Description: Once again, Alma Towazu, ostensibly psychic, misjudges his destiny. Having returned to Japan at peace with the notion that he can no longer be a savior on the world stage, yet still uncertain how to reconcile this new sentiment with his unsurmountable need to live by his own strict ethical standards, he expects to be rudely reminded that evil exists in the world when the presence of the Killer Bee, recognizably one of Vega's minions, becomes known to him. Yet atop a lonely cliff, where Alma once fought a difficult battle of a different nature, he finds instead that even an enemy is not always a threat. And that perhaps even one who cannot command the will of history has a chance to set a soul on the right path... without overstepping themselves.
As the flames of war rose Alma Towazu from the dead, so do his wanderings now resurrect long-forgotten memories.
The Scarred Beauty of Southtown, once known as the Radiant Angel, relaxes by the cliffside, his tall and slender frame leaning against the sagging wall of the damaged and mysterious cabin constructed there. Having at last returned to Japan, still not yet compelled to return to the Young Fighters' Community Center -- where he knows he will be forced to explain and justify his absence, and his new mindset after the events of Jinchuu -- the psychic hero found himself idly treading half-remembered paths through the forests about the city of his youth. As is often the case with the intuitive warrior, he did not question the urges that brought him here, and only once he saw the cliff itself did he remember the confrontation he once engaged in here.
He defeated Adon, that cruel and sinister man, though most likely has still not seen the end of him. Sighing gently, the mild-mannered ex-model, his gentle gaze obscuring the passion and deep sentiment rising within him, reflects on those whom he has opposed. Some, like Adon, were sadistic out of weak-mindedness; some were inhuman out of their craving for power. Many of them yet stand, and work toward ideals incompatible with Alma's own. Is there any way he can fight against them, without presuming to be a savior of humanity himself? Is it true, as he once assumed, that to live the ethical life he dreamed of when he first acquired the strength he came to know as Soul Power, he must take the world stage? But Seishirou Ryouhara, though his nemesis, seemed to prove that Alma was not qualified to command the will of history in such a way.
He has returned here, without knowing an answer.
Smiling gently, heart open to the play of the energies about him, the psion's second sight taking in the vibrant energy of nature, he humbly considers how little he has ever understood his own destiny.
Cammy is out in the forests herself, for rather more mundane reasons than seeking out tranquillity and memories. Shadaloo has files on just about everything and everybody thats worth keeping a file on, and the reason they can manage it is the sheer number of eyes and ears they have out around the world, gathering intelligence on everything they come across. Some Shadaloo members are, however, more diligent in this than others.
Cammy is /very/ diligent.
Especially right now, after having a good time in Southtown. She feels like she better work, or Master Vega will be unhappy. To that end, she's also been roaming around the forest - and feeling something strange, a place with memories, perhaps, a place of power maybe. This led her vaguely to the shack. The abode of some sort of hermit, perhaps? Who knows. The Killer Bee prowls around idly outside the shack clad in her red cloak, nudging at the corpse of a crow settled on a plank of rotten wood outside the hut. Given Alma is paying mental attention, perhaps the presence of an evilly psycho powered mentally abused ninja assassin created by warped science mars the pristine aura of the forest, and maybe even the not so pristine aura of the shack.
Just a little, yes.
Alma, his hazel eyes narrowing amidst the burn-scar discolorations of his burnished bronze skin, twists abruptly, causing a hue and cry from the crows that have settled about him during his brief contemplation, a rush of black feathers exploding about him as he steps away from the cabin wall. For a moment he is silent, taking a moment to do what he can to identify the conspicuously corrupted aura -- the sign of a stilted, artificial self, a personality risen inorganically -- from the clues that the empath is well-trained to detect. No psychic is a true mind reader, but he can immediately detect that his first instinct, the improbable suspicion that Adon had somehow returned, is off-base. This is more like one of those NESTS constructs, and yet-- that lurking darkness.
He knows that power...
"Who's there?"
...but from where?
Short blond hair tinged with ruby red rustling in a sudden cliff-side breeze, the Young Phoenix, well-dressed as ever -- if somewhat inappropriately for a hike -- in a tailored sport coat and designer jeans of his own old brand, steps fully into the open, seeking out from whence he's detected that spiritual disturbance. He'd prefer not to be confrontational, but he already has a feeling--
"Show yourself," he continues, mild expression becoming serious, tone even but with the air of one naturally given to command, "please."
--this is no friend.
