Description: Diamond Head (1980). "It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt
There are many advantages to having a wide range of global business interests. In addition to the economic ones, there are also public relations benefits to investing in developing countries. It also gives you excuses to travel all over the world. Some people might use this as an opportunity for lots of vacations. For other people it makes for good cover stories. Kain R. Heinlein has many business interests around the world, and at the moment he's visiting a small investment firm specializing in microloans in Africa. The main office is in South Africa, and a brief visit helps to improve Kain's image as an interested party in the business. But that's a secondary reason for the trip.
Kain always makes a note of getting to know people, particularly people who know things. Things like where to meet people who will exchange violence for money, or where to go when you don't wish to be disturbed. All around the world there are businesses that make a very good living off of privacy. In this case, a small local restaurant with a private dining room, which Kain has reserved the use of today. The number of people who actually saw him enter is minimal, and although the service speed is restricted by the limited number of people allowed to enter the room, the tradeoff is rather worth it.
The Central African Republic of Tynanda is a mostly barren patch of desert, punctuated by rocks and patches of trees around the scant few puddles of water that could barely be called oases.
Never heard of the place?
Well, that's because it doesn't exist yet. Tynanda is one of the many splinter groups that swarm the heart of Africa like so many evil flies on a wildebeest corpse. Much like flies, their lives are fleeting and their attention span nonexistant. Rather than a government, it's led by people with more heart for freedom than politics, greedy money grabbing black marketeers and former Somalian pirates looking to be part of something more, for better or for worse.
So what's that got to do with Kain, exactly? Tynanda hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of surviving. More importantly, it's a few thousand miles north of South Africa. While South Africa is a bustling metropolis, Tynanda's an almost imaginary country with borders that extend about fifty feet in diameter around anyone that calls himself a Tynandan that's carrying an AK-47. Well, the relationship is a lot closer than you think.
See, what Tynanda /does/ have is a bunch of Quonset huts in the middle of a burned out old airfield that's being used to assemble stolen car parts, store cargo from Somalian pirate raids and manufacture drugs. Apparently the hot, dry Saharan air is excellent for storing perishable items, even if it's not so great on rubber gaskets and seals. But a few huts out in the middle of the unprotected desert doesn't make for an easily defendable position.
So that's where Elle comes in.
As a security consultant, it's a cushy gig. She's flown in on private jet, and paid an embarrasingly large amount of money to explain to them that they need some guard towers and probably need to start actually setting up some sandbags and do some training instead of loading up local kids with handguns and PCP to do their dirty work. Overall, the work takes little more than a week or two, tops, as she tries to gather money to reassemble whatever's left of her niche market of 'people that do horrible crimes against humanity for a pittance, without reservation or an unbelieveable amount of pickiness and/or ego'.
It's surprising how short in supply people like that are nowadays.
But just as she's about to leave the charming little non-Republic, she gets a call regarding a man who is all about the money. Elle's known of Kain for a while. They've met before, in fact. But she hadn't expected to talk to him so soon after the Southtown incident. Opportunity only knocks once, though, so in a few hours she's on a private jet, stolen for and assembled in sunny, dung-covered Tynanda. The flight is long. The food is lousy attempt at gourmet grub that a donkey wouldn't touch. But Elle eats it anyway, not being one to refuse food when hungry.
Pumps hit the sidewalk a few hours later. It's been a while since any formal attire has been needed, but you have to fit the part. Respect for respect, after all, even if Elle's idea of 'respect' is so bare bones it's ridiculous. She wears a simple black dress. Expensive? Yes. Obscenely so, in fact, as it's tailored for her. It looks a little out of place, however, what with no sleeves causing the tattoo on her arm and numerous scars to show. Sunglasses are still on her face, obscuring the horrific damage she's taken to one of her eyes.
It's almost a parody of class, to be honest, and if it wasn't for the fact that she carries herself like she belongs in the place, someone would have turned her away at the door. But she's ushered into the private dining room quickly and quietly so as not to arouse suspicion to Kain's area.
She doesn't wait for formalities. No real attempt at looking for chivalry, either. He strides take her to the chair, and she sits, drawing the chair back with a smooth motion. She sniffs once, looking at the blonde haired underworld juggernaut, runs a tongue over her teeth inside her mouth. Then she speaks.
