polished as a marble statue -- nigh impenetrable to casual inspection, save for the emotions placed on display. And there -is- no emotion, save for the cold, logical line of firmly-pressed lips.

Her voice is equally cold and precise. She speaks English, though it falls prey to some of the usual affectations of a Japanese speaker. The words were delivered as a slap -- and yet, she hardly seems fazed. The pen doesn't even flutter, in its perfect rhythmic pace, as she arches an eyebrow. "... It's like that, then? I've traveled halfway around the world, broker an entire office floor to discuss why you are unable to deliver the goods to me... and you greet me with -sarcasm?-"

The veins in her eyes glisten in gold as the twirling pen comes to a decisive stop.

The tip of Dahlia's tongue darts across her lips, as she makes a point of looking over Salem. Her poise. Her attire. And lastly, she returns to the mask.

Nostrils flare, as if she might lash out as a cobra.
... But there is no attack. Eyes narrow, as she states breathily, "Let's... start over."

The figure rises from her seat, bowing stiffly at the waist. "Scarlet Dahlia. A -pleasure- to meet you."

She gives time for the pleasantry to be returned. And then she grips one end of the pen in each hand, leaning forward across the desk.

"Explain the problem to me. One more time."

[SALEM]
It isn't new to have someone frustrated with her way of interacting, and Salem doubts that this will be the last time. "I greet everyone with sarcasm I don't discriminate." She replied, gloved fingers still tapping idly at the arm of her chair. These sort of in person meetings aren't something she's done for a little while. Not since prior incidents that left her a little more wary of leaping into them again so soon. All the same this was unavoidable and potentially informative. Salem could handle it. Then again, Salem had thought she could handle Noboru too and just the thought of the man was enough to make her jaw tighten.

When the woman across from her stands and offers a bow she uncrosses her legs and stands to return the gesture. "Salem." It's obvious she's not practiced at it, but there's some effort given before she's sitting back down and crossing one leg once more. That was more of an effort than she normally bothered to give, but the Salem could be pragmatic about some things some of the time. Besides, the mental fortitude that she could sense was something Salem could respect having not seen very many others that are of psychic talent.

"The /problem/ --" Salem begins, tone hardening a little with notes of frustration that clearly aren't directed towards the woman before her. "-- is that someone came and took the dagger from me. I would be more than happy to renegotiate something that would benefit both of us. I'd much rather you have it than him anyway."

Did the dagger steal the souls of others? Perhaps. Did that mean that allowing it to fall into the hands of other less savory parties was against the moral conduct of Salem as a person? Not entirely. A woman had to make a living after all. Maybe it might have bothered her more if she weren't more interested in revenge for whatever had been done to her at the end of the fight with the stranger. That act spurred her on for reasons that went beyond little things like who got hold of the soul stealing dagger. All she cared about was making sure that Noboru got what was coming to him. Getting paid for it would be an extra treat.

[HONOKA]
Sassy. Dahlia remembers a time when she was as cocky and self-assured. The thought continues to roil around in her mind for the time until which Salem acknowledges her assertiveness and sits back down -- at which point Dahlia, too, seats herself.

One bare hand rises to stroke tenderly along her scarred cheek -- a reminder of the last time she was solidly put in her place. Her look of harsh judgment melts away into a more neutral, passive acknowledgement of Salem's restatement of the problem. She knew what was wrong, of course... asking again was simply one more formality, a return to the order she wishes to maintain in the engagement.

The pen is grasped between thumb and forefinger as she rests her hand upon the desk.

Dahlia's amber-veined gaze flicks back and forth over the featureless mask. Nostrils flare. Certainly, she would prefer a face-to-face meeting. But everyone has their reasons. Some are proud of their scars, like she. Perhaps Salem is less so.

"Right. And I still have an interest in the dagger. I'd not have flown out this way otherwise. Did you... -encounter- this thief, personally?"

Whatever outrage might have been evidenced before, Dahlia seems to have all but buried it by now, cloaking it behind a dispassionate expression. She asks, calmly and evenly, "What more can you tell me about this thief? Physical description? Possible motives? Anything he may have said...?"

[SALEM]
Salem considered Dahlia's questions. Information was being asked and she by far would rather have something more concrete promised that her efforts weren't going to be for nothing. In the end she understood that she had to start somewhere, however, and right now this was her best starting point into discovering more about her home invader. At the very least they were both interested in them though for varying reasons.

