Description: Elle makes Cody an Offer He Can't Refuse.
For the once proud Metro City hero, this is probably not the worse he's had. It's not that great, though. Kept in a back storage room in Elle's less than palacial warehouse hideout somewhere in the Southtown docks, she's had Cody tied up tight with wires on his ankles and wrists, handcuffed to metal rings on the floor, staped up, taped down, and then covered in a fastdrying fiberglass resin. Cody isn't going any damn where anytime soon.
However, Elle has made sure that he has an ample supply of food and water. The protein paste and water come from tubes hanging from the ceiling. All Cody has to do is drink, like a straw. The food supplements even taste a bit like Powerbars made a little more mooshy, but at least he's eating.
There's no way to tell how long he's been down here. Could be hours. Could be days. Maybe weeks. But finally, finally someone's opening the door. The click of the lock, plus the creak of hinges lets in a blinding white light. Standing in the door? A female silhouette with wild hair. No features are readily discernable at the moment. But there is one thing that catches the eye.
A vial of something green is tossed from hand to hand casually as it glows against the dark shape. "So. I had some friends of mine take a look at this stuff. You're addicted to some pretty nasty shit, Mr. Travers," is the cool, dry, and rasping voice of Elle, Cody's captor.
As the door creaks open, the inert Cody suddenly lurches to life, snarling and thrashing against his bonds. Dried blood has stained the floor at the very edges of the fiberglass finishing touches, presumably effects of his apparently constant struggling to get free. But even superhuman strength can't make up for a total lack of leverage.
The blonde thrashes for at least ten seconds, continuing well on after the woman has said her piece, before he falls near limp, breathing in raggedly. Finally, he near-hisses, "I'm not addicted to anything. It's medicine. And I need some, _now._" To help emphasize his last word, he struggles briefly against his bonds again, arching his body as far off the ground as he can manage.
"Medicine?" Elle's voice lilts only to the effect that she's asking a question. Other than that? It's a flat, mechanical monotone. "You honestly can't be stupid enough to beleive that. What sort of person buys medicine from a suitcase from a guy in the middle of the night in a park?" The drug stops it's trip from hand to hand as she kneels down next to Cody.
"But even if you do think this is actually a cure for some problem you have... let me tell you. It's killing you. And not slowly, either. If you're not off this stuff in a month? Your innards are going to look like beef jerky someone peed on," Even if Elle is a villain, something in her expression and voice stresses that she's telling the truth as she stares at Cody in the eyes. "How did you get 'sick' Mr. Travers? What happened to you that you had to turn to dealing with low-lifes like Alan?"
"The kind that's wanted by the MCPD, the FBI, the God damn... Emperor or whatever of Japan, probably," Cody lists off, with a snarl, going limp once again. "To name a few! That doesn't count the ones you probably don't know shit about! Who the hell are you, anyways?! And what the hell is this, a God damn intervention? Let me go! And give me my medicine!"
"And so what if it's killing me? I've survived things that could have killed me before! And there's not much point to me going on living if I don't have it!" he adds, after a second of further thought.
"Who am I?" Elle cracks a smile in the dark. "Nobody, Mr. Travers. I ain't nobody at all. Frankly? I don't care if you live or die. But I can promise you a real cure for your problem, Cody." She stands, walking around the man. "You see, I've looked a little into your history. You've got a problem. After you won Metro City back? I heard you were framed. At least, that's what those old Mad Gear boys said down at the bar."
"And then I did some digging around. Looks like ever since then you've been on the run from the law. Like you said... there's probably people after you that I don't even have a damn clue about," Her footsteps stop as she stands where Cody can't see her. "I'll get to the point. I can give almost everything back to you. I can give you a new slate. I can clear up the charges against you. All local and international infractions," she snaps, "Gone. I can even give you the /real/ cure... and not this loathesome crap you dump into your system." Elle drops the vial onto the man's chest, where it lands with a thump. "You just need to work for me. For a little while, anyhow. Or I'll give you enough 'medicine' that you'll burn out in one final blaze of glory and end up deader than Cory Haim AND Corey Feldman's acting career."
Cody's silent for a long while, before he says, measuredly, "You've got a hell of a way to trying to convince somebody to work you. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?"
He falls silent again, takes a few deep breaths, and then continues, "I'll tell you what. Let me out, and we'll talk. Or, you could not let me out, and I could get really, really angry, which I'll have you know is getting harder to do by the God damn second."
"My mother taught me a lot of things," Elle says tersely. "Be glad that she didn't teach me torture or coercion by brainwashing." Then? A click. Elle snaps a band around Cody's upper arm. "NESTS design," Elle replies. "It's a remote injector. I've filled it with enough Glow to kill a rhino. Try anything stupid, and there won't be enough functioning muscle mass left in you to keep your sphincter shut. Capisch?"
With that, she recovers a surgical saw from a toolbox, and frees Cody from his prison, tearing open the fibreglass and releasing him from the cuffs, chains, and wires. Finishing the task, she steps backward to give the man room. "You're free. We're talking. You ready to do what I tell you now, or do I have to go through the painfully stupid theatrics of showing you that I'm more than capable of having you suffer critical liver failure?"