"Kain. Long time no see. How's
tricks?"
Kain is slow to turn his head when the door opens. He's quite confident in the security here, and also quite confident that he's not the one who's going to need to worry if there were to be a lapse. He watches as Elle takes a seat, then gives her a brief nod. "Elle." Kain's not one for excessive pleasantries, but there are at least a few forms that should be followed. "Things are going rather well. I'm sure you've heard about Geese Howard's fall from power, and how the invaders of Southtown have been driven back. It's a new day for the city, free from the corruption and violence brought about by Geese Howard." He smirks briefly. A rather specific way of wording things, that.
Heinlein then rests his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. "And that is why I wanted to meet with you today. The power structure of the Southtown Syndicate is in a shambles, and a vacuum of power attracts scavengers. The Syndicate filled just about every criminal niche to be found in the city, so there are a lot of opportunities available for local gangs hoping to make it big and foreign players hoping to secure a foothold. However, I think it would be in the best interest of the city's people to keep that from happening. They've been through so much, they deserve a chance to be at peace again for a time. A chance to become... complacent."
There's pros and cons to that. The first thing that crosses Elle's mind is that it severely limits some contracts if Kain is looking to make people 'complacent'. For every drug dealer, child porn peddler, gunrunner, thug, crook or pimp, there's vigilantes, freedom fighters, 'meddlesome' government officials, honest cops and stoolies looking for a way out. Let it be said that Elle's none too pleased; she's not dumb enough to go toe to toe with Kain over the matter, but the fact is, she collects from both sides of the line.
Indiscriminate is the name of the game. When every person is a minimum $5k job and a good gun, bullets and knives cost less than a quarter that nowadays, there's almost no reason not to just prowl the streets and murder anyone wandering around after 3AM on the off chance that they're not worth something to someone.
But... Elle hears the rest out.
Geese fell, yeah. No surprise there. It was bound to happen sooner or later. People that flaunt power endlessly and needlessly eventually get ruined. It's something Elle is extremely careful about. She's always been quiet, reserved out of legitimate fears that getting too big a head will lead to some catastrophic downfall. Seems to happen at least once, twice a year. The fact that many people seem to get back up notwithstanding, Elle doesn't harbor any delusions. In some cases, that downfall can be terminal.
She doesn't speak for a good minute. She's not much a talker, unless she needs to convey an important idea. After a moment or two of considering her options, she speaks. Her voice is dry, raspy, made only worse by the desert air. "Well, that's one way of putting it," she says, devoid of amusement, although it could be considered a remnant on whatever might be left of her sense of humor. "Let me put my concerns on the table up front."
"There are a /lot/ of opportunities. I won't ask the specifics. We both know that what just happened to Southtown was a complete gutting of the place. It's not a simple means of replacing what's missing. As shitty as Geese was, he pretty much held the place together. Southtown was more cancer than healthy tissue, and without some kind of infrastructure in place soon, the Diet is going to start coming in to run things. And as much power as any five people you know may have isn't going to mean a lick of difference when the Japanese government steps in."
She waves a hand dimissively. "That's the downside. The upside is this: if you're looking for a contractor, I think we can work something out. You know my track record; I can do this job," the woman indicates. He should. For anyone even ankle deep in the black market knows that Elle is legendary not for her amazing power, mind control, or capacity for cruelty, but because she's the devil that's in the details. All the 'boring' work nobody wants to do is her realm of experties. Personnel management, infrastructure, 'street cleaning'. Elle does it all, fast, cheap and quietly.
But this time, it's different.
"That being said, I want you to know that I'm not interested in being a pawn, but a partner. Can you kill me five ways from Sunday with your pinky? Sure. But why bother? I'll gladly do all the shit you don't want to dirty your hands with for that peice of the action. Drugs, prostitution, arms dealing, espionage, black marketeering... hell. I'll even do insider trading," she says, matter-of-factly. "Everyone needs a boogeyman. Just not everyone is in business with theirs."
"You can rule Heaven if you let me run Hell. And I promise you that it'll be the last problem you ever have to deal with personally from that angle."
