Description: The aftermath of Hotaru and Jiro's ambush. Helle's Belle and the Devil of Koga take stock of their marginal, pyrrhic victory. There are faults yet to work out in their budding organization.. but plans are laid and the pieces begin to move...
The clock ticks.
There's a few clocks in the warehouse proper, most of them digital, but Elle's favorite one is the little cuckoo clock that she got when she ransacked someone's apartment. There's something almost obscenely ironic that something so quaint exists in such a dump. She broke the little bird itself a long time ago, though. She hated that part. Aside from the ticks, the thing is mute. That's the way Elle likes it.
Useful and silent.
She sits alone at the table in the middle of the warehouse, a bottle of Hennesey next to her and a shotglass. The bottle is nearly full, as she's only poured nough to dull the pain in her body. Wrapped around her middle are bandages that hold heat packs in place, and a few more are taped to her shoulder, where Jiro's counterstrike landed.
Other than that, she seems perfectly fine. She heals demonically fast when she's not troubled and has time to rest. By the day after tomorrow, she'll likely be just fine. Rather, she sits with a notepad and a pen, scribbling down notes ferverently, the two ornate NESTS knives in front of her, as well as a few manila folders.
It's important to take notes sometimes, especially when you're compiling an analytical collection on opponents. She keeps what she's learned in a book that she's mentally named 'the Necronomicon'. While not literally a 'book of the dead', it does list a lot of weaknesses of a lot of people that many would love to get a hold of. She rubs her eyes tiredly as she pauses in her scrawl under the bare lightbulb over her head. No sleep for her tonight. As a chronic insomniac, Elle's brain just never stops working.
The insomniac's teammate however, faires significantly worse.
The ghostly woman remains sprawled out on a nearby tabletop. Hardly so much as twitched since she was deposited on the makeshift 'bed' to rest. The woman's pale skin has, however, mostly regained its creamy, inhumanly white hue. Previously having been singed and burned terribly from Hotaru's energetic assault, hardly an inch of her was left unblackened.
Now, all of the excess color and damage seems to have bleached from her system with shocking expedience should Elle occasionally mark the hour by looking in her direction.
Apparently some don't heal deomonically. Some are just demonic.
There is no fanfare with the fallen creature's revival. Her eyes suddenly bolt open like a dead thing returning from oblivion. Her chest, somehow still managing to be modest, rises slowly with deeper breath.
Golden orbs slowly sliding over to the single greatest source of sound in the warehouse.. the sound of a scribbling pen.
Once the dark maiden has ascertained that she is in no trap, she then rises. Lifting herself at the waist into an upright, sitting position. Pale legs slipping over the edge of the table as her hands quietly grip the edge of the worn, wooden finish.
Her expression shrouded once more as her long locks slither over her shoulder and obscure her hanging head.
"...Nnnn... heh.. kyeh heh.." Laughing to herself almost soundlessly.
Hilarious. Totally hilarious.
"Yuk it up, lady. We barely made it out of there," Elle says dryly. "You didn't tell me she had some kind of rampant mutant boyfriend." The sound of the pen doesn't even stop as she uses her other hand to grab a fat book next to her. As if of it's own accord, it rifles through pages. The print is small, and what pictures that exist seem to be diagrams of human anatomy, with chakras and chi-flow points clearly marked. All based from a scientific point of view, of course. The more mystical might find some minor faults here and there. But when has science and religion ever gotten along?
"But we won," the flat statement comes. "And I got the sample I needed. All we need now is one more, and I have enough to get NESTS to notice us on a real level. Then the real fun starts." Hopefully in the form of more high end work. Elle hates the scraping and skulking around that Shadaloo requires, and doesn't like having to perform home invasions.
"I have enough problems on my hands right now," Elle says, her work pausing if only for a moment. "I did some checking up. That boy? Goes by the name of 'Jiro Kasagi'. Big rising star on the pro-circuits. Apparently, he had something to do with a guy named 'Kain Heinlein'. I cross referenced that from some of the SNF DVDs I picked up while you were out." Elle's eidetic memory for such detail succeeds again. "I dunno if he's still working for that guy, but he's not an enemy that we want. I'll have to dig up some dirt. At the very least? The kid's like an animal. If he sees either of us again, he'll attack us like a dog with his balls in a vice."
