Description: Hoping to find some allies, thanks to recent developments in crime, Soma approaches Chief Inspector Yoko Kasagi of the Southtown police with what he considers a mutually beneficial proposal. What Yoko asks for in return, however, is a little surprising...
Once the minutes passed like hours; now they pass like seconds, uncountable, like grains of sand slipping between her fingertips.
Yoko Kasagi blinks suddenly and snaps her head up from her desk for the fifth time today-- for the twenty-seventh time this week-- for what must be the hundredth time in the last month. No one can see; there is no one to rouse her but herself. As Chief Inspector, she is now entitled to her own office, something she never could have imagined back in Metro City but which her experiences there once earned her. Once, an eternity ago. When she was a fighter. When she knew what she was doing. When she never forgot.
Back when the minutes passed like hours...
She could sigh now, if she were less a woman than she is. Instead she quietly looks back down to her desk and sees the unfinished paperwork there -- neatly stacked, of course, but still unfinished -- and realizes evenly, as she must every time she arises from another stupor, that it does not matter. That nothing she does here has mattered since she arrived. That whatever she writes or signs or says or does, someone else out there is pulling the strings, someone she cannot touch, who she no longer has any interest in touching anymore. Metro City didn't work; this city works. She has no complaints.
Yoko has been able to convince herself of this for several years now. She didn't become a policewoman for love of justice. She became a policewoman to protect her family. She has continued to protect her family.
Only... they don't need her protection any longer.
Jiro and Mimiru can take care of themselves now. She does not know where her son is, only trusts, as she always has in her own pragmatic manner, that he will take care of himself in the end and that all he needs is for her to have his home remaining when he finally returns. Unlike many parents who faced strong adversity in their youth, Yoko has never been compelled to spare her children the same independence. Even Mimiru, who is just as often the brunt of her trademark caustic remarks, has been allowed to choose her own path. And they have both learned, in their own ways. Yoko has a quiet confidence in them she will never admit to their faces. They'll be fine. Yes, even Mimiru. In the end, they'll be fine.
But what about her?
Yoko Kasagi puts down her pen... and sighs.
"What... am I doing?"
Getting this meeting set up without making it pointless in the process was not an easy challenge. The only person to really know so far is the STPD's Interpol liaison, a clerk in a desk in a part of the building Yoko probably never passes near, who has the other half of Soma's 'hotline'... and who runs most of the undercover agent's interference with the SCPD in the first place. And then there was convincing his superiors that breaking his cover -- again, in light of the Thailand debacle -- was worth it to have someone on the inside. The background check to even FIND someone in the Southtown Police Department upper hierarchy the ICPO would even consider trusting took even LONGER. But when it happened, it was is Yoko Kasagi dropped out of the rafters wearing angel wings and a halo. Effectively incorruptible, with ties to the fighting world, and in a position of relative authority.
All that took two months. The NEXT step was to get inside her office... without breaking cover. As the mounds of paperwork suggest, Yoko is a busy woman. More to the point, Soma's cover identity is not a globe-trotting undercover detective, it's a writer of quality but not exactly Nobel laureate-quality books who also appears regularly on the modern equivalent of 'Hee Haw' every Sunday getting his skull bashed in on satellite TV. Then came another month of cajoling, wheedling, and in one case almost-bribery (a secretary wanted an autographed copy of a book) before it was agreed that, yes, an hour to interview Yoko about fighting-related cases for Soma's latest book could be wrangled if he didn't take up too much of the Chief Inspector's time.
Finally, after all that, he had his foot in the door. Now the key was not to waste the opportunity.
As he strides through the Southtown PD building purposefully, a visitor's badge attached to the dark black fabric of his traditional outfit, passersby almost mistake him for a plainclothes cop. He has the aura... perhaps it's simply being in the police setting that makes it all the more apparent. Perhaps it's being in the presence of squad rooms and detectives' desks that brings something out in the young man, who unlike the person he's about to visit, *did* join the ICPO because of a belief in 'justice'. Not the law... 'justice'. The law is just the best way of meting it out.
The black and dark grey-clad figure of Soma is like a ghost on the other side of Yoko's door, which he raps his knuckles upon a few times. "Chief Inspector?"
Five years ago, this never would have startled her.
