Description: Kurow explores the depths of the Black Noah only to stumble across the kernal of Rugal Bernstein's madness.
[OOC] Kurow says, "If you could, that would be spectacular."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Excellent."
[OOC] Rugal will be able to focus on this better once the other scene is done, actually. >.> "Which shouldn't be long."
[OOC] Kurow nods.
[OOC] Rugal says, "OKAY"
[OOC] Rugal says, "Is it too late for you tonight? Or would you like to get started all up in this madness?"
[OOC] Kurow can get started. Monday/Wednesday nights are the weekday nights that actually work OK for me.
Kurow saw this chamber for the first time last week. A large, spacious room deep in the hull of the Black Noah. Down here, closer to the bow of the mighty carrier, the rumble of the engines are more of a distant growl - like a caged beast locked away elsewhere. The same recessed lighting from last time casts light into the room but leaves many pockets of shadows as well.
The paintings that line the wall have been straightened out since the fight the other night. Chips and dents in the walls are gone. The destroyed training equipment removed and replaced by identical contraptions. At a glance, it would be impossible to tell that any fight had happened here at all. As if the owner of this impressive, if aging craft treated this chamber with a certain reverence that would seem so terribly unlike the crimelord.
One of the light domes casts down on the large, round, thick covering of The Vault. It flickers on and off every few seconds; clearly the bulb is on the verge of going out. A large steel wheel on the front of it would be used for releasing the pressure that keeps the door sealed shut. But it won't budge by default. There is a small electronics panel to the side as well as a keypad to go with it. A small speaker suggests a voice authentication system may also be a factor here.
On one hand, the door presents a challenge. But on the other hand, it's not like Rugal has expected anyone to actually try to enter it for decades. No one even speaks of it to him. No one dares.
Who dares, wins. At least, that's always been Kurow Kirishima's point of view; just because the nature of all discourse about the Vault is so hushed, in Kirishima's mind, is no reason not to look into finding out more about the chamber that Rugal Bernstein keeps here, in the heart of the ship. The youth's curiosity has gotten the better of him, and has carried him here -- sneaking from the rooms he usually uses during his stays on the Black Noah to the door of the Vault, once again.
The young man studies the keypad for a long, long time; it presents the most challenge, in his mind. Useless technological locks -- they're one of Kirishima's only weak points in sneaking around. Give him a set of tumblers any day. Narrowing his eyes at the panel, he studies, above all else, for the wear of routine use. After all, if he can at least discern the keys used in the password, it's a start.
The speaker presents another challenge, but this one, the Imawano-trained ninja is actually, unlike most who would seek to see the inside of a voice-protected vault, a little more ready for. To the untrained eye, it would look like he has no plan for it; however, a more discerning, exacting perception will see small signs of preparation for an attempt to really, truly fake it out. Mimicry is one of Kirishima's best skills, after all; the slow shift in stance from Kirishima's defensive posture to that firm, grounded bearing of Rugal's signifies that he really seems to think he can, with enough mental preparation, mimic the man's voice... at least, mimic it closely enough for one of the computers on this aging vessel.
Of course, if a specific trigger phrase is necessary, he may yet be undone -- but at the very least, he intends to /try/.
Upon inspection, the keypad looks to be almost never used. There is a thin layer of dust on the pad, however, and if viewed from the right angle, it becomes possible to distinguish some of the numbers as having been pressed at /all/, whereas others have not. Unfortunately, the sequence looks like it might involve at least five of the buttons if prints are any indication. Knowing Rugal's mind, however, it could be a huge number as well.
It would be risky, but trying to circumvent the electronics may be possible too. A close inspection reveals the old fashioned, all-red LED one might expect on a 1980's calculator, so this stuff isn't exactly cutting edge either. It does give an indication of how long ago this vault was created, though.
There is a single button beneath what looks to be the mic which is probably what one would use when ready to attempt the voice authentication. Otherise, besides the electronic hum of the bulb above that seems to be going out, and some faint air circulation noises, the chamber is silent as a tomb.
