Description: Poison (1990). The Criminal. The Princess. The Radical. A plan sets in motion when a plan triggers the spark of inspiration which lights the flame in those that look for meaning in something greater. Alone, each component can only do so much. Together? It remains to be seen. However, uncommon people find a single common ground and Elle places the last game piece on the board for play.
The minute she got home, Hotaru Futaba, heiress of the rather large property, immediately set about making changes to the way things were run at the estate-turned-refuge camp. Well, that's not entirely true. At first she sat in bed on the brink of death only to be safed by a timely demonic blood transfusion by one of her mortal enemies. Then she slept a lot. Then she got busy making changes to the way things ran.
The sun is low in the horizon, turning the sky into a myriad of slowly darkening violets as evening prepares to slip hopefully uneventfully into night. The place looks less like the mansion it was and more like a war fort. The fence along the front of the property has been reinforced with all manner of junk behind it. Furniture, cars stolen from neighboring properties left abandoned by those who fled at the first sign of conflict in Southtown, and sandbags line the fence. A cratered section of the sidewalk connected to the driveway has sandbags piled up to replace the gate that occupied the location up until a tank blew it away weeks ago.
The windows of the three floor building are all open but most have opaque curtains drawn over them, making it impossible to see people moving around within. Motion can occasionally be seen at the corners of the third floor windows, however, and if the sun was at the right angle, one would notice the binoculars being used by whoever was tasked with keeping an eye on the street as far as the spyglasses could see in either direction.
A rumble of two trailer-carried generators can be heard, the sounds coming from somewhere out behind the house. Power in the city has been unstable in recent weeks and rather than weather the nights away in darkness, two generators were moved to the property along with a hefty supply of stolen fuel. Long cords of lights drape along the length of the fence, keeping it decently illuminated in the dimming evening light.
The property is occupied by two large buildings. The home itself and a large dojo off to the side. The walls of the dojo have been opened up and a cusory glance in that direction would reveal the single-floor structure to be full of cots, mattresses, and bunk beds. Clothes lines are draped over the grass on one side of the building; evidence of the camp's need attend to sanitation among the refuges. The lawn is dotted with tents arranged in small circles as the refuges have been arranged into logical groups with each group responsible for managing the minutia of their day to day survival. As the numbers got too big, it became necessary for responsibility to be passed down to smaller, more manageable groups, so that those at the top of the hierarchy of survivors could deal with the more global issues concerning the 'camp.'
Things had been quiet at the estate since. It was bunkered down enough to keep hoodlums and wandering mauraders from trying to hassle anyone there and even the soldiers kept their distance. Hotaru had any one capable of fighting leave the property at different times, so that there would always be a minimum contingent of 'fighter calibur' people available. Anyone spying on the camp carefully to time an attack when it was the least defended would be sorely disappointed.
An approach along the side walk would be noticed from quite a ways out though it wouldn't rouse any excitement from behind the fence. Once it became more clear that one was interested in entering the camp things would begin to happen, however. The front door would open and a burly looking refuge selected for his ability to look at least mildly intimidating would approach the walk-in gate near the sidewalk, climb up on the car parked behind it, and inspect the new arrival from over the fence. A hunting rifle in one hand and a radio at his belt, it was his job to be gate sentry this hour.
There was a time not too long ago when Elle would be the one ordering the bombardment of a camp like this from a strategy table, as far removed from this location as possible. The moral struggle would have been non-existant and given all the concern or care that a person would give turning on a light switch in a darkened room. But why? Surely a refugee camp like this is little more than a run down, ramshackle, poorly executed array of flotsam and jetsam. Why bother spending any time considering the place at all?
Because the people here have heart. Elle doesn't have it. It's dead. Gone. But she recognizes what a dire threat heart can be when applied. Even improperly, those with burning spirit tend to come on top just based on sheer persistance.
As a result, Hotaru's camp, laughably puny and pathetic to the eyes of the people that would own Southtown, stands there silently smiling at the arrogance of those that refuse to take it seriously.
She shakes her head as she approaches. She's sans vehicle. The only ones she has are military grade, which would send off the wrong message here. Attempting to sneak in would also cause more concern. With all her resources and troops occupied, missing, or otherwise en-route rather than here, the best thing to do is to approach it from the most visible way in as possible. It's the best way to show she's not an immediate threat. However, anyone that looks at Elle can tell she's bad news from a mile away. If not directly, then because of whatever she drags in with her.
It's been said before, but Elle rarely, if ever, acts on her own accord. Acting alone is rarely profitable. So if Elle is doing something, it's because she's been hired to do something, or something is very, very wrong with the world.
In this case, it's a little of both.
When she gets to the gate, it's after a long walk. No fanfare. No dramatics. She approaches the person there, unapologetically armed to the teeth. The question is asked, and Elle plays her cards as carefully as she can in this situation. "I'm here to see Hotaru. That's all. I'll wait here." And it's for the best. It'd just cause hassles to let her in. Better for her to stand outside.
After all, Elle's not looking for refuge. Not here anyway.
There's perhaps a look of relief that works its way into the sentry's eyes at the indication Elle isn't interested in coming inside. Even behind the behind the freshly barbwired fence, he can tell that the heavily armed woman on the other side is more trouble than he can handle on his own should she be interested in starting something. That she wants to speak to the camp's primary proponent on the other hand provokes a bit of a reaction as well. To say that the people taking shelter here are a bit protective of the teenaged girl struggling to keep them all organized and alive is putting it mildly.
'Well, we'll see about that.' comes the neutral reply as the sentry brings the radio from his belt to his mouth and utters something softly into it. He doesn't glance over his shoulder but movement near one of the corner third floor windows hints at a response within.
The message is relayed, drawing Hotaru from a study located on the second floor of the home to one of the second floor windows. It gives her enough of an angle as she parts the curtains to identify the stranger at the gate. Curious. The arrival of Elle is an omen of some kind. Of that she's certain. Whether for good or ill remains to be seen. She appears at the front door thirty seconds later, leaving it open behind her. Clad in a pair of jeans and a Chinese styled top that looks like it was once pink but has taken on a certain rosey shade of brown, the young property owner makes her way to the car serving as elevation for the sentry on duty. "Thank you," she murmurs, "I'll be fine." The indication that he can leave her alone which the man does hesitantly, heading back to stand at the entrance of the home but not vanishing within.
Hotaru steps up onto the roof of the car acting as part of the improvized barracade and looks down over the top of the fence. "Didn't expect to see you here." she states with a quiet smile. Her tone is calm, her expression betraying a degree of the weariness running the camp has imbued her with, let alone her recovery from the SIN experimentation. "Are you sure you want to talk out here in the open?" She glances along the lengths of the street before eyes come back to rest on Elle herself.
Crouching slightly, she springs up over the fence, clearing the loops of barbed wire, and lands deftly on the sidewalk next to Elle before standing up straight and facing her. She doesn't need more than a second to glance the woman's visible armaments over before her own eyes come to rest on Elle's face. "Looks like you're well equipped to move about the streets these days." She sounds just a little amused but saddened all the same that it's come to this. There's a certain acceptance there though. She knows Elle does what it takes to survive. It's a sentiment she respects.
Elle's arrival anywhere is usually a sign something wrong. Peace doesn't begat her appearance, after all. There's no money changing hands that will ever end up in Elle's in times of peace, not does peace particularly cause her to lose any. The end result is that if the woman is darkening a doorstep, there's something wrong. Truly, seriously wrong.
And then Hotaru appears. Elle sees her approach, but doesn't make much of a motion to greet the girl. No smiles. No waves. But then again, that's to be expected, right? The woman's every bit as focused as she's ever been since their last encounter at Jinchuu. Nevertheless, she should say something in greeting, right?
Hotaru's looking a little sickly. And that's exactly the first thing that comes out of Elle's mouth. "You look awful," she says matter of factly. It's not an insult, nor is it a note of sympathy. Hotaru looks like she's seen better days, and Elle acknowledges that fact. The implications of what she says is clearly that Hotaru should do something to remedy her 'awfulness', but Elle will leave that for Hotaru to deal with. She's the the young girl's nursemaid after all. The teenager is a lot tougher than she looks, and Elle won't and can't waste any time mollycoddling her. Hotaru deserves that much respect.
"I figured I'd get you to come out first and you could invite me in," Elle admits, looking around once. She wasn't followed and she took the long way around. The few people she did run across won't be telling anyone that they saw her for a variety of reasons.
And as for the armaments?