Cody remains quiet and still throughout the extraction process, and when Elle backs off, he climbs unsteadily to his feet, holding up his bloodied hands to frown at them. After a moment, he shrugs and begins nonchalantly stretching. "Let me tell you, lady," he says, "You're either really brave or really dumb."
"I mean, yeah, you could probably kill me, what with this Star Trek shit right here," he explains, pointing to the collar with one bleeding hand, "but the real question, if you ask me, is whether or not this would kill me before I could kill you."
He yawns casually, rolling his shoulders around, and inquires, "Do you have any, like, actual food? If I wanted to eat cardboard I'd get an endorsement deal with some health food company," he sneers, with a jerk of his thumb at the feeding tubes.
Her eyes stare at Cody. They're lifeless, for the most part. Dead and devoid of most emotions. "Neither. I know exactly how much it'll take to kill you. I've told you, Cody. I'm /not/ Mad Gear." Elle is certainly not the insane type. At least, not to the level that drives her to make crazed world domination gambits. No. She's content to exist in the shadows, exisitng in the gray lines that seperate one faction from another.
"I'm not interested in your lowbrow threats. As you know, I don't operate alone. At any given time, I have more than enough people available to have you killed immediately. But I'm not going through all this trouble to brag about how many ways I can make you dead," Elle says as she steps out the door.
"There's a mini-fridge over there," she points to the opposite side of the HQ. "You'll find food and more drinks in there."
Cody sniffs in disdain and strides quickly past Elle, observing as he heads for the fridge, "My psychic powers are telling me you're single." He crouches down, wrenches open the door, and rifles through the small appliance long enough to pull out a can of Coke. He doesn't even bother to close the door, instead opening the thing and draining it bone dry in one long pull.
He pulls the now-empty can away from his mouth, wavers once, and then lets out a loud, three-second long belch. He wipes at his mouth, and then produces another can from the fridge, standing and kicking the thing closed.
"So," he says, with faux cheer, turning back around to face Elle. "Do you actually play guitar, or do you just hit people with them?"
"I just hit people with them," is the reply. To her, Cody is just a tool. Elle has no desire to really enter into any sort of relations with the man. She reaches into the equipment bin, and holds out a earpeice and a mini-microphone. "Here's how this is going to work," she says, facing him. "I call, you come running. I point, you smash. You win, you get fed." With that, she tosses a vial of glow onto the conference table. "It's about that simple. Once I'm done with what I need you for, I'll erase your past, fix all your outstanding warrants, and give you the antidote for Glow with a one way ticket to Metro City."
"I guarantee that you're not going to get a better deal anywhere," she says flatly. "Nobody has my level of connections. Period. Even your friends in Metro City couldn't find you when I did. All I'm asking is that you play your part in my game. If you ask any of my clients, you'll know that I keep my word." With that, she hands him a syringe. "There you are. Knock yourself out."
Cody slowly accepts the earpiece and microphone, setting his Coke on top of the small fridge. When the syringe is offered, he accepts it far more readily and, without missing a beat, sticks the thing into his arm, emptying the entire contents into an artery with a long, almost shuddering sigh.
He lingers like that for a long moment, and then withdraws it and sets it aside along with the earbud and mic, picking up his drink again and taking a sip. "Thanks," he says, and hesitates before continuing, "So, I take it you're not with Bernstein."
"No," Elle's unhesitant reply is indicative enough. "But I'd appreciate more intel on him if you have it. The man's impossible to track down, even harder to get info on." The rocker looks at Cody, her pupils contracted to pinpricks. "I'm what you call an information broker. It's my business to know the things that everyone else doesn't. It's one of the reasons I came after you. You know things, whether you know it or not, about one of the hardest to infiltrate organizations on the planet. All the files I have are ridiculously incomplete on "R"."
She reaches over to dispose of the syringe and empty vial. "Be frugal with this stuff, Cody," is the instruction, level and authoratative, as if she was a commander talking to her troops. "We have a limited supply until next week's shipment."
She'll dole out the drugs as Cody requires, of course, as long as it takes to keep him happy. "In fact, you know about several organizations whose idiosynchrosies escape most people... but "R" is number one on that list. But my questions can wait for later, until you're better adjusted. I've set you up with a place not too far from here. You're going to live there while you work for me. I don't want you leaving the city unless I ask you to... mostly because you'll be out of range of the disarm signal for your armband if you ever descide to jump ship."
"You musta watched the Saw movies too many time, lady," Cody replies, reaching up to scratch idly at his armband. "Which reminds me, I still don't know your name. Or the name of the lady with the huge bazoongas or that little Jackie Chan snot, come to thinkof it. I reckon I'll be working with them, because God forbid anything I get forced to do under threat of death be enjoyable, right?"
"Speaking of enjoyable, do I get spending money? -- Come to think of it, I still haven't managed to get that damn money that Bison douchebag owes me..." the blonde muses aloud, reaching up to stroke at one chin with his still-bloody hand. "And do I get a uniform? If I do it better be a cool one. I'm not wearing no damn purple jumpsuit or some shit."
