Description: Iron Maiden (1983). On the search for Vega, Elle finds an outpost run by one of Shadaloo's finest. Marz is a Doll with a lot of uncertainty about her place in Shadaloo. The flagging confidence Marz has in her skills and her confusion over the effectiveness of her orders is an opening that many a hero would use to gain a foothold into the paramilitary organization and tear at the chink in Vega's armor. So the question is: what does Elle do with it?
There is a chill in the air, the day is dank, and overcast. But even in times of chaos such as these, there are small islands of relative calm. Places where the calm gathers before the storm, literally and figuratively.
This particular warehouse is one such place. The street is quiet, almost eerily so, if were not for the sound of crates being dragged around, and mumbled orders as the heavy loads are lifted into place, guided into trucks, or off of trucks, or opened and split up and redistributed... the air is, nevertheless, a tense one. This is one of the temporary Shadaloo facilities, and it is one which, right now, is being watched over by one of the Dolls.
Marz was never at her best in field operations. She always felt as though she was risking a lot for a little, and that had been made painfully clear in her recent dealings with S.I.N, and Frei. Weeks had passed, and the severe beating she had taken had kept her in a hospital bed for much of it. Now, however, the head wound had healed, and she was back in action. Where she had, previously, been forced by necessity to oversee operations as best she could from a position removed from the brunt of the war zone, now, she is in the thick of it.
It's a strange thing, for so many to be so afraid of the girl as they are. Hardened and well-trained soldiers knew, however, that to displease Marz was to displease Vega. A fate that meant, more often than not, a brutal and painful demise. If Marz is at all aware of the fear she inspires simply with her presence after such a long absence, she makes absolutely no sign of it. Busily directing the efforts from atop a large packing crate, with her laptop open and giving her instant updates as to where all of these things needed to be.
Finding a Shadaloo base of operations is sometimes a difficult proposition. They're usually well hidden, set in strategic locations that allow fluidity of movement moreso than heavily entrenched command centers. Vega could only extend his influence so far, and to allow his troops to grind their heels in invited disaster.
After all, many of them still struggled with Vega's control, meaning that insurrection or rebellion could happen at any time unless someone kept them moving. Elle is intimately aware of these protocals. After all, she's used them before and even wrote some variations on them. Still, that doesn't mean things haven't changed. Vega operates in fits and starts, constantly reinventing the wheel, which is one of the things Elle's always found odd about the man.
Unlike Marz, Elle excels in field operations. It's one of her most marketable points. Her willingness to go out and get her hands dirty is nearly unparalleled. She doesn't distance herself from the stark realities of her profession, and that's probably what makes her good at what she does: she like to operate by example.
Having raided a cache of old Shadaloo equipment the night before, Elle's perfectly at home in the milling mass of troops. The hardened, well trained soldiers would have a tough time recognizing her, although her disguise would never hold up to strict scruitiny for the simple fact that Elle seems to be missing the key element of most Shadaloo soldiers: fear.
The same thing that drives people to do anything in Vega's army isn't present in Elle. Her boots move across the pavement quickly to avoid any questions. Her strides are purposeful, and the tall woman is clearlylooking for something. At the head of any of these hives there's always a queen bee. For some reason, Vega is obsessed with putting young girls in charge. Something about their susceptibility to being molded to his will. Whatever the case, Marz is fairly easy to spot through the masses.
The fear and dominance that Marz holds sway over the soliders coalesces and becomes palpable the second the mercenary makes a beeline towards Marz. Nobody makes a beeline towards Marz here. It's best to avert your eyes, simply follow orders. Elle's attitude causes her to immediately stand out as she approaches the younger girl, the cold, dead look on her face not so much as twitching as the Doll is locked in her sights.
Marz is, at first, quite engrossed in her orders. However, there is the gradual, creeping sensation that something is wrong. Some little point out of place, niggling at the back of her mind. As Elle makes her way through the mass of soldiers, Marz's expression flickers, for just an instant. Her brow furrowing in mild annoyance, before she looks up, her eyes settle on the out-of-place figure, and for a split second, the look is a distinctly calculating one.
One of the many reasons Vega kept Marz around, despite her lack of great fighting talent, is the sheer brilliance of her mind. The girl has a knack for numbers, and, more importantly in this case, a memory that is of truly genius levels.