"So heads up. We may have to steer clear from your little squeaky chew-toy for a while, unless we want Kid Vicious after use constantly like a cheap hooker."
The strangely humored woman slows her laughter a moment as she reclines a bit more to the side. Marise is not one to move quickly unless she truly needs to, and when her prey leasts suspects it. This time, however, her careful movements are borne out of another imperative entirely. She still feels like she's been burned alive. Which, naturally, would slow anyone down.
"..Jiro.. 'Stray Dog.. Kasagi.." The ghost whispers as Elle recants her homework. Her inhuman eyes now hidden beneath her bangs as her voice picks up tempo. Elaborating on her information, ".. Born.. in Metro City, America.. one hundred and seventy one centemeters tall.. seventy four kilograms.. blood-type oh-positive, 18th in the Neo League Rankings with a win loss record of eight and sixteen. Three draw matches. He most recently had confessed his love to the girl of his dreams, one Futaba Hotaru and bought her a boquet of flowers at twelve sixteen Village avenue."
Gold glimmers towards Elle now as her violet lips quirk slowly. The Helle's Belle is not the only one who does her homework. "..I had meant to devour him much later. However.. when opportunity knocks.."
The woman then shrugs a pale shoulder as she slowly turns her head away. More of her ebon tresses cascade down her shoulder and across her lap, "..I took what desired from him.. The girl.." Her eye twitches, ".. Will have to wait."
The Ghost can admit when she's beaten. She is not yet strong enough to confront a power like that. She can afford to be.. patient now.
On to other things.
"..Kain Heinlein.. you say?" Marise then follows up on another part of Elle's illuminating discourse. Now that part.. she had not known. The name not yet familiar to her, and sounds like someone she should certainly be aware of.
The white haired woman stops her work, brushing it back from her face. Ever since the accident, the stuff has been nearly impossible to control short of forcing it into place with static. "Thanks for the short biography," she says, which would be sarcasm normally, save for the fact that it actually gives pertinent information. "The little pissant's a small fry in the grand scheme of things. No matter how strong he gets, he'll always be someone else's dog, despite what his little nickname would have you think."
Elle reaches for the reference materials at hand. "Kain Heinlein. We're talking 10 on the Richter scale of destructive." She opens the SNF and Neo League registries, and points at Kain's picture. "Not a lot of data on him. Kind of a pretty boy, lives on the hill in a giant-ass mansion that I had delusions of robbing once upon a time."
"I've watched him fight. Apparently his combat style is 'controlled nuclear bomb'. He shoots fire like it was going out of style like the tacky-ass suit he wears," she says flipping through the DVD stack she has in a tub she pulls out from under the table. "He had a grudge match with Jiro a while back. Apparently, they have some kind of relationship going on. I'm gonna /guess/ some kind of henchman or protoge', but they may have had a falling out. I have no idea if they patched that up, though."
"Anyhow, this Jiro kid gets around. I remember seeing him in the middle of a high school rumble downtown a few months back. Apparently, this was in the aftermath of a USPL assault on Gedo High. This kid was everywhere. Thinks he's hardcore and acts like he's got a license to do what he pleases. Now that we've basically kicked down his door and told him his dick is small,he's going to want to kill us every chance he gets." She turns to face Marise fully, and raises an eyebrow. "You look like shit."
Whereas the gravely woman certainly seems to have an excellent grasp of public knowledge, it is clear that there are tremendous gaps in the unspoken lines between the public statistics that any good fighting fansite could give you.
But then.. this is precisely why Marise has elected to join Elle's posse, afterall. This information.. is golden. Critically important to know.. which is why the ghostly creature gives the productive rocker her undivided attention.
Mmmn. Kain does seem to be a potent force and an important figure. Good to understand a bit more of that.. However.. that description puzzles Marise somewhat.