"How much did he owe you?" Elle asks, reaching into her jacket. She tosses out a wad of bills into the table. "I think two thousand dollars should be enough to cover you for now. Use it to buy clothes or whatever. We don't do uniforms around here. Too conspicuous. Consider your debt settled, because I don't want you facing off against Bison, Sagat, or even Balrog, as much as I can't stand that arrogant shit. I've got better things for you to do."
"You can call me 'Elle'. The two thugs that beat on you are Marise and Dr. Tran, respectively. And yes, you'll be working with them eventually, although I'd stay away from Marise, no matter how much you like her tits, because she bites. And then sucks out your heart through your throat." Ha ha, joke! Right? Actually, Elle's face doesn't change a single bit. Either she's got a really deadpan sense of humor, or she's really not lying.
"Your first set of missions are actually pretty simple," Elle says, picking up a folder and placing it in front of the ex-hero. "I want you to get back up on your bearings and get back into fighting. Neo League, SNFs, whatever. Just get back out there. But if you run into these targets, I want you to fight them." She opens the folder, and shows him pictures of Maxima, Nassir, and Ryo.
"These two," She says, pointing at Ryo and Maxima, "I just want you to test their abilities. The other one? I want you to pound him, and find out where his base and boss is. That's all."
Cody listens intently, interjecting only once to sneer, "I told you already, I've got a girlfriend. Hell o a lot prettier than that crazy bitch, too," he adds, quickly.
When the briefing, as it were, finishes, he squints at Nassir, and then points, with a frown. "Him. He's with Rolento, isn't he?" Without waiting for an answer, he sniffs and says, "Stomping him'll be my pleasure. Those other two, whatever."
"For future reference, though, I don't fight girls unless I have to. Unless, of course, they're crazy emotionless assault-comitting bitches," he adds, with a meaningful stare at Elle.
"And I'm not some thug. This kind of stuff, whatever, sure. But I'm not about to rob stores or collect protection money or some shit for you."
"And thanks for the money," he adds, as a karmic balance to his earlier shot. "This doesn't settle shit with me and Bison, though. Maybe under other circumstances, but that son of a bitch owes me seven figures."
One million smackers," he clarifies, sounding awfully proud of himself and in fact inflating slightly at the recollection of his past victory. "Hell of a fight, though, let me tell you. I bet you could find it on DVD or something if you looked around on the Internet. You can find tons of stuff on there," he adds, as if this was breaking news.
"I want you to listen to me carefully," Elle says, her voice never wavering in it's tone. "I don't like threatening people. But that's the only thing you're responding to. So in the interests of getting that nonsense out of the way, I want you to know that if you jeopardize my activities, cause me trouble, or otherwise disrupt my operations? I will make sure that whatever Rugal did to you looks like a cakewalk in Candyland. Do exactly as I tell you? And I will fix everything in your life that can be repaired."
"So, for future reference? You'll do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. I'm not in the habit of asking twice. I don't care what your likes and dislikes are. To be blunt? You hold no cards here, and you have nothing left to wager. This is the end of the road for you, Cody. Either you follow orders, or you'll never see that girlfriend that loves you so much that she hasn't even bothered to look for you." Elle pauses. "I know she hasn't, after all. It's my job to know."
Cody takes a long swig of Coke, emptying the can and tossing it aside carelessly. "She knows not to look for me. Hell, I had to tell her damn near ten times to get it to stick." He stiffly picks up the set aside earbud and microphone and sticks them into a pocket. He pauses, opening his mouth as if to say something else, but merely sighs and shakes his head.
"Show me where I'll be living," he demands, quietly. "Or tell me how to get there. I want to get some sleep."
The rocker-turned-informant mastermind waves her hand to have two generic thugs approach. "Take Wonder Bread out to the rental. Make sure he stays there all night. I don't need his dumb ass wandering around in the middle of the city picking fights that he doesn't need to pick." He supplies the thugs with a paper bag. "That ought to hold him for a few days. Give him ore if he asks, but not too much. I'm not trying to kill him."
Elle turns to Cody. "You may not like me. But I'm your best hope for salvation at this point. You've already been in hell. Welcome to purgatory. I think you'll be going home a lot sooner than you'd think as long as you don't mess up." She slaps the folder into his hands. "Keep this. At your current rate of addiction, the buzz should wear off in a half hour and you'll crash like a stone and forget half of what I've told you."
With that, Elle waves Cody off. She's got plans, and they all need to be recalibrated as her timetable moves up a notch. He'll be a big help. For a while. "I want /information/ from the USPL boy. Don't forget."
"Yeah, yeah," grunts Cody, waving his hand dismissively as he takes the folder and turns to go. "I'll get back to you when I've done this stuff." He yawns once again, pushing idly past the two thugs. "Come on, kids, let's go."
"Hey, didn't I kick your ass once?" he inquires suddenly of one of the guards, turning to walk backwards briefly. He receives no answer, and contents himself with merely laughing like a pirate as he's led out of the room, away to his new digs.
Log created on 00:37:02 05/17/2007 by Cody, and last modified on 03:29:28 05/17/2007.