Description: Rugal sets up a less than convenient meeting for one Elle, leader of a rising faction that has gained the attention of the tyrant of "R" for better or for worse.
The invitation would have been unmistakeable. Delivered by hand.
'See you there. -R'
Attached was a ticket to the Paradiso Opera House in Metro city. The ticket was for the opening showing of Richard Wagner's Götterdämmerung. In English, 'Twilight of the Gods.' In the old Norse from which the name originally comes, Ragnarok. The end of the world. The ticket was for a seat in one of the VIP boxes high up on the wall not far from the stage.
Seated in said box at the moment is Rugal Bernstein, dressed in his signiture red-orange suit. Leaning back in the comfortable seat, his right hand is resting against the arm rest while his left hand is raised, occupying the idle focus of his attention as he rubs his thumb against the nail of his middle finger. The opera is several minutes from starting. It will present, in his mind, the perfect backdrop for the meeting he is expecting to have. The various tiers of the building are filling up quickly and the general commotion of the guests working their way to their seating creates the ambient nose for the moment. Now and then a muscian in the orchestra pit tests his or her instrument, making sure their tools of the trade are ready for prime time.
Of course Rugal seen Elle before. And while information on Blackjack has been sketchy, he has obtained small tidbits of information about the others in it. Opting to meet the metal guitar weilding woman in an opera house has to have been a deliberate choice. Perhaps he's toying with her. Or maybe it's something else.
Most people that deal with Blackjack's de facto leader undertsand a few things. One of them is that displays of power or baroque trappings don't impress her, nor do long winded speeches, exhortions of superiority, or promises of wealth, money, power, or fame. The woman is known for being immune to insults, taunts, and cajoling. When it comes down to basics, all she cares about is the fequent acquisition of money in large amounts.
That being said, she allows her employers to assume that she's properly impressed by everything. Everyone else simply tosses her a peice of paper with instructions and cash. The job usually gets done in short order.
That's why she's hired. Elle does the things that other underlings can't. Unswayed by personal feelings and cold and heartless as a machine, she has nothing to prove and no real ego to bruise. She does her work, and she does it well to the point where some of her clients prefer having her work as opposed to their on hirelings.
Elle doesn't make any assumptions, though. She trudges through the opera house, heedless of comments or stares. Her rough, straightfoward approach has her pushes through small clumps of people and strongarming her way to the box seating.
"You asked. I came," she says as she pulls up behind Rugal, face devoid of ant spark of life or enthusiasm. "My time is valuable. If you want my attention next time, you'll give me more details on your cards."
She sits down in one of the chairs, not waiting for an invitation, and she speaks in her cool, rasping voice. "Let me tell you how this works. You tell me what you want, when you want it, how you want it, and how much you're paying. I don't listen to speeches, and I don't pay attention to rants. You threaten me and you can find yourself another mercenary."
He can actually hear the disruption the arriving woman causes long before she gets to him. People like her make waves in places like this. It's inevitable. She leaves in her wake stares, glares, and ruffled feathers a plenty.
When she speaks behind him, Rugal's own expression is almost the opposite. He seems to be quite enjoying himself, his mouth curled into the faintest of smirks. He's silent until she sits, lowering his left hand and resting it against the armrest as he breaths in then exhales. "Everyone believes their time to be valuable. Whether or not that holds true is a matter of perspective."
Rugal leans his head to the side, the knuckles of his right hand propping him up at the cheek. "I'm aware of ways that our operations have intersected in the past. And you seem to have gotten involved affairs of mine that you had no place meddling in. Mister Cody and his... particular fixation with a certain chemical, for example. I was going to deal with that interference... As a matter of business, of course. But..."
He shakes his head, sitting up more straight, turning his face half toward Elle now such that only his human eye is visible. "When I looked into just who it was that was causing such trouble, what I discovered was quite intriguing. Apparently your group had already made enough of an impression to garner the attention of a failed dictator." He chuckles. "I know a lot about what transpired in Thailand, but I don't know how your people factored into it entirely. I do, however, suspect that you had more to do with Shadaloo holding out for as long as it did than the world will ever give you credit for."
It seems he feels like giving her a speech anyway. He's dragged her all the way here, after all. Perhaps he feels he can push it a little further. Maybe see how interested she is. "So suffice to say that I know enough about you that I believe it would be in our mutual best interest to put aside past offenses and strike a more aggreeable arrangement between us."
