Description: There's got to be better follow ups to being the focal point to a nuclear bomb scale chi blast than a visit from a crusty old curmudgeon. Rugal isn't so lucky though.
Ground Zero. The aftermath of the largest explosion of chi in recorded history isn't a pretty sight. In a last ditch effort to save the ship and those still on it from the 'R' invasion, the Ryouhara resorted to a final option Rugal had all but discounted as impossible... That they would blow up their own ship rather than let him take it was already factored into the way he took control over the Suiryuu. All of the civilians and captured fighters were kept captive on /board/ the highly modified yacht as Bernstein was convinced that for all their aloofness, surely the ninja wouldn't kill a boat load of fighters, allies, and innocents just to thwart him.
He was half right. The Ryouhara were serious about not harming their passengers and 'agents', but that didn't mean they weren't going to blow up their boat. It just meant that they were going to blow up /half/ of it instead of all of it. Seishirou himself drew the final sigils over the deck of the People's Boat in the midst of battling Bernstein himself. There was nothing Rugal could do to stop the chain reaction then as all of the pent up energy within the hull of the Suiryuu was brought to bear directly on him in a gigantic, cataclysmic explosion.
Now the Suiryuu has drifted on, albeit still visible in the horizon. The Black Noah, damaged by an infiltration on the part of Riko, floats listlessly, sitting deeper in the water than it normally should. One of its power plants destroyed and several decks flooded, it leans heavily to one side, though like its maniacal master, it refuses to die - refuses to let this site be its watery grave. Not yet.
The surface of the water is covered with wreckage and flotsam. Broken crates, tables, papers, and even bodies of slain 'R' infantry drift atop the shallow ocean waves. An oil slick nearby burns, sending black plumes of smoke into the air, but otherwise, there is no activity to speak of for the longest while.
Finally a bare arm breaks through the surface of the water, rising up before bending at the elbow and clamping down against the surface of a floating plank. What follows is the top half of a crimelord defeated as Rugal's head surfaces, messy blond hair down over much of his face, his cybernetic eye hidden beneath damaged flesh while his human eye remains half-lidded. The extent of the rest of his injuries is hidden beneath the water, though the red tint surrounding him suggests that he is bleeding profusely. If the world was truly a just place, this catastrophe would have marked the end of Rugal Bernstein. The world isn't that just.
But the world is just enough for the purposes of some. For Rugal Bernstein, one might even say too cruel. The water is indeed littered with the bones and organs of a once mighty vessel, terminal wounds that would see the ship float its last in the hours to come...but not all of this floatsam comes from the Suiryuu. Or even the Black Noah. Some of it was here, minding its own business, until the climatic explosion occured that launched Rugal into the air.
On the other hand, some of it wasn't minding its own business. Some of it was, in fact, being quite nosy on the other hand - but unobstrusively so. For instance, that log over there. Simple and unassuming at a glance. Until one realized that perched atop it is of all things a willowy figure who is busied in the act of defying the laws of physics. The wood floats undisturbed, seemingly unaware of the fact that there is weighted object on top of it that by all means should be imposing some measure of gravity upon it. A few inches deeper into the water here, some unsteady pitching and rolling there...nope, none of it. This surrealism becomes even more apparent as the occupant proceeds to stand up, and peer down into the waters expectantly. When Rugal rises up from the water, he remains there, motionlessly regarding the battered frame of injured fighter.
"Hmm. Considering the fact that you find yourself here before me, either you find yourself in Hell, or a world with a remarkably twisted sense of humor. I have my own thoughts on that...but what about you? Which will it be, Rugal Bernstein?"
A pause. A dry, mirthful grin. And then the figure laughs, the old man's guffaws just out of reach of hearing from either of the ships by choice.
The plank he grips onto dips down into the water as Rugal puts more of his weight on it. He's in no condition to support himself more than just simply keeping his arm pressing against the splintered wood to keep from slipping beneath the waves for good. Of course he expects that he's alone out here. Those who were not below decks were subject to a lot of the same devestation that blew him off of the boat and there's not many who could have survived /that/.
Even in the best of circumstances, the chance exists that the old hermit could conceal his presence from the crimelord. And for Rugal, these are /hardly/ the best of circumstances. He's unaware of the aged company until that dusky yet amused voice speaks up over the sounds of burning oil and cresting waves. Well. If that just isn't about the worst sound Rugal has ever heard. And /now/ of all times.
His good eye rolls up, taking in the presence of the aged sennin with what passes as incredulousness given his current condition. "Hell? The world is hell, you doddering old fool," comes the reply of a man struggling to sound gruff in spite his condition. The Suiryuu escaped, many of his men are dead, his ship damaged, and now /this/? Rugal's hand tenses, pressing down against the plank, forcing it a bit further beneath the water. It's a delicate balancing game trying to keep himself afloat at the moment. Too much pressure and the wood sinks too low to be of any use.