"I'm trying a new look. It's called 'Still Breathing', which is a lot more than I can say for the majority of the people in this town too slow to run away. Someone gave some severely intolerant marching orders to the troops around here. This isn't normal, and I don't like it," she rasps, casting her eyes down to look at the shorter woman as opposed to moving her head. "Can we go inside now, before someone starts trying to kill us?"
"Thanks," Hotaru says in reply to the comment about how she looks, her mouth maintaining that subtle hint of a grin that suggests she's not being sarcastic as one might imagine given the circumstances. She lifts her hand to rub over her eyes a moment as if willing herself to wake up a bit more. The sleeve of her blouse slips down along her right arm as she does so, revealing a series of ugly scabs as if her skin had been splintered from acute dryness that had since been addressed. As she lowers her arm, she tugs at the end of her sleeve to draw it back over the scabs, as if a bit self-conscious.
She's quiet as Elle talks about her new look and nods grimly at the assessment of how life is (or, more accurately, /isn't/) on the streets of Southtown. "Yeah. Let's go in," she states, her hand dipping into her pocket, producing what looks to be a car keychain. She holds down the middle button on it for five seconds and the sound of a car engine cranking up on the other side of the gate is heard. "Funny what rich people's cars will do," she muses. The message of the make-shift 'gate' roaring to life sends the intended message to the sentry on the other side and moments later the vehicle is being pulled back in reverse away from the gate before it's opened and the two are allowed in.
Hotaru wastes no time leading the way along the sidewalk into the estate proper. Once inside, the first thing that would be obvious is that it has been stripped mostly bare of anything but items needed for survival. No decorations, no figurines, the aquarium in the back of the lobby that once housed exotic fish has been cleaned out and is now used as one of multiple emergency water reserves just in case the plumbing goes out. So far it hasn't, fortunately. The duo earns a lot of curious glances from the people entrenched within the encampment. Tired, battered refuges, all of them looking every bit as dirty and exhausted as Hotaru herself, glance over Elle like some kind of oddity. Fighters have been at the camp, but the woman accompanying Hotaru is not like the rest of them. Many would think she would fit in right alongside the invading force.
In the front lobby are books and spreadsheets. Towels and blankets in stacks. Signup charts for guard duty and schedules for keeping track of what fighters are or aren't at the camp. Hotaru walks by them all, leading Elle up a flight of stairs to a barren second floor, turning into one of the rooms. One of the few rooms with much in the way of furnishings left. The shelves, still mostly filled with books, suggest it was a study before. Now its a camp director's office. More books, spreadsheets, and other charts needed for keeping track of supply stocks, which neighborhoods have been canvased and looted clean already, and which ones are still options, along with risk evaluations for the different blocks in the district.
A heavy wooden table occupies the far back side of the room, along with two lounge chairs in front of it. It is to the chairs Hotaru ultimately ends up, sinking into one of them and gesturing that Elle is welcome to do likewise. She looks relieved to sit down, as if left in peace, she might end up sleeping there. A coffee table rests between them. Instead of snacks or a bowl of candy, however, there's books. A couple of them sitting open appear to be some kind of military books dating from World War 2 days lifted from the library. Looks like someone is trying to figure out how to fight a war she can't even begin to understand. Or at least survive it. Hotaru is quiet during the trip on, only briefly nodding and smiling to others passed along the way.
She remains quiet even after taking a seat. She knows from bunking with the woman that Elle isn't going to mince words and needs no encouragment to speak what's on her mind.
The mercenary follows. Her footsteps are heavy and slow, as opposed to the light and quick gait her hostess has. Maybe it's the combat boots. Either way, compared to Hotaru, Elle is an alien from another planet.
The camp, such as it is, seems to be assembled fairly well. Amature or not, the little girl seems to have organized the refugees into something resembling a community. The fact that they're dirty and huddled notwithstanding. The sense of community in a war zone is important. Crushing an enemy's spirit and will to fight is the first thing Elle learned how to do when plying her trade as a strategist. An army can have a full stomach and all the equipment and rest possible, but when that army no longer beleives? Then everything is lost. Hotaru's managed to maintain something of that nature. People here beleive. That's important.
Elle shrugs off the looks. She's used to stares by now. Conventional wisdom suggests that's she a threat anyway. Even if she dressed down, Elle carries with her a certain feeling of dread that's not easily dispersed. Not in the same way that, say Vega fills his enemies with despair. No, the feeling Elle gives off is the same feeling you get when you're at the beach and the tide suddenly goes out. There's that sensation that something is coming, but there's no indication as to when.
Elle doesn't really think as she follows. She watches, records, and listens. She hears the complaining, the tired voiced. The sounds of people that are fighting a war they don't know how or really want to fight. Having been on multiple sides in a conflict, Elle knows that, spirit aside, these people are at their limit. Something has to give, and soon. An end has to be in sight before the strain causes this entire system to collapse on itself.
But really, what stake does Elle have in any of this? It's tragedy, sorrow and suffering on a grand scale. By all intents and purposes, Elle should be standing next to one of the giants by now, quietly gathering up the things left behind. Surely, the beleif that this is bad for everyone can't continue to override her desire to find a side. But Elle has found a side. It's a side the corresponds with helping these people, and it's one she chose for a reason.
Restabilization is only part of it. It's a large part, but there's something more to it than that.
But as always, Elle keeps her own counsel.
Then the war room. Elle knows one when she sees it. Textbooks on tactics and war meet her eyes, and she stops to pick one up, thumbing through it as she shift her eyes to look at Hotaru. She makes no motion to sit, even though she's offered a place. The silence hangs in the air as she flips through the book quietly before putting it down.
This is wrong.
This is not how things are supposed to be.
"This town is dying. I need your help to fix it," she says, standing in front of Hotaru. "You can't sustain this place. Not like this. These people are tired, scared. Any longer, and they'll end up killing themselves."
"I have a place where these people can stay outside of ground zero. I'll move them there if you can assemble a strike force. I don't have time or the patience to really negotiate this. 'No' is an option, but it's really not your best one, because I can't do this with what I have. And if I can't do this, then you're not goign to win this war."
Hotaru looks almost sheepish as Elle picks up the book and thumbs through it. She knows she's less than an amateur at this thing. She's seen movies, read some books, tried to think things through as best she could with her lack of experience on such matters. But she's not even a neophyte in matters of war and conflict on a grand scale. But what she isn't is someone who's willing to lie down and die. Or to do nothing in the face of so much power. 'Fighter' isn't just a description of what she does; it's what she is. And she'll fight as long and hard as she can. And for that her sheepishness is accompanied with a certain unapologetic determination. It's as if she knows she's in way over her head but is going to try and deal with that anyway. But the human body has limits beyond which no amount of heart can take a person. And those limits are fast being approached.
Standing, facing Hotaru, Elle will undoubtedly notice the middle bookshelf behind the girl is askew from the wall, leaving a glimpse into something beyhind it. A 'safe room'. One of those steel-lined boxes found in wealthy estates where people of such 'importance' can retreat to weather out a storm or wait for help to come deal with a sudden attack. But the circumstances Hotaru is in don't lend themselves so easily to crawling into an air-tight chamber and hoping the entirety of this catastrophy simply passes. Such inaction would be surrender and suicide. Too many people are counting on the girl for her to curl into a ball on some cot hidden behind a moveable bookshelf.
Elle declares the town is dying and Hotaru doesn't bat an eye. She's seen it for herself. That Elle says she needs her help, however, provokes a single blink. A soft nod is given as Elle declares the current conditions unsustainable. That very concern had kept the girl awake at night. They were running out of food. They were having to stray further into Southtown to find supplies, incurring greater risk of running into hostile forces in the process. The people in the camp had hope but the day the food runs out, Hotaru knew that faith would be fleeting. Empty stomachs have a way of doing that. These people weren't soldiers. They didn't understand.
"I know." Hotaru replies softly to Elle's grim declaration. It's an acknowledgement rather than intended to cut the woman off. The fragile community she was holding together with the help of her friends would reach a breaking point eventually. Shurui, the orphen girl who effectively served as Hotaru's second in charge when it came to internal camp affairs, had confirmed Hotaru's suspicions about their dwindling supplies. They've been lucky the water has held up at least.
But then comes a promise of a safe place further away and Hotaru sits up a bit more straight, the focus in her eyes returning now that the topic is shifting to action and options rather than the grim hopelessness she is surrounded by outside of the study. She wants her to assemble a strike force. It sounds strange at first - the idea of her pulling people together to fight back - but her immediate response is to nod slightly, her mouth pursed closed, as she considers it.
