Description: Kurow is given a brief glimpse into history of Rugal Bernstein. He might find that the path trodden by madmen before him isn't exactly what he wants out of life...
Rugal didn't get back to Kurow immediately when the two text messages were received even though he was alerted to them immediately. No... best to let a little time pass. Let him wonder if his message was received so that when the acknowledgement comes it will be met with a mixture of affirmation but also relief. For all the experience young Kirishima has had with matters of properly manipulating the mind, he is now dealing with someone who has been doing such things for over a generation now. But finally the reply came. Short, succinct, to the point.
'It is time. -R' What followed was a date, time, and location given global coordinates, specifying a flat piece of land outside the city of Southtown. The hour was unusually early. The sun hadn't even crested the horizon though the gradual brightening of the eastern sky indicated that it would soon.
Whenever Kurow actually shows there will already be a helicopter waiting for him, sitting on the ground, rotors off. Sleek, modern, all black with no markings indicating ownership. Under the wings on each side are mounted a number of missile launchers, however, and beneath the nose extends a tri-barreled gattling gun. Built for speed and avoiding surveillance, the chopper from the Black Noah is not entirely unarmed either.
Assuming Kurow was willing to get aboard, the pilot and co-pilot wouldn't have much to say to him, only able to explain that they were sent to pick him up and take him straight to Mister Bernstein. The flight itself lasts roughly forty-five minutes. Long enough for the sun to finally peek up from the skyline, its rays extending across the ocean with a myriad of bright colors. And that's all they seem to land on for the longest while.
But what starts out as a distant spec in the sea gradually grows in size. It's a boat... no a ship... not just any ship but quite likely the most massive man-made project ever constructed. The chopper is heading in for final approach - the destination a landing helopad on the deck. A massive control structure towers over the location. A large banner waves from the top of a flag pole at the height of the structure. It bears a simple symbol that has been a sign of intimidation for more than one decade now. The blood red flag of "R".
Still relatively fresh from his fight with Daigo, the Kurow Kirishima that arrives at the makeshift helipad fresh off the airplane from Siberia is a relatively battered, wounded man... ... but alive. His strength has carried him through another day, another brutal battle with a man who -- in a more just world -- would be altogether right in taking his life... if only barely.
The young man is grateful for the opportunity to watch the world go by through the window of the helicopter, deeply content with the world. A less forward-thinking man might simply lament his wounds, but Kirishima accepts the wounds as just part of the cost of doing business. He glances down to his cell phone for only the briefest of seconds, looking at that message; it is indeed quite reassuring. After all -- it means what Rugal said was true. He /didn't/ have to share in Shadaloo's demise -- there was, at the very least, some alternative.
The Black Noah is a marvel. Yes, it's got its downsides. No, it's by no means perfect, and certainly not as intimidating as it was years ago. Truly, though, it has stood the test of time -- it's been worn, certainly, but the massive fortress has a permanence to it that Kirishima aspires to see in his own works someday. As they come up on the enormous fortress, Kurow checks his bandages one last time (if he must meet Rugal /now/, injured, he may as well at least not look /steamrolled/) and readies himself to disembark.
There are degrees of wealth that the common man can understand. A shrewed business owner may seem wealthy to the average person but he would be able to look up the economic food chain and spy enviously at the wealthy heads of corporations such as the Garcia Foundation or the properties of the Kanzaki family. But even beyond the vast riches of the leaders of the commerical world are those like Rugal Bernstein - for whom money has ceased to mean much at all. Finances are tracked by the billion and anything under a couple million is spent without so much as a blink. The Black Noah is a symbol of this wealth, this power. It was built at the height of Rugal's ambitions and propsperity. A better time for the man. A time when he wasn't alone.
The ship can rightfully claim to be the leviathan of the seas even in its current condition. It is clear with even a cusory inspection that the jets have been dormant for years. Evidence of the changing of times but also the waning interests of their owner in engaging in hypothetical war games that never came. This day and age power is not enforced by air superiority but rather with technology, information, blackmail, and the omnipresent grease of the capitalist world: money.
As the helicopter touches down on the helopad, Rugal Bernstein stands off to the side, his red suit coat and blond hair tousled by the blast from the rotors that begin to wind down. He waits patiently, his left hand in his pants pocket, his right hand folding and unfolding the end of the black scarf around his neck - an idle idiosyncrasy of his.
When the young man finally has a chance to step away from the vehicle, Rugal nods his head in curt acknowledgement, "Welcome, Kurow Kirishima, to the Black Noah." voices the tyrant of "R".