The girl realizes almost instantly, therefore, that Elle is out of place. Shadaloo did, of course, have files on the mercenary, and though it takes her a few moments to go from 'who is that soldier' to 'oh, she's that person', the reaction is difficult to read on her face. Just... blank. In the way that only Dolls can really manage to be blank.
The laptop is closed, and in a smooth motion is tucked away into her satchel, and swung up on her shoulder. It wouldn't do, after all, for Elle to get hold of that information, if this was an aggressive visit. Marz was quite certain she'd at least be able to destroy that even if all else failed.
But, if there's one thing that Marz hates, it is uncertainty.
"You are not meant to be here." The girl speaks, confirming the suspicions of the soldiers, who subtly edge /backwards/ from Elle. Perhaps half-expecting the mercenary to burst into flames, or some other such terrible fate. Or else to begin to tear into /them/. Neither option is one that the poor thugs are all that interested in seeing.
"What business do you have here, or am I going to need to escort you from our territory by force?"
The girls voice doesn't waver, though there is a certain tenseness creeping into her muscles. She really doesn't want to fight, but if it was her duty... she wouldn't hesitate. If it weren't for the subtle tension creeping unbidden into her limbs, she really would be doing a very good job of staring Elle down. A pity that she was being betrayed, really.
If there's one thing about Elle, it's that she gives people all the chances in the world to listen to what she has to say. But there's an upward limit to that. Once Elle determines that words aren't going to get her what she wants, then she starts breaking things until someone complies.
So far, to her mind, Marz has reacted in a surprisingly intelligent way. It's her week to be surprised, it seems. People all defying her expectations in the best ways possible. The Shadaloo commander has more in common with Elle than she knows, and the mercenary can definitely understand the dislike for uncertainty. So she keeps things relatively to the point.
"I need to talk to Vega," she says, which is probably about as ludicrous as someone marching up and requesting a red hot poker be shoved through their eye socket. "I'm looking for information and work. If you check, I used to have at least that much clearance." And she did. Elle's one of the very few that have stood in front of Vega, told him exactly what's on her mind, and not died for it and retained her free will.
It's hardly anything to brag about. Many people do. It's just that after that, Vega is punching them with Psycho Power, which is thoroughly uncomfortable even if you do die. Elle's managed to avoid the vicious punchings altogether.
She clarifies further, making certain of where she is and her position in the base just in case something unfortunate occurs. "I'm not here to cause you or your boys any problems." This time, are the unspoke words. But that's the life of a mercenary; your alleigances fall wherever the money flows.
Marz blinks. Honestly taken aback, if Elle had been surprised by Marz's reaction, Marz's shock at Elle's request is... palpable.
For a moment, she hesitates. Her brow furrows a little more, now that Elle was closer, she could put a name to the face. Marz took great pride in her recollection of Shadaloo's files, and, after she's recalled more of Elle's notes, she relaxes just a touch. The girl hops down from the crate, to stand and face Elle more openly. There is a moment of stunned silence from the workers...
Marz looks back at them, hard.
And work resumes.
"Lord Vega is extremely busy." The doll states, calmly. "But." She clarifies, "I can deliver a message to him, if you wish. Whether or not he chooses to get in contact with you... it is not for me to say. But." And, there is just a /hint/ of disdain in her voice. "We have taken on certain other outside contractors." A moments hesitation. Elle, after all, was not treating her like an imbecile, or making disparaging comments about her mother. Then the disdain is gone.
"You are infinitely preferable, in my opinion."
'Outside contractors'. If Elle wasn't a paranoid creature, she might have laughed. To her mind, very few people really have the wherewithall to engage themselves in the sort of things Elle does. But she's kept an open mind so far: there's a lot of things that have changed. Vega barely sees anyone, even her, as more than expendable pawns. Anyone less than capable of what Elle can offer to an overlord is probably on the shortlist of people that will probably end up on a suicide mission.
"Just tell him I'm looking for him. I need to talk about..." she waves her hand at the surroundings, "this." She doesn't go into how this makes absolutely no sense to her at all.
"At any rate," she says, looking around at the formation. "What's this? Camp formation Troy or Khyber?" She refers to outpost setups optimal for command posts or troop and supply movements, respectably. "You're putting a central hub right here in a war zone, and not on the outside in the village? You can get better troop movements from the village to downtown because the streets are clearer. Less cover for enemy encampment."