Kain smiles thinly, carefully watching Elle. The sunglasses are a good choice on her part, but just because he can't see their eyes doesn't mean Kain isn't capable of reading people the old fashioned way. And, of course, Elle has also spelled out a few things. "Don't misunderstand me. I have no compunctions against getting my hands dirty. But until things are a bit more settled, it would be best not to personally act in Southtown. At least until the people who matter have been given a thorough understanding on the new order of things, and life is back to normal for the masses. Even with the evidence against him, Geese probably could have saved himself if it wasn't for all the chaos going on."
He then clasps his hands together, resting them on the table. "So, you want a piece of the action? That's fine. For the time being, all I really care about is maintaining order. If you've got what it takes to keep it, you can have control of the vice crimes, and I don't mind if you have an interest in smuggling. Knowing who the players are is all I really need there. But I want violent crime kept on a short leash. The occasional gang scuffle to keep the vigilantes busy is useful, but the majority of people need to believe they are safe to walk the streets."
That cuts down on the kill spree. She frowns ever so slightly. Reading Elle's... well. It's an odd task. It's not /hard/, but there's always some subtle hint of subtext there, as if there's a lot going on behind the scenes that leads to whatever she's thinking. What she's thinking is never really far from the surface if at all, because Elle's one of the strangest animals in the criminal world:
She's an /honest/ crook.
Now, that doesn't mean she has any honor code, or stupid beliefs that would get her killed or played. Far from that. It means that she prefers to keep her business, such as it is, on the even keel. Doublecrosses, underhanded deals, and backstabbing are kept to a minimum, and only played out when absolutely no other alternative is available. Or if she's dealing with ninjas.
All bets are off with ninjas.
"I didn't say you had problems getting your hands dirty," Elle clarifies, "just that you don't have to get them dirty if you don't want to. It's all about choices, Kain. It's what I'm about. And making sure that everything's clear. Communication is important."
"Tell you what," Elle says, leaning back in her chair a little, "from here on out? My boys only hit the 'bad guys' for the time being. We'll clean out the old rabble, rattle a few garbage cans around town. The usual crap. I'll clear any vigilante hits and any high profile goody-two-shoes with you first." She taps her hand on the table in thought, finally waving down a waiter for something to drink. Just juice. No drinking on the job.
"Smuggling's simple. Rugal, a new interest named 'Urien'. I'm not interested in opening the floodgates on anyone that wants to rock the boat. In my opinion? Certain people have tipped their hands a little too much, no matter how much they may have helped. If you want to run it silent for now, guys like Vega, for example, are going to have to wait their turn."
Kain nods, sitting back in his own chair. "That will be acceptable. And I have arrangements with most of the major players that should keep them out of my business, for the time being. And even without those, Geese did have his hand in dealings internationally. I imagine there will be quite a scramble while he tries to hold on to whatever he can, while other groups scramble to take what they can while his grip is loosened. That's a bit of a free-for-all, so I won't consider it stepping on my toes if you try to grab yourself a piece of that action." The potential dangers, of course, can go unsaid. Elle's not stupid.
"If anything goes wrong with this business, though, I want you to know that you shouldn't expect any help from me. Not yet. You'll have to take care of your own people. It's going to take me some time to build up all the political capital I need, and pulling strings this early in the game would be a sign of weakness that can not be allowed."
The juice arrives. It's orange. Not to say that it's 'orange juice'. But the juice is orange, doesn't smell weird, and frankly if Kain wanted her dead, then he'd have just evaporated her where she stood like a particularly chatty charcoal briquette. That's why she drinks without reservation.
Kain's right, of course, and she nods in acquiesence. The landscape right now is in turmoil, much like Africa. However, they always say that you should never take a shit in the place where you live. Well. Someone says it. Elle's heard it and can't argue with the logic of that situation.
As for being on her own? That almost makes her smile. Almost. The idea tugs at her face a little. She's been 'alone' for some time now, even more 'alone' since her one time compatriot, Tran, decided to drop out of the business and fall off the face of the map completely. It's her against the world with only a few hired guns and possibly an insane demon-ninja on back order.
It's a dreary, horrible existance. Blood, death, screams, flames... the stench of dead bodies in the morning and ending in the sickening miasma of vomit and bile in the evening. So far away from the white towers where Kain has access to. For Kain, despite his strength, can always leave it behind and retire from a day, comfortable in power and wisdom beyond his years.