She rests her hands on her knees, fingers closed into small fists as she tries to consider everything quickly. She's being asked to decide a lot with little time to think about it and she doesn't like that. She also understands that time is a luxury in short supply these days. She stays seated for a long moment before she sighs, leaning forward, rising out of her chair. Her head bowed, eyes glaring at the floor, she turns to the side, both of her hands clasped behind her back as she walks over to the large desk she has been sitting at during the long, sleepless nights.
She glances out the back window idly. They're refreshing the pool water again. Just in case. Another pair of men are monkeying around with the generator that's currently offline. She's been keeping people busy. It helps to keep their mind off the state of affairs. She turns to face Elle, leaning to the side, her hip bumping up against the desk for support, "Who will keep them safe at the new location? Are you going to get them out of the city?" She's quiet for only a split second before continuing. "We need to fight back. In an organized way." Her hands unclasp, one coming to rest against the smooth surface of the desk. "I can tell you have a plan." Another pause before she makes a statement she decides is more important than anything else first. "I need to know why."
Elle taught her a lot during their time spent bunking together aboard the Suiryuu. A lot about not giving people the benefit of the doubt. About wondering why they do the things they do. About looking for clues to explain their actions and predict what their next step is going to be. The exhausted girl standing before her isn't quite so naive as back in those days. A lot has happened - both to her and by her hand. Things she wished she'd never done. Things she'll regret for years to come. She has to be sure.
Fair questions. They deserve fair answers. "There's no way outside the city. The borders are all cordoned off, and the harbor's under control by people you don't want to mess with," Elle replies. "Air travel's not an option. We're all locked down. There's one place that's safe, however. It'll be sitting in the lion's mouth, but it's safe. I'll have to cut another deal, but I have a feeling that she'll go for it once I explain the spin on it."
Elle's been collecting armored transports for a reason. The seemingly bizarre, random acts are all coming together to form a picture. Elle is hardly just reacting to circumstance, but slowly orchestrating her own actions to coincide with that of others. Her eyes lock on Hotaru's. She can feel the resolve, the desire to do something. Elle's ability to empathize is weak, atrophied, but she can still sense the determination in the girl, and how she's denied herself the safety of that room despite how easy it can be.
"I can get these people to Seijyun. They still have water and food. They won't have to stay long if this all goes to plan, and they'll at least have dorm rooms to sleep in. I'll talk to the student council head there. She'll get pissy at first, but once I convince her how much of a hero she'll look like for harboring your refugees, she'll bite."
But, Hotaru's learned from Elle, and because of that, Elle is more transparent than she usually will be in these situations. She owes Hotaru that much. "The down side is that Seijyun may or may not be assicated with some negative elements. My contact there is in the process of establishing her own power base, however. The simple fact remains that they'll be safer there than here. I guarantee their safety myself. If it happens that I'm putting them and greater risk, I'll pull them out myself."
She walks over to the window, moving the drawn shades to peer outside. "I can have my trucks here by tomorrow morning. I have a few drivers." Paid thugs barely better than the people that are attacking that are currently holed in the mall... but they do as Elle commands as easily as the next person. The temptation of money will keep them in line. "Or you can provide your own. Just so long as they all get to the same location. We can't have stragglers or people panicking out on the road. And it's not safe out there." The harrowing drive with Francois was evidence enough.
"I can have them armed." The caches from the Shadaloo hideaway will do nicely. "They can fortify the Seijyun walls, and the girls there will have people to take care of, which will take the edge off. Overall, it's better for everyone if we can move them as fast as possible."
The grim faced woman finally sits, her lanky body reclining in the chair as she doesn't quite relax. Elle's almost physically incapable of doing that at this point. She wears fatigue, damage, and pain far better than most, but even it shows up on the canvas that is her after a while of suffering constant stress and damage from running around. "I've done some patrols, identified the way troop movements are going on around in town, and I'm pretty sure there's a NESTS base in the middle of downtown. It won't finish this mess completely, but it'll get the strongest contigent of troops out of the area, reduce the sphere of influence of that group, and give us some room to breathe."
She takes off her glasses, rubbing her eyes tiredly. It's been a long time now. She hasn't had a chance to do so much as eat a hot meal in days. Her chi, regenerative abilities, and endless junk food binge is starting to catch up to her. Her ruined eye only makes her look that much more drained as she stares at Hotaru with an empty look on her face. "I got ahold of Jiro, and I managed to cut some deals with a new face with some resources. We can take a three prong attack on that base. You and your strike group on one side. Jiro's on the other. I'll take my boys into the heart of the complex while you guys draw off some of the fire."
She takes a deep breath,
taking a moment to actually savor the act of breathing. "There's a few other things I have in the works... but I don't know if they'll come through. The main thing is that nobody here needs to be a hero. I'm not a hero. You know that as well as I do. I don't need to tell you that I plan to make this worth my while..." She pauses for a moment to let that sink in as she reaches to pick up another book, more to just have something to hold in her hands for a moment or two.
"But at the same time, just because I have a motive behind it doesn't mean it's not good for everyone else, too. Our goals coincide this time. Maybe not next time... but definitely this time."
Elle confirms what Hotaru assumed to be true. There's no way out through the blockade. At least not for a group of refuges of this size. Individuals possibly, especially a talented martial artist such as herself that could likely break through any small scale blockade all on her own, but not the whole camp. Not until something changes. Not until someone does something to make it change. Hotaru's hand lifts to rub at her temple idly. How did she come to have to worry about such a collective group? Isn't life as a hard working teenager complicated enough already?!
The name of the safe location is mentioned and Hotaru's expression shifts slightly, taking on a borderline suspicious edge. Just who IS in control of Seijyun that Elle would be striking a deal with? More deals; more arrangements, more people, more risks. It's getting complicated. But it still feels like the best chance of hope in a hopeless time. That the people trusting her to keep the camp together are going to be used as some kind of bargaining chips for 'heroism' troubles her slightly and Elle may notice the slight twitch in her expression.
But it passes, the girl looking thoughtful, focused intently on Elle as the woman continues to be forthcoming about the circumstances they would be going into. "Yurika Kirishima." Hotaru speaks up after a moment, the last name uttered with an edge of contempt rare for the girl. It makes sense, she muses to herself. Kurow's ties to Shadaloo were known to her from her encounters in Thailand. She had once wondered if the same corruption spread to his sister as well. Her one meeting with the elegant young lady went fine, leaving the girl thinking nothing of it since that day. The girl looks away, eyes fixed on the surface of the desk made dusty by lack of housecleaning for over a month now. For several seconds she racks her mind, trying to come up with other angles to this. What if Elle is already working with Yurika and in turn Shadaloo? What if this was a clever trap? What would be the point though? If the invasion force truly had turned their attention to the camp it would be little more than a speedbump for them... there's no need for cloak and dagger tactics... No, none of that makes sense. She dismisses the train of thought for the time being.
"Very well. If you will watch out for them." Elle doesn't trust anyone. If she thinks she can make Yurika play ball, she must have a good idea how the other girl thinks. Hotaru breaths in then sighs softly, focusing back on Elle. "With these people safe behind Seijyun walls, it would free up the other fighters with me to help with whatever it is you're trying to put together." she voices her thoughts out loud. Which mean a possible chance to make a real difference; to turn the tide perhaps. "We'll need your trucks." she continues. She has no idea how the woman has a convoy of vehicles at her beck and call. She doesn't really care to know the details of that aspect. If she's going to trust the mercenary woman part way, she needs to be all in.
Hotaru returns to her chair, slipping into it opposite of the white-haired woman, leaning forward, her hands at her knees. She blinks slightly at mention of getting hold of Jiro. That's surprising. She hadn't seen the slightest sign of him in months. Perhaps his interpol training will help in something like this. Maybe not. "Okay." There's agreement in her tone. "I want to send Shurui Chiang with the refuges... She's a fighter, but I can't risk anything happening to her." The girl was entrusted to her care not as a pawn or soldier to be recruited. She pauses for a moment before adding, "And Kentou Ondori. This is no place for a young boy..." With those two safe behind Seijyun, she can focus harder on whatever it is she needs to do. Frei... Frei may not be in the best shape to fight from what she's been told, but he's still a far cry better than most. Alma... wouldn't miss a chance to make a difference.