As it is, Yoko finds that the knock on the door makes this the sixth time today now. "Damn," she hisses-- and then, blinking, takes a deep breath. It is unlike her to get so wrapped up in herself. Even she can tell that she is allowing her frustration to mount. Yet this /too/ is something that never would have happened five years ago, and that knowledge itself is enough to pile half-damp leaves on the smoky, smouldering fire within her.
She straightens, round face settling into her usual cool expression, and reaches up to pat the tight bun of hair on the back of her head.
"Come in."
The voice is not familiar, but she remembers now she had an appointment of some kind with someone. An interview. She can't remember for the life of her who he is -- some author? -- but, as always, she will not allow ignorance of the situation to be any impediment. With practiced air of authority she shuffles the papers on her desk, discretely looking for any hint of who exactly it is she is supposed to be meeting with.
"Please have a seat," she states in a neutral tone without looking up, referring to the only other chair in the room, situated directly across from her desk. The room is quite sparse and though the chair does not look particularly comfortable -- it is the same as her own -- there do not appear to be any other seating options.
Only after a moment more of study does Yoko look up, gaze flickering quickly up Soma's frame before meeting his eyes. "Mr. Travedi," she states calmly. "You requested an interview?"
She is far from rude, but having a tone that neutral is a real gift.
Silently, she sends grateful feelings toward those secretaries who printed up the pre-arranged visitor's badge with the man's name on it.
When Soma comes in, he shuts the door behind him. Yoko MAY notice that he also locks it; Soma himself is quite good at those little sleight-of-hand dexterity tricks, but it IS her office.
He had expected something slightly different from Yoko, this much is true. The impression the woman radiates, for some unknown reason... is 'schoolmarm'. Perhaps it's the bun that does it, but the man knows Yoko's dossier... and the ICPO keeps some impressive background dossiers, particularly of law enforcement officials. It's recruitment, in fact; because Interpol hires many of its new recruits from the ranks of other police services, it pays to know who's worth recruiting. Apparently someone along the line felt Yoko Kasagi might even make the cut.
However, the young ICPO agent is also an empath... and while he appreciates the woman's businesslike front, he can also see the slghtly rumpled person behind the facade, the woman who just fell asleep at her desk. Somehow, that human touch is... reassuring, to Soma, and it actually causes him to crack the faintest of smiles as he sits down, pulling a slim black ID card holder from his pocket and holding it in his lap for a moment.
When he finally looks at Yoko to begin speaking, there is a certain intensity in his violet eyes that the Chief Inspector might find familiar. After all, there is a little bit of the crusader in her son, too... even if Jiro's aims are a little bit different than Soma's. But perhaps more important to Yoko's sense as a detective is that he's not carrying anything an interviewer should have: no portfolio, no digital recorder, not even a steno pad. Just that ID holder.
"Actually," the ICPO agent says, leaning forward in the uncomfortable chair, "I lied to your staff. Hopefully by the time we're done here you'll see the reason why I had to." Soma throws the ID holder on the desk so it lands face up, flipping open and revealing both his Interpol ID and his badge; he turns his gaze back to Yoko and asks, as a matter of procedure: "Do you recognize what I'm showing you, Chief Inspector Kasagi?"
Yoko Kasagi has never had to deal with empaths before. She has little idea of how ineffective her normal emotional tactics are and would be against such a person. If she were aware of this, she would, at least initially, not be pleased-- but, of course, she is not aware.
Yet she is quite sharp, and she hears the faint click of the door being locked behind him. She does not reveal her awareness of this fact, at least in any conventional sense; if Soma senses the sudden lurch in her alertness, he may be impressed at how her eyes do not even flicker. She says nothing. Besides the fact that some sort of ambush would be highly improbable -- not that it hasn't happened before -- well, this is curious. Either her kids are in trouble, in which case she will listen to what he has to say, or she's actually managed to somehow arouse someone's interest, which is-- well, rather flattering, considering her own opinion on the real relevence of her current position.
She's getting rusty, though, she decides. She was so fixated on figuring out his name that only after she heard the click of the lock did she notice he had none of the necessary accoutriments. She's already in a state of readiness, so this doesn't change much...
Until he sets down the ID.
"I do."
Her face is tighter now, but her expression remains neutral.
"I will give you exactly three minutes," she continues quietly, "to explain to my satisfaction why you have been so... unorthodox... as to lie to my staff in order to gain entrance to my office."