"Khyber." The doll replies, continuing. "Time is a factor we are short on. This facility is well defended, and in case of enemy attack, the majority of the materials could be evacuated. I estimate potential losses from enemy movement at around twenty per cent, perhaps thirty five per cent if they have managed to correctly predict the primary evacuation routes. The close proximity ensures that we move materials with efficiency three times greater than that of an encampment outside the village."
Marz looks around, momentarily, checking to ensure everyone was working, and not paying attention to the conversation between herself and the mercenary. "We can accept losses of resources, for the most part we would be risking loss of life. At this stage in the operation, non-essential personnel are perfectly viable sacrifices in the name of greater expediency. Nobody stationed here is essential."
This does, of course, include Marz herself. She had the luxury of setting up the facility to her specifications, if she had done so poorly that she couldn't extricate herself in the event that things went horribly wrong, she had no doubt that Vega would not mourn the loss. The specifics, and the proud edge in her generally dull voice might just hint to the extent that Marz had invested herself in the operation. It was still a gamble, of course, but, the enemy forces were, for the most part, on the back foot. She had no illusions about what would happen if they struck here, but, she also had a clear idea of what -her- position in Shadaloo was. If she couldn't make herself useful doing what she does best, well...
Nobody here is essential.
She straightens a little, shifting the laptop on her back. "I will be sure to pass on your message. For greater expediency, a particular line of communication might be useful." A ghost of a smile touches her lips, then. "But I'm sure if necessary, we'll be able to find you."
Elle doesn't tend to make herself hard to find when there's work to be had. Otherwise, she puts herself in places that people just generally don't go, either by habit or design it's hard to say. But Marz's words are absorbed. Words like 'time', and 'enemy attack'.
"Who /is/ the enemy this time around?" Elle asks, her dry, rasping voice only raising slightly to indicate that she's looking for a specific answer, and not just the usual 'everyone that Vega finds unworthy' answer that most of the robots in Shadaloo like to puke up when questioned by anyone with authority.
"I've run into no less than three different flavors of thug out there, and for all I can tell, there's no real reason for anyone to even be here. I mean, I can guess. You're obviously not losing any sleep over the fact that you're turning the town upside down to shake out whatever's left of Geese's homegrowns. But whatever deal you guys are cutting with the other yahoos around here isn't going to hold up," she intones. "Not for long, anyway." Alliances are short-lived among the big factions. That's hardly a secret.
"I guess I'll keep it simple, then. Who, what, and why, in that particular order. That's really what I'm looking for." The fact that she has her own theories is something she keeps to herself in favor of checking it against anything Marz might have to say.
For a moment, Marz considers lying. But, in the end, there was no point. Instead, she shrugs her shoulders lightly. The doll looks genuinely saddened, in most ways, she feared that the -lack- of knowledge on her part was because she had failed Vega so much, she was no longer trusted. On the other hand, logically, she was still alive, so it was likely she was simply kept in the dark because she didn't need to know.
"Who is easy enough. The remnants of the YFCC are the biggest threat, in my opinion. The Syndicate has had its back broken, for the most part, it is a disjointed and disparate enemy, not enough to concern Shadaloo. The YFCC has been engaged heavily, but, its sort are the hardest to keep down. I am, personally, concerned particularly about Frei, who remains a ... rogue factor." Oh how she hated uncertainty.
"What, and why, I am not privileged enough to know. Even if I was, I would not be authorized to inform you. Lord Vega would need to do that himself. At first, I found the orders ... confusing. But. It is not my place to question the will of Lord Vega. I am prepared for attacks primarily from the local schools, the YFCC, and Syndicate thugs, in that order. None of those individual groups are known for their military planning, and that is why I feel confident in my choice of placement for this facility. There are other groups. Smaller ones who have made themselves known to us. But. They are either so small as to be practically unknown, or so powerful that for -me- to try and prepare for their movements would be a wasted effort."
There is a moments hesitation, however, and then she finds herself continuing. "The allegiance is ... another factor I do not like. Suffice to say, to prepare to move against them is ... not my place, and I trust Lord Vega to guide us properly."