Seeing that all-red LED is actually something of a relief to Kurow. He'd been assuming this to be on the cutting edge of modern technology, hence his desire to avoid trying to 'cheat' his way through it; his stance relaxes a little, and his plan slowly changes. He commits those five numbers to memory, perhaps intending to either inquire about them later or use them once he has a little more understanding of Rugal's psychology, should he ever want to get back in again.
A clawed hand slides, gently, along the edge of the keypad, as Kirishima tries to remove it. There's a faint glow just along the tip, as Kirishima augments it just faintly with his inner energy, making it easier to cut through anything that may be holding the panel down. While Mugen did not train Kirishima to deal with some of the modern world's contrivances, technology this aged was at least somewhat on the curriculum; it's a long shot, but then, trying to guess his way through the numbers /and/ pass a voice recognition check would be every bit as risky.
Assuming prying the panel covering off goes off without a hitch, Kirishima begins the slow, arduous work of hotwiring the keypad. This has only come up once in the last year -- but then, it was also a more sophisticated system that Kurow was working with. He starts to look for obvious 'switches' or 'gaps' in the electronics, ones that look like they'd fall into place after a /legitimate/ entry -- and then, well, he does the sensible thing and starts slowly, carefully flipping them.
[OOC] Kurow says, "I wish I knew electronics for reals. :("
[OOC] Rugal says, "Don't sweat it. ._."
The electronics of the keypad are rudimentary. Whoever was tasked with installing it decades ago probably felt they were cutting edge at the time. But time changes many things, including the level of advancement needed in technology to keep up. There is a red LED that lights up when the panel is removed and at roughly the same the echo of footsteps can be heard in the hall outside the chamber...
But whoever it is, their destination appears not to be this room as the footsteps fade and diminish. The red, solid light is dubious, but no other error conditions seem apparent. With the training Kurow is relying on, he will eventually find the gap between two bridged circuits. Inserting the fine tip of his claw to bridge it will make the connection the key pad is expecting, though it will jolt him a bit as well as he acts as the conduit between the two components.
One of the LEDs that has been deactivated thus far lights up with a solid green, suggesting that something is probably going his way. But in the next moment a recorded, robotic sounding voice is heard coming from the small speaker. "Speak the goal." comes the three simple, yet demanding words. A second LED turns on. A yellow color that stays on solidly but then blinks off and back on again once every 5 seconds. Perhaps the command is literal. Or maybe it is a key phrase.
[OOC] Kurow... checks something.
Kirishima overthinks the problem, as he always does -- that same thought rings in /his/ head, as that small jolt rushes through his body. /Is/ it a literal command? Or is it really a challenge to speak the goal that Rugal Bernstein has dedicated his life to? It's a tricky question, and Kirishima decides that it is likely that he must, indeed, discern Rugal's ultimate goal.
It's a hard question. He's heard the man talk of it -- talk of crushing all the world's titans beneath him as he works his way toward it. But he has never heard, in the few months he's known Bernstein, just what that goal is. All he has is that, and that Bernstein is much like himself, but older, more experienced.
The footsteps, the blinking light -- everything puts Kirishima's guard up even farther. But he's already gotten so far -- he can't just give up now, after all this. But he can't just /guess/, either. It's a hard nut to crack, until Kirishima gets a small amount of inspiration.
Somewhere in that box of circuitry, which Kirishima now decides to pry open, there has to be some sort of memory unit that stores the default response against which what's given would be matched. Perhaps, he thinks, he can trigger the machine to play that /for itself/, if the memory unit isn't stored at some great distance away -- it's a long shot, but it's certainly the least /risky/ of his options. After all, if he finds that he can't do it that way, he could certainly, while he's got the panel off, try fussing with the electronics themselves again.
As Kurow begins to inspect the electronics further, the slow blinking yellow LED eventually shuts off, suggesting that the time to speak the voice authentication has passed. Retracing his steps should make it possible to get it working again though by bypassing the keyboard sequence of the authentication.