The girl nods her head slowly, sitting up more straight as Elle speaks of their goals coinciding. "Thank you for being upfront about it." The woman's brutal honesty is what she remembered of her from before. In times like this, anything less would be cause to break off any further discussions. She can't take such a giant risk with someone going out of their way to be inscrutable or mysterious. "I'm in full support of what you want to do. It's time we stopped burying our heads in the sand and fought back."
The mercenary's face is her iron mask. It's a poker face that's taken years and years of constant abuse, both by her actions and the actions of others, to develop. Elle's expression doesn't waver, doesn't so much as shift the tiniest of iotas as Hotaru absorbs, internalizes, and rationalizes her words. "Get your people prepared," she says, either choosing to ignore or failing to acknowledge Hotaru's strong words of resolve. Those words are wasted on her, after all.
Once Elle decides that she wants to get things done, there's scant little that can distract her from the goal. Even if Hotaru had refused, Elle would have found someone else. Whether or not it would have been in time, however, is another thing entirely. It's not reflected on her face, but internally, the woman ticks off a checkbox with relief. Hotaru on board makes things easier in many, many ways.
"I'll give you a day and change to make your preparations. You form the strike force out of whomever you think will work with you best. I don't care who you put on the transports, as long as you bring people that are willing to do what you tell them to do to the fight," she says, sliding the glasses back onto her face slowly as she chooses her words with deliberate care. It's a tenuous balance, working with heroes. They're always trying to ensure the safety of others, even when no safety is to be had if victory is to be an end result.
"Don't worry about Yurika. She's not what you think. She's not what anyone thinks. She does have dangerous ties, but I'll cut them off at the knees if I have to. Again, you have my word that these people will be safe. All the same, don't overstay your welcome at Seijyun. I can get you there, but it'll be your responsibility to help move them out once this crisis is over."
A disclaimer after the fact, to be sure. But there's always a price to pay. Elle's hand can't stay any one place for too long. When people start to get wind of her and her motives, she becomes more vulnerable. Still, she has an uncanny knack for making things work, no matter how complex the plans. Making deals is her forte. People tend to have identifiable goals that shine like bright flashing weak points in an old fashioned 16-bit video game for her. As long as Elle can understand the goals that create motive, she can operate freely.
Which does bring her to a tenuous point.
"There is one more thing." It's a little too early to be thanking Elle for being transparent. After all, there's one more card to play in all of this, and it's one she's been reluctant to play, mostly because it's the ultimate wild card: one that she can't understand. Still, in order to ensure greater safety for everyone involved, Elle has willingly placed her hand into what is for her a metaphorical Bene Gesserit agony box. It's an exercise in expecting pain by availing herself in the unknown.
She leans back into the chair, closing her eyes before she continues any further. "I took the liberty in contacting someone that we're both very familiar with. Think of it what you will, but right now, this plan won't work without the tools he has." It's as close to awkward and uncomfortable as Elle gets, as her face seems to simply blank out just at the very thought. "I invited Seishirou. Before you say anything further, we need to come to some kind of agreement, otherwise we have no cover fire. We are dealing with a military action, not patty cake. This is not honorable combat, this isn't a Mexican standoff. We'll be making an assault on a heavily fortified area filled with enemy troops. Bullet absorbing bodies are something I frankly just don't have access to right now. He has access to technology that will keep the incursion forces alive long enough for us to hit our goals."
And as abhorrent as either arrangement may seem, hiring people whose sole purpose is to likely die on a battlefeild or negotiating with the leader of Kagero, it's a necessary one.
But that doesn't mean either woman in the room has to like it.
The young de facto leader nods at the time available. A day to be ready. She can manage that. With the camp broken down into smaller groups the way she has them, she can put each smaller unit in charge of getting itself ready. Once they move out, there will be no place to stay here any longer. It will be time to throw caution to the wind and fight, holding nothing back. She can do that knowing Shurui and Kentou are numbered among those those protected at the all girl's academy.
Elle speaks of Yurika and Hotaru is quiet. She can't help but worry. A confirmation that the elitist rich girl has ties to the trouble in Southtown makes her all the more suspicious of her intentions. But she's going to have to leave worrying about her playing ball on this woman's shoulders. She nods slightly about moving people out once the disaster in Southtown has passed. "I will see to that."
The girl fidgets just a little at the mention of one more thing but doesn't look surprised - as if she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the woman arrived at her gate only minutes before. She leaves the girl guessing for a short bit as to who it is she's contacted and Hotaru's expression becomes guarded. She's already making deals with the devil as it were, what more is going to be expected in order to pull this counter attack off? Her hands tighten at the mention of the name.
Seishirou. At worst, he's a terrorist like the world at large claims. At best, he's a dangerously unpredictable eccentric. Sakura, Hotaru's friend of some years, may vouch for him, but the Futaba girl was never truly convinced. The great Gamble At Sea that was Jinchuu almost got her and a boat loaded with fighters and civilians killed. That they survived a mid-ocean exploding of their boat mystifies her to this day. Just how was it that that submarine came to be there at just the right time anyway? She starts to open her mouth but Elle asks her to wait before saying anything and Hotaru stays quiet, sitting up straight in her chair.
Elle explains what he would have that neither of them have on hand in their current circumstances. Technology. Cover fire. Elle has had it all planned out of course, Hotaru muses, up to including this rogue factor into this all. Seishirou Ryouhara. She had never met him in person except when he was pretending to not be himself. The girl's hand comes to rest at her forehead, her fingers rubbing against her skin lightly as her eyes lower and she silently thinks on the subject.
"I suppose this is another case where goals might coincide, hm?" she asks reluctantly. She can tell that it isn't Elle's first choice. The time they spent speaking of the ninja clan's activities aboard the Suiryuu give her enough context with which to read the nearly unreadable in the mercenary's scarred face. "He's dangerous. But..." She exhales softly, her right hand lifting from her knee to wave wearily in front of her. "If it gets us what we need, then this isn't the time to be turning away options." Her head cants to the side just a little, "You don't have an agreement with him already, do you." It isn't a question. The corner of her mouth tugs into a faint smile as she realizes the implication.
"If I did, I wouldn't have told you about it," Elle replies. "That would just make you worry unecessarily. Not something I need right now. The fact is that I don't understand his basis of thought, and I don't have any plans to in the near future. The one person I hired for the sole purpose of deciphering the gibberish that falls out his face and people like him is currently working for a diametrically opposed force right now."
Marise made certain that Elle understood that she had more work to do for Vega and those like him. At the time, Elle wasn't in the position to really argue. There had been things to do and machinations to put in place. Marise, for all her power, arcane wisdom, and subversive actions, was simply not what Elle had needed at the time. Evil is a tool like any other. However, Elle can tell that it's not really something that would have warmed Hotaru to any plans if Marise had been working where she 'belonged'.
The undeniable stench of cruelty and wanton destruction is just that hard to wash off. While Elle is well equipped to withstand the Devil of Koga's persistant whisperings to succumb so a supposed dark side lurking within, Marise tends to make her presence known in other ways. That being the case, the Mercenary would have made a poor choice all around to re-absorb Marise into the fold just this instance.
But layers on layers. Elle trades in more than just money and information. It's also about advantage and opportunity. "The fact is, you're the most level headed person I know. You're centered," Elle intones, "Which means that you're the perfect mediator and negotiator for this particular situation. A person in my station can't get this job done. I just don't know how to talk to a person that doesn't make an iota of sense to me. You're more accepting of more than one viewpoint. Why do you think I'm standing here in front of you now?"
The woman gestures around the room, at the mess, the dust, the window. "You have the most to lose, and the most to gain from my help. You're capable of leading a strike force, caring enough to ensure the survival of these refugees, and smart, empathic, and apparently now shrewd enough to deal with a person like Seishirou. Me? I just arrange things. In the end, I'm a glorified delegator. As long as I know what people want and need, I've always got an angle."
"And right now," she continues, "My angle on you is that you need those people out there to stay alive. You need... what, this Shurui kid and Kentou out of this hellhole and into a safe haven, and all I'm asking you in return is to risk your life and a few other yahoos in fighting an enemy that's doing nobody any favors, and negotiate a little on my behalf so that we can get some fire support in."
The turnaround is fast, and Elle's eyes focus on Hotaru intently. "That does bear a risk, though. I'll tell you up front: once the objective is complete, I'm gone. I'll set things up. I'll take us to the prom. But once we're there, you have to follow through. Right now, I have neither the firepower or the kind of charisma that's needed to win this. Momentum is one thing, but spirit will win this battle, not tactics. And that's something we're short on. It'll be your spirit that brings your troops through, Seishirou to the table, and keep us all alive."