That clears up a lot of theories, and helps Elle corroborate the information she's picked up from a variety of sources. There' is always the fact that marz may be lying... but she came to the same conclusion that Marz did: why bother? if anything, Elle makes a better ally than an enemy, anyhow, especially if she's seeking an audience with Vega.
That need to know basis makes things difficult for everyone, but Shadaloo had always played things as close to the vest as possible. Almost as much as NESTS, though the shadowy corporation definitely had nearly every other camp beat when it came to keeping people in the dark.
"Look, don't underestimate the schools," Elle says, sitting on one of the spare crates, unshouldering the Shadaloo-issue rifle as she considers the variables. Very few people talk strategy on the same level, and Shadaloo could use the help. Not because of any loyalty Elle feels on her part, but because the shadow army is a good source of income.
"The kids don't follow military planning, and that's the problem. You can plan all day for a coordinated military attack. These kids will keep coming. They're relentless. These soldiers aren't. They're already stretched to the limit, because what the kids won't do, Vega will," she says, gesturing to the individuals milling around, working.
The woman's voice takes on more of a warning tone as she turns to stare dead at Marz. "The second you start treating everything like a resource is when you're going to lose the battle. You can do it when you outnumber the enemy significantly... but you can't when the opposing side has energy and heart on their side. You start underestimating the power of righteous fury and free will, and you start losing. Why do you think the last invasion attempt failed?"
She taps a finger to her chest. "This here. This is what they have. When an enemy has something that you don't, failing to cover for it is a mistake that you can only hope to live to regret making. That YFCC joint you're talking about? Crawling with people like that. They'll do whatever it takes, sacrifice whatever needs to be sacrificed. Sure, it's cute and laughable the first five times they fail to get their act together... but they'll keep coming. And coming. And coming."
She leans back, considering the situation. "I'm pretty sure almost every big noise has seen schoolkinds in their nightmares. No matter how big your plans or how powerful you are... there's no way you can counter fantacisim with logical calculation. Better people than you or Vega have tried, and guess what? They're dead now. Why do you think Geese lasted so long? He understood the power of personality better than anyone. They only reason anyone's winning right now is because you can win a war of attrition with him with NESTS on your side. The second you wear down on him and each other, those kids are going to eat you alive."
"This is -NOT- Thailand."
The words are spoken with a harshness that surprises the doll who spoke them. In truth, it was because Elle had managed to hit a raw nerve. Marz had drawn the comparisons. They'd blundered in Thailand, and it had hurt. She remembered the failure, and, although she'd barely even begun her training at the time, and was focused primarily on moving people and resources around, the defeat had hurt Marz just as badly as it had hurt the other Dolls. Thinking that Vega might actually have perished ... it was as though her heart had been torn from her chest. It would not happen again.
She forces herself to relax. Moving to settle down again, her expression is solemn, it was difficult not to talk to Elle, this is the problem. The woman was actually trying to connect with her as an equal, and Marz had been treated either excruciatingly poorly by those who considered themselves her superiors, or with obvious fear by those beneath her. It had been a long time since she had anyone else to talk to on this level. Although she realizes that anything she does tell Elle may very well wind up being sold to the highest bidder... she is also just as certain that anything she shared would be common knowledge soon enough.
"There is another development." She states, calmly. "I am... very interested in it, but, I believe it has failed on at least one occasion. I believe that we are trying to plug the hole you are talking about. That ... heart." She hesitates, shrugging off her bag and setting it down with a sigh. "You are, of course, correct. Unfortunately, attempts to harness that power have been based on ... faulty calculations. I do not know -why- we are here. There is nothing to be gained from taking territory in Southtown so openly. We can't hope to hold it indefinitely. But. Lord Vega must have learned from Thailand. He must know that sooner or later, we will be pushed out of here."
She hesitates again, looking honestly conflicted. "Lord Vega knows what is best. But this new development... I believe it was an attempt to perfect the Doll process, but. I truly hope that there was more to our actions here than field testing that. It is ... powerful, but unstable. It is not how things should be done."
More than one person has been affected by Elle's personality. She treats everyone equally. Everyone. Status means nothing to Elle. Marz could be a peasant or the queen of the moon, and she'd be addressing the girl every bit the same was as she is now. Everyone's equal. It's situations that place people in poor positions. Sometimes you just end up paying for that. Nothing personal, really.