Yoko removes her watch and sets it down on the desk, her gaze never shifting.
"Begin."
As a detective himself, Soma knows an attempt to intimidate when he sees one... and honestly, while he has no intentions of getting violent with Yoko, he's entirely confident in his ability to keep himself from harm. What he is more concerned about is making sure that the background check wasn't off the mark... because he's about to put all his cards on the table and if Yoko's not going to play, then... something will have to be done about it. The thought doesn't appeal to the ICPO agent, but his assignment is bigger than the Southtown PD, and certainly bigger than either individual in the room.
He doesn't stay seated. Instead he gets up and walks past Yoko's desk toward the window, which he looks out with his fingers pressed against the glass, keeping his back turned to the woman. If she wanted to get up and brain him with a bookend, now's the time. "There was no other way to make this meeting work without making it pointless without some deception," he says, before turning around -- presuming Yoko DOESN'T intend to brain him with a blunt object -- and looking right at the Chief Inspector.
"My name you already know... I'm Inspector Soma Travedi of the Intercontinental Police Office. That fact... doesn't leave this room." And if Yoko had her turn to intimidate Soma, now he gets to throw a little weight around himself. "The reason being that I'm currently on independent confidential assignment with the Specialized Crimes Directorate. My orders come straight from Lyon and I have been given what they like to call 'broad, discretionary legal enforcement powers' by agreements with Interpol member states... including Japan."
He walks forward a few steps, glancing at Yoko, and then goes and sits back down in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. He's trusting that his not exactly finely attuned sixth sense is correct, and that this is more about Yoko maintaining a position of relative dominance than it is about actually getting Soma thrown out of her office. "You've been in this job long enough to know how important cover identities are at the local level? Well... this is at the international level. So your secretary can't know who I really am, because while *you* might have training resisting interrogation, she most certainly doesn't."
Leaning forward, Soma bores the indigo-amethyst gaze of his bright eyes into Yoko's. Now or never. "That's my bona fides. You can walk out of your office door and scream the entire contents to your squad rooms and ruin the entire affair and quite probably get me killed in the process, so please believe me when I say the choice is fully in your hands now. But our research into your background suggested that you wouldn't do something QUITE so stupid."
Yoko breathes out through her nose quietly, the closest she will allow herself to come to snorting derisively.
Oh, she understands the situation. She understands it perfectly. The people who work on the international level. The people who deal with the 'big picture', with the 'broader scheme of things'. The people who demand your help because you are little and local and insignificant but who have nothing to do with those little and local troubles you have to deal with every day-- the people who spite you by their very existence. No, in reality, Yoko is rather past that mode of thinking; she has to be, to be successful at this job. But her past as a beat cop is deeply ingrained in her, generally to her credit, and it is in these moments that her prejudices come flooding back.
His attitude...
Is she supposed to be impressed?
"You are," she says once he has finished, "quite young, aren't you."
She has not risen from her chair, has not even moved her arms, and does not seem inclined to do so. Her gaze has followed him about the room and she has maintained eye contact thus far, and continues to do so in silence for a few moments more-- until she calmly glances back down at the watch on her desk.
"Two minutes left," she adds simply, looking up.
She meets his gaze, letting the silence stretch as long as he allows.
That question gets a raised eyebrow from Soma. Comparatively speaking, he is young... exceptionally talented, perhaps, but compared to others in his line of work -- Agent Chun-li, for example -- he is relatively young. But he's experienced things in a mere 22 years that many others will never seen in a lifetime. "Age has nothing to do with it," Soma says calmly. She's goading him. He can sense it... trying to make him lose his cool, trying to make him yell. If he does, she'll be totally justified in whatever comes next.
But the undercover agent has no intention of doing so. "Interpol didn't want me breaking my cover to the local police," he says with a shrug, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. "That was a decision I made on my own, because I think the local police have a right to know what's going on in their own backyards. And there ARE things going on here, Inspector. Did you know that a demon-man attacked a young woman in Southtown Village a scant three weeks ago? Walked right into her house. He wasn't playing by the rules of normal criminals. If the STPD had sent in people, they'd have been seriously injured... or worse."