The youth can understand a desire to avoid fighting a hot war, avoid pushing against some perceived threat with pure power rather than subterfuge... after all, this was the fallacy of Lord Vega, and what cost him the world. The youth looks to the tyrant of "R", trying to give him the best face he can under the circumstances; his currently-crooked nose diminishes the effect slightly, but no great deal. Rugal no doubt saw the fight, or at least caught the highlight reel, after all -- he'll understand, Kurow thinks.
Glancing around the Black Noah once, Kurow notes the strange feeling of loneliness that somehow pervades it; in the end, though, it's something he doesn't yet have a context for. Perhaps it's just the lack of working equipment.
Kirishima extends his hand to the older man, seeming slightly uncomfortable physically but more than comfortable with the situation itself. "It's an honor, sir," he says, giving his broadest, most genuine smile -- not that this says much considering the young man's mastery of deception, but it's at least /some/ sort of favorable gesture. "It was good to hear from you again. I was curious just how things started to fall into place for you after Lord Vega's empire finally shattered under its own weight."
The young man is inspected but Rugal shows no sign of surprise. From out her he is able to pull down all the satellite transmissions he needs in order to stay on top of the events of the fighting world. It's more than just a side interest of his... "You carry yourself well in spite your match," he replies. Kurow's efforts to present his best do not go unnoticed. "There is history between you two, isn't there." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I have fought Diago before... Perhaps it is time I honored his request for a rematch..."
Rugal turns and begins to lead the way to the large command and control structure. "Yes... Shadaloo's collapse was just another step along the way. The deals the Thai people made with me to get their weapons will not be repaid with money." the tall man chuckles. Germain by birth, though he hasn't actually called any nation his home since he was a small boy. "They've become just another brick in all that I control. I should thank Lord Vega for setting up such favorable circumstances for me. I'm sure he'll give me the chance to do so in person sometime..." If the crimelord is afraid of an inevitable encounter with the head of Shadaloo someday, it would be difficult to tell at this point.
He leads the way to set of elevator doors. The ship does seem lonely. Surprisingly empty for its immense size. It could easily house thousands within its hull yet only the two chopper pilots and a lone maintenance worker, practically a spec in the distance, can be seen on the windswept deck in addition to Rugal and Kurow. One might get the sense that the ghosts of countless minions of "R" haunt this ship. Lingering, spectral remnants of another age.
The elevator doors open with a precise, hydrolic hiss and Rugal steps into the open compartment. "So in the end, the Kusanagi boy showed up after all." the tall man grunts, veering the topic back to that which perhaps brought Kurow here this early morning.
Following after Rugal, just behind and to the right, Kurow inspects every inch of the ship that he passes in his walk with the tyrant, saying, "I had thought, once, that the man -- if properly broken of the ideals that held him back -- might yet be my servant. Unfortunately, he and his sister have proven altogether uncontrollable -- he broke himself free and was altogether uncontrollable, and she... was perhaps as much trouble as a Doll as not." And that, it seems, is all Kirishima has to say on the subject of the Kazama family.
He listens as Rugal explains Thailand's new circumstances, simply nodding. This is for the best, he thinks -- overt control over the world is hardly the ideal arrangement. It has yet to truly work for anyone who's attempted it; truly, the way to rule is from the shadows. "I'm unsure Vega survived the final conflict with Kusanagi," he says, honestly, once the conversation jumps from Vega to Kyo, neatly tying the two together. "... and Yagami, and Kagura, and others. Lord Vega called us there to watch his so-called destined battle."
It is unclear, at first, who 'us' refers to, though if Rugal thinks back to those messages he no doubt knows the answer. "Tell me -- just what is your own history with Kyo Kusanagi? I've heard rumors, stories. But nothing concrete. Even the Imawano family's intelligence network never quite pulled forth the full details." Perhaps this is part of what Bernstein meant when he said that they would share some powerful common purpose.
"In time you come to find that there are those that are best destroyed at the first chance rather than manipulated. Call it force of will or stubborn determination or what have you, but they aren't worth the trouble or time investing them would require. With others it would be a shame to snuff them out too early for given enough time they will find their own dark paths and be far easier to steer as you see fit." Rugal chuckles and leaves it at that. Yes, some minds just aren't worth breaking. But that doesn't mean killing them all is the best option either.
As Kurow describes a little about Vega's fall in Thailand, Rugal growls, uttering only a single word as the elevator doors close behind the two and the sealed compartment begins to rise. "...Kagura..." There's history there. Of that there could be no mistake.
He is otherwise quiet for a long moment following Kurow's question. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open into a luxurious parlor full of crimson red furnishings. There is a large window in one wall that looks out over the forward deck of the carrier and it is to that viewport that Rugal moves, clasping his large hands behind his back. "Fighting Kyo Kusanagi was to be my own prize - the end sum total of the King of Fighters tournament in two-thousand and one."