Marz's reaction to Thailand is only somewhat unexpected. Most Doll's don't have very much going for them anymore. Elle's exposure to them overall has been limited, but what she's seen is very much an observation in clockwork. Most of them have all the personality of a Chia Pet. Marz's burst of enthusiasm echoing forth rings a bell in Elle's brain.
She listens carefully from then on. She always does, but now Marz has the mercenary's /complete/ attention, and eyes focus on the girl's mannerisms, body language and tone of speech. Even with her own dead, toneless voice, there's sometimes enough there to pick out motive, emotion... and Marz is showing far more than she should.
And then she rings more bells. 'Interested' in something. Confusion. Contradicting herself. Something didn't take in this Doll. That's unusual.
And so it behooves her to push Marz to see exactly how far the girl will go before the ingrained programming sets in. "See, you're going to have a problem. If Vega knows what's best, why is he doing things that shouldn't be done? If he's infallible, your statement's basically questioning orders. Hesitation of any kind of an order's going to lead to failure somewhere down the road..."
The mercenary pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Unless you're right, and he's wrong."
"Perfecting the 'Doll' process isn't the answer," Elle says, pointblank, pointing a finger at the very thing she says isn't a solution. "In fact, recognizing that most Dolls are pretty much part of the problem is the important part. You see, by deying that gut instinct you've got there, you may be doing yourself a disservice. It takes a lot of balls to question Vega's orders while you're in Vega's army, much less from a Doll. So what's that mean, exactly?"
"Either you're wrong, or he is. If he's right and you're wrong, then you're a failed Doll, meaning the process doesn't work. If you're right and he's wrong, that means the Doll process fails altogether, and doesn't work. Either way, Vega /doesn't/ always know what's best."
She shrugs.
"But the question is, can you accept that and make that knowledge work to Vega's advantage, or are you going see that knowledge as a heresy and let doubt ruin your work?"
The conflict in Marz grows. It's a deeply unpleasant feeling, because, logically speaking, Elle was perfectly correct. Marz genuinely wants to do her best to serve Vega and Shadaloo, but, she'd been so... confused. Mostly, it had begun since the crushing defeat she'd suffered trying to keep Frei under control. That, she had managed to convince herself, was the reason they were here. It had turned out to be a complete and abject disaster. Between that, and the way she'd been treated by Marise and Vyle, well... maybe there is more of a spark of personality left in Marz than in most of the dolls. Perhaps that was necessary for her to be able to plan and plot as well as she does.
"I have to... be prepared." She says, weakly. The girls voice is a touch strained, now, and she turns away. "It is my duty to prepare for every eventuality, and... part of that, is preparing for failure. Maybe I am a failure. Lord Vega has made mistakes... Thailand did not go according to plan..." She takes a deep breath, shaking her head slowly. "But I have also made mistakes. I underestimated my opponents, I have overestimated the capabilities of my allies, and myself... I do not presume to know better than Lord Vega, and I will carry out his orders, to the best of my abilities."
She chews her bottom lip, hands clasping in her lap. "But it would be a failure in my duties if I did not speculate and advise. His word is law, of course, but, Lord Vega is not... omniscient. He relies on good data. My data."
The conclusion seems to do much to ease her tensions, and she looks back at the older woman, hoping to find some agreement there.
"Everyone fails," Elle says matter-of-factly. "It's just that you're in a seat where failure has a worst effect than most. It's not your fault. It's where you are. Deal with it." It's not encouraging, but nor is it a put down. It's a statement of fact, and more like a wake up call than any admonishment.
"Recognize that," the mercenary says, her words chosen carefully. "You're what? Intelligence? The very nature of what you do is uncertainty. It's judging the human element. You need to have it to understand it. You don't have to be a slave to it, though, and I think you understand that implicitly, either because you do it naturally or because Vega played with your brain cells. I don't know. Frankly, I don't care."
