Description: Overseeing the latter of a deal between one of Rugal's many contracts, his saner secretary is interrupted by an unforeseen guest. Realizing there's little to no real easy solution, there's just one solution left. However, Mature finds that even the best laid plans don't always go as planned...
Overcast skies and soft drizzle do well to compliment the shady business at the Southtown harbor. With the moon's light all but smothered by the dark clouds above there's an air of uneasiness in the salty atmosphere. Still, for all the discomfort people work mindfully, moving wooden crates from shipyard to nearby cargo vans, lest they earn the ire of their unsavory employers.
And in the midst of all this is a solitary blonde in a nice black blazer and matching skirt, long blonde hair pulled up in a neat and tidy bun. In one hand is a leather suitcase, the other hand wrapped around the curvy hilt of an open black umbrella. There's a man in her company, and it's not the infamous Rugal Bernstein; an Italian man with expensive alligator shoes and slate gray suit discusses business with the woman, who seems anything but intrigued or interested. Idle nods, half-hearted smiles; the usual rotes and formalities necessary when engaging business partners.
When all is said and done the man takes his leave with a polite bow of his head, ducking away toward a luxurious black Sedan. Mature, on the other hand, turns slightly to the side, pulling a cellphone from the breast of her blazer pocket.
The soft patter of light rain on darkly tinted windows provides a pleasant ambient background as a bald man in a well tailored suit speaks into the Bluetooth receiver clipped on his ear. "...oh? ...and they paid the 'union dues'?" the man asks casualy as the dark unmarked sedan turns off of the street and into the driveway leading to one of Southtown's many docks. "...I see... ...It's still suspicious, yes... ...calling me was a good idea. Well, I'm here. Yes, I'll pass word of your efficiency on to Geese. Goodbye." Flipping the mic of the receiver back towards his ear, Mr. Big, the head of the Southtown Syndicate's criminal operations, leans foreword and addresses the driver in the front seat. "Yes, this is it Unosuke. Pull up closer and let me out. I don't want to walk far, these shoes were quite expensive."
Nodding to Mr. Big through the rear view mirror, his inscrutable eyes the only part visible to Mr. Bib aside from the back of the driver's head, Unosuke's black leather driving glove-clad hands spin the wheel lightly as he follows the service path to the dock, the car's headlights shining brightly as the pass over the working men and land on the lithe form of a woman in black. "Hmm..." Mr. Big ponders as a small smile twitches to life on the corner of his lips. "...interesting." Smoothing out the front of his vest and lightly adjusting the ascot around his neck, Mr. Big casually dons his trademark fur-lined jacket before clicking opening the door as the car slowly pulls to a stop.
Thrusting his own umbrella out of his door and opening it to shield himself from the rain, the oft lubricious Mr. Big steps out of the back of the vehicle, slightly frowning in vexation at the resulting splash of water from the puddle he just stepped in. Playing off his irritation as best he can, the shrewd businessman and cunning rogue makes his way towards the woman's back with feigned indifference, his black umbrella held high above his head. "May I have a moment of your time miss?" Mr. Big asks politely as he studies the woman intently (and more than a little appreciation) from the back. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about your shipment."
The sound of a distantly approaching car from behind is enough to stir the well-dressed blonde. A thin brow lofts ever so slightly above a blue eye, her head tilting just a touch further to one side and into the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. Both hands are occupied, after all--one by umbrella and the other by suitcase. Still, Mature does not about-face and approach the oncoming Sedan head-on; for all intents and purposes she seems oblivious to the fact, more intent on the phone call and monitoring the last of the crates being unloaded by the hired work hounds.
Only when Mr. Big approaches and requests her attention does the svelte blonde exhale lightly, crouching prudely to set the suitcase carefully at her feet. "I will speak with you later, sir," the woman replies, pulling the phone from her shoulder and clasping it shut with a pinch of her hand's fingers. She about-faces then, finally acknowledging the well-dressed man with a mildly curious expression. Only after a brief moment does she lightly tilt her head to the side, red lips pulling into a thin line across her smooth face.
"A question about my shipment?" She doesn't outright address him; why should she? Crouching again to retrieve her leather briefcase, Mature's slender fingers curl around its grip and heft it from the damp pavement. Once she's content and settled with her case in hand does she step forward a few small steps.
"Pardon me, but what questions might those be, sir?"
"...M...Miss Mature?" Mr. Big gasps slightly as he is taken back a step by her unexpected appearance in Southtown. His eyes darting from side to side, no doubt scanning for a German lurking in the shadows, Mr. Big's eyebrows narrow above his sunglasses as he tries to quickly assess the situation. Is this some kind of trap?
