Description: ... but not Jiro. Shiden seeks out the vagrant known as Varvara to make her an offer she can't possibly refuse.
It's hard to get a good meal around here when you have no money left to speak of beyond the dirty clothes on your back and whatever strength's left in your body to take what you want. In this way, a recent immigrant to Southtown already lives like a native of the lowest social order - a thug and a criminal. It may very well be that the good hearts of a local free clinic - and the mercy and concern of a man she absolutely despises - that she still draws breath today. Not that her simple mind can see it that way, when /his/ intervention cost her some easy money.
Barely keeping her body from trying to feed upon itself from nutrition, she greedily munches on a cold, discarded half-eaten hamburger while sitting on top of a hapless individual in a cyan t-shirt who had very little money on him. It's not that she can really expect the average, ordinary, and altogether plain dude to carry a whole lot on them, but she might be able to hit up some fast food joint and toss it at them for some small bag of french fries or something. (Assuming she doesn't just barge into their kitchen and grab whatever she damn well pleases, she knows how much food they throw out!)
She rests within a quiet alley near the western border of Southtown. Many cars drive by, seemingly uncaring of the plight of a normal man being so thoroughly trashed by the thug eating rotten food. Southtown may be going back to some old, bad habits after the shock of the invasion at long last. It's grown late, and the more intrepid among the lowlives may find it an opportune time to conduct business.
Finding the woman known as Varvara--having encountered her by chance once already--is not an easy thing. Shiden doesn't burn any -favors- to do so, just some cash, which is easy enough for him to acquire, and some legwork, but it takes a couple of days. Fortunately, he'd had things well in mind before starting this quest, so his network was searching even as he was not one hundred percent sure of Aranha's involvement, much less Varvara's.
That alleyway she's in is soon visited by the young Chinese-Japanese man, his body blocking the light and throwing his shadow long down the alleyway. He just watches for a moment, trying to decide just how disgusted to sound, and deciding he probably can't sound -that- disgusted... it wouldn't be possible.
So instead, he opens up with a question. "Haven't you ever wanted something -better- for your life?" It's the kind of question asked by people like Anthony Robbins, like Oprah, only the way Shiden says it, scornful and dismissive, it isn't an uplifting, 'you can do it' sort of question.
Her first response to the growing shadow dimming what light is left down the alleyway is to eat the last of the garbage burger and the wrapper with it, an act disgusting enough in itself to a person of civilization and class. To her, it's a way of marking what's hers. 'It's mine, you can't have it, I'm eating it.' She doesn't even have the decency to close her mouth while chewing. Decency is for people with too much money.
She swallows about the time the question is asked. It's a very familiar voice to her, one that does not evoke great memories. It's not one worth making eye contact with as her stomach greedily picks at the meager nutrition it can find. It is not a pleasant sensation for her beyond the knowledge it's /food/.
"What's it to you?" She sneers. The guy she's sitting on groans pathetically, trying to reach out with a hand as if to beg for help.
"'What's it to me', indeed." He sounds bemused, almost perversely so. "What it is to me, Varvara... is a job offer. A chance for you to turn your life around... at least for a while." He can't make promises forever, too many people are too stupid to manage what they have... anyway. Shiden's not done talking yet.
"It's a chance to be a human being again. To put it to you on -your- level... a chance to make some money." The crushed mundane is given a dirty look, and then is dismissed, no matter what groaning sounds he may make. If you're not strong enough to fight back, then your stuff gets taken.
Instead, Shiden drops to squat, his eyes intent on Varvara. "Of course," he adds, casually, "If you don't want it, then you can continue to scrabble around for garbage. But you'll always remember, after today, that you could've had a life, instead of this poor excuse for existence."
The drifting bum of a young woman at first doesn't seem to give Shiden the time of day at mention of a job. A clenched right fist pounds into her left palm in what is, by all appearances, an aggressive gesture. Impatient? Maybe thinking she can shake a few more hundred dollars off of him in some impromptu spar? (Is she even thinking at all?)
To 'be a human being again,' her eyes narrow at this. The injured man tries to reach up to push her off and make a run for it, a hope she quashes when she slams her fist into the side of his head, bloody spittle spray outwards. It stops short of Shiden's shoes. It is as though the spittle itself fears this man.
When Shiden squats down to her level, that is when she at last makes eye contact. Her face is scarred and, to most cultures, entirely unappealing. Her odor is... let's just move on from the odor.
"You had me at money," she replies as she rises off the poor garden variety citizen, as if refusing to let this man tower over her even while he's squatting - even if his superior height is easily reaffirmed if he stands all the way back up. There's something in her eyes. She wants that money. No, she is /desperate/ for that money, no matter how mean a face or stoic a demeanor she may attempt to present.