Rugal's eyes narrow, one human, the other machine. "I hungered for a challenge that year. But I knew no one would that could actually give me a worthy fight would actually enter my tournament. And so I instituted the team rules, hoping that perhaps that given the chance to face me with partners, some fighters might prove to be at least a modicum of interest."
One hand comes forward from behind his back to rest at his chin. "After many fights it became clear that the team lead by the Kusanagi heir would make it to the final fight with me. I thought..." Bernstein chuckles, reflecting on something for a moment, "No... it wasn't a mistake. I knew that if I forced him to face his own father Kyo would exceed his previous limits and become a truly worthy opponent for a fighter of my calibur." The final fight was never seen by anyone outside of the few that participated in it. The details recounted here are known to so precious few.
Wanting a challenge from a truly worthy fighter and having it culminate in a fight with Kyo Kusanagi -- this is a story that Kurow has seen firsthand before, and which he finds quite... disappointing. To think that Rugal was once stricken by the same madness as Vega -- what madness is it that sets over fighters of his strength, that makes them focus so intently on simply finding a challenge? Nonetheless, Kurow listens, taking it as both a cautionary tale and a glimpse into the mind of Rugal Bernstein.
The change in furnishings is a welcome one, one that definitely changes the entire feel of the place -- it is, at the very least, /less/ austere than it seemed a second ago. It's a better place to think, hands down -- a good thing, considering all of the advice Rugal's given him /and/ all of the new facts he's learing. Coming to more of an understanding of that fateful battle is remarkably insightful.
"And that worthy fight was more than merely worthy, I take it," Kirishima says, not afraid to speak quite candidly to Bernstein. Though Rugal is a man of great power and perhaps numerous idiosyncrasies, he seems quite grounded in the world that is -- and unafraid to look at the past, a lesson Kurow would perhaps do /quite/ well to learn for himself.
It's almost as if Rugal picks up on that flicker of disillusion as he watches Kurow in the reflection of the large window. "You will know it someday as well... When you've reached the pinnacle of strength. You don't reach such positions by posessing a thirst that is easily quenched. Just because you exceed the heights of others doesn't mean that thirst goes away... if anything it becomes stronger." The fist that was at his chin lowers, clenching, the muscles tightening audibly.
He chuckles a little. Perhaps he sees the road ahead for the Kirishima boy so precisely because it mirrors the path he walked. But he doesn't tell the young man that for now. Would it excite him? Or scare him? To know that rotting away in an aging fortress may very well be his destiny?
"But you're right. I had Saishu... that old fool faced me alone and was easily felled. His mind was not so hard to break. On his own he took down both of Kyo Kusanagi's partners and pushed the boy to a whole new echelon of ability... It was something to behold. The power that poured from him into me as we fought was something to behold. I have only witnessed raw strength of that level a few other times in my life..." His clenched hand relaxes and then raises, one finger tapping at the base of the eyesocket that bears that cybernetic eye. As he already had that black pit of technology when he showed up to sponsor the KOF 2001 tournament. It must bee evidence of another fighter that he hints at now.
This is a very different side to the legend of Rugal Bernstein than the one Kurow has seen before today -- it's a side that he is definitely not nearly as enthusiastic about. Rugal has many things he wants, but at the same time, that tiniest nagging voice in the back of his head says that there are clearly aspects of this that are not quite so... perfect. After all, this empty, dying place has a feel to it that Kurow does not find too compelling... but then, how different is it from his own spartan quarters at Justice High, holding only the basics for finer living and the maps to Kurow's victory?
The youth looks up to Rugal, studying that powerful frame carefully, trying to imagine the battle between Bernstein and Kusanagi based on what little he's felt of Rugal's strength and what he's seen -- and experimented with -- of Kusanagi's. It's always been a talent of Kurow's -- seeing battles in his mind's eye. Even if it may not match the real clash of the two powerful men, it gives him some small sense.
"So where did things go from there? If it went completely poorly, I imagine we wouldn't be having this conversation," he says, looking at history's limited number of foregone conclusions. He doesn't inquire too far further on the eye, though he does note it for later -- perhaps another conversation. There is only so much examination of the past that Kurow can stand, after all.
Rugal actually chuckles lightly at Kurow's question before shaking his head slowly. "It was a fight. A battle that may never be repeated again but a battle just the same. Nothing more. No matters of great import hung in the balance. No dead gods to raise or banish. No dark powers to claim or relinquish. No... for me it was a release."
He lowers his hand, both hands clasping behind his back again. "In truth, I never really fought Kyo Kusanagi. Just as I never truly fought Wolfgang Krauser until I crushed him last week with my own power. Someday I will face the boy again and test my real strength against his." His voice is distant as if his thoughts are elsewhere, reflecting on bygone years and thoughts of days to come. For a moment he sounds almost tired. And he doesn't elaborate further on what possessed him so in those years. Like the story of his eye, that too may have to wait for another time.