Elle, on the other hand, can't. And really, she wouldn't want it any other way.
"Not a problem. I don't really need your help. Just a blessing and some room to move in and my fair share of whatever rolls in. I don't screw people over," she points out, "no matter how much people seem to think I do. It's not my fault that they take this stuff personally. It's just a job. Just so happens that more than feelings get hurt when things go south. I don't have to tell you that. There's really only one thing that concerns me right now, though."
The glass comes down empty, and she clicks a fingernail on the rim. It rings with a perfect tone. Expensive.
"It's more of a personal issue, really, than a professional one, but there's some overlap. To make a long story short, I'm a little concerned about my own personal progress. So if you want to hear it, fine. If not, tell me and I'll go sail and get the south end of Southtown set up." She looks, tilting her head so that her eyes look over the sunglasses at Kain, not particularly expecting one response over the other.
Kain briefly raises an eyebrow. He is not, after all, one whom people normally seek personal advice from, unless that advice is what they can do to not have him be displeased with them. But he's not in a hurry, and this might be relevant to his interests. Especially if it might have an impact on Elle's ability to do what she needs to. "I believe I can spare some time, though I don't know if I'll be able to help you." And he might not, even if he could. Although even with a very Darwinian view, one can still occasionally nudge someone in the right direction, or offer assistance if one sees future potential.
There's a pause. Elle rarely, if ever, asks for help. It's not that she's got a problem with that, but more like she has nobody that's ever capable of offering her any kind of assistance. Elle's work is largely cerebral, despite the heavy combat action she can see in some instances. That attack on the NESTS facility nothwithstanding, she tends to limit herself and her exposure to battle to a minimum.
Nobody else does what she does, nor do they want to. Being the best in a field of one means that there's not a lot to lean back on.
"It's like this. I've fought hard to get where I am today. I took myself from a goddamn joke on a fouth string fighting circuit hitting people in the dick with a metal guitar to rubbing elbows with you. And not to give your ego a blow job, but you're not exactly the kind of guy that stands around giving chit-chat to anyone that walks in the door with mommy and daddy issues and a view volts of chi loose. I've seen what you do with people that don't take you seriously," she says, tapping the glass again as if to punctuate her words.
"You play with them, then you ruin the shit out of them. I saw what you've done to Jiro. Well, not personally. but SNF is played on live TV, and it doesn't take a psychic to read what was going through that little bastard's head. The kid never got it, and just ended up a miserable failure, resenting it, and running into the arms of people that wanted to give him hugs and kiss his boo-boos. But you know what?"
She takes a breath, leaning forward a little as she lifts a fork to point at him with it before twirling it with her fingers. "Having friends is a strength, too. It builds strength and solidarity. I've seen two friends take down bigger men than any five people that hated each other ever could. I've seen love and teamwork. I've seen those things, but there's something that's never left me. Friendship has a limit. It breaks. At a certain point, it dissolves, leaves you with nothing to depend on but yourself."
The fork twirling stops.
"I've fought my way through what? Four, five years of bullshit, stupidity, getting trashed, crushed, and mangled just so I could be here today, right now, talking with you," the fork comes down, stabbing into the table. She's not one for dramatics, but sometimes things rub off on you.
Seishirou.
"I've earned the right to ask you to help me with this, I think. And so I'm asking. I have power. Lots of it, for what I can do. But we're what? The same age? There's not a lot of opportunity for me to fight without jeopardizing everything I worked for. I wasn't born into power, and I never had anything handed to me, and I don't want it that way. I want to work for it, and you're the only one I know that fights the same way I do: with more power than anyone really should have available."
The glasses are taken off, folded, and placed on the table. "I'm asking you to show me how the fuck you make it work for you. Because the more I use it, the more I feel like it's the other way around for me."
Kain doesn't look surprised. But then, he rarely allows himself to show that much expression, unless he wants to. He briefly glances at the fork as it is stabbed into the table, then looks back to Elle. "As you mentioned, I've had unfortunate opportunities with attempting to teach others. You don't seem like one who would balk at doing what needs to be done, but that doesn't mean you've got the will to see it through. The path to the power I have was neither easy nor quick." And, in fact, the power of friendship had something to do with it. But /that/ is not something Kain feels compelled to share with many people.