That single eye gazes toward the Black Noah... and then Rugal glances over his shoulder toward the distant Suiryuu, before finally fixing upon Oro once again. "... you were out here the whole time?" The idea seems preposterous. But unless the old man just jumped off either of the two visible vessels...
The sennin offers a slow, dry, patronizing clap in return. "Yes, that's one way of looking at it! But that was a trick question, as it wouldn't be the hell that it is without the disgusting irony. Feh. So much wasted potential."
TThe ease with which the sennin stands upright on the log is the most vile of mockeries given Rugal's current circumstances, made all the more beautiful by the fact that Oro hadn't planned it that way. Hell, indeed. For Rugal, life could be very much like hell, fraught with failures such as this in the midst of dominance over matters he considers inconsequential...failures that cause the furnace of his ambition to explode anew with flames of envy.
Or in the case of Oro, disgust. It's hard to find an old man more annoying than this one, by design.
"Of course. What, did you think I'd make some grand spectacle about my presence? It's much simpler to observe from this vantage point undisturbed. Far fewer distractions." Squatting down onto the balls of his feet, the old man peers down for a closer look at Rugal, scratching his chin with his unbound hand. ...How does the log keep floating? One of life's greater mysteries. "I must say though, I never expected them to *blow the thing up* this soon. You really must have convinced them that they had no hope. ...Ah, but now I'll never know what they planned to do with it..."
A single brow furrows, and then the man's flabby lips draw wide in a somewhat disturbing smile. It might be his version of trying to be agreeable. In practice it's a rather effective way at unnerving someone and making their skin crawl. "I don't suppose you managed to find out, did you?"
The washed up tyrant of 'R' shifts his weight, and in doing so, causes the plank he is depending on to sink too far beneath the water, causing his head to submerge as well. Of course he realizes the error quickly enough and adjusts for it, allowing the wooden platform to resurface, along with the one arm that clings to it. His head surfaces a moment later. Yes, we can't ALL be apparently weightless ninnies that can balance on a log without so much as causing it to dip an inch. Rugal flashes Oro another glare as he spits out a mouthful of salt- Ah, if only Rugal's long litany of enemies could see him now...
Teeth grit as the man hisses, bloody spittle spewing out from between his torn lips. His one-eyed glare for Oro is laden with hatred, the old man a symbol of everything that has gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours for the ruthless but now defeated man. It's only compounded by the fact that not only is Rugal in no position to attack Oro in this condition, he would be attacking way out of his league were he perfectly /healthy/.
"Nice trick," he sputters as he eyes the physics defying antics. "That one take you a hundred years to learn, you old wretch?" And then comes the question spoken from those pulled back lips and Rugal is silent for a long moment. What does he care of satisfying the hermit's curiosity? But on the other hand, it's him. And the hermit. And a whole lot of wreckage. There really ain't much else to do besides sit there in pain. He's not even confident he can make the swim back to his wounded carrier and he's already numb to the sting of salt against the bloody wounds the chi blast caused, so that's not very interesting either.
Stewing in his own blood and frustration, the man finally answers. "They had no hope. The chi was to be used as a gift for someone who must have wronged the Ryouhara sometime in the past..." the man grunts. That they went to such great lengths for revenge it... well, it does kind of warm the heart a little. He can understand revenge born of loss. "They had to change their plans..."
Ah, yes, the standoff. Oro has no interest in beating injured puppies, and therefore Rugal can say what he will of them. No matter. "This little number? Nothing that you couldn't do yourself if you turned your focus inward instead of outward. But I know you don't have the patience for that, so I won't drive the point into the..." A glance around. Hmm. "...sea." No ground for a mile or so, after all. Unless you're a dirty cheating sennin.
The smile doesn't falter as Rugal continues on into his recollection of events...wait, no, there it goes. It falters as Rugal gets midway through his explanation, and by the end of it the mass of wrinkles looks rather put off.
"That's it? The largest swell of chi in century was little more than one massive explosive?" The old man scowls down at Rugal with a sour expression, before...well...the lift of his *head* gives the impression that he just rolled his eyes, but it's rather hard to verify for someone whose eyes are literally pools of red mysticism. And then he sighs. "I suppose it's my fault for having higher expectations. Ho hum. What about you, then? What would you have done with it, were you granted an opportunity to tow your little prize home with you?"
Enough time has passed since the explosion that a seagull flying overhead dips downward to investigate. It lands on Oro's head, not that he seems to take much note of it. The seagull in turn seems to find better things to occupy its attention than Rugal, which is the only thing that prevents his visage than getting any more surreal than it already is.
