Description: A new arrival finds Southtown in interesting times. Who is this scythe-wielding young man? For what purpose has he come to this war-torn city? What is it that the Devil of Koga finds so compelling about him? Who are the Mugan? And what has the Devil hired the young man to do? This new arrival brings with him many questions as his story begins.
Normally, traveling is seen as a good thing. You get to go out and see new places, meet new people, that sort of thing. And Maeda Akamatsu is someone who didn't mind traveling at all - in fact, after the complete bullshit that was his trial, he kind of wanted to get away from the Mugan headquarters in Amagasaki. Anywhere would be better. Southtown was just as good as any other place, really. Better, in fact; even though he had been sent here to try and seduce Ren Kurosaki or some nonsense, Maeda knew Southtown to be a place where fighters assembled.
He did not know, however, that it was currently a warzone.
He should have realized something was up when they said busses were down. Should have realized when there were no cars for him to hitch hike from along the road into the city. The quarantine barricades and Very Important Men with guns was somewhat disturbing, but hell, that could've been for anything. After he'd snuck into the city and seen the absolute /destruction/, well. That was something... new. Looking around, getting an apartment to set himself up here in Southtown seemed like an unlikely prospect. Most buildings were boarded up or otherwise inaccessable or abandoned. People were scarce. Well - people who weren't people with guns and unfriendly dispositions, anyway. So what to do in a warzone?
First, Maeda had looted a convenience store and taken a palette or two of prepared bento lunches, plus several bags of bottles of water. Then he'd found an abandoned building, kicking in the barricades and made his way to the roof. And now? Now, he was leaning against the railing of said building's rooftop, looking down at marching soldiers, various bombs going off, reports of gunfire elsewhere in the town. He was looking at war. Next to him stood his scythe in its collapsed form - the ancient Kurosaki weapon that was eons ahead of its time, made somewhere in the 1400s and still in amazing condition - and also able to collapse, as it was now. His pile of stolen food was nearby, and as he looks down on the goings-on at the Gedo school across the street, he simply toys with his mask, expression contemplative.
"And here I thought things would be boring."
War attracts all kinds of interesting folk.
There are those who live for such violent affairs - lingering in the shadows of the world, waiting for such wicked opportunity.
And there are those who simply try to survive it. To use its chaos to lose themselves, to watch and wait.. Perhaps indulge in whatever opportunity that should cross their paths.
The Devil of Koga enjoys a little of both. Enacting her righteous vengeance upon those who have thwarted her over the last year ... As well as stretching forth her hand, no longer bound by a society scattered into chaos, to enjoy her most craven desires.
Just as importantly to the fell creature, this is an opportunity to seek others. Other beings who live in the shadows - kindred spirits living in the peripheral of society. One never knows what one may find, looking about in a warzone.
As this dark newcomer looks out over the military exercises within the confines of what was once Gedo High School - A dark figure lingers a short distance behind him. The symmetry of this figure partly cloaked beneath the dim lighting of the cloud-hidden moon above. A feminine outline, a graceful kimono, the fabric untouched by the rooftop breeze. Arms folded gracefully together within long, silken sleeves. Veiled eyes simply watch this beautiful, youthful figure curiously in perfect silence. The dark woman's expression mirroring the boy's own curiosity over the goings on of NESTs and Shadaloo beyond.
A glint of gold beneath that veil, perceiving the mask held within his hands.
"Soooo..." A low, sultry tone fills the air, "...One of the Faceless arrives at last.."
The sibilant whisper manages to carry the distance, teasing his ear with a proximity belying the distance between them, "I should have known.. It was only a matter of time."
The harrowing ghoul sounds.. pleased. Of all things.
The first syllable leaves Marise's lips, and Maeda is already in motion. Apparently, despite the fact the young man was somewhat lost in thought, facing away, and distracted by what was below him, it doesn't dull his reaction speed any. Or maybe, he'd known Marise was there all along? It's impossible to tell. The young man grabs the haft of his nearby scythe, and swings it around, his body following the motion so he turns to face the voice behind him, the scythe blade extending, snapping into place despite there being no apparent button or switch to touch to trigger this. And, despite the sheer /size/ of the scythe, the young man hold it out, blade parallel with the ground, with only one hand, and steadily.