His search would take him along a pair of wires connecting to the speaker and then to the circuits they lead into. A large silicon chip that could be recreated with modern technology that would fit on a pin-head seems to be the 'logic' board for the voice authentication. Before long, Kurow would find the small soldered point that needs to be short circuited to get the play back he's looking for. There's a little static to the speaker as a result of his hijacking the circuit, but the word is unmistakeable, spoken in the deep voice of the older German.
"Athanasia." Of course. Immortality. The goal of all such men who rise to that level of power. The desire to live forever at the pinacle of their rise. To transcend the one foe no man has beaten. Death.
The fact that the initial time to speak the word has passed is immaterial to Kirishima; he's already done every part up to this point once, and every time one repeats a task, it tends to get a little faster and more efficient. He knows how to do it -- it's old technology. Kurow is, honestly, a little surprised... but the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Everything on the Black Noah is old, and some of it borders on non-functional. And it would seem that security on this vault is not a priority -- few have ever /tried/, from the looks of it.
He hears that word. Deathlessness. Of course. That was what he and Mugen had discussed in the man's final year, and it would seem the pattern repeats the world over. Perhaps it's even the seed of Kirishima and Bernstein's similarities -- that desire to defeat the undefeatable. Vega wanted it, too, and it was the /only/ point of similarity between Kurow and his old master -- but the dictator's method never seemed viable, too dependent on energies few can harness.
Thinking on the past, however, is quickly discarded in favor of the present. After all -- Kurow still wants to see the inside of that vault, to satisfy his curiosity if nothing else. He retraces his steps, giving himself the same little jolt as before, and -- if the voice challenge comes once again -- he answers.
He is surprisingly slow about it, if only because he goes through that same process of trying to take on Rugal's mannerisms, both the obvious and the subtle, before answering. The youth, once again in that grounded hybrid stance, clears his throat and speaks the words, approximating the German's voice as closely as his years of training in all aspects of mimicry and disguise allow him.
"Athanasia."
It seems to do the trick. The yellow blinking LED turns back on when he bypasses the keypad again. And when he finally utters the word the silent panel expects, that telltale LED switches to a solid green. "Affirmative." comes the robotic voice once again, confirming Kurow's ability to mimic is at least sufficient to get past this old technology. Now only one blacked out LED remains, indicitive of one final process to get his way past.
A loud lurch is easily heard in the otherwise deathly silent room. The of something heavy and metal sliding out of place. The steel wheel affixed directly to the vault itself shifts just a little, relaxing out of its locked position after who knows how many years. An inspection of the wheel will reveal that at its base is a notched dial that lacks any numbers. It's a combination lock. Primitive, but effective as a time stalling deterrent against most who are not familiar with old fashioned tumblers like Kurow is.
And when the final tumblers slide out of place the hiss of air escaping seals meant to keep it contained is heard. The air escaping feels /old/. As if the vault hasn't been opened for many, many years. But now the heavy metal hatch hangs upon its thick hinges, waiting for Kurow to pull it back and venture into the darkness beyond.
Tumblers are Kurow's favorite part, after dealing with that mess of electronics. It feels like a reward for everything else -- after that, it seems anticlimactic to fuss with a combination lock... but anticlimax is better than the alternative. The youth cracks a smile as he casually bypasses the little lock, and as the seals come undone, Kurow closes his eyes for just a moment, taking in that scent of old air. The Vault has clearly gone all but completely neglected for a long time... in a way, Kirishima feels honored.
Pulling the massive door open, Kirishima replaces the covers to the electronics before slipping inside with a mix of anticipation and trepidation; it's rare that something really piques his curiosity, but at the same time, he knows that he may not exactly like what he sees behind this massive metal door. It's the risk inherent in finding out more about someone's treasures and hobbies.