She leans forward on her crate, resting her elbows on her knees as she reaches into her front pocket, pulling out some gum. She offers a peice through motion to Marz before taking one herself regardless of Marz's reaction. "Realize that almost everyone is human. Everyone makes mistakes. You'd be a doing a disservice to everyone if you insist on beleiving, despite all evidence to the contrary, that Vega's word is natural law. Allies aren't always right. Enemies aren't always wrong. But they're /allies/ and /enemies/. Regardless of whether or not they're correct, they're there to help or hinder. That's how they need to be judged by you. Recognize that you make mistakes, that Vega can be wrong. Recognize that your opponents could be right. Realize they could be choosing the right path. It's unorthodox thinking that makes you a valuable intel officer... not mechanical adherance to doctrine."
She chews thoughtfully, the cherry flavored distraction giving her time to pause in her evaluation. "Intelligence isn't always about data. Data is just a tool, like a hammer or a shovel. You don't build a house with a hammer and a shovel alone. You need to apply it. And flexibility in thought and recognizing that there are always going to be those variables is how you do it. Vega doesn't rely on your data. He relies on the analysis of your data. He isn't infallible. He's relying on /you/ to help amend that."
Marz listens, carefully. The girl absorbs every word that Elle says, and she really does take it all in. It's ... strange. Perhaps it is her age, or her inexperience, which means that Marz takes it in particularly acutely. Or perhaps it is the fact that Elle made a lot of sense. Either way, the Doll is soon nodding. Though she declines the gum, it wouldn't do for her to be seen to be getting -too- friendly with someone who she had, after all, proclaimed should not have been here at all just a few minutes ago.
"I think I understand. Thank you." She says, a flicker of a smile crossing her features. "You are a very strange person. Most people would not bother helping me think this through. It is... sometimes hard, I admit, to come to the right conclusion." Her expression becomes more detached, shifting into that neutral state which is natural for all Dolls. "But. My job is not to think in comfortable ways. It is to do my best to assist Lord Vega."
Then she turns, her eyes coming to rest on Elle's. "Which leads me to a simple conclusion. You are a strange person, but, you know how to think. Unlike some of the ... individuals that have been entered our ranks, you are professional, and, I presume, the primary reason you are talking to me is to get me to put in a good word for you with Lord Vega." The girl nods, slowly, adding, after a moments minor hesitation.
"Since the alternative is that you will be employed by someone else, I don't see how I could do otherwise and still be doing my duty."
The mercenary stands, shaking her head. "Nah. Vega knows who I am. I don't have any reason for you to butter him up both sides. He's a man, not a peice of toast," the woman says, her dry, vaguely off-color sense of humor coming to the fore. "I'm telling you all this because of one simple fact: I owe him for a few things, and you're not a raving lunatic. What we do... this business? It's not pretty. Either directly or indirectly, we kill people for a living. It's already one of the most unpleasant jobs in the world."
"No reason to make it more unpleasant, right?" Her dour face's constant slight from neutralizes to a sort of line that indicates that she's at least not thinking of ten million different ways to figth her way out of the compound if she absolutely has to.
"We're all professionals here," she says as she turns to walk away. "Tomorrow, I could be fighting you. But at least I have the comfort of knowing I'm fighting someone that knows what she's doing. Nothing worse than losing to someone that's a complete unknown. Just because I expect and can control wild variables doesn't mean I like to. And besides."
She pauses, looking over her shoulder, "If you do good? I can tell people I taught you something. And if I really do have to take you down? Well, you'll have to use something that I don't have in my playbook to stop me."
She tosses off a wave, "Take care of yourself, iMac. Just get that message to Vega. He'll know how to contact me whenever he has the time."
Marz gives a little nod at that. Taken by surprise yet again. She had to admit, nothing about the meeting had gone the way she would have expected. But, none of it was unpleasant, either. She stands as Elle stands, and, nods a touch more firmly as she makes her way off again. "I will contact him immediately." She assures the woman. She was even willing to let the little nickname slide. It was far more flattering than half the things her so-called allies had chosen to name her.
"Good luck." She calls after the woman, returning the wave.
And then... she settles herself back down again. She had never met anyone quite like that strange woman before, but, it was... nice. Strange, but, she was feeling so much -better- about the way she had been thinking, lately. Without a moments hesitation, the laptop is once again produced, and, in a few smooth motions, she begins to type. The bustle of the warehouse soon falling again under her control, but, not watched quite as closely as before. There was a report to be submitted, after all.
Log created on 15:31:26 05/02/2009 by Elle, and last modified on 23:27:53 05/02/2009.