"Feh," Rugal grunts, another spray of blood and saltwater from his lips at the lecture about his patience or the infamous lack thereof. He's forced to be somewhat contrite here. It's a rare moment that will never happen again if he can ever help it. He got greedy and stepped out in the open on this one. Not all of the cards had been shot down... It was an unexpected gambit the Ryouhara pulled on him, to say the least.
"The Ryouhara wanted to kill a man in the showiest way possible... The entire tournament was to demonstrate themselves as the ultimate showmen, with a side order of vengeance."
Oro is not the only one to be disappointed. Bernstein was convinced Hiretsu was alive well beyond his time. "The Suiryuu was always secondary. There was a old man... Hiretsu he was called. Director of Operations... He should've been dead decades ago. I-" He falls quiet then. He thought the Ryouhara had either uncovered resurrection or immortality, or both. "But he was just the boy, cleverly disguised. A hoax." The man's voice is a glutaral growl now. A pained sigh escapes his lips then.
"The Suiryuu would have been torn apart, its secrets... it's mechanisms studied and researched... If it proved useful, I would have made others. If not, it would have been discarded once I knew it no longer had anything to do with their supposed clan leader being back from the dead..."
He's surprisingly talkative, Oro getting an earful that no other in existence will likely ever hear. Nothing like being the focal point of a nuclear scale chi blast to loosen one's tongue a bit. The seagull is noted and glared at as well. Angry glare. Angry Rugal! If he could fly right now he wouldn't be floating admist the wreckage just barely staying above water, now would he!
Oh, certainly, it's no surprise to Oro at all. That's why he's asking. After all, nobody makes a better sounding board than an obscenely powerful sennin who is above the greater majority of worldly affairs, and has no absolutely no interest in the information other than the information itself. "Hmm. So, you were more interested in this man's immortality than the actual ship itself. That does make sense. But, at least I can say your intentions were more interesting than theirs. Blowing the ship up, that is. The tournament itself was rather clever, really...someone on that ship certainly had a dark sense of humor."
A thoughtful pause. "The little rustbuckets with tennis rackets were a bit much though. Really, who builds something like that? Probably a pedophile with too much time on his hands." A shrug, and then the sennin turns his attention back to the water. The boat boat of intrigue has exploded. He knows more about Black Noah than some of its permanent residents do. And Rugal has coughed up all he cares to know for the time being. Plus, is that...a search light from a helicopter? Oh my. That certainly won't do. "It seems your ride is here. A pleasure talking with you."
The seagull is given little warning. Oro sits down on the log, clenches his knees at either side tightly, and...suddenly gravity kicks in again. With little warning, the log turns on its side and its occupant with it, vanishing into the water with more of a /slurp/ than a SPLASH.
The only evidence that the sennin was ever there and that the conversation wasn't a hallucination is a highly agitated seagull that goes flapping into the sky. ...Try telling that to the helicopter pilot though. SHOOT THAT LOG. THERE IS A VERY ANNOYING OLD MAN SITTING UNDERNEATH IT AND HOLDING HIS BREATH. IT IS A SUBMARINE!!!
Of course the irony is that Rugal is speaking to a man that has all but achieved the longevity the Bernstein monster seeks... But if Oro's method of obtaining immortality means waiting until one looks like a wrinkled old prune, Rugal will just keep on searching, thank you very much. "If not this time then another time. I will find it. The key I seek." the man utters, sounding entirely convinced of the eventuality of his success. After all, if a giant boat of exploding chi didn't put an end to him then what possibly could? Unless he goes and ticks off Goenitz again perhaps...
The mention of the M0M0's brings a grunt to the man's lips but any choice reply is cut off by the search chopper coming to pluck anyone left alive out of the ocean. Lifting his head to follow the approach of the aircraft, he looks again toward the red-eyed enigma, studying Oro silently for several seconds. The interloper that walks between the worlds of tyrants and common men alike. So many mortals would do anything to have an audience with the old codger, hoping to have even a small fragment of his wisdom bestowed upon them. And here Rugal is 'blessed' with yet another visit out of the blue.
The log spins, taking the old man out of sight as two 'R' soldiers descend from the chopper via a rope. In the condition he's in the man would be a sitting target if one of those soldiers wanted to be the one to gain world-wide fame in the underground for being the one to take down Rugal Bernstein... But the fact that a certain pair of secretaries are waiting in the chopper up above makes any such act of betrayal remarkably unlikely. For now the tyrant will have to be helped by those he considers his pawns. He has weeks of recovery ahead of him it would seem.
Nah, that wasn't a visit. Rugal just crashed into his soapbox uninvited. Nor was their first encoutner really a visit either. Rugal just has some very poor luck. :]
Log created on 21:31:52 11/16/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 11:28:55 11/22/2007.