He closes the door behind himself before even thinking of looking around; after all, if the owner of those earlier footsteps walked past to see the Vault /open/, it might draw more attention than Kirishima wants. After all, he doesn't want an altercation with Bernstein and his men, to say the least.
The room is pitch black the instant the door is closed behind the curious Kirishima. All dark, except for a single small LED-lit button in the wall right next to the door. Pushing that will bath the whole chamber in light as the old, dull yellow lamps in the ceiling slowly flicker on. Some are burned out and given the the later of unsettled dust in the room it comes as no surprise that such details would have gone neglected in here for a long, long time.
There are old, wooden tables, shelves, and counters dating back many years. As dusty as the rest of the room's contents, but they are hardly the items of interest by far. Instead it is what lies on top of them that may seem noteworthy. Sheets of paper. Certificates. Photographs. Paintings. Hand written letters. One shelve houses a set of expensive crystaline dishes. Another is covered with tiny figurines made out of rare metals and large, carved gemstones.
Atop one table coated with scattered papers is a framed photograph. A young, blond man in a pair of suit slacks and a white, button up shirt stands next to a young, blond girl, her hair done up in curls with a red ribbon in the back. They look to be no older than sixteen. Their expressions are a strange mixture of ice cold impassiveness with a hint of amusement in their eyes, as if enjoying having the picture taken more than they wanted to let on.
Atop another desk is another photograph. The young man looks like perhaps a slightly older version of the boy Kurow has met, Adelheid. That same girl is next to him, now a few years older as well. She has grown into a lovely young woman and is draped in an exquisitely expensive evening gown. Scattered at the base of the photo are more letters; some typed, others hand written, signed at the bottom with a single initial. - R. Each of them is addressed to 'Dearest Else.'
The glass of one picture frame is cracked, the metal frame itself bent, pressed in a little as if squeezed by hands far too powerful for its delicate construction. A young, black suited Rugal and the blond haired woman at his side. That it is a wedding picture is painfully obvious and even though their expressions are reserved, as appropriate for aristocrats even in a time of happiness, their eyes betray the happiness they each feel for that special, life defining occasion. At the base of the frame, partially covered by other sheets of paper, is a thick certificate of marriage for one Rugal Bernstein and one Elizabeth Bernstein.
It would seem that the deepest secret of the ship is a room that tells the story of a man who died at some point. A man who loved and was loved. A man who had dreams and wasn't left to pursue them alone. The shelves continue, all covered with similar items laced with memories of a time long gone. But up ahead, it is clear that the shelves part, leaving room for something too big to fit atop these old shelves of meloncholy.
Kurow has reconnected.
[OOC] Kurow says, "Sorry, that was Internets."
[OOC] Rugal says, "No problem. :|"
[OOC] Rugal says, "Need a repose?"
[OOC] Kurow says, "Yes. ._."
Kurow has dropped a connection.
The young Kirishima, once the lights are on, starts to walk past each successive item, each little keepsake. The youth begins, with each step past a different item, to read the history of the man he trains under. And one thing would become apparent, if anyone were indeed watching Kirishima's expression as he examines each and every gorgeously framed photograph, every dish, every memento of times that have no doubt long passed for the tyrant: he isn't sure he likes what he sees... or at the very least, finds some small amount of personal conflict in it.
Rugal Bernstein is not, or at least has not always been, the force of nature that he is now -- certainly he does not appear to be without love, without those he cares for. And as Kurow walks past the photos of those two young people, growing up alongside one another, he starts to feel an odd mix of surprise, pride, and resentment.
Love is weakness. Love is weakness. It had been drilled into him since birth; Kurow has always known that to be the truth. Yet here, a man who Kirishima apparently resembles and respects, shows signs of those weaknesses -- and maybe even signs of having some sentimental attachment to those weaknesses, however distant and removed time has made that attachment. Just seeing this, and seeing the fact that Rugal is at least something of a success story in the very fields Kurow seeks to master, forces him to do one of the few things he really, truly loathes: think reflectively.