"Tall, blond, and muscular but could move without making sounds. He introduced himself as Miyama Noboru and made it clear that he was only interested in making sure that the dagger didn't get sold to anyone." Salem remembered the fight all too clearly. She still had bruises from it hidden away that caused her to ache if she moved just right.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Pretty sure he could see things most people can't, but I can't exactly confirm that." All she knew was that her illusion at the end had been seen through as if he'd never had doubt of what was duplicate and what wasn't. While of course Salem was perhaps more willing to admit after that encounter that she needed to get stronger, neither did she believe that her illusions then had been faulty. Or perhaps that was simple overconfidence speaking again. It did tend to get the better of her, not that Salem would admit that.

[HONOKA]
Dahlia's lips remain pressed into that neutral line until that name is offered. "Miyama..." she repeats in a low whisper, with a narrowing of her right eye, otherwise keeping her eyes locked upon the spot she'd expect Salem's eyes to be. She remains quiet for the rest of the description, nodding occasionally here and there to signal her acknowledgement.

"There's truth to that, yes." From the bitter tone of her voice, it becomes clear that Dahlia is at least aware of the mysterious man's reputation.

"This is a very difficult man to keep track of. It's quite reasonable to assume that he's taken steps to secure the dagger by this point, to the point that capturing -him- would not necessarily produce the dagger itself." Dahlia steeples her fingers together, allowing the pen to clack down upon the surface of the desk.

"I have the resources to track him. And acquire the dagger. But if I do so myself..." Her lips part into a thin, predatory grin. "... Then... what would I paying you for?"

Her eyebrows arch considerably, as she leans back in her chair. The grin dims in intensity, but doesn't fully go away. "How committed are you to this purchase? Do you see yourself tracking this Miyama down, yourself? Do you feel -vengeance- towards him, for causing you this... inconvenience? Because I'm prepared to... allow you the opportunity to maintain your cut of the profits, so long as you're of the mind to work for it."

[SALEM]
The vicious grin which splits the other's lips has Salem's own quirking into something of a smirk. At the very least she did have something to work from with that. Now it was only a matter of how much room she had to wiggle with this. Salem was by far an independent force after all. She'd rather not have someone lording over her the whole time she worked. Still, revenge was seeming more and more possible. Though a certain voice at the back of her head insisted she needed to get stronger before trying to. That if she ran in she might just end up right back on the ground in pain and unconscious.

"I would be /very/ interested in being pointed in the right direction to go after him." Salem said, shifting in her seat to uncross her legs and sit up a bit straighter. Clearly more engaged in the conversation now that they'd gotten along to the parts she'd wanted to.

"Obviously you're familiar with him yourself." She added, not having missed the reaction from Dahlia. After all it was hard to miss how the woman's cool countenance had broken into something bitter and frustrated much as the predatory grin was impossible to miss now. Salem was interested in her revenge, and being able to have profit from as much in more ways than just the emotional would be welcome.



[HONOKA]
"Excellent." There's a part of Dahlia that feels filthy for having borrowed a catchphrase from an acquaintance of hers, but it struck her fancy for the moment. Now that she's gotten to the fun part of the negotiation, she makes a show of relaxing -- complete with a self-satisfied smile.

"I don't know him personally, but... I have a few... ideas. One of which is also the simplest -- merely, steal something else of similar value. And perhaps you will be able to exact your revenge."

She sweeps her pen to the side, holding it as effectively as one might wield the subject of discussion. "I'm sure, since you -stole- the weapon, that you're aware of its history. Did you... happen to -feel- anything from the dagger, as you held it in your hands? Did the wailing of the dead echo in your skull? For the village of Nagoro, in eastern Shikoku, is a ghost town for more than just one reason..."

Dahlia then flips her hands around, bringing her four fingers up to 'shield' the pen from Salem's view. "There -is- another weapon, largely lost to the records of history, save for the tales of a handmaiden passed down through the generations. In the mid-17th century, Empress Meisho became the 109th Imperial ruler of Japan, as a result of defying the wishes of the Shogunate. She was -five- years old at the time. Curious, hmm...?" Dahlia chuckles softly to herself, fluttering the pen as if it were a simple fan.

"This is known and fairly well-documented -- as is her eventual abdication of the throne some nineteen years later. But what is -less- known is that, by her father's thumbing his nose at the shogunate, it placed his young daughter in a fair amount of peril. She was forced to... mature, at an alarming rate. Not just through the normal trials of a child empress -- but by fending off assassination attempts left and right."

"Her lesser-known reputation is that of a brutal murderer, relentless to her foes. And by the end of her fifteenth year as Empress, Christianity was banned under pain of death. Largely in part due to her own -personal- involvement amongst the front lines."