"Talk. You've got five minutes to get my interest," Elle replies. There's no remorse for what she does. After all, if she was the type to mull over what she's already done, she'd never get anywhere. The woman has remained motionless for the majority of the speech. True to her word, she hasn't paid very much attention to what the man has said. If he wants to 'punish' Elle for her transgressions? That's fine by her. Elle's not above getting her hands dirty.
"Again, here are the rules: you tell me what you want, when you want it, how you want it, and how much you're paying. I don't listen to speeches, and I don't pay attention to rants. You threaten me and you can find yourself another mercenary." The way she repeats it implies that this little disclaimer is one that she's given a few other would be dictators and overlords. It's presented as always in the same flat, unemotional tones, as if she was simply repeating a fact such as 'the sky is blue', or 'the earth is round'.
Her posture is relaxed, but she looks at Rugal, her gaze never wavering. It's not confidence as much as it is apathy. She simply doesn't care who Rugal is, or thinks he is. All he is to her is a particularly chatty wallet. The fact that he can kill her where she stands doesn't seem to bother her an iota.
The reiteration of her rules earns her a laugh from the tyrant of "R". It isn't a mocking, megalomaniacal cackle of a madman who has lost touch with reality. Nor is it the laughter one might use to disguise internal frustration at having been rebuffed by a relative gnat. Instead, he seems genuinely entertained.
"Very well," he replies as the brief chuckle fades, leaning against the back of his seat once again, settling into it comfortably. His arms adjust, his elbows on the arm rests while his hands clasp together loosely at an angle in front of him.
"Quite the business woman." he states, falling quiet for a moment, allowing those precious five minutes dwindle a little before he speaks again. "There is a cartel I'm interested in. NESTS. Given their background presence in Thailand, I would be surprised if you weren't already aware of them. I have an... interest in their technology, their science. The things they do to people. The things they turn them into. Those that work for NESTS often border on monstrous in nature. I have scientists of my own, but they cannot produce the same results."
The core subject has been raised at least. "For now, I want information on their people. Names. Blood samples. Places they can be found. I don't want this inquiry traced back to my organization yet. Which is why I am willing to broker a deal with you for the services your people can provide. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars per unique individual that you provide me the intel I seek. For the first five. We can renegotiate the arrangement after that."
Elle considers the task carefully. Very carefully. Despite her pause, the woman comes up a solution to a conundrum with disturbing quickness. If she was prone to showing her feelings, she might have actually smiled. "Two fifty for the first five samples, you said? Fine." This will actually be fairly simple to solve. All it'll take are the right phone calls, and will dovetail nicely into a few other things floating around.
"I'll have the information for you by the end of the month," she says, standing up and turning around to face the exit. It's a simple enough job that Elle can manage to hack with a minimum of fuss. If she can get the compliant parties in line, she won't have to expend any effort at all.
After all, being the best in the business doesn't come without benefits. Knowing where to start is half the battle. "Is that it, or is there something else? I've got a few other appointments I have to keep, and this one is running a little later than I thought it would." Honestly, why don't people just write what they want on a slip of paper and just hand her money? Life would be so much easier.
The lights begin to dim during the moments she considers. People have taken their seats, the spotlights are warmed up, the musicians are good to go. The perfect time to wrap up business in Rugal's mind. He watches her intently. Compared to her emotionless visage, Rugal seems to be quite transparent in his interests at the moment. Then again, that could just be a mask - one specifically selected for dealing with this specific guild leader.
"Very good," he states when she indicates that the arrangement is 'fine'. He nods slightly at the timeline given though it seems he has almost already put the job out of his mind as the final moments before the opera starts fall into place.
When she asks if that is all, he chuckles again. "That is unfortunate... this is quite the piece to see." The chuckle fades, and his voice shifts to one not quite conveying respect, but a certain level of acknowledgement. His next words could be construed as almost being taunting were it not for the tone that suggests he's being quite serious now. "But I understand. Your time is quite valuable."
And with that, Rugal leans forward, his clasped hands raising up to steeple at his chin, his attention on the stage now. This woman is easy to do business with, Rugal muses. Now it's just a matter of seeing what kind of results Blackjack can produce. "Good night."
Log created on 16:30:20 07/07/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 19:40:13 07/08/2007.