The youth decides to put off wrestling too deeply with that question, though, no matter how many emotional reactions he'd long tried to bury are roused, just slightly, by seeing that happy couple. It is then that he begins to walk forward, toward where those shelves part. Perhaps, after all, there is more to the story than what he's seen.
The center of The Vault at last. The tall shelves and varied desks give way to more ordinary looking, white counters like one might expect to find in a lab. Atop each of them are all manner of strange items. Golden fat idols from China's oldest temples. Stone, many-armed statues covered with the dried moss that used to cover them when they sat in the jungles of India. Religious trinkets from religions around the world. Crosses, necklaces of beads. Necklaces of skulls. Artifacts from nearly every country one can imagine are stored here. Each with its own history. Each with its own purpose.
Next to many of the items are notecards, hand written with that same writting that was found on the decades old love letters. Some of the notecards are more mundane. Simple notations, such as 'Brazil, circa 5th century...' and 'Cape of Africa from the village of...' But most are nonsensical, as if scribbled by a fevered mind that knew not what it wrote. '...village bathed in blood... the shaman's heart is the key.' '...they walk beyond the seconds... they hide from the reaper there...' '...the idol has the socket but the gem is missing... it is lost. forever lost.'
And then the Kirishima ninja comes upon it. The item located in the very center of The Vault. At first glance it may appear as an altar of electronics. Roughly man-sized in length and a few feet in width, countless wires and hoses feed into the base of it. But further inspection may remind one more of a coffin. The metal is very cool to the touch and from some of the small cracks in the seams of the construction spews forth a chilling vapor.
At one end of the metal tabernacle is a pane of thick, translucent material that may be made of glass but seems as strong as steel. And it is behind that window into the soul of the machine that Kurow will find her, frozen for eternity. The woman addressed as Dearest Else in the letters he noticed. Her eyes are closed, her mouth sealed shut. She has the pallor of a dead person. There lies Elizabeth Bernstein. Wife of Rugal Bernstein. Mother of the twin children, Adelheid and Rose Bernstein. God rest her soul.
Kurow has reconnected.
Kurow has dropped a connection.
[OOC] Rugal says, "Welcome back. Need a repose? :|"
[OOC] Kurow says, "I've got it."
It is a slow, cautious step that takes Kurow past those religious items, noting down each and every one of the written notes as best he can -- he'll no doubt forget dozens of them, but some of the most fevered notes, the ones most desperate, stick out in Kirishima's mind. There are some things one cannot unsee -- and a glimpse into the mind of Rugal Bernstein is certainly one of those things.
The young ninja sees, now, why Rugal seemed so interested in that ancestral blade. All artifacts seem to hold some interest for this man, as possible stepping stones to that one final goal of deathlessness. ... and, perhaps, resurrection, he realizes, when he sees Elisabeth entombed here in the heart of the Black Noah, like the soul of Rugal's ambition.
That, in itself, gives Kurow a little more to grapple with. It's clear that Rugal, even at his most maddened, fevered moments, has been propelled to a sort of greatness by what he held dear. Not to say that it isn't a sort of eerie, unsettling greatness, though -- for once, Kurow Kirishima actually feels the need to take a few stumbling steps back from something he's seen.
It is then, perhaps, that he thinks he has seen far too much in one night, and his steps begin to take him back away from the coffin more purposefully now, back past the idols and relics and ancestral heirlooms, past the mementos of a side of Bernstein that died with that woman in that cold, hissing tomb.
Exiting is far easier than entering was. The hatch is opened from the inside without trouble and the moment it is shut from the outside, the sound of tumblers falling back into place rumbles within the thick, steel frame. The three green LEDs that indicated access all go out simultaneously.
The boy has covered his tracks well, leaving no evidence of his passage on the outside of the metal tomb. There are his footsteps in the dust within... but with time, even those will be lost to memory, much like the rest of the sepulcher no man was ever supposed to know about.