Jiro.. could not be such a man's protege. He tasted too... clean. A similar, curious flavor to the taint Hotaru has lingering in her blood as well. Perhaps Kain is the ultimate source of this? ... Something to uncover one day, perhaps.
As far as Elle's repetitive warning about how this Dog will not forgive them? Well. Of course, "I had not expected leniency from him. I am not one to.. randomly flutter about so." Marise does not walk openly in the streets. She knows full well how to evade the notice of her enemies. Oooh yes she does..
The woman quietly raises her arm to clasp her shoulder, which is mostly un-fried by now. Her head tilting once more to half-face the dark-skinned woman. The corner of the woman's plush lip quirking upwards, "That child was.. strong. Healing takes time.. yes?"
Elle makes a noise. "Yeah. But you've got something of a problem." She picks up the book she's been perusing. "I know as much as anyone that the glowing stuff that everyone and their grandma seems to be able to shoot out of every appendange plus their nipples can hurt, but you don't seem to take any of it very well. I've been reading up on the subject, and all I can come up with is that either your're so out of alignment that other people's chi is instantaneously rejected by your body, or you can only take it when you're receptive. Either way, everyone I've faced so far shoots it out like a firehose."
She pauses, thruning about and grabbing a manila folder.
"Except this guy."
She opens it up, and reveals to Marise a picture of... not quite a man per se, but a distinctive suit of Japanese armor. Sort of. It has a heavily ornate samurai 'mask', but the rest of it? Bastardized from football padding and cheap knockoff 'ninja' equipment that the American media machine sells in mass quantities.
"He calls himself 'Katana'. I ran into him while trying to ransack his apartment downtown. Apparently, he's the new gangleader of 'Mad Gear'. They had free run over Metro City for years before they got cleaned out by Mayor Haggar back in the 90's," she explains, handing Marise the file. "I know you have a lot on your plate, Vamp, but I think this is right up your alley. He's got the same weaknesses as you... but he's got no Chi affinity at all. I checked his psych profile. Apparently, he's a Japanese wanna-be. A seven-foot-tall whitey in cheap-ass armor that thinks he's a Samurai. He loves everything Japanese. Japanese food. Japanese drink." Elle turns about in her chair, and acutaully lets out a very short laugh, which comes out to a mere muted 'heh'. "And Japanese women."
"Anyhow, when I fought him, I noticed that he doesn't do well when force-fed chi energy. Unlike you, he doesn't seem to have any chi of his own to use. Mad Gear is an enemy gang that I frankly don't want to deal with. He beat me once. When you got time, though, I'd like to send him an apology gift in the form of a killer geisha."
At the richly complexioned woman's astute observations Marise's smile widens a fraction more, "Heh."
It seems this woman truly is perceptive. Vastly so, compared to what her nonchalant appearance would suggest. Even better reason to certainly not volunteer on how Marise may be 'out of alignment' as she so succinctly put it. Easy enough that the the woman can guess why, and simply leave it at that.
However, as Elle opens the folder in her direction her eyes squint. A hand moving up to push asside a few of her unruly bangs to better see the non-living text. Living things she can see with incredible clarity. The inanimate.. well. The small text is difficult to make out and she doesn't feel like testing the strength of her legs to amble over as yet.
Instead, as she describes the fool; Marise's ebon locks soundlessly rise into the air. Extending outwards several feet as few of the silken tendrils grip the edges of the paper and carry the files back towards her. Getting a better look at the text as she tilts her head back to read this man's description.
An imbecile. His brutish might is likely the only reason why a moron such as he could have defeated Miss Elle in single combat. Yet more proof how Americans only appreciate the outlandish and ridiculous. A backward people grasping for culture. Rarely has she seen a man who wears that idiom on his face so boldly.
"You desire this .. Katana.. silenced?" Her spidery conveyance extending back outwards to return the file, "..Or merely shown the error of his way?"