Cammy doesn't really /look/ like she's the one responsible for any nasty auras - a teenage girl, perhaps someone who will be beautiful with a few more years but for now is rather baby faced. When Alma steps out from under the canopy of the trees to a more exposed location, he sees Cammy up by the door of the shack, just about to head in and have a poke around. Though with his call, she turns around quickly, to focus blank blue eyes upon him.
One blonde eyebrow arches. "Who are you?" she asks. Only Lord Vega gets to boss her about. And maybe Sagat. But at least he said 'please'. Hands stuffed into the pockets of her cloak, she leans forward slightly, clearly looking him over very intently, taking in every detail.
Being a psychic doesn't prevent Alma from being taken aback.
"Oh... well..."
The normally unflappable leader of the YFCC hesitates for only a moment, his eyes flickering, and not only because the sinister presence he felt turns out to be a pretty girl. No, it is her eyes that startle him, as he notices simultaneously her more innocent appearance and the strange vacancy of her blue-eyed gaze. His initiat instinct is hardly contradicted, but what is she? He is reminded of Kula, vaguely, before their dramatic confrontation, yet that girl never had such an empty stare. It's one thing to be grown from a vat, to have less life experience than one's appearance suggests. But it's as though this girl is--
"I am Alma Towazu," he murmurs, his expression not softening, his gaze clearly sizing Cammy up in his own way, reciprocating her intent focus. "Professional martial artist, and vice-president of the Young Fighter's Community Center." And wielder of Soul Power, Rose's variant on Vega's notorious Psycho Power. Given Cammy's diligence, his name will likely be known to her, but his new appearance is still known to very few. For while he still possesses the understated elegance and poised confidence of one who has always been beautiful and never needed to prove it, Alma's striking features are permanently marred by discolored skin and burn scars leading down to his chest, where the seal of the Ryouhara Clan is forever burned. His bone structure remains, and with his peculiar charisma, the effect is sometimes more arresting than entirely grotesque. Nevertheless-- he is not the man he once was.
"You are..."
He is stronger.
"...You must work for..."
At last, his eyes flicker in recognition. He knows this power! She's been infused with--
"Vega!"
Alma's fists clench, eyes flashing and narrowing yet more.
"Is that not so? What're you doing here?"
Boy, this will be embarrassing if he's wrong.
Cammy blinks at that. "Alma Towezu." she echoes, and tilts her head, remembering old pictures from long ago. She's not even aware of any context - having been brainwashed only recently, everything more than a few months old is unknown to her, but she still gets flashes, things that Vega thought she might have needed to better do her duties, things from files she doesn't even remember reading.
She takes it in her stride. She's used to it. "You look different." she says, gaze flickering over his burns and his scars.
And then, her eyes widen, surprised. She's never been busted quite so fast by someone she barely knows before. She glances down at herself, faintly embarassed, and fingers the sleeve of her red cloak for a moment. "The cloak gave it away?" she asks. "I work for Lord Vega, yes." she replies, no point hiding it as he apparently knows. "And I am walking in the forest.".
Now Alma's truly surprised.
"Aha..."
He had raised an accuratory finger, the other hand clenching into a fist; that fist relaxes, and that finger droops, as the righteous champion blinks, his almost grim seriousness evaporating as a strange smile turns up the corners of his lips.
"...ha ha ha."
Chuckling with mild bafflement, seemingly almost charmed by her response, the battle-ready psychic reaches up to rub the back of his head, more wrong-footed socially than he can remember being in years. Really, that's it? I work for Lord Vega, and I'm walking in the forest? Well, true--
"I didn't know that Vega's minions..."
His smile widens into a puzzled grin.
"...took casual walks through the forest."
Though hardly afraid of a confrontation -- and, if anything, it would be all too suitable here, to prove to him that threats remain in this world that he cannot ignore -- Alma seems as relieved as he is baffled that this girl appears to not be an immediate threat. "Please forgive my suspicion," he says a little hesitantly. He's not sure if he should be apologizing to this girl, but by nature he's inclined to want to give her the benefit of the doubt. At the very least, this is /much/ more interesting than fighting. "I've had confrontations with your master in the past." Who knew Vega's brainwashed minions were capable of such nuanced interactions? Even the ones that aren't brainwashed seem to prefer just to bash his head in.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmurs, gazing back at the forest from which they've arrived, his eyes then sweeping over the stark cliffside, and back to the dilapidated cabin by them. "And even this," he continues, regarding the half-destroyed edifice, "inspires a certain sentiment. I've been here before, I still I have no knowledge whatsoever of who once lived here, or why." His eyes, at last, soften. "Meanings fade, and are forgotten, and then arise anew, and are renewed... I wonder if I should be gratified, or sad."