Dahlia draws in her breath, resting her left elbow on her arm-rest, scarred chin upon her palm. "The Battle-Fan of Meisho, you see, has its own legends. Far be it from the Japanese to acknowledge the bloody reign of a legendary monarch -- but this weapon was -gifted- with a soul -- and a hunger -- all its own. It'd be ... difficult for many to appreciate its true horror. But I have a feeling our Miyama friend -might-."

Dahlia rests the pen back upon the table. "Or there's... more contemporary targets he might find suitably appropriate. For example, the last vestiges of the ComBot automatons. He's shown a particular dislike for those, or the hard drives containing the accumulated battle data of every fighter in the past two King of Fighters tournaments."

She laces her fingers together again, leaning forward on the table. "If you can succeed in laying a trap for Miyama -- I'd be -more- than happy to help you in interrogating him."

[SALEM]
Salem listened with vested interest to the options laid before her. She was particularly pleased with the way that this was panning out so far. It seemed to be paying off to have come to this meeting. Assuming the information that was being offered was correct, then there would be plenty to work off of in order to ensure a second encounter with Noboru. Granted, that little voice that Salem so often ignored was insistent claiming that she needed more time. More training. As always, Salem continued to ignore that sensible self reflection in favor for the more immediate chance to get what she wanted.

"I think we'll be able to get along just fine." Salem mused, satisfaction coloring her tone clearly enough. Dahlia was, without doubt, someone who she wanted to keep an eye on. She didn't think that it would be a good idea to fully trust her, not that Salem fully trusted anybody, but she could be a dangerous ally to have in this. Certainly a competent one.

"I know what option to lure him out is the most /interesting/. Unfortunately that's probably not the fastest way either." Salem herself could hardly be described as the patient sort. Though perhaps working to actually find this described artifact would be the most satisfying. "So it comes down to /when/ it's best to have him."

Though Salem herself was perhaps interested in whatever accumulated data there was for those within the tournament. For personal wants, of course. It never hurt to know more about potential threats and competition for the future. It was something to keep in mind.

[HONOKA]
The black market is fraught with risk and peril -- even a successful sale can come with its own share of hardships and pitfalls. That's just the price of doing business without a government-backed safety net, of course. The advantages, though, far outweigh the drawbacks for some.

It helps, though, when you get to wager someone else's money for your own personal gain.

And now... well, she can afford to wait for a return on her investment. Days to weeks, months to years if need be -- just for the opportunity to cross another part-time nuisance off her list with minimal effort. Dahlia's smile is broad, and it certainly -looks- sincere. "Wonderful. If it were just any knife, I'd ask for a refund. But an irreplacable part of history...?"

As to whether the lure is the fastest... "Well, my money would be on the war fan. There isn't a high demand on the collector's market for -just- another tessen. But it... -isn't-, so I feel it might be more of a red flag for the noble hero to leap upon..."

Dahlia lifts one hand, sweeping locks of raven black hair out of her eyes. "And it can be profitable as well. If the lure fails, you have an immediate buyer for the war-fan on hand. The very /definition/ of a win-win, is it not?"

Dahlia's head tips slightly to the side, her smile growing a bit more lopsided. "But... I also have data on the ComBot data stores, and the reserve inventory. It's less -interesting-, in that regard, so perhaps I wouldn't be willing to bid so high."

Dahlia spares another glance towards Salem's attire -- quietly assessing the state of her gear. Wear, damage, perhaps even wounds evidenced by the way she moves. Any number of additional factors.

"There was a fight, I take it? Do you feel you might need additional resources to take him down?"

[SALEM]
"The fan it is." Salem allows with a shrug, not particularly upset about the idea of getting her hands on something like that. It felt like more of a flexing of her skills. Besides, she'd be lying if the promise of potential further profit wasn't also enticing. Revenge was her chief motivation, but that hardly meant money was not also an enticing reward for the hard work she'd have to be putting in.

Naturally the question about needing help was not something Salem was as happy to answer right away. She wanted to immediately claim that she could handle it on her own. After all, it was better in her mind than admitting to anyone that she might need something like /help/. Especially to someone that had the influence and power which she desired for herself. All the same, pragmatism did rule some of the time and the voice of reason that she so often ignored was more persistent this time. If she didn't have an edge up, then her target might well escape from her. That would lead to yet another lost chance and she didn't want that in the slightest.

"...I /might/ need a little extra help to drag him back." Salem at last admitted with some measure of reluctance. The piercing gaze of Dahlia spoke volumes of just how much she might have guessed, and Salem would prefer to not go into detail about the fight.