She leans forward, shrugging slightly. "Or I can try to armstrong everyone into place, and we'll all lose miserably. I just don't have the manpower right now, nor did I ever. Not for an op this big. Raiding a NESTS facility isn't like kicking over the YFCC, which is apparently something that's a rite of passage now for everyone with an attitude problem."
"In short," the mercenary says, "I've set all the dominoes up. You have to knock them down, because when the last one falls, I can't be under it. I hope you appreciate what I'm trying to say, because I'm not making it any more clear for you."
It turns out, it was sort of a process to contact the shinobi, one that involved a message perfectly timed and with far too much encryption and secrets for the average computer user to discern. For their group, however, a single bird's feather loosed on the wind will eventually find its way into their hands. Obsession, after all, can be endlessly resourceful.
"Who would have thought that a bunch of schools and a fighter's community could form the basis of a citywide war? It seems almost crass, doesn't it?"
A long shadow creeps past the entryway of the hall, more swift, more subtle than a whisper of a scandalous nothing in a lover's ear. No alert is raised, there is no warning as to the shinobi's entry beyond that. There is no heavy clomp of boots on the ground, though as the white-shrouded boy steps into view, it would be easy to imagine him with the telltale jingle of the many trinkets that hang from his attire. The baubles of a long-forgotten clan, now held like trophies on the collar of a ghost. And when he arrives, stepping around the corner into the relatively small study, it's with the light of just varely restrained violence in his eye.
In contrast, his voice is a dead even, at the kind of melodic peace recalling the calm after a storm, he says that first long before he ever steps into view, and then after that, the rest, still in mid-stride: "But beyond that, I have to admit, the location is a surprise," he mentions, the undercurrents of thought and memory moving him. "One would have guessed that you, the one with the poorest luck of all," he continues, his gaze looking across Hotaru, "would have turned away company like Belmounte at the door."
The shinobi proceeds more forth and forward into the study, and with the whip of a limb, he absently slams it shut behind him. Responding to the motion, lines crawl over the rich wood surface as if a living ink, forming a saltire cross over the door and extending out past the jamb, forming a circle and three simplified leaves therein. Before the fleeting silks of his haori are completely settled, the seal over the entry is complete, assuring an absolute privacy. For good or for ill.
He flashes a thin line of teeth in the most dark and ironic way.
"And with me, that makes a third. You could get a reputation."
He seems to be referencing someone else in addition to himself and Elle.
The mercenary woman confirms Hotaru's conclusion. She almost speaks up as Elle mentions not understanding his basis of thought to ask if there was any expectation that she, herself, /would/, but ends up staying quiet. A reference is made to another better equipped to communicate with the likes of the Ryouhara, but on this matter Hotaru is uninformed. That Marise and the severe woman in front of her worked together in the past is not unknown to her, but the fel creature's status with respect to Elle is hardly the most important thing on her mind now.
She's assessed as being level headed and her neutral, quiet expression reflects just that. She knows she's not being buttered up. Elle is explaining the way she thinks; the way she arrived at these decisions of hers, and to Hotaru it's a fascinating analysis. She's reminded of what she has on the line in all this with a gesture at the state of things within the room and the reflection of affairs outside of it. The details that follow make it clear as to why Elle is here though. She needs someone like Hotaru right now. A strange twist of fate - she needed someone like Hotaru back on the Suiryuu too.
The young heiress nods her head as Elle sums up her needs. She needs to be sure of the well being of people that are perfectly strangers to her. That's just how she is. She made her property available and then people went forth and found others in need of shelter. Now she has a full blown camp of refuges on her lawn, in her house, on the floor of her family's proud dojo. "Okay." She'll try her hand at these negotiations. It's a risk she'll have to take - dealing with the Ryouhara. She's already dealing with one unsavory sort. Time to make it two. "I understand." she adds as Elle speaks of being in for the objective then being gone.
It's best that way. There will be rebuilding to be done in the aftermath should they prove successful. Lifes will need to get restarted and livelihoods sorted out. It will be a time dependent upon the spirit of those who survived this period of terror and a chance for a new era. It may not be a world where a emotionally drained, cold hearted woman like Elle and a sympathetic, hopeful girl like Hotaru would be associated again. Here and now, it makes sense - it's necessary. Afterward... they each have their own directions to go. "No, I understand." Hotaru affirms. "You've done so much already. I'll speak with-" Who is that?
Sitting up in her chair, hands pressing against the armrests, the girl twists to see the door and he that slides into it. It's him. A shadow, unwelcome yet invited all the same, her confidence in dealing with him is shaken for a moment. Elle said she was the right person for this discussion... but thinking back to the events and mysteries of Jinchuu, she begins to wonder. "It's what we have," she replies tersely. Schools and a community center. No barracks. No troops. No fortress or secret facilities. Just a bunch of kids, young adults, and some older still trying to make a difference. Crass? "Such a word is best suited for describing those who invaded our city." she corrects, her tone calm but not reluctant.
She pushes herself up to standing as he enters fully, closing the door behind him with barely a motion. He speaks as if he knows her. What does he know? What of her luck? What of her life's story? What is he privy to? The girl glances toward Elle as if looking for support to strengthen her resolve. She shouldn't be afraid. If she can't speak with a potential ally, she has no place leading a team into battle. Her right hand comes to rest on the back of the tall back of her leather chair as she moves to stand next to it. "For now," she continues, her voice gaining strength, feigned or otherwise. "For now our goals coincide. I understand what would motivate her to work with those aligned with me." Elle is complex in many ways, but not when it comes to the core of these matters. She must see something she can gain from it all. That seems reasonable, right?
Azure eyes trace over the chi spreading over the door to her study, the symbols and sigificance lost to her. A preparation for attack? Riko would oft times paint the walls with sigils when they did battle in the past. Sigils that would then explode at the most inconvenient moment!! He speaks of being the third unsavory sort to be welcomed into her home and for a moment she loses her focus on him, lost in a second of reflection. The surprise registers on her face. How does he know about- no... no, this isn't the time to wonder.
"I don't know that I can say the same with respect to you." She takes in her breath before exhaling softly. How to deal with someone like him? She'll be up front. "But we cannot act without additional help." Her heart skips a beat. "Please."
People are essentially commodoties to Elle. Walking knots of skill sets, abilities, temperments, benefits and liabilities. In times of crisis, it's good to know where those skill sets lie. By knowing who can do what and under what circumstances, Elle manages to shuffle individuals around like so many cards in a trick deck. The truth is, there's no better way to play any game and win than to cheat, and Elle's advantages are all based on the fact that she can stack nearly any deck to her favor.
But that chill logic that makes her deceptively easy to understand usually means she has every single base covered. She gives very little away without constructing, orchestrating or bending the situation so that she eventually turns a profit. Certainly, there are riskless beneficiaries, but oftentimes, whatever side effect grants them a boon came at a steep price at the other end of the equation. Elle is careful to ensure that there's enough levels inbetween so that there's always the right amount of seperation from that when there's time.
However, sometimes there isn't. This is one of those times.
Elle doesn't say anything. Not at first, anyway. She doesn't move, and it's questionable if she even blinks as Seishirou arrives. Once upon a time, Elle would have been impressed with drama, displays of power, pretty words and other ornate behavior. But that left her along with all the other things that would have defined her has more human, All that's left now is the steel gray comfort of procedure and tactics.
And Hotaru glances at her, it's clear that Elle has no real support to give. She isn't a friend here and rarely had words of encouragement to the scant few that ever called her that in the first place. All Hotaru gets is a grim expression, as if Elle had just been told that she was going to be subjected to a long, incredibly boring lecture about concrete. Elle patently ignores most of what Seishirou has to say on an active listening level. Passively, everything is memorized and goes into storage, but her best tactic when dealing with what she feels irrational is to stick soley to the objectives.
It removes confusion, for one, and keeps her from getting too distracted. The goal is always the most important thing, which what she reminds herself of when she finally opens her mouth, her dry, rasping voice speaking with the same deliberate tone that indicates she's carefully plotting a course. "We need fire cover for a mission," Elle explains, "So that Hotaru and her crew doesn't die before reinforcements arrive."
'Reinforcements' being Elle's dark horse candidiates. It remains to be seen exactly what Urien and G-Project can do in the field as a paramilitary group. "If and when Hotaru's reinforcement arrive, we'll need fire cover for the other strike teams. We can do this without fire cover, but the losses would fall outside acceptable limits for Hotaru. The mission fails without Hotaru."