Elle considers the question for a moment. "I want some psychological damage," is the short reply before the inevitable elaboration. "He's got an obvious hang up over Japanese culture like a wino to booze. Everything in his life is defined by traditional Japanese ideals, and his brain isn't equipped to deal with slice of Japanese cheesecake like yourself." The rocker makes a gesture to Marise's outward appearance.
"I've got an address. Track him down, lead him on, make him feel like a king, and then rip his guts out with a spoon, kick him while he's down, and take pictures." Truly a vicious woman, despite the black, emotionless mask on her face that always predominates. "I want him to lose face so hard, that it'll take a team of plastic surgeons and a nail gun just to put it back on again. I figure if we dishonor him hard enough, he won't be in any condition to lead his gang a while, giving me an in. Not only that, every time he sees us, he'll have a meltdown and act completely irrational."
"I don't need to tell you that once he's been scarred that bad, I'll be able to pick at that scab for the rest of his natural born life," she concludes, turning back to her work. "Next time we pick a target, we need to do more research, Getting jumped by Jiro was completely unexpected and I don't want to have to fight any harder than I have to. We /barely/ made it out of that mess alive."
The ghostly one nods her head in a careful tilt in compliance to Elle's point. Ooooh yes. Red blooded American men.. And this one is considerably worse than the average.
For a moment the Devil considers refusing the contract as the deal seems too simple. Too easy. Nothing in existance is ever so.. trivial. At least nothing worth doing, at any rate.
Elle's venom, however, encourages Marise's smile to become a bit more sly.
Interesting.. certainly seems to have a grievance against him, does she not? Perhaps her 'defeat' was a bit more humiliating than she lets on.
Although, her commentary about leaving an openning for the Mad Gear gang does seem compelling. Yes.. Yes. That would be a valued resource indeed. Although.. She can only wonder about the quality of such a gaggle of American idiots, that they would allow themselves to be led around by such a useless thing as he?
Well.. Perhaps they can be improved.
"It will be done.. Miss Elle." Marise replies in a cool, smooth comment. Oh, she knows full well that Elle told her to lay off the honorifics. But she also asked for insubordination. She finds the circular irony of this result to be the soul of humor.
"Jiro.." Marise replies slowly. Finally deciding to test her mobility as she carefully slips from the table and landing on her feet. Her teeth gritting a moment as her skin still feels only half-uncharred, "...Was a random happenstance. The school.. was filled with any number of children wielding techniques they.. Hardly understand.." Voice pausing with every step as she approaches a more comfortable chair nearby. Her hand gripping the backrest to steady herself.
In regards to the near fatality.. she offers a singular snicker, "..Keh.. the risk was worth the price. I got what I wanted.."
Her golden eyes slowly turn back to her benefactor, "..And our NESTs contract has gotten theirs.. yes? A handsome sum.. We can only imagine.." In some ways she envies that mysterious organization... As she stares at that dagger with the girl's sample coveteously. The tip of her tongue gliding along her lips..
"A victory is a victory? Yeah, I guess so. I just don't like winning by that tight of a margin," is the reply, Elle going back to her moribund musings and scribblings in her drafter handwriting. Her letters look almost mechanical and precise, although that's to be expected from a person that used to draw printed circuits once upon a lifetime. "Whatever the case may be, you're right. All I need now is a third sample. I sent Tran to visit Pacific High to do some investigation for recruiting and maybe get more DNA for us to hand over to NESTS. He's got a reputation for being to raise hell very quickly, so I'm hoping to see something inside of this week."
"And I'd like to turn in Miu's sample this week, too. That'll keep us in the black long enough to let me work on more constructive projects," Elle informs the ghostly creature. "I'm looking into real estate, and what I want is smack dab in the middle of Mr. Big's territory."
The woman jerks her thumb up at a map of the city tacked up to the wall behind her, with various thumbtacks, circles, and routes marked with yarn on them. "The blue tacks are all good sites for my next opportunity. I wanna buy out the Sidewinder bar. It makes a good downtown safehouse, and can pick up some passive income on the side. Any of those blue tacks are good for intermediate stopoff points, but the best one is the Sidewinder."