There's a pause. He has another card to play... a card he wanted to avoid, in fact. But there's not a lot he can do about it now. "I'm sure you know about the culture of street fighting. After all, both of your children are street fighters, aren't they?" He pauses, then leans forward in his chair somewhat. "That's my job, Inspector. I watch the world of fighting. For trouble. Because it's going to happen. And normal police officers aren't equipped to handle people who can throw flame, or..." He pauses, thinking back to Kichiga's powers, twin to his own, and actually visibly shudders for a moment, "...or worse."
Yoko's eyes soften.
It's only a little, but against her ironclad countenance it shows like a stain. She has the power in this situation, she knows, and she knows that he knows it too. She knows that he's staked everything on that she won't be so callous to reveal him, that she won't throw him out, that his words will sway her. But it does not bother her that he is being successful. She is not so petty.
Not when her children are involved.
Quietly, she turns the watch over on the desk.
"I am aware," she says, softer now. A tone few others than her own family members have heard. "This incident... and all the others... I..."
I am aware that I am powerless. I am aware that against the true threats that rampage through this city our effectiveness is laughable. I am aware that these threats are also mitigated by whoever actually runs this town and who himself is the truest threat of all...
She will never say these things. But maybe she doesn't have to.
Yoko tilts her head slightly.
"Inspector," she says after having trailed off, "what... do you want from me?"
Why bring this up? Why now...?
But there's no need for any farce any longer. Not just because he has begun speaking on precisely what, in a sense, has been bothering her for so long, but because Yoko has already shrewdly perceived that this could be an opportunity for her-- and she won't throw it away by being dishonest or insincere.
Soma can sense it; the sudden shift in attitude that says 'I am fighting tooth and nail' to 'this is at least workable'. To say he wasn't nervous about the situation would be a lie -- only an idiot goes into an unsure thing without some degree of nerves -- but he was at least reasonably confident Yoko wasn't going to do anything particularly rash or stupid.
However, he does regret bringing up Jiro and Mimiru, and it shows on his face. Bringing the children into it was something he discussed with his superiors; after all, Yoko's move to Southtown was precipitated by her breakup with her husband and bringing her children with her to her hometown. And a tiny part of him wishes, very hard, that his parents had ever been even half as caring about his welfare.
"What do I want from you?" He pauses, then sighs and looks at the ceiling for a moment. Good question. He knows what he would really like -- to walk into Geese Tower and chuck Mr. Howard off the top floor, that'd be a nice start, especially given his frustration with Interpol's collusion with Howard in terms of Saturday Night Fight -- but the question is what can he reasonably get.
"You're the Chief Inspector... whatever your detectives see, you see. I just want you to let me know when something unusual appears, especially something related to street fighting. Not so I can take the case away from you, but so I can investigate places that your police force can't." His words may be harsh, but they're the truth, as far as the ICPO officer sees it. He has resources they don't. "Let me take the dangerous ones... the ones that I can fight and your average detective can't. That's my job."
He pauses for a second. "What you get in return is me, as your resource. The ICPO is dedicated to law and justice *everywhere*. That includes Southtown. I can't break my cover for you... but I can work for you. And I will absolutely share with you the details of anything you throw my way. We're not here to supercede your men, Chief Inspector."
Chief Inspector Yoko Kasagi leans back in her chair, arms crossed.
Now this is an interesting situation-- and a delicate one.
With every word it becomes more clear to her just what /she/ wants out of this arrangement. It surprises her, really, but she can't deny it. Her latent pragmatism allows her to adapt without complaint even when secret desires arise within her all at once. For the first time in what feels like years -- in what might actually be years -- Yoko knows what she wants.
She wants /out/.
"Interesting."
Far more than she wants justice.
"I tell you where the crimes we can't touch are. You deal with them. Both of our aims are served. You get a local source. I get a secret agent."
The last words are faintly wry. Only faintly, impressively enough.
"Your presence allows me a real chance at effecting change in this city and, at a distance, enforcing the law -- the /real/ law, the forgotten law -- upon those who would otherwise render the law... unenforceable."
She pauses for a moment. Her eyes are neutral again.
"If you have come to me," she continues somewhat conversationally, "you have heard of my past experience in Metro City and are convinced that I will be swayed by this rare opportunity; you are convinced that I may possess a real love of justice that another in my comfortable position could easily lack. You therefore anticipate that I am the most likely candidate to potentially endanger said position by keeping our relationship secret from my superiors, whom you can neither trust nor reveal your identity to, and endanger /myself/ by possibly meddling in deeply-rooted criminal affairs the depth of which I do not currently comprehend and for which I will receive no other backup amongst my fellows."