And that's the facts. Casualties are a given, but calculated out to the barest of minimums as long as some level of help occurs from an outside source. Once that factor disappears, Elle doesn't expect Hotaru to commit herself and others to a suicide mission. Better to sit and hide than to run blindly into death. Elle wouldn't blame Hotaru for that choice, either. The mercenary would just have to find another angle, which would promise to be a sight bit less benevolent than the one on the table.
Nevertheless, having laid out the factual basis for the request, she falls silent. Those are the bullet points. The rest was what she contacted Hotaru in the first place for: to provide life to the skeleton Elle has assembled.
Fortunately for all involved, Seishirou has long since stopped trying to impress people. Occaisionally, the fear in people's hearts make for an exploitable weakness which he has historically had little qualms about using, but in all truth, whether Hotaru thinks she can handle this conversation or not, whether Elle is really listening or not, is really beyond his interest. He has long since become accustomed to people calling him mad, arcane, and misbegotten. In the end, it is only the symbolism that matters for him. The words he speaks are simple enough to him; that, in itself, is enough.
For the rest, there is his inimitable action.
The head of the dead clan meets equal parts rigid stoicism and wearied sincerity with equal measures of abundant derision, told in the knife-eyed look he gives the two of them gathered, darkening the tone of his previous whip-thin smile with a single step forward. He seems for a moment to linger thoughtfully on Hotaru's quiet voice and simpled plea. As if he tasting it for weakness, for something he can meaningfully detect.
"Spare me your doe-eyed supplications," he remarks testily and finally. There is no interest at all from the ninja in being begged. His arms go limp at his sides as if a corpse's, until his sleeves obscure his hands entirely. His stance is squared; meeting Hotaru's with his own measure, and his look sharpened from beneath the cut of his brow as he watches the two closely, keeping every breath, every twitch underneath the daggers of his eye. Elle has had every emotion leave her until only a husk of a being was left over, Seishirou is similar. He has suppressed everything but what he needs to achieve his goals. And it is only what's left over that stares at Hotaru now.
It's like even talking to him is a form of battle.
"There is a method I possess that will do the thing you want." He doesn't guess, speaking to Elle directly for only a moment. "But you're not the one who summoned me," he notes, his eyes returning to Hotaru. Another step forward. "As I seem to recall... the both of you were assigned to the same cabin on my ship." He looks up, at Hotaru in recognition. "And you still have the stink of Shadaloo on you," he notes, as if knowing it well. His thoughts on it are not extraordinarily difficult to read. His eyes trail up slowly, slipping across Elle's fatigues. As Hotaru dealt him in kind, so will he cut to the chase.
"I've no patience for greed, and even less for meaningless greed."
He scoffs, apparently riled simply by the mere suggestion he'd be coming anywhere close to helping Elle, even if it meant helping Hotaru. After all, the two could be one in the same. That detail cannot escape him. There's only one way to determine the true meaning of this meeting. Suddenly, a kunai rolls across the floor, thrown by an unseen gesture. The matte finished steel gives off no glare in the light, spinning instead as a dark blur across the floor, impotent as anything more than a gesture.
"Tell me.. What value are these people to you? What can you give them?"
The kunai begins to slow, until it stills between Elle and Hotaru.
"Understand. The Ryouhara's 'ninkougakujutsu' is born on two principles."
One hand reveals itself from underneath a sleeve, opening slightly.
"Proof. And sacrifice."
Finding no comfort in her glance toward Elle, Hotaru turns her focus back to the ninja clan scion. As she speaks, she gains more confidence, as if breaking through the inertia of uncertainty and seizing hold of needed conviction by the neck. She's quiet as Elle explains the facts. How the plans will pan out, how the pieces need to be in play at just the right time, how the risks, severe as they may be, need to be mitigated. It's the clinical explanation. She'll have to wrap her mind around that side of this operation before the time comes to go but for now all she can do is quietly accept that she'll be ready when the time comes.
She's quiet as soon as he begins to speak, cut short by his rebuke, her jaw tightening, hands closing at her sides. He speaks of the past - of the shared cabin aboard his boat. And then of Hotaru's own ordeals as of late and the girl frowns slightly. Her eyes trace the path of the rolling kunai until it comes to a stop near her feet, then shifts her attention back to him, taking his words in.
"The cabin arrangments," she exhales at last, "Were not our doing." She rests her hand against the back of the chair at her side. "As for Shadaloo," she pauses for a moment, enduring a moment of rememberance of what she went through and how it was resolved. "That has been dealt with." She thinks. She hasn't felt anything lasting since the Devil of Koga healed her. That has to be the end of it. She can't afford anything to the contrary. Not right now.
"The refuges that have come to this camp have done so because I opened my home to make it as place to gather together rather than wander the streets being picked off by soulless killers. That makes them my responsibility. An obligation I have fullfilled to the best of my ability." Her hand slips off the chair to rest at her side, her right hand lifting to clench into a fist at her neckline as she continues. "I have been providing their material needs. Food, water, shelter. But..." She shakes her head, "They need more than that. The city needs more than that. Elle has a plan to strike back. It's a chance to make a difference." Her right hand unclenches, her hand lifting, her forefinger and thumb resting at the top of her nose as she rubs it absently in thought, another nervous twitch.
"Just because there's a plan doesn't mean it will work. Even if everyone does their best, it's possible it won't be enough. But it's not giving up and that's the difference. That's just dying." She lowers her hand to her side, her jaw set, eyes steely blue, "And I plan on postponing death by following a recipie of living, suffering, allowing for error, by risking everything, by giving what I have, what I am, and by knowing that with every action comes the chance of losing but not being crippled into inaction by that knowledge."
She glances back down at the blade on the floor, "And if you can do anything... to make this work... if you have that power as you say you do... yet do nothing..." The girl shakes her head, closing her eyes, "Then you might as well be dead because you're just like those soulless monsters on the streets. Only worse. Because unlike so many of them, you could make a difference. And right now there's a chance to be that difference."
Hotaru lifts her eyes back to the Ryouhara, "If money isn't your interest, then what is? Do you want to make a name for yourself? Do you want to have mattered when others needed you the most? Help us make this happen. Help us save this city by taking the fight back to them. What do you want for it? What is your price? You want proof? You want sacrifice?"
She waves her hand toward the window behind her - it opens over the back yard - an array of tents, clothes lines, two gas fueled generators keeping the camp powered through the unstable moments on the grid. "They have already sacrificed enough. I will accept Elle's offer of moving them to somewhere else while this plays out. As for me, and those who will fight alongside me..." Her expression flickers slightly, bordering on a soft grim acceptance, "...we still have some more to give. And that's what this is all about. The proof will be when we take the fight to them, holding nothing back. The sacrifice will be what we are putting on the altar of victory in even attempting this. Ourselves; our blood, a parts of our soul that will be forever lost simply by using our strength in war." Hotaru shakes her head, "I don't know what else you want, what else you could ask for. We're trying."
Greed is never meaningless to Elle. There's always something behind it. Greed also suggests that someone beleives that there's a level of satisfaction in having. Elle feels no satisfaction in obtaining items, just in acheiving goals. Everything gained is simply yet another thing to be put away for use later so that she can focus on something else.
But in the end, there's no great meaning to it. Each task is utterly artificial. Elle sets tasks out for herself because without a means to occupy her mind, she'd go mad. It's a tenuous existance, devoid of pleasure or pain. Just satisfaction and disappointment that is as fleeting as the alleigances she keeps.
But as Seishirou speaks, Elle leans back, placing her arm on the chair and resting her head on a hand. It's the look of someone considering the words carefully. Normally, she ignores everything Seishirou says. It's nonsense to her. Absolute babble from someone that lives his head in the clouds. But at the same time, Elle has a clinical recognition of 'heart'. Spirit is something that those that look down on others tend to ignore. And indeed, it doesn't fit logical assumptions and is hard for Elle to plan against. But she knows that it exists, and that spirit bears down on the question placed in front of her.
'Tell me.. What value are these people to you? What can you give them?'
It's a fair question, and really, when she mulls it over in her mind, it's probably the clearest thing Seishirou has ever posed to anyone. But she stays quiet as Hotaru makes her case. It's only when the young girl finishes that she speaks her own peice.