Was he surprised? He doesn't show it. In fact he doesn't show much of anything but a wary caution in his features. Green eyes search the darkness, and light upon the figure of the woman nearby, centering on it as the source of the voice. "Tch," Maeda says. "And what are you? Didn't your mother teach you that sneaking up on people was rude?" Casually, he tosses his mask over with his other positions. Not because he's abandoning it, but rather, obviously, to free up his second hand should this turn violently shortly.
"So, you know what I am. What the hell do you want?"
Whereas Maeda is a whirlwind of motion, the Devil remains utterly motionless. Completing her sentences in an unhurried tone, even as that impressive blade is now leveled in her specific direction warningly.
The only immediate reaction? Hints of gold behind the veil of her long, black bangs shift downward. Examining the craftsmanship of that edge, especially as it unfolded in such a smooth manner.
"My.. What a delightful weapon.." The ghoulish maiden muses to herself with a note of approval. However, as she is directly addressed her attentions return to the young man in question. Somehow, in the nearness of her presence, the air feels.. closer. Sound travels oddly and short. There's a crispness in the atmosphere, a coldness that leeches the skin yet the temperature does not change.
As that mask is tossed away, only then does this haunting creature move. Graceful and slow. The edges of her kimono shifting faintly with every step. "Aaah.. It is not what I desire.."
Pausing then at the curve of that blade - not two feet away from the slope of her milk-pale neck.
"..But you. Who are you here for.. I wonder? Perhaps.. One in the encampment?" Nodding then beyond him, to the stirring forces within the former school, "Someone nearby? .. Perhaps even I?" That notion widening her violet lips in a plush smile. "Tell me.. What is your heart's desire.. Oh beautiful child.."
Honeyed words. Sultry voice. A shimmying, pleasantly clad body. Everything about Marise is meant to be disarming, even alluring, and Maeda can tell that. It's pretty obvious, after all, that this woman is used to using that descriptor - woman - to her advantage. She steps closer, offering her neck, and of course he doesn't move. He doesn't really have a reason to... yet. If he's being put off his guard by the femininity of this woman, then the fact he doesn't slice at her may give an indicator that it's working. Instead, he simply listens, while still maintaining his tense, wary posture.
He hears her out, frowning faintly while she gives those honeyed words, imploring his desires. And, considering he was a twenty year old male in prime condition, why wouldn't he be swayed? ...Well, he's not, really. Shifting his scythe away, he sets the blade over his shoulder, the haft resting on him so the blade doesn't bite in.
"First, what I'm here for is my own damn business. Second, /wow/ lady, do you often act like a whore to lure unsuspecting boys in? How's the whole black widow spider angle working for you?" Maeda shakes his head slowly, letting out a huffing breath. "Look, you clearly know who the Mugan are, and you found me here, probably with the intent to harm me first, then saw my mask and thought better of it. That means you're either a fangirl of the Mugan, in which case get the hell out of here, or you're here for business."
Looking Marise square in the eye, Maeda gives the Devil a serious, business-like look. "If you're here for business, drop the come-hither crap and cut to the chase."
Well now! Someone sure is a spitfire.
At the young man's unimpressed rancor, the Devil's head tilts back a fraction. It is her turn to listen, remaining calm and still even as that scythe is pulled back upon his shoulders in a deceptively restful position.
What is it about young men these days? So pretty yet devoid of silvered tongues? Ahwell.
This one's starting to remind her of that Kiryuu..
The Devil hates Kiryuu.