Yoko leans forward, placing her elbows on her desk, expression unchanged.
"What you offer is not enough."
He is the psychic here, but the way her gaze bores into his is truly uncanny.
"Inspector Travedi, as we are being candid with one another, I will tell you outright: I am not satisifed with my position here. I will thus not be satisfied by staying as a source for you for long. I am willing to help you. However, in return, in addition to the services you will be rendering me in my capacity as Chief Inspector, you will recommend me to your superiors, based on my past experience and my dealings with you, as a candidate for a position in Interpol."
She pauses for a moment before straightening.
"You offer me temporary relief," she adds in that softer tone, "from the chains that bind me. But, Inspector... even that, at this point, I will only be able to endure for some time. Do you understand?"
"You already know they're interested in you."
Soma says the words like a fact, not a question, because he doesn't have any doubts about it. He does raise an eyebrow at Yoko's somewhat melodramatic read of the potential consequences of her aquiesence -- the ICPO would absorb all responsibility for her complicity in the event of a disaster, they're not the Mission: Impossible people -- but he can tell she's not happy where she is. The woman was just *asleep at her desk*, for god's sake. A police officer.
Soma knows how she feels, however. He was a desk jockey for a little over a year... intelligence analysis, which can be fun but certainly is not active law enforcement. The world doesn't work like the script of "Seven". Still... something about her request is gnawing at the back of Soma's mind. Not the least of which is the problem of having to do this all over again once Yoko leaves her position... with or without his help.
"We wouldn't be having this conversation if the ICPO wasn't at least marginally interested in you, Ms. Kasagi," Soma replies, carefully choosing to eschew Yoko's official title. "I can pass the information of your more... active... interest to my superiors. Beyond that I don't have any power... understand?" He bores his gaze into her, trying to make this point clear. "I don't make policy, I don't make hires. I'm a man with particular skills in a particular role... just like you. No more, no less."
He pauses, and then clears his throat, reaching onto Yoko's desk to take his badge holder back from where it's been during this conversation. "And I want to be frank about... criminal elements, here and abroad. Shadow puppetmasters and all that. We both know they exist... but many of them are untouchable. What I'm offering you is an opportunity to dig into the roots, not hack down the tree." He pauses again. "You know the etymology of the word 'privilege', don't you? It means 'private law'. When people in the medieval era talked about the 'privilege of the sword', that's what they meant... private law. That's how the upper echelons operate. But... in the end, one man is just one man. Carve away at his privilege..."
He lets the comment hang for a moment, then looks at Yoko again. "That's all I can offer you. It's up to you to say yes or no."
'Interested' isn't enough for Yoko Kasagi.
But for now, it will have to do. What is important is that she makes her intentions clear from the beginning. She is well aware of the limitations of Soma's own position-- but she doesn't think he'll reveal her attempt to gain leverage in her own efforts or portray her in a negative light for trying. She seriously doubts that there is anyone else in the STPD who even approaches the level of integrity a mission such as Soma's requires. He needs her-- just as much as she needs him. The response is no more or less than she expected.
This does not prevent the air from nearly crackling between them as their intense, unflinching gazes meet and hold.
"Very well... Mr. Travedi."
And then she smiles.
"I look forward to working with you."
It's really rather attractive.
Rising from her chair from the very first time, Yoko extends her right hand toward Soma in what will become, presuming he takes it, a very firm handshake.
"I'll organize the initial dossiers myself and send you what we have on the Untouchables," she continues, referring to a very private STPD slang for characters such as Yamazaki, malefactors who never seem to stay in prison for very long at all, "in case we possess any information you lack. Provide me with private contact information and I will make sure you receive any reports that deal with them or situations involving similar people or circumstances."
There is a light in her eyes that was not there before.
"And you-- you will stop them."
The light brightens as her face begins to harden again, the smile fading, that ironclad neutrality returning. It's a different kind of intensity, though, that seems to wash over her now. Whatever she might say or refuse to, Yoko too, in her own way, cares deeply about justice. For unlike those who become completely jaded after a career in such a field...
"And tell me, street fighter... if you ever find my son."
...she has never forgotten how to care.
Log created on 03:32:42 08/12/2007 by Soma, and last modified on 08:49:28 08/12/2007.