"These people have no intrinsic value," Elle says flatly. "They live and die outside my scope of care for the most part. But now, they've become the focus of a goal. It doesn't matter how the goal came to pass, and it doesn't matter to whom the goal benefits. I've promised to this girl their safe passage and their liberation. The fact that means of liberation is also immaterial to your question."
The woman's head never leaves her hand. She looked bored, but her tone is level, precise, and thought out. "I made a promise, involving the lives of these people. And when I made a promise, these people's lives became the most valuable thing in the world. There's very little that I beleive that can't be bought or sold. But the integrity of an explicit, direct promise is the one thing I won't break."
She pauses, choosing her words slowly, carefully, the sound of her voice definitely metered out as someone that's putting deliberate thought to words, as if the concepts are difficult to pin down in mere sounds. "I promised that these people would be made as safe as possible. I promised to keep this girl here as safe as I could during our mission if she helped me. As part of that promise, I contacted you. Because I thought that I could help keep my promise by arranging a deal with you. So my answer is this: these people, this girl, meant nothing to me until I gave her my word that I would do everything in my power to do so. The reasons for my doing so are unimportant outside my own personal integrity."
"Call me what you will. Look down on me for what I do, how I act. But when I say I'll do everything I can, I will. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a liar."
"You speak a lot of the city and the people in it. But you pay no heed and no mind to the corrupt aristocracy the city was in long before it was held in siege. For years now, this city has been controlled by a man who would pay in blood for an attempt on his life simply because it directed attention away from his dealings..." Ryouhara has been a wanted man in Southtown, ever since he tried to kill Geese Howard on live TV. An attempt that ended miserably, and just about grounded Ryouhara's burgeoning reputation in the tournament circuit, forcing him off-camera for years.
But he was never caught..
"Did you really think that the city was not at war long before NESTS and Shadaloo's worms crawled from the earth? That innocent people were not suffering and dying long before that?" the young man asks, derisively.
"Speak to me all you will of soulless monsters."
He continues no further than that. What else needs to be said?
"Still. You both could have left the city, but you did not." He turns to Elle solemnly, whom admits her interest in the value of life unapologetically. This would anger some immeasurably, but Ryouhara barely even twitches an eyebrow, for all of his expressed distrust of Belmounte. Simply put, while Elle tries not to listen to a word he says, Ryouhara takes the opposite tack, fully comprehending everything she says, sifting through her words for meaning with a fervor that cannot be described as simple attentiveness. His glare stabs beyond the black fall of his rather dingy hair, focusing on Elle. That sense of battle in words seeps through to the surface, but it only takes him a few moments to speak.
"And you hinge on your word," Ryouhara observes, "and nothing more.."
Even someone like him has to think on that a moment.
In a slow deliberate blink and a return of attentions to Hotaru, he elects to move the subject as the maiden asks a simple question, and as fair as his own. "There is no gain to be had for people who do not exist. Nothing exists in this world that can offer succor. I'm going to tell you this only once. Hear it."
"The only thing I want is for this world to know that strength was never born in the fist."
His hand twirls a grey streak in it over the space of a second, and slams a kunai into his chest with full force, as if he weren't even thinking about it when he did it. He is quiet enough that you can hear the blade part flesh. Almost immediately, blood drools in long, thick, fat lines down his left arm, slicking his sleeve and gathering in his palm before he simply boils it away in a pattern. His frame slackens as he does so, his stance widening as he labors to remain standing under what is apparently a large amount of simply needless pain. Had Seishirou stabbed any closer, he might have impaled his own heart.
"And in that knowledge. There is never such a thing."
His voice remains remarkably level even as he breathes hard, not quaking with agony for sheer force of will. When the blood is done scalding his flesh, it is in the form of three kanji trailing down his arm, which he bares with his hand, still wielding the kunai: SASAGEMONO. The 'sacrifice.'
"Never such a thing as 'sacrificed enough.'"
His arm drops to his side. As if that wound never happened.
"The brutal honesty of a criminal. The ministrations of a ghost. All to save a city that was dying long before you were born. For that. On that." He fixes Hotaru with the most utterly serious look. "Are you willing to gamble your life?"
"I know about that," Hotaru retorts tersely when he speaks of the nature of those who ruled the city with money and blood. She hadn't for the longest time. Not until K' opened her eyes on the eve of his banishment, not until he explained to her the crooked nature of the man at the helm of things.
"That was the lesson," she murmurs as he speaks of strength and the folly of the fist, "Of Jinchuu. I remember." The words of the old Hiretsu on the bow of the Suiryuu were not fast forgotten. He knifes himself and she falls immediately quiet. And while she does flinch at the sight and sound of the self-inflicted injury, she doesn't look away. Some strange ninja ritutal? A trick of the eyes? Did he really just stab himself? The blood coursing over his arm suggests that yes, indeed he did.
In another time, she would be grimacing at the blood spilt on the floor of her home, thinking of the stain to the woodwork, the damage to expensive rugs. But the house has long since become dust laden and dirty and her predilection for cleanliness has had to take a back seat accordingly. Her eyes stray over the kanji emblazoned in blood on the muculature of his arm before meeting his eyes once more. Not enough sacrifice? The girl blinks slowly, her right hand going to rest against her cheek.
She thinks he's as crazy as she did back on the Suiryuu. With the smolding debris and ashes of his detonated boat raining down around him, Seishirou Ryouhara insisted that the tournament reach its conclusion and no one would leave the sinking wreckage until it did. The thoughts and ideals of a young man gone mad, trying to share a message the world will never understand through means that make him the properly registered terrorist she had always considered him.
She takes in her breath before releasing a slow, controlled exhale. His ideals seem to leave no room for people who simply want to carry out their lives, left alone in peace and quiet. A question was posed to her - framed with the grim facts of the world she finds herself in. Gambling her life is a serious measure - unlike many who have been dead inside long before now, the girl has always fought, sacrificed, bled, struggled, and clawed her way through everything her existence had thrown at her just so that she could go on living. Few might understand the way she relishes life and what risking it means to one so fascinated by the sheer aspect of living.
But she isn't going to speak of that either. A deal needs to be made; an understanding reached and an accord struck between the three gathered. Elle's plan and people, Hotaru's powerful friends helping, and Seishirou's technology and aid. All three critical components. "Yes. Yes I am." she replies, meeting his eyes for a long while before closing her own and resting her hand against her forehead. "That's all I can say. I can't speak for the others that I will be asking, but for me, I know what I'm getting into and I still chose it willingly."
More dramatics. Elle watches with all the rapt attention of someone who has lost the remote control to her television set and can't be bothered to look for it because she should be sleeping anyway. 'Strength was never born in the fist.' Shouldn't Bruce Lee be jumping in about now?
But she's said her piece. She has nothing to prove here. Elle's word is her bond. More than that, she is her word. It's a commodity like anything else, but once applied, it can't be reversed. As a result, there's little left to discuss. The topic of sacrifice almost draws a snort from the woman, mostly because if anything, Elle's followed Hotaru's exploits carefully enough to understand one thing:
The young girl's given up more than anyone she knows if only to preserve her beleifs and the beliefs of her friends.
Material things don't sway Hotaru. The girl lives to acheive... well, Elle's not sure what exactly, but the simple fact remains that Hotaru burns with a spirit that Elle rarely sees in people. She has energy and an infectuous verve that forces many of those around her to evaluate themselves and rise to the occasion. The question of whether or not Hotaru will sacrifice to help, to acheive, to allow others to reach their goals...
Well, again. If Elle was capable of serious contempt, she'd be spitting at the man. Even asking the question is just a waste of time. As long as Hotaru draws breath, she will rise to every adversary and do whatever she can to win, if only to preserve her ideals.
But it does dawn on Elle to ask a question of her own, when everything is said and done. She shifts in her chair, finally lifting up her head as her eyes refocus. A spark of curiosity flickers in her forebrain, an idle thought that passes through as Hotaru finishes her declaration. Her understanding of humanity is decidedly cynical, but nevertheless, it's the greatness of others that inspire much. And the greatness in Hotaru, whether the young girl recognizes it or not, begs a question.
"In the end, can you really afford not to help otherwise? Inspiration begats inspiration for many, after all. Some of us are beyond help. But there's enough evidence to show that for some, witnessing an act of heroics, a moment of greatness, propels them on a path past monetary gain."
Her voice is dry, cold, and devoid of passion, but the logic is there, even if the statement is on something past the ken of logic. "Hotaru inspires others, brings others that would otherwise have 'meaningless' lives to to fight for the sanctity of beleifs that they'd never otherwise have recognized. Some will abandon those immediately, but some won't. The question is, really, can you afford to not help Hotaru, knowing that her actions may very well inspire future greatness in others?"