Then he blinks, and realizes he's been casually pouring out his current sentiments, as is his wont, to not only a stranger but a potential enemy. Still, he's not embarrassed. This is how he's always been; it's almost refreshing to remember that, after Jinchuu. Still smiling faintly, the man once famed as a great beauty looks back to the cloak-clad girl. "And what do they call you?" he asks gently, his eyes now far more curious than hostile.
Cammy is apparently almost as bemused as him, judging by the expression on her face. "I am not just walking in the forest. I will report back on all the things I have found later on." she says, a hint of defensiveness in her otherwise bland, English accented voice. Is this some sort of test, she thinks. "I do not think I should tell you anything else about what I am doing, though. Your good guess has been rewarded enough.".
When he goes on to talk about beauty, she glances around the forest, and shrugs slightly. "Maybe." she replies, totally noncommittal about the forest. "This shack is interesting though. It has history. Something happened here...". She reaches out with one hand, to rest a single fingertip on a rotten plank for a few seconds. "You know what?" she asks, gaze suddenly turning back to him. Definitely something for the files anyway, as is Alma and his new face.
In a slightly better mood now she's found some stuff out already that she's sure Shadaloo will be interested in, she is practically amiable by Doll standards. "I am Cammy. The Killer Bee. Lord Vega has said nothing about you to me, however.". Which explains why she's not trying to smash his face in with her combat boots.
Alma nods slowly, listening carefully. Her aura is potent, and he has no doubt this woman is a formidable fighter; their battle would likely be a desperate one for him. But either because she is a new construct or because she was only recently infused with Vega's power -- that is, he reminds himself, always a possibility -- she does not seem particularly deceptive by nature. Cammy, the Killer Bee, huh?
"I'm not surprised he hasn't mentioned me," he responds modestly, smiling gently as he lifts his hands in a little shrug. "I'm merely a disciple of one of his enemies." That's not strictly true anymore; Alma has become a formidable psychic warrior in his own right, and he and Vega have clashed directly on several occasions. But there's no reason for him to proudly insist on that. It certainly doesn't do him any good. "There's no need to tell me more than your name. Thank you, Cammy."
What an interesting girl. Does Rose-sensei know about her...?
"Hm, well, I suppose I'm no threat to your Lord Vega as I am now," he says, mostly to himself, his smile becoming a somewhat wry grin, an unusual expression for the passionate young man. "Not unless he attempts to foment destruction or chaos right in front of my face." Alma's not exactly proud of it, but it's still a fact: he's just not comfortable right now with the idea of saving the world in any capacity. Not after what happened. He has a lot of thinking to do. At any rate, his tone is mildly joking, self-deprecating even, but he sounds as sincere as ever. His gaze soon turns to Cammy again, however, his expression softening.
"Tell me one more thing," he amends, gazing into her blank blue eyes. "Are you familiar with a woman named... Rose?"
Cammy listens to all of this in silence, focused entirely on his words, committing them all to memory. She doesn't move a muscle throughout, until he stops talking, and then, and only then, does she speak. "Lord Vega does not like people who get in his way." she says, in a warning tone. "I have had to warn many people of this already, those too insignificant to merit his personal attention. It is very tiresome to do. Especially when they argue with me. None of them can win anyway, so why try. Lord Vega is a great man. The greatest man.".
"Rose. I know of Rose, yes." she says guardedly. "The master does not like her... at all.". Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Why?".
Very tiresome, huh?
"I can imagine," murmurs Alma in a solemn deadpan. He probably /is/ very tiresome to megalomaniacs like Vega -- at least, when he's not beneath their notice. He's not the type to be sarcastic or offer false sympathy, but he can't deny he does briefly consider a 'How hard it must be for you'. No, despite their affiliations and, er, philosophical differences, he finds he doesn't dislike this girl at all.
If anything, should he not pity her?
"Yes, I suppose he wouldn't like her."
Could she not be someone other than what she is, without that man?
"I know Rose well," he continues, and though he does not appear to, he chooses his words extremely carefully. He hasn't seen her in some time, and is seeking her out himself at the moment. If he's not careful, he could lead someone he loves and respects very much indeed into danger, as confident as he is in Rose's strength. But he is certain that she will understand: that she too, if she knew this girl, would want to help her, and have the same intuition as Alma himself. There's something more behind this girl's blank gaze. There's something-- interesting about her. Something he is not wise