"What are you doing here?" he asks after regaining most of his composure, though there is a definite air of suspicion in his tone. "Rugal's corporation wasn't on the shipping manife-" Mr. Big begins, the color rising to his cheeks slightly as his eyes dart over Mature, though whether it is a result of his shock at seeing her, or rather the pleasure of seeing her, that is rather difficult to gauge. "-ah... I see..." he corrects himself after shooting a glance at the crates being loaded. "...I guess it wouldn't be, would it." Frowning, Mr. Big brings a hand up to stroke his goatee thoughtfully as he's caught in one of his rare moments of indecision. "This won't do... this won't do at all..." he mutters to himself, Mature seeming to have been forgotten for the moment.
Truth be told, Mature didn't honestly expect the man to stammer at the sight of her face. In response the calm, collected blonde stares at him, her expression unwavering, save for the slow, owlish blink of baby blues. The side-glances and shifting eyes are noted by the way his brows move over the deep shades perched atop his nose, and with a purse of her lips and a soft exhale of breath into the chill weather the woman replies, quite simply, "Don't worry. Mister Bernstein couldn't make it to the shipment today." If she were far more animated, the blonde secretary might smile in good humor. It's utterly amazing how many people fear the Bernstein name.
"What am I doing here?" she echoes as her eyes stir, glancing toward the dark ocean waters beyond the harbor. Squinting her eyes briefly at the foggy skyline, Mature seems to consider his words, letting them stew in her head before she draws a breath in past her lips and offers the tiniest of smirks. He seems to get the point rather quickly upon noting the busy men loading the last remaining crates into an unmarked van.
"Business," she replies simply, in case he wasn't clear enough.
The latter is, however, a growing concern for the blonde beneath the dark umbrella. At his musing Mature bows her head slightly, long blonde bangs idly brushing her features before she draws her eyes to a close and lowers the umbrella from her side.
"Indeed, it won't, mister 'Big,'" she answers, whether he was seeking one or not from the blonde. "If there's a problem, please be so kind as to tell me the nature of it, and what solutions are acceptable." Already the woman has crouched again, setting her nice leather briefcase at her side. For now she remains beneath the cover of her umbrella, out of the soft drizzle of rain.
"If I find your terms acceptable I will gladly go quietly into the good night, mister 'Big.'"
Sighing softly, Mr. Big runs his free hand over his bald head before answering. "Listen... I got nothing against you Angel, really I don't..." he begins, shaking his head in irritation at the situation he's been put in. "...but your 'boss' is supplying enemies of the Syndicate." Glancing over at the unmarked van as the last crates are loaded, Mr. Big sighs and shakes his head once more. "And the only solution I can see..." he says, turning his attention back to the blonde, "...is that I'm gunna confiscate these vans, and all of the cargo in them..." he adds as he makes a series of complex gestures over his shoulder at the car behind him, causing the vehicle to shift into reverse and peel back towards the entrance to the dockyard. "...and as for you... Well... I'm afraid your 'boss' has thrown you right into the middle of a war. Don't worry though; I'm willing to take you under my custody until this whole thing blows over. Bernstein is a business man, our quarrel won't last forever. It's Shadaloo that has to be destroyed."
In the background a slender Japanese man in a chauffeur's uniform exits the unmarked sedan and slowly walks towards the lead van. Grasping the handle of the driver's side door and opening it with a jerk, Unosuke draws a gun from his black jacket and points the weapon into the cab. "There will be more of my men here any second Miss Mature. I suggest you come along peacefully. You don't have to worry, you will be my personal guest until this whole mess is finished," he assure her, pointedly avoiding the use of the word 'prisoner'. "It is for your own safety, I assure you."
Clearly thrust into a dilemma he's uncomfortable with, the blonde stands her ground, patiently waiting and observing beneath the cover of her umbrella. Curious are those baby blues, vaguely interested in the reactions that happen to cross the man's face. Nothing against her? "I would hope not," the blonde replies calmly and coolly, blue eyes flickering briefly to one side before she glances back, eyes narrowing a scant touch as she observes.
"However," Still Mature exercises infinite calm and limitless patience with the man. "I'm afraid that it becomes a touch personal when you threaten my employer in such a fashion." Confiscate the vans and cargo? Mature clearly isn't going to hear anything of the sort. This is expressed by a slightly furrow of thin brows, blue eyes hardening a touch.