"The tough part is, Mr. Big doesn't really deal with women outside trying to make them strippers. I think if I can make a gift of one of Katana's personal treasures... like a weapon or something... might give me more street cred. But I might need a man to help facilitate the deal," the rocker explains matter-of-factly. It's a tough truth that the life she's chosen isn't precisely a woman's world. She seems to take it with the same determination and acceptance as she takes everything else, though.
"There are children in this country who could destroy us with a gesture." Marise states in a calm, certain tone. One that doesn't seem to bother her all that much, "Wars cannot be won.. without occasional loss."
Which is all the rationalization she requires for leaping into dangerous situations. However, to let Elle know she was fully understood, the woman lifts a hand, "..But yes. More information before confrontation.. is the heart of victory."
Deciding against seating herself for the moment in a bid to 'walk off' the bulk of her agony, the Devil Ninja continues her pace. The slow, deliberate movements seem unrushed as she alters her course towards the indicated map. Golden eyes narrowing yet again from behind the veil of her black silk, while replying to a seperate issue, "Yes yes.. I will procure Miu's sample soon enough.." All but dismissing that child from further consideration. Retrieving the sample from her will be all but effortless. Although the plan of attack chosen requires considerable preperation. One that will bare fruit in the future, however.
A capital investment of time, one could say.
And on a similar note, Marise then peers at the various blue tacks throughout the township. Walking within a few feet as a hand lifts, fingers tracing the paths between the markers. She knows a little of the topography of this town, having studied it at length and taken much time to roam the streets between looks. Even still, she does not know this place a fraction as well as the richly experienced Elle. As such, the Ninja offers no input as to the girl's suggestions, finding her considerations sage enough for her.
"This.. Mister Big. He will not be an issue.. then?" His alleged misogyny is ignored. Marise is well versed into manipulating big, strong men with their vast egos. An old song, and one she is quite well versed in playing, ".. I am sure you can find an appropriate broker, yes?.." Voice trailing as her fingernail glides to the picture of the Sidewinder. Tapping its blue clip gently, "..And his protection cut will not be.. extravagent?"
"That's the problem," Elle replies, her face flashing with the hint of concern before easing back into the dour mask she seems to wear. "I have no idea. You see, I usually stay way from the Syndicate. Unlike all the other clubs around here, they don't actually play ball." She takes a deep breath as she stands, approaching the map with arms folded. "The Syndicate wins automatically in this town. They've got their fingers in everyone's pie, and they're working on all the other pastries as we speak. They employ maniac killers for the most part for their street level people. Big is by far the most level headed, but since the Syndicate runs all the information networks around here, I don't actually have any accurate concrete data on him."
Win-loss record aside and his alleged tastes for women and drugs, there really /is/ no information about Mr. Big, which means she's going to have to go trolling herself for that kind of info. And the first place she's going to have to visit? The Kyokugen Dojo. Nevertheless, that's only one side of the story. "I do know he's run into trouble with vigilantes in the past... but aside from that? I have no angle on him. He's lowlife scum that got lucky. Just off that, it's pretty likely that he's erratic and hard to deal with, especially if he's drunk off his own power."
"That's the project I'll be working on. Factfinding about the Syndicate," She cracks her knuckles absently, a slight frown on her face. "Although..." Her voice trails off, and she stares at the picture. "If I could drop the income that the current bar owner has by some ridiculous amount, then I might be able to pick it up cheap."
Golden eyes search the heavily-decorated map a little longer, as if attempting to divine all of its secrets by scrutiny alone. Exhaling slowly as she listens to her comrade fill her in on yet more pieces of the puzzle. She had known the Syndicate was a force in this town.. But she had no idea just how potent they were. How deeply entrenched. Or precisely how shady this Mister Big is.
Marise slowly turns to face Elle in brief as the woman stands alongside her. "A gaijin does not come to power in Japan if he is as foolish as this 'sword'-man." Tilting her head towards the Katana file. Her eyes turn to the map in brief a moment before she begins to pace away, regaining her balance and grace a fraction with every step. "Perhaps he desires others to see him a drunken fool.. likely his strategy. He must be personally, exceedingly strong. Or he would be dead by now. No small number of Yakuza would have attempted to claim his head.. by now. Let alone the other potent factions vying in this place."