No mention is made as to what Elle could possibly create. Elle will only end up creating anger, strife, vendettas, and burning hatred, those will die with her. But there is a quiet, muted, almost subversive tone to her voice. While Elle may never beleive in a cause, she can beleive that others believe, and can make still more people believe. And maybe that's enough.
"Then perhaps we will not be so unlucky when history repeats itself."
Theatrics, as bold as they may be, can occaisionally prove a useful tool to shinobi for proving points. That in itself is a sacrifice; the pain for the bargain. His sleeves drop to his sides, sheathing that grievous injury in swaths of pure white, but the shinobi makes no other complaint about the bleeding, the silence pregnant enough in that moment to carry the faint sizzling sound underneath the knit wools of his undershirt. The history of Suiryuu--the message given to those called 'proleteriat' aboard that vessel, those who united against Rugal and who sided with him, is remembered, but never necessarily understood.
That's expected.
Seishirou meets Hotaru's cautious stare with a withering look of his own. Is he mad? Of course he is. To anyone sane, it would be an obvious conclusion. But for a reason indeterminate as of now, Seishirou seems cognizant of the tone of that gaze, a 'reality' that he is not unaware of, but regardless seems dubiously satisfied. To be seen as a terrorist, a scoundrel, is part of that 'theatricality.' As someone who deliberately assassinated his own public reputation that day attacking Geese on live TV... Hotaru's response is entirely expected.
Ironically, that attempt may now be considered a work of foresight.
Eagle sharp eyes flick to Elle; Seishirou is pensive, but unmoving. Especially as someone accustomed to dealing with mercenaries and rogues, Seishirou cannot be swayed by things that are not there. But her words, that clinical wonder that dances in her otherwise barren voice, that catches his attention. Bold and without pretense. Ryouhara blinks once--and in truth, it could very easily have been the first time he's done so during the entire conversation. "You speak with a silver tongue," he comments. "But can she inspire meaning now as you say she has before? The field of war is a different expose entirely."
He thinks on it a moment. Curiosity strikes him in kind.
"Has she inspired you?"
The shinobi steps closer, until his shadow falls on the matte dark knife still on the floor.
"After all.. Hotaru's pedigree," he admits, noting the gathering of attentions already here, "does leave little for want.."
--Enough.
If she's willing, then there's no more use discussing it. "That trust of yours, and your word. They'll both be put to the test," Seishirou decides suddenly and without second thoughts.
Turning on a heel, "I'll give you the use of one Ban-kun," he gives, using his word, instead of the 'automaton' those who were exposed to the ninkou aboard the Suiryuu prefer. But.. those were very small, really inconsequential devices, fielded en masse. But Seishirou doesn't elect to explain his logic. He slides a small scroll out of a pack at his side, and throws it across the study table without even barely looking over his shoulder on his way to the door. The bound and wrapped scroll spins as it makes landing, coming within inches of falling off the other side, but never quite doing so. "Proof," he minds, "and sacrifice, are the demands."
He lifts his marked hand to the door ahead of him, hand seeming to warp the air in front of him. It seems more theatrics, until one considers that it's nothing more than what an oven does to a pot of water. "If at any time you fail to meet those demands. If you show weakness for even a moment... if you hesitate, for even a moment. I'll know. And you will be in debt to my clan."
The saltire boils away from the door, unsealing it with the hiss of compressed steam, leaving only the mark of Ryouhara's clan on it. Nothing short of a symbol of their accord. It can be enough. If the people who agreed upon it are enough.
"And I'll return to collect on that debt."
She remains quiet as Elle speaks up, breaking her own silence and coming out of that look of distracted concentration. The young fighter glances to the side as the mercenary makes a case based on the idea of helping Hotaru in an attempt to better the whole as a result. The approach catches her off guard, provoking a blink of surprise to hear the idea expressed that way by a woman she had never expected to hear such a theory pitched.
Her attention strays back to Seishirou. In another situation she might be blushing slightly, flattered by the argument that helping her may very well be helping to inspire something in others she comes in contact with. And what does the Ryouhara make of that? She's still quiet, meeting his gaze, letting him pass judgement as he sees fit. She can make no further argument now. To say anything at this point would just take away from Elle's argument and question.
Her eyes widen at mention of her pedigree, however, right hand tightening, but still she stays quiet. She can tell this is on the verge of working. They're about to be able to make this happen. Further words at this point would only delay or slow things down. He speaks a moment later, seemingly satisfied for the immediate moment. A ban-kun is offered, the implications slow to the girl to digest as the scroll is sent flying to land on the table itself.
He reiterates the demands and Hotaru simply nods slightly. He has not been ambiguous about what he wants in words, but the concepts themselves may take longer to grasp in full. "Thank you." comes the soft acknowledgement as Hotaru turns to the side to look at the scroll but leaving it untouched for the immediate moment. She might enlist another to explain it some.
She glances back toward him as he unseals the door, leaving the clan's mark behind. Well, chalk that up as something else to fix should the building even survive all of this chaos to begin with. The young heiress moves closer to the back of the room, glancing through the window once again to the activities in the encampment. Perhaps, she muses, those gathered outside will never know what prices were paid for their sakes. Maybe they won't even begin to know how to be grateful for transpired in this once pristine library of old books.
"I guess... we can begin making preparations then..." she muses. "There's a lot to get done. We'll be ready for them to relocate in one day. I will speak with those capable of fighting about what it is we will be accomplishing. I have faith they will fight at our side."
What you do makes who you are.
Pedigrees, words, that doesn't mean anything to Elle. It's how you act that matters. What she sees, feels, and hears is important. While she recognizes reputation, second hand information and data from reliable sources, nothing beats her own scrutiny. She holds nothing against anyone; people can and do change, and she's always willing to give the benefit of the doubt.
So it's less to do with Hotaru's checkered background or how people perceive that.
Hotaru's actions alone is all Elle cares for. And she's shown to be reliable in one respect. People listen to her, do what she tells them to do. She's a rallying point, a friend to many, and an inspiration to some. Elle needs not be inspired to recognize what another person can do. As empty as she is, it's easy to think that Elle derides anyone that doesn't think in the same clinical fashion she does.
But the fact is, Elle is intimately aware of spirit and passion. She uses it to great effect... just never through herself. Her limitations are clearly defined in matters of heart and soul. But that X factor is something that Elle can harness. Proof of that isn't hard to find.
Case in point.
She doesn't say anything. She watches Seishirou blink, return with his own questions, cut himself short, exhort his ideas further, then leave. There's an objective to acheive, and it's been met. The consequences that it may bring can be curtailed later, in due course. As the ninja leaves, Elle instinctively pats her jacket pocket for a cigarette, but all she finds is a pack of gun. Her face twitches for a fraction of a second with an almost unreadable expression as she's forced to make do with the stick of hard, somewhat old gum.
And now Hotaru's talking. Preparations. Relocating. Fighting. Faith. Elle picks up the key words, and waves her hand, as if to cut the girl off. "I know the plan," she replies, less offended than just stating the obvious. "I know what you're capable of. I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you couldn't. So you don't have to repeat to me what I already know is going to happen. Just wastes time."
The woman stands, drawing up her sleeve to check the time. Funny how time slows to a crawl when you're stuck in a meeting with a lunatic and a teenager. "All I have to say to you is this: make sure your friends fight like their lives depends on it, because they do. If NESTS doesn't get you, Looney Tunes here will if your friends decide to puss out."
That being said, Elle steps to the door to look at the symbol with mild doleful expression. A perfectly good door, ruined. "I'll bring my trucks by tomorrow morning. I'd like to give you an exact time, but you know how these things work. Have them ready, but you're going to get something along the lines of a two hour notice. Everyone that's on those trucks stays on those trucks. I'm not having anyone double back for any reason. Somebody wants to play hero or do something dumb, their ass is being left behind, and I'm not going to lose a wink of sleep over it."
The mercenary looks over her shoulder. "Just make sure you're ready to go after that. Take the scroll with you. Find out what it means. That's for you. I can take care of myself and my group. The second those refugees hit Seijyun and get in the gates and you engage the base, our arrangement is done and the rest is on you."
And with that, she turns the door handle to leave, the last piece is set in place. Now, all that's left to the Game is to start to play it.
Log created on 22:15:34 05/11/2009 by Elle, and last modified on 23:13:21 05/19/2009.