As for her? Clearly Mature doesn't care about the consequences involved in engaging in the affairs of Mister Rugal Bernstein. Instead she observes Mr. Big, her attentions entirely his. While it might seem flattering that should would invest such thought and interest in him, it's anything but.
More so when the woman's eyes catch sight of the Japanese chauffeur heisting her employer's goods and taking control of the situation in stead of his superior, Big himself.
"I'm sorry," she explains, blue eyes coming to a close. From above the umbrella slowly descends, held out before her as she draws it shut. With a considerate peel of her expensive blazer, Mature folds it neatly and sets it atop her briefcase, resting the umbrella neatly at the satchel's side.
"While your compassion for my place in all of this is charming, it's unnecessary at best. Your interest is better invested in your own well-being, mister 'Big.' Going 'peacefully' and 'safety' are, I'm afraid, words that's been excluded from my vocabulary." A tiny grin passes the woman's lips as she bows her head in a polite nod.
"I do not doubt that you're a man of your word. To be quite fair, I'm a woman of mine. Therefore I will not lie to you."
Her foot slides back as she smiles a touch further.
"I won't be gentle on you or your nice suit."
That said, Mature rushes forward, letting her foot plant firmly against the wet concrete, a hand swiftly and quite viciously making a swiping gesture for his midriff, nails first.
COMBATSYS: Mature has started a fight here.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big has joined the fight here.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Mr.Big
COMBATSYS: Mature successfully hits Mr.Big with Metal Massacre.
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Mature 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Mr.Big
Mr. Big's eyes travel down Mature's shapely, oh so shapely, leg as it slides back along the wet concrete, his mouth twitching faintly as he registers her threatening words. "Crap." He was afraid of this. Tossing his own umbrella aside as Mature lunges for him, Mr. Big attempts to leap back out of the way of her swipe, but he fails to account for those lethal nails of hers. Nails that slice deeply into his clothing and leave long gouges in his shirt and vest, gouges tinged red with blood from the cuts beneath. Frowning at the damage done to his clothing, not to mention his midsection, Mr. Big sighs and takes a few steps foreword, putting his hands up in front of him to try to ward off her attacks for a moment. "Listen Angel, any other situation and I'd be asking to take you out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, but business is business right?"
Flicking his wrists slightly, two thick black batons jump into his hands from the depths of his sleeves, batons that he raises before him in a defensive stance. "But I guess you have your duties and I have mine," he resigns to himself. "If this is the way it's gotta be, then I guess it's the way it's gotta be. Just remember, this was your choice." Mr. Big nods at Mature, his lips curling into a slight snarl as he mentally prepares himself for the rest of the fight to come.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big gathers his will.
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Mature 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Mr.Big
Her approach is rather swift; like the wind itself Mature is off like a shot, crossing the concrete with a rapid pace, her approach signaled only by the hurried clicks of her expensive heels. Only when sufficient distance has been covered the woman makes her move, swiping a hand ruthlessly out and inwardly, toward his chest and midsection. She twists her form, using the motion to turn and ultimately step back and away, blue eyes immediately seeking out the damage done. It's met with a tiny but satisfied smile.
With a sharp flick of her wrist the woman lets her hand clean itself of the blood and stray threads on her fingertips before drawing her hand in to her side once more. As he speaks and steps forward the woman's eyes are intently focused on his shades, gauging his words and expression carefully.
"I'm glad we both agree that this is business," she replies coolly. It's always business with Mature, of course.
The revealed batons are noted, but earn him no real emotion or expression of surprise. Instead the blonde Bernstein secretary listens, nodding her head ever so faintly in response to his words. With another small grin she replies, "Of course. Duty before all else. Giving your boss a message is part of that duty." By ruining his clothes and making a mess of his flesh with those cruel nails, of course.
COMBATSYS: Mature focuses on her next action.
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Mature 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Mr.Big
"We'll see." Mr. Big replies simply, his mouth drawn to a grim frown as he advances towards Mature. There's no hurry in his movements. No excitement. No, Mr. Big isn't enjoying this. Like he said before, this is all business. "I'm going to end this as quickly as possible. I hope you don't mind," he says plainly without his usual boastful and arrogant tone. Not giving her any time to reply, Mr. Big quickly lashes out with his large size 16 feet, attempting to plant a big, bad, front kick right into Mature's gut, grunting with exertion as he kicks, throwing all of his weight into the blow.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Mature with Deep Kick.
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Mature 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Mr.Big
His reply is curt. Clearly he means business now, and that's precisely what Mature wants of this matter. So as he advances forward after she's more or less stepped back for the interim she offers him a mildly puzzled glance. It fades quickly, the latter of his warnings causing her to issue another tiny grin. "Very well. The threat is noted." Mind? Of course not. She's confident in her abilities.