Finally, Marise gets around to cleaing her modesty as she tugs a shoulder of her kimono upwards slowly. A soft hiss escaping her lips as even the fabric feels painful, drawing over her chi-flayed skin, "..We must bow to this Syndicate for now. Pay their dues.. and be patient."
Opportunity always knocks, afterall.
Apart from that bit of advice, Marise will bow to the Rocker's expertise on that matter. Surely the woman is connected enough to find a chink in their coverage of this city.
As far as the tactics of cheapening the Bar for purchase? Marise can only snicker with a cruel grin, "..Yes.. An easy enough proposition.. I think."
The cold hearted woman nods assent, listening to Marise's words. A passive viewer could barely call what Elle does 'listening', as she barely seems to be giving Marise an iota of attention. Her eyes are flicking back and forth, though. An indication of thought on her part that surpasses most. "I've got no delusions of knocking the Syndicate down myself. Stronger people have tried, and last I checked, the Syndicate still runs the town. Still, you're right. Big would have to be a little more sophisticated and stronger than most in order to keep his head."
Elle tilts her head. "Still, everyone has a weakness."
"That's the plan, though. Long term at least. We'll make sure the bar's profit margin tanks while I put together a proposition and dig up info on our new friends." It shouldn't too hard. Her general avoidance of the organization isn't easy, that's for sure. Purposefully availing herself of them should be far easier than avoiding them. The level of trepidation she feels towards doing so, however, is something else entirely.
"Everything's on schedule. I'll be setting up a meeting with NESTS this week, and I'll be visiting some other employers by next week. That means I'll need the samples ASAP. Optimally by Friday. After that, you can pick off your other targets at your leisure. Tran is currently set to raise a ruckus at the schools to flush out potential recruits, and I've got to take care of gathering Syndicate information." That does seem to be enough. Elle turns about, and strides back over to the table to ease herself back down carefully. Her face doesn't show it, and neither does her body posture, but she's also in considerable amounts of pain. She just manages to swallow it a tad better than most.
"The only wild card I have right now is Naerose. If she can't get her end of the bargain done right, I'm going to have to replace her. Lord knows what I was smoking when I hired that nitwit," she half grouses, leaning back over her notes to do more writing, this time with a red pen to do edits.
"True indeed."
Marise replies to Elle's astute comment. No one is invincible. Even her.
A notion that never ceases to put a bitter, self-mocking smile on her lips. Thankfully, of course, she's turned away from her comrade to spare her the moment of melodrama. And spare herself exposing that useless emotion.
"Then all is proceeding as planned." By the time Marise turns her gaze to the woman, she's paused in her own meanderings. Regarding the dark-skinned rocker as she seats herself and tilting her head, "Remarkably efficient of you.. Miss Elle. It would appear many have underestimated you." Her grin revealing white teeth, "Or so you hope."
Exhaling then, the Devil then finally decides to partake of the chair. Settling herself down onto the wooden furnishing with slow speed and closed eyes. "..Nnn.." She does not even deign to respond about that so-called 'witch'. Elle seems to be at the end of her rope with her, and thats good enough for Marise. For now. "No.. The wildcard you have.." The woman carefully arranges her arm over the backrest of her chair, easing her chin onto her forearm as she gazes upon her benefactor from hidden eyes, "..Is that no one knows of us. Or considers us a threat. ... Which may be our greatest weapon.. with a very limited lifespan. It behooves us to make the most of it quickly.. yes?" Plush lips never seem to leave their satisfied smirk. Like a cat that swallowed the canary.. which frighteningly is not terribly far from the truth, "... Capital will flow into our operations soon. And then business becomes more.. risky."
"True indeed."
Marise replies to Elle's astute comment. No one is invincible. Even her.