The poor are always easy to manipulate. Shiden smirks. "Of course I did," he says, as he rises with Varvara. "And you haven't even heard what I want from you yet," he adds, ominously, as he actually takes a step -into- the alleyway. Reaching into his coat, he draws out an envelope--not one of the white King of Fighters envelopes, but a larger, manila envelope.
"Fortunately, what I want from you is just up your alley. And mine. I want you to be a teammate for this." And now he -does- produce the King of Fighters invitation, a copy of it at least, handing that over first, giving her time to understand what it is.
"If you accept, then there's some things in this," he waves the envelope, "that I'll want you to do and to use. If not, well, like I said--you can go back to eating garbage."
Varvara makes no delay in snatching the invitation. With the strength of her grip and Shiden's, it is a small wonder that the item in question is not split into two at that moment. One may crack humor at her assumed level of literacy in English - never mind that it is rather dark in the alley. She squints as she holds it up towards her own face instead of doing something reasonable like asking to step out into the light.
She lowers the invitation for but a moment to glance back at Shiden, a frown before she looks it over again. The invitation to the King of Fighters 2011. Who has not heard of King of Fighters? It is one of the greatest names of all of the fighting world. Riches and fame await the victors - and all anyone needs is to just be strong enough to take it. Such is her meager understanding of the subtleties of the world of organized fighting.
Rather than give a civilized 'yes' or 'no,' she takes no time in trying to snatch the manilla envelope out of Shiden's hand - should he allow her to let that stand as her answer.
Shiden releases the invitation copy easily--he meant for her to take that one, after all. He watches understand blossom on her face, but--when she reaches for the other envelope--he keeps it out of her reach. "Ah ah, proprieties first. Yes or no, Varvara. I'm going to have you commit to this -before- you get anything..."
Of course, once she says yes, she'll get the manila envelope. Inside will be a wad of cash--not too much, maybe a couple thousand dollars, a cellphone and charger. "You can use the money for whatever you want--almost. I want you to be -clean-... or at least hygienic... by the time this thing rolls around. Get yourself fed. Hell, fix that face of yours--or don't. Maybe it'll scare our opponents. The only other thing I expect is that you keep that cellphone on you, so that we can contact you when we need to."
Varvara growls at the retraction. Like a begging puppy she makes a second (likely unsuccessful) reach-out for it in mid-demand for a polite yes or no. It is as though basic manners completely escape her right as they would give her that grand payoff she seeks in her miserable, difficult, pathetic life.
"...Yes, I'll do it," and her eyes are alight with 'gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme' and this grabby urge meets satisfaction when she gets the manilla envelope. The greed is all too clear when she opens it up with all due haste.
Money! Money! So much money, and... some cord thing and what looks like one of those things people have that lets them talk all the time. Luxuries she herself had no access to back home, their mystique knowing no bounds. It is easy to take modern conveniences for granted. If this were a marriage proposal, this alone might have gotten her to say 'yes' in a moment of hot-headed recklessness and weakness.
And this money, whatever she likes... be clean? "Uh huh." Get fed? Hell yes. "Uh huh." Fix that face of hers? She frowns again. People who fight don't get to have pretty faces. That's a price of being a fighter, she reasons - one that only occasionally manifests in sorrow and regret the few times she can look in a clean mirror.
"Yes." She replies at the idea of keeping the phone on her. She is so keeping this thing. She doesn't even know how to work one of them but it's hers now and nobody's going to take this cellphone away from her! The possibilities are boundless and without end now (as would be the price of whoever's paying the phone bill).
Instructions given, Shiden simply nods--he believes that, if nothing else, Varvara's basic desire for money to live her life will keep her in line. Besides, that two thousand isn't all that much in the long scheme of things. He can always lead her around by the dollar bill if he has to.
Turning away, he steps out of the alleyway--only two steps later to turn back and point at Varvara. "I forgot to add--your other teammate's name is Aranha. There might be a bonus in it for you if you can manage to find him and... introduce yourself. He'll want to know what kind of fighter you are, after all, and the best way to find out is firsthand."
That said, he turns.. and disappears into the night, blending in with the crowd seamlessly and instantly.
Where there's money for being little more than muscle - not that Varvara is lacking in that aspect (in so far as such a thing may ever be seen as desirable for a woman to begin with) - there's where Varvara will be with her empty stomach and greed clouding her thought processes.
"Aranha." She mutters the name to commit it to memory. Aranha, Aranha, Aranha. The name is not unknown. She hears it here and there. Her eyes narrow. A bonus for finding him is a bonus she'll take, whether it's for a burger or a billion dollars. She lets Shiden disappear into the crowd without another word or, truth be told, much of any response other than holding these items of such great interest to her that people of a decent living would consider a trifle.
She cracks a tiny smile that contrasts so very heavily against her harsh, scarred features. The hurt man in the alley groans again. She kicks him to keep him quiet.
He doesn't get to ruin her moment.
Log created on 18:59:06 10/26/2010 by Shiden, and last modified on 21:52:05 10/26/2010.