When he moves, he moves faster than she anticipates. She tries to sidestep, to avoid that expensive shoe and move out of harm's way, but clearly the blonde secretary isn't quick enough. Therefore his foot makes purchase in her midsection, a nice, audible expel of wind from her lungs issued into the cold air before she goes flying back. She doesn't fall; instead the woman repositions herself, twisting mid-flight and landing in a three-point stance. A pause of silence is issued, her eyes drawing shut as she rises to her feet.
"I see you don't spout empty threats, Mister Big," she replies.
And with that she's off again, intent on grabbing him by that ascot and chucking him across the wet pavement over a shoulder with surprising strength for a woman as svelte as she.
COMBATSYS: Mature successfully hits Mr.Big with Quick Throw.
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Mature 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Mr.Big
"Not usually Angel, not usually," he replies with a slight grin. "I'm impressed with your tenacity, I have to admit," Mr. Big adds as she rushes him, he is obviously impressed with her being able to take such a brutal move and come back for more. "Not many people, man or woman, would be able to get up after that, much less not even fall down. Rugal knows how to pick 'em." His grin growing even more, Mr. Big seems to be slipping into his comfort zone, though he'd rather be hitting /on/ Mature than hitting her. It looks like he's about to say something more, when his ascot is clutched by Mature's well manicured hand and twisted, cutting off his airflow.
Landing roughly on the ground and skidding slightly as he hits the wet pavement, Mr. Big groans softly before picking himself up to his feet. "Guh... damn strong too..." he mutters as he massages his ascot loose. "Okay, you put up a great fight, darlin, but as much as I'm starting to enjoy this, you know it can't last. Let's see how you do when we make it a little bit more serious..."
Rushing towards Mature, Mister Big quickly lashes out with both of his batons, drumming them off with blurring speed at Mature's midsection (taking care to avoid her chest <3 ) the barrage continues for what must seem like an eternity on the receiving end, though it ends soon enough with a double baton slap to her stomach, followed by yet another from the other direction, driven into her gut with enough force to send her flying backwards... if it manages to hit.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Mature with Drum Shot Typhoon.
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Mature 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Mr.Big
He's impressed with her tenacity? The woman furrows her brows ever so slightly at the compliment, fair features poised in an expression of mild discontent. He's only hit her once and already she can feel the odds greatly shifting in his favor. This is most definitely not good. Her employer won't be pleased in the least, and that's what drives Mature's 'tenacity.'
Dusting the front of her blouse off, Mature draws her eyes to a close, an expression of impeccable calm finding residence on her smooth features. "Really?" she replies, no doubt feigning interest before she opens her eyes, settling them on the man across from her. "Well, I thank you for the compliment. But I implore you save them until after this has been settled." Then again, it might be in her favor if he gets comfortable. It'd give her a definite edge.
Still, Mature is all about business. Thus he is cut short, chucked across the pavement and skidding unceremoniously across wet ground. As he rises the woman simply dusts her hands and fixes her cuffs, eyes focused. "Thank you. And please. Show me how 'serious' you intend on being." She wouldn't want it any other way, of course.
Again her feet fail her. It's most vexing, that. Thus he lashes out, slamming his batons repeatedly into her midsection before he drives her backwards and away with one final, brutal swing. This time Mature isn't as graceful; instead she lands a short distance away, skidding briefly against wet ground. She doesn't immediately rise; instead the blonde's eyes peer up at the overcast gray skies, lips pulling tightly after a few labored breaths.
This is...very troublesome, indeed.
Hopping to her feet, Mature doesn't seem out for the count JUST yet. She rushes in, leaping high above and over Big, lashing out with her hand again and cutting at his shoulder with long fingers trailed by blue chi.
COMBATSYS: Mature successfully hits Mr.Big with Despair.
Glancing Blow
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Mature 1/=======/=======|===----\-------\0 Mr.Big
[OOC] Mr. Big says, "I like how there hasn't been a successful reaction yet this fight. :P"
[OOC] Mature LOL i know
"Wow..." Mr. Big comments as Mature gets back up after his most brutal attack. "Huh," he mutters in surprise as she leaps towards him. Fortunately for Mature, Mr. Big doesn't really seem very interested in talking all of the sudden, and he attempts to spin away from her energy attack, only to take a light, sizzling flesh wound on his shoulder. "Carefull... you could hurt someone..." he says with a smile before quickly snapping his batons together into one long staff. A sorrowful look passes over his face for a brief moment as Mr. Big levies the staff at the woman, though the moment passes briefly, because his staff is soon flying towards Mature's face in the same thrust as he tried to knock her boss out with not too long ago; a thrust that failed mainly because of his distracted infatuation with her.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Mature with Staff Thrust.