With him he takes a glimpse into the window of Rugal Bernstein's past. In his mind he contains secrets not even the crimelord's own children know. At times when he was younger, Adelheid would ask the tyrant of his mother. What was her name. What kind of person was she? And it was so often in those younger, curious years that Rugal would glance toward the boy's twin sister, Rose, and a somber look would cross his features like a ghost of realization. Then he would shake his head slowly and growl out a demand that the platinum blonde child never ask him of her again.
Dangerous secrets to bear. Unsettling details to ponder. To know the history of the monster is to know the sad truth that very few can truly reach greatness alone.
[OOC] Kurow says, "That almost seems like a spectacular line to end on. ._."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Sounds good to me. ._."
[OOC] Kurow says, "That was really pretty incredible. :o"
[OOC] Rugal hopes it was interesting. ._.
[OOC] Kurow says, "It really was. You've actually thrown me some curveballs."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Yeah, it's interesting to see the impact on Kurow."
[OOC] Kurow says, "This flies in the face of his entire worldview."
[OOC] Rugal yeahs. ._.
[OOC] Rugal says, "But essentially, that room is why Rugal didn't detonate the ship when he was defeated in the KOF tourny. A last second realization that he would destroy the Vault held his hand."
[OOC] Kurow says, "Up to this point Rugal had always assumed Adelheid's mother to be someone like Sada -- vaguely interesting as a tool for acquiring more power/influence but ultimately not particularly notable in Rugal's life story. -- ... wow. ._."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Yeah. It was something that I really wanted to dig into when I started working on my Rugal app."
[OOC] Rugal says, "But yeah, now you know more about my take on Rugal. ._. There's still a lot to learn, too. The way she died is key."
[OOC] Kurow nods.
[OOC] Rugal says, "It has to do with Orochi~"
[OOC] Kurow says, "... oh /ho/."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Anyway. That was good fun. I'll have to debate if I even post the log. Not sure if I should."
[OOC] Kurow says, "-- Can I get a copy for myself? ._."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Definitely. ._."
[OOC] Kurow has been really itching for another curveball. ._.
[OOC] Rugal is happy to provide. ._.
[OOC] Kurow hasn't really gotten one since Thailand. "You are /spectacular/." ._.
[OOC] Rugal awhs. ._.
[OOC] Rugal says, "I really hope they consider doing the Orochi arc here someday."
[OOC] Kurow does too. I am a fan. ._.
[OOC] Rugal says, "Did you have any idea what would be in the Vault before hand by any chance?"
[OOC] Kurow says, "I had a few guesses but they were off. Part of me was saying 'artifacts' which kind of misses the forest for the trees."
[OOC] Rugal nodsnods. Has been keeping this stuff pretty close to his chest. "By now, Rugal has suppressed most of that whole part of his life. Except for how it defines what he is trying to accomplish."
[OOC] Kurow nods.
[OOC] Rugal says, "But yeah, if I ever actually do launch a big TP with Rugal, it will revolve around his resurrection ambitions."
[OOC] Kurow nods. "I admit I'm a little jealous of you for having that kind of direction."
[OOC] Kurow's primary immediate ambition is hard to structure a TP around because the Imawano family is, uh.
[OOC] Kurow says, "... I'm going to let that sentence sit."
[OOC] Rugal says, "Yeah. Granted, I don't have any plans in place yet. I haven't even given it time to perculate in my mind yet. After jinchuu and the next tourny, then maybe I'll give it some thought."
[OOC] Kurow kind of wants to run something soon-ish, now that school is starting to get back in session /ICly/, but hasn't decided on much beyond that yet.
[OOC] Rugal nods. ._.
[OOC] Rugal says, "Anyway, should sweepytime. Good scene. Glad you liked it. ._."
[OOC] Kurow hopes you enjoyed it, too! ._.
[OOC] Rugal did. ._.
[OOC] Kurow says, "Excellent."
Log created on 00:40:16 09/20/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 06:00:24 09/20/2007.