A notion that never ceases to put a bitter, self-mocking smile on her lips. Thankfully, of course, she's turned away from her comrade to spare her the moment of melodrama. And spare herself exposing that useless emotion.
"Then all is proceeding as planned." By the time Marise turns her gaze to the woman, she's paused in her own meanderings. Regarding the dark-skinned rocker as she seats herself and tilting her head, "Remarkably efficient of you.. Miss Elle. It would appear many have underestimated you." Her grin revealing white teeth, "Or so you hope."
Exhaling then, the Devil then finally decides to partake of the chair. Settling herself down onto the wooden furnishing with slow speed and closed eyes. "..Nnn.." She does not even deign to respond about that so-called 'witch'. Elle seems to be at the end of her rope with her, and thats good enough for Marise. For now. "No.. The wildcard you have.." The woman carefully arranges her arm over the backrest of her chair, easing her chin onto her forearm as she gazes upon her benefactor from hidden eyes, "..Is that no one knows of us. Or considers us a threat. ... Which may be our greatest weapon.. with a very limited lifespan. It behooves us to make the most of it quickly.. yes?" Plush lips never seem to leave their satisfied smirk. Like a cat that swallowed the canary.. which frighteningly is not terribly far from the truth, "... Capital will flow into our operations soon. And then business becomes more.. risky."
Elle makes a noise in response as she works on her notes. A detailed report about Hotaru and Jiro will end the night for her. The fact is, Elle has very little left to think about for now. All that's left is to do, rather than to consider. "And if everything works out right, nobody will ever know who we are, or ever consider us a viable threat." Elle's not a posturing supervillainess. She's content to live in obscurity, enjoying the ability to operate with near impunity.
Delusions of grandeur don't play any part in her calculations. The desire to be a superpower doesn't fill her dreams in the slightest. Such a position is fraught with more problems than she cares to deal with, and ultimately? Elle knows full well that the eventual outcome of people with too much power and desire is a premature, painful, or embarrassing death. Not that such a thing can't come to her now... but it's a lot less likely.
Still, the long term goal she has may be a little more than startling to some. It's one thing to be a mastermind. It's an entirely different level when you hope to be the institution that such masterminds can't live without. "Risk is a given," Elle says, her voice growing more distant as she works. "But you can usually deefray it amoung a lot of people, or under a pack of lies. Seeing as we don't have enough people, we're gonna have to start lying. Once we get the bar, things will change, but only to the effect that we'll have more resources to play with that'll draw attention."
"By that time, I hope to have a good cover story. I'm working on it." And Elle most definitely has thought of contigency plans. After all, her insomnia has all to do with the fact that her brain is constantly on. The only way she can sleep is to literally wear it down.
The Devil of Koga only smiles throughout the mechanical commentary. Her porceline expression never shifting as her half-hooded gaze remains on the sleepless girl.
She can tell that this woman doesn't want to enter the spotlight or posture as a living legend. It is true that beings of great pride always goeth before a fall. The entropy of existance brings all things back to the dust it crawled from. Amassing fantastic power will lead one to their doom.
However.. Marise has survived that very fall once already.
And like any drug.. it is not so easy to live without.
The Devil of Koga will be a feared name again. It may take decades.. but she will see it happen. If Elle has no intention to taste of such power, then she is welcome to all the material wealth and comforts she desires.
A match made in Hell.. indeed.
"Then.. I will leave you to your studies.. Miss Elle." The ghost inclines her head in sincere acknowledgement. She could think of a few ways to wear down the insomniac properly-like.. But her own burned corpus reminds her that she had better let her get back to repairs. Slowly rising from her chair, the woman groans. Tugging the shoulder of her kimono up upon her opposite arm.. as she slowly moves back towards the stairs in an unhurried gait.
She needs her rest.. if she is to meet NESTs deadline. She may have to force an .. inelegant solution upon Miu if she does not heal fast enough from her injuries. And then.. to attend to a certain American fool who wishes for a piece of Japan. Indeed..
Log created on 23:18:01 05/14/2007 by Marise, and last modified on 20:55:33 05/15/2007.