"But... the simpleton is no threat to my real ambitions. Like so many other powerful individuals who squander their ability with the empty pursuit of a worthy challenge, Kyo only knows how to do what he is told by those who really know. He meddled with you because there was someone else at stake. A girl, yes? Otherwise the fool would have passed you by and never even noticed. People like him have to be directed or their lives will run their simple course while they amble about aimlessly."
He is silent for a long moment then. "You could go after him. But you're not ready yet. And you would be squandering your own ability doing so. In time though... in time you could be prepared to face one such as he. You could be prepared to take on anyone that got in your way. I could teach you."
The youth has only the smallest understanding of just what Rugal means by having never fought what some would call the greatest battles of his life; he can guess at it, but that's all he can do. Like many things with the enigmatic Bernstein, there are simply too many dead spots, too many maybes to really claim anything beyond the simple truth that Rugal Bernstein is one of the most powerful men of his age in almost any respect.
"I was told he came because of his success in that tournament, but Yagami was there as well -- no doubt because of Kagura, who was there to stop Vega and free Kasugano." While the words are controlled as much as they can be, Rugal can no doubt sense the sudden force of emotion in Kirishima. He'd allowed himself to get attached, and with that comes dozens of things. Fury at Kusanagi -- likely expected, from his initial message. Frustration with Lord Vega. Some sort of attachment to Kasugano herself, of course, which comes with just the smallest amount of... frustration at his /own/ feelings, at actually /getting/ attached.
These are there and gone in an instant, unremarked upon in spite of the fact that they all now weigh that much more on Kirishima's mind. "... Mugen Imawano," the last remnant of the Darkside Society Organization says, "never finished my training. I have some of the final techniques of Imawano-ryu at my disposal, but they lie half-formed, unready, incomplete. I'd held out hope, with Vega, of completing them with the research he seems to hold so dear... but with him gone, perhaps it is time to seek power elsewhere."
The young man smiles. "I accept."
"Vega made himself a target and drew the most powerful fighters in the world to him to battle. Perhaps... perhaps his war in Thailand was merely to sate his appetite for combat. And that was the case, he succeeded." Rugal chuckles, shaking his head. "Combining pleasure with business is a dangerous game to play. It is a mistake you and I must never make."
He is silent as to the fury that fills Kurow for a moment. Emotions rising to the surface that the boy may find unusual to cope with for once in his life. For all of his power, wealth, and cruelity, Rugal Bernstein is no stranger to attachment...
But as he speaks of the one who taught him... as he mentions Mugen Imawano, Rugal nods slowly. "He no doubt saw in you what I saw. You are gifted, Kurow Kirishima. Your ability to identify, analysis, break down, and then synthesize the abilities of other fighters is a rare, precious trait. It has served you in more ways than merely engaging in combat, I'm quite sure. You have come very far already. You need only to be honed... refined... I can do that."
Bernstein turns from the window now and faces Kurow directly, no longer studying him from merely observing his reflection in the glass. The boy has accepted and Rugal looks... just a little pleased. If one where to think on it hard enough, he might even seem a bit proud. "Well then. It is early. Will you join me for breakfast?" There will be time ahead for the training that he promises. Time indeed.
More lessons from Rugal Bernstein -- no doubt likely to become a significant part of Kurow's life now. They are two men on much the same path, after all -- while some of Kurow's desires may have been similar to Vega's, the appeal of completing a single technique fades when one sees its cost in sweat and toil and blood for only the smallest of perceived rewards.
Thinking on the topic of business and pleasure is difficult, even frustrating, with that barely-missed perfect synthesis of the two still hanging immediately over Kurow's head and not even that far back in the conversation. In days, weeks, perhaps months on the outside chance, it'll certainly pass, but for now it seems truly significant... such is the life of a teenager. For all that Kurow likely knows how to keep his emotions in check, no one's perfect; even the most faultless of guards can be broken with chance and timing.
The topic of techniques is far easier, more concrete. Kirishima loves nothing more than concrete things with practical future applications, and his focus turns almost entirely to that. "It's made for a passable disguise more than once," he says, with a smile, as Rugal turns to him. "People are so willing to believe a friend has gone mad on very few facts, in these times..."
Kurow pauses to let Rugal invite him for breakfast, and nods firmly. That proud look doesn't go completely unnoticed, either, though its full significance... lost, for now, at least. Perhaps in time he'll understand, but right now he's a little too focused on himself to /completely/ understand anyone else, let alone the inscrutable Mr. Bernstein. "After last night, breakfast sounds excellent."
Log created on 01:34:49 07/15/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 15:23:55 07/18/2007.