"Well now.." She muses slowly in response to his challenging vindictives. Beautiful this creature certainly is, now that close inspection reveals more to him. Her milk-white skin? Absolutely flawless. Her form suggests a tall, voluptuous beauty exotic and rare for Japanese such as she. The loosely fitting Kimono open about the shoulders and teasing much of what lies below, dangerously so. While she may possess the deadly looks of a sultry cabaret singer ... Unquestionably there's something off about her. A chilling void in her presence. Though her eyes are hidden behind a low veil of her long, silken bangs.. There's a wrongness emanating from the gaze within them.
"We seem to be in a bad mood.. aren't we?" Though, his words do answer her questions. Clearly, he isn't here for anyone or he would have been more evasive. As well, the fact that he's asking if she's here for business means he must not have any. Likely.
So he is in the market.. then?
"Is that why you're watching, then?" The Devil then sidesteps quietly, sashaying her way towards the edge of the building and turning her gaze to where the youth was previously looking. Though her vision is no longer upon him, to be sure, there is a wariness in her slow grace. Calm, to be sure.
"Looking for business? ..Hoping to find it there? Perhaps? After all.. Why else would you be here?" At that, her head tilts. Side-glancing to him curiously once more, "I certainly am aware of the Mugan.. I may be in the market for services.. From one such as they.."
Maeda gives a snort in response to the question as to whether he's in a bad mood. "Always," he responds. "But I was almost certain you were here to try and hire me. And when I talk business, I don't appreciate any bullshit in my dealings. No offense, I just had to deal with it on a daily basis back home. The old men who were too concerned with propriety and tradition." The young ninja waves his free hand dismissively, as if trying to get rid of a cloud of unpleasant smoke. Once Marise begins to walk towards the railing, Maeda shifts, turning and stepping back, as if allowing her the pick of her view. He notably moves back a few steps, keeping a respectful distance between the two - but also notably he's out of easy striking distance of his own weapon, as close to being 'nonthreatening' as he can get right at the moment.
"Looking for it? No. I have no idea what's going on in this city. I just arrived today. Looks like someone pissed someone else off real bad," he says, turning his gaze to glance down at the NESTS-occupied Gedo school building for a moment. "So wouldn't it look awfully dumb of me if I were to waltz into that building and say 'Hey, I'm for hire.' without even doing my research as to who I'm offering my skills to?" The Noh demon's eyes turn back to Marise, sizing her up for a moment. His demeanor, while... rude, is most certainly also serious. He's a professional, if nothing else, and seems to take his trade seriously.
"So? What side are you on?"
Interesting. A rebel?
Not often that guilds of assassins accept much in the way of sass from impatient heirs. Most often those are silenced and discarded in extremely short order. That this one would be permitted to simply.. Walk away from his establishment when it pleased him is certainly interesting. There simply must be more to it.
Perhaps he was simply too weak and ignorant to bother killing?
That gigantic scythe he wields with the greatest of ease suggests otherwise.
"It would be." Marise answers calmly to the youth's positing query. Eyes lingering at the felled school grounds a moment longer before turning fully to the no-nonsense youth once again. "You have certainly picked a delightful time to visit then.." The Devil states with a returning grin, "Allow me to inform you then.. You see.." Her hands slowly sliding from her folded sleeves. The tips of her nails unusually long, painted a rich shade of purple, mirroring her lips. The dainty hand gesturing then to an adjacent street, towards the high-rises perpendicular to the worn-torn Gedo, "Once upon a time.. A King lived in his Castle. Owning all he had surveyed.. Lording over his little world without restraint, with infinite riches." The dark maiden then strolls along the edge of the rooftop, her dark form standing before the monolithic landmark of Howard Enterprises Tower in the center of Southtown, dominating over all around it. Glinting, even now, like a glassy jewel even as fires glitter throughout the darkened streets surrounding.
"But there are those who grew envious of this wealthy king. They coveted his kingdom above all things.. Their jealousy grew great enough to overcome their hatred of one another ... just long enough.. to forge an alliance."
Her stroll continuing along the periphery, eyes moving now towards the Southtown Village towards the heart of the residential areas of the city proper. Hidden gaze searching amongst the streets there, "And here they are.. This alliance has laid siege to the kingdom. Taken outposts and outlying villages as their own. Feeding their soldiers.. encroaching deeper within. And so.."