[HONOKA]
Dahlia seems to be satisfied with the selection of the fan. Which shouldn't be -terribly- surprising, as her salesmanship on the other options was intentionally underwhelming. "Alright. I'll put together some more details -- photos, coordinates and whatnot -- to help you out, then."

The way this mysterious masked person carries herself shows she's had the taste of power before. The way in which she'd opted to let Dahlia pick the hosting location suggests her current financial position. And the way she delays answering the pointed suggestion of additional resources shows she carries a great deal of pride. All of them, valuable data points for the Akatsuki-gumi leader's portfolio of information on this... 'Salem.'

Pride is a double-edged sword, and she's quite mindful of stoking the fires too much -- hence, Dahlia drops the predatory angle and tone, sitting up prim and proper in her seat. "That's not a problem at all. As the target will be in Japan, I'll be able to cover you better. I have bruisers, I have technicians and technology, and I have vehicles. Possibly other things -- I'm happy to help. I don't need answers now, just put together a list of what you need. Do be a dear and give me at least twenty-four hour notice, if you can, though."

She reaches for the pen, skipping it about her thumb for a moment. "Also -- there's no need to rush. I'm not on a super strict timeline -- I just ask that you not forget about me, hmm?"

The pen continues flitting about her fingers, as her free hand rocks back to sweep through her forelock. "I -will- enjoy working with you, I feel. Moreso in Japan, where I've no need of relying on rentals. Did... you have any other questions for me?"

[SALEM]
The promise of resources is a nice one, and Salem makes mental note to not use more than necessary as tempting as it would be to do with more. This whole meeting so far had gone better than it could have, and she felt one step further towards her goal. She'd take time looking into the leads that Dahlia offered in so far as actually finding the war fan. It would also give her some more time to prepare and perhaps even look into some other opportunities for her skills in the meantime.

"I think that covers everything." Salem replies, shifting to pull herself up to her feet. She intended to be careful about this Dahlia, but she'd be lying if the woman didn't intrigue her. Also that there wasn't hints of envy, but that wasn't something Salem would admit to herself let along share with the woman before her. "I guess we'll be in touch. I'll let you know when I make my way to Japan again."

In the meantime she had work to look into and things to get settled. The primary objective she had for herself, however, was to go after the man that had bested her. At least this time she'd be more prepared for just what he was capable of.

[HONOKA]
The shadowy yakuza leader knows what it's like to be on the other side of that desk. Hunger and thirst can be powerful motivators -- enough to allow the scrappy underdogs to claw a path ahead of those who would claim to be leaders. People like Salem can be dangerous, if allowed to get out of control. But they can also be powerful allies with the right incentives. Luckily for Dahlia, money is a universal language, able to transcend barriers both physical and ideological.

Her three guard "dogs" keep watch, dutifully avoiding eye contact as they had for the entirety of the meeting.

Dahlia rises to her feet in concert with Salem, sidestepping around to one side of the desk. From her lapel, she brings out a small business card. She extends it to Salem -- using both hands, as if the card were made out of a light gossamer rather than simple gold-embossed card stock, and a soft, welcoming smile. "This number serves as a dead drop -- leave your message there and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I don't like to keep my treasured associates waiting."

Card delivered, she'll step back and rest her hands by her sides. Flashing a beguiling smile, she bows her head in thanks. "Thank you /so/ much for meeting with me today. We'll be in touch."

[SALEM]
Beneath the mask a single brow raises at the comment about being a 'treasured associate'. Salem would scoff, but she had cooperation so for once she bit her tongue and instead gave a nod. The card was slipped away easily enough to be kept for later. She fully intended to utilize this alliance to its fullest potential while she had it while keeping her guard up for any knives to the back.

"Have a safe flight home." The masked woman mused, stepping back and with a last wave heads to the elevator. As the doors slide closed she leaned back against the wall and thought. Already she ensured her identity was kept close to chest. The few identifying features she had were kept concealed even beyond her mask. She planned to continue on with that and perhaps for a little while work as though doubly paranoid. Thus far she'd managed to work under the radar, but with this recent heist that had changed. While she had known it would neither had she quite expected to be getting audiences like this right away.

Elevator opening again Salem strode out with the same air of confidence she always held. Hands shoved into her pockets, head high and back straight as he stepped back out onto the streets. She was going to get stronger, and she was going to give everyone a run for their money. At some point even Dahlia.

Log created on 10:27:54 06/07/2019 by Salem, and last modified on 20:28:09 06/07/2019.