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Mature 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Mr.Big
Her resolve is considerable, for all the odds against the Rugal secretary. Enough to actually stand on her two feet and make an attack at Big. With a leap and an elegant twist of her form midair, her hand lashes out, although nails graze his shoulder and neckline rather than cut cleanly through. Landing behind him with a delicate 'tap' of heels against concrete, Mature's features stir slightly, blonde brows lowering a touch. He's still in one piece.
"I think that's the point," she replies with the same calm and composure she's always worn on her features. Her head tilts slightly thereafter, eyeing the man's expression before she grins a touch, eyes slitted in delight. Moments later he makes his move, and with a stir of her feet the woman seeks to get OUT of it way. Unfortunately that's not the case; it's quite the contrary.
Struck cleanly, the woman is sent back, landing with another painful slide across concrete. For a moment she's quite still, unmoving as she lay there in the soft shower of rain. It would seem he is the victor...or would, were she suddenly not up, on her feet and summarily closing in on the man with an outstretched arm. Eyes wide, the woman looks relatively brutal as she tries to grab his throat viciously. And, should she...well...
COMBATSYS: Mature can no longer fight.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big dodges Mature's Heaven's Gates.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|
His shrewd eyes narrowing on Mature as she closes in, Mr. Big can tell she's about to fall. She put of a valiant effort, but there's not much more she could have taken, really. Moving his head out of the way of her groping grasp, Mr. Big throws his hands foreword; attempting to catch her around the torso should she fall, resulting in an embrace-like hold on her. If he's wrong, and she has some more fight in her, well, then he'll hopefully have a good grip on her, anyway.
For all the effort the woman musters in her last attempt to reach out and literally chokehold Big, it would seem that her being hit hard, repeatedly, has seriously impeded her speed. Thus he's careful and easily capable of moving himself out of the reach of her cruel grasp. It draws a mildly surprised look across the woman's oft-expressionless features, blue eyes still wide before she simply staggers, stumbles and nearly falls face-first against the wet concrete.
Ever the gentleman, it would seem the man is there to catch her. For a moment the woman is clearly too winded to do...much of anything, protest or appreciate. It's a good minute or so before she's less-winded; that being just barely enough the woman somehow squirms her way out of his grip, staggering back a few steps, to put distance there and keep herself out of harm's way.
"You are more than I bargained for, mister Big," she explains calmly, though she pauses briefly thereafter, squinting and pressing a hand to her torso. "It would seem mister Howard keeps considerable men in his employ. I cannot say that my employer will be happy to hear that you've otherwise jeopardized our deals with other clients." Inhaling slowly and carefully, Mature's gaze levels on the man as she very warily crouches, mindful of the considerable wounds she's been inflicted. Putting her now-damped coat on her now-damp blouse, she picks up her things and about-faces, opening her umbrella--however needless--and making her way to a nearby unmarked parked car.
She pauses, however, glancing over a shoulder. "I do not think this is the last time we'll be meeting in such a fashion," she warns with a frightening level tone of voice, the corners of her faultlessly pained red lips twitching into what might be a smirk.
"Next time I won't underestimate you," she promises, stepping into the passenger side of the black car.
Mr. Big just... holds Mature for a second as she lays against him, exhausted. An odd look plays upon his face as the minute it takes for the woman to catch her breath passes; a minute that is entirely too short, so far as Mr. Big is concerned. His hands outstretched oddly as Mature pulls away and starts to stumble backwards, Mr. Big simply frowns as she speaks and moves toward the car.
Silent as Mature enters the vehicle, Mr. Big barely notices as his driver, Unosuke runs up beside him.
'Mr. Big, the others are here taking over the vans...' Unosuke begins with a motion towards the unmarked transports. Following Mr. Big's gaze, the chauffer reaches into his coat and draws forth his gun once more. 'Do you want me to go after her?' he asks plainly.
"Yes," Mr. Big replies after a moment's thought. "But don't approach her. You are to observe only. She is far more dangerous than she looks." Nodding absently as Unosuke bows and runs over to the sedan, Mr. Big mutters softly to himself and walks over to his umbrella, picking up the piece of haberdashery before sullenly making his way over to the vans to see just what his big prize is.
Log created by Mature, and last modified on 00:46:04 01/20/2006.