The Devil completes a full circuit of the rooftop, then facing Maeda as she strolls towards him once more, her hands rejoining one another within the folds of her long black sleeves as she whispers, "..Here we are. As it so happens.. I have no great love for this King. I would not mind seeing his puppet empire fall.. But in truth." Her grin edges a touch more dangerous, "There are those in this city in desperate need of suffering. The fall of this King is a great opportunity to strike at them.. Casting my lot with the King's usurpers has enabled this..."
The excessively beautiful woman steps just barely inside of that scythe's reach, as close as he would willingly allow in her estimation.
"If it is money you desire.. You can recieve great amounts of it should you join me.. The Mugan would be known to my employers as well.. Undoubtedly. They would see your services as an asset.."
A nailed hand is held out to the youth, welcomingly.
"If you would join me?"
A rebel can't be a rebel if he wasn't part of something in the first place. In Maeda's case, his elders acknowledge, in some ephemeral, vague way, that he was skilled. And thus he was allowed to live, because while he was 'trash' he was potentially useful trash. That's all his elders saw him as: ultimately expendible. Therefore, he could be as 'rebelious' as he wanted so long as he followed orders. Eventually his uppance would come.
As the story begins, Maeda's head tilts downwards some, green eyes focusing on Marise to listen to this 'fairy tale' turned real. It's information. And while not complete by any means - who were these players, what were their goals, what did they do, who lead them, and much more needed still to be answered - it's certainly appreciated. It clarifies things a good deal to this outsider who just happened to step into the middle of warfare.
"Mmn," is Maeda's spectulative response to the story. Briefly, his gaze turns out across the city as gunfire sounds somewhere in the distance, a muffled report of automatic weapons fire. A ball of fire goes up a few moments later, an explosion being set off in some other part of the city. It truly was a mad house. And here was someone talking about taking the opportunity brought by the chaos to inflict 'suffering' on people. This is where the Mugan training and Maeda's personality conflicted. All Mugan are trained to be soulless. Faceless. They /have/ no emotions, no morals, nothing to conflict with the job. The only time they were allowed expression was when they performed.
Maeda, however, was different. He couldn't keep himself from feeling. Couldn't feel that Marise was... off, somehow. That she was not just some woman. She was... for lack of a better word, evil. That bothered him. Suffering was never something he particularly cared for. He got in, he killed his target, he got out. No fuss. If someone used his skills for some purpose, whatever. It didn't matter to him. Or to the Mugan. But still... it bothered him.
A brief closing of his eyes. And then Maeda opens them, turns his head back to Marise to find her hand extended, within range of his scythe. He looks at the hand, and knowing full well what exactly could come of this... he clasps that hand. "So long as you understand the Mugan are killers, nothing more, then I don't see why we can't work together."
For one wreathed in this horrific landscape of a once-proud city fallen into terror and war.. This dark woman is entirely at ease. Pleased even. Happy.
This is the best thing that has happened to the western civilized world in almost a decade, as far as the Devil is concerned. It couldn't have happened to a better collection of feeble worms, in her opinion.
The boy may consider that little fable a down payment for future services. A freebie, it was not. While the quick-witted youth will inevitably uncover the principal cast members and the greater details of this unfolding drama, those will not be coming from Marise without a considerable favors tendered.
Oh. Killing people is not enough. Not enough by far, as far as the Devil is concerned. In many ways, death is simply expedient. A quick means to a hasty end. The fate of faithful servants who fail at their duties or problematic individuals worthy of immediate elimination.
The goal, however... Is pain. For all hope and joy to be slowly squeezed from mangled corpses, until only suffering rules sovereign. But.. One thing at a time.
There are plenty of foes that require simple elimination.
As the youth, after a long, ominous pause, takes her hand.. The Devil's fingers gently clasp in return.
A corpse has warmer hands than Marise.
"So be it." The Devil responds with delight, "There is much death for you to deliver.. My dear child. But first.."