"You already know the basics, so there's no point in going over those. I could teach you some mental techniques, but as to whether or not those would even work... Well, the control of chi is a very personal matter." Kain opens his hand and a black flame begins to dance in his palm. "Most control comes from steady practice. Over and over again. But sometimes that's not enough. Just /wanting/ to be better won't cut it. And then you have to find out if you really have the capability to be better. And you have to force yourself to your limits. There are probably a number of ways to do it... but the fastest is probably to be in a situation where you need either need to find that ability within yourself... or die."
'Just wanting to be better'? If Elle had the capacity, she'd be disgusted. What part of her looks like sitting around, pining away with 'want' is how she's gotten what she wanted? The amount of time she's hurled herself into situations just to attain whatever goal she's set for herself is so insane as to be almost asenine to anyone that doesn't apprach everything with the single-minded focus of someone that follows her word to the letter.
And she'll gladly do that up to and past death.
Her word is really all she has now. It's the one thing she won't go back on. It's her reputation, it's her bond, and it's the most reliable thing she ever has to offer. People fail and die, projects wither away, and ideals shrivel and die on the vine. But her word... it might as well be made out of platinum and carry the Covenant of Christ in it as far as anyone else is concerned.
But she shakes her head instead of being angry or annoyed.
"I don't have limits other than what I set for myself," she explains. "When I want something, I inevitably get it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. Many not for years to come. But I get what I want. I get what I want because I do the things people don't want to do. Too afraid, against their code, disgusted... whatever."
"I've put myself in more near death situations than I care to mention. I'm not looking for fast. I'm not looking for easy. I'm looking for something that gets results, and I don't care how long it takes," she points out. "I've come this far, and shown you the respect you deserve. So I'll ask you again. Cut the rhetoric, Kain. I'm not a fifteen year old boy that's crying and looking for some way to take out revenge because some dickhole knocked the popsicle out of his hand. I'm a professional mercenary. I ruin lives for money. As a professional courtesy, I'm asking a favor."
"Are you going to help me, or not? And no's a good as answer as any," the woman says, her voice just as cool and even as always, staring at Kain with the same deadened expression she wore walking in.
Kain eyes Elle silently for a moment, then nods. "All right. If you want help, I'll give it to you. Better to do it sooner and know whether or not I'm going to need to find someone else to replace you." He looks up to the ceiling for a moment, then back at Elle. "But it's not a simple matter of just nearly beating you to death. That can work, but the results are less consistent. What exactly needs to be done depends on your current capabilities, and what exactly you're looking to accomplish. The more specific the goal, the more particular the training. But whatever new insights you might find afterwards, what to do with them will be up to you."
He rises to his feet, then, pushing back his chair. "I'll give you some time to think about where exactly you are with your powers, and where you want to go from here. Then let me know and I'll have something arranged. And if you survive... well, it's unlikely to be a sudden incredible improvement, but it should give you a few steps on the right path."
"If everything came on a silver plate, I'd have died a long time ago."
She doesn't expect anything to come fast or free. That's how it starts. When you look for the fast or easy ways out, you take shortcuts, make mistakes. Then the whole thing collapses, you're left with nothing, and there's vultures overhead looking to pick whatever sustenance you can provided them from your bloated corpse.
It's not a great way to live a life.
If Kain wants to know what she's capable of, power-wise, that's something she can do. Tasks she can perform, setting together an objective list. These are terms she thinks in and understands intimately. "A few steps are a hell of a lot more than what I have right now," she says, also standing. The fact is, she can't challenge herself in the normal course of dealing. Dying in battle is infinitely less preferable than dying in training. In the former, there's your people, your resources, and more importantly, your reputation on the line.
In training, the only disappointment you have is with yourself, and Elle doesn't have any pity left for that, either, having used up all five lifetimes worth of self-pity that she had available to her a long time ago. "I'll get that done when I have free time. Until then, looks like I have other things to take care of."
She turns, footsteps taking towards the exit. Best to leave first, before Kain does. That's how it should be, given the way he wants things to play with his connections thus far.
"Thanks," she says, calling out, raising a hand as she leaves.
And that's probably the most gratitude she's ever shown anyone in five years.
However you want to take it.
Log created on 12:38:22 06/21/2009 by Elle, and last modified on 00:42:31 06/22/2009.