He hand then slips away calmly. Taking a step back as her fingertips lift higher to stroke her pale cheek in thought, "... Before I make recommendations to my employers.. I would like a simple test of you."
The Devil's head tilts then towards the city proper, glancing towards the Business District and the tall buildings therein, "... Upon the head of a young girl named Ayame.. There sits a black bow tied into her hair. Deliver that to me.."
Veiled eyes turning to Maeda once more in full, "Do this simple thing.. And I will award you three hundred thousand yen.. And contracts for much... Much more."
"Oh!" The monster's finger lifts, reminded of something, "Be sure to tell her that Marise.. Sends her regards."
Consider the Devil introduced.
The hand is cold... but to be honest, Maeda had expected such. It chills him a little, even so, to have his suspicion confirmed. But he doesn't show it. Instead, he keeps calm, dropping his hand away once the 'handshake' is completed. Then, the job offer is made, and it surprises him. Not death dealing, as his first mission... but rather a retrieval. Of a ribbon. How... interesting. And odd. The name is given, and the very basic description of a young girl as well. Plus the payment. Normally a sum of 300,000en would be paltry to an assassin, even one of his relatively low skill. It wasn't near enough to warrant risking one's life.
But here, it was just asking for a ribbon. For all Marise may know, Maeda could sneak into the girl's room at night, take the ribbon and leave a note specifying the message. Assuming Marise wouldn't be watching him the entire time. Still... how bad could this be? "...Very well," Maeda says, and nods his head. "I'm not some hired goon... but I understand the necessity of easing into long term contracts," he mentions. Shifting his scythe again, he settles the blade against the ground, leaning comfortably on the haft. "Three days. I'll be here, with your ribbon."
And that's that. He doesn't ask for any more information. Nothing on this girl's combat ability, where to find her, nothing. Simply that in three days' time, the objective would be complete. Arrogance? Or maybe he really is that good?
Marise would not offer the assassin any more information, should he request it at any rate. Undoubtedly, he knows why.
This is a test of his resourcefulness, more than anything else. The trade of dealing death requires gathering information just as much as swinging enormous blades with precision. This test, while outwardly simple, is many fold.
Ayame is a powerful opponent, though the young man may not know it yet. However, if he successfully engages her.. That alone is proof enough that he has potential. Smoking her out in this war-zone would be accomplishment enough.
But successfully retrieving the item from her bedroom, finding out where she sleeps? Easily worth the paltry sum. Successfully engaging her in combat and retrieving it from her head?
There may be bonuses involved with that.
"Of course not.. My beautiful dancer.." The Devil purrs in response. Quietly sauntering backwards to the edge of the rooftop. Not so much as glancing behind her towards the precarious edge, "Welcome to Southtown, dear." Giggling underbreath..
..Even as she simply falls backwards. Her kimono and long black locks rustling with the quickening movement, "..Make yourself comfortable.. there is much to enjoy these days.."
With those last words, the Devil simply topples off the roof in a rush of motion. Disappearing over the edge without so much as a whisper.
No sound of impact or ripple of cloth. Only silence.. As the sounds of violence and war somehow grow a bit louder. The air a fraction less chilling, though the night remains cold.
"Still with that black widow motif," Maeda mutters under his breath once Marise goes. Is he surprised by the manner of her departure? He doesn't show it. But then, when you grow up amongst a group of ninjas whose schtick is to perform and kill, tricks such as that slowly become commonplace. So he doesn't even bother to look over the edge as Marise falls, instead lifting his scythe up, and again without seemingly hitting any kind of switch, making the blade snap closed against the haft, collapsing it down to a more manageable size. The scythe is then leaned back where it was, and Maeda returns to looking over the edge of the building, towards the troops below.
One day. One day and he's already been offered a job opportunity. One day, and he's already become immersed in a war. And here he thought things would be boring.
Log created on 00:08:48 03/22/2009 by Marise, and last modified on 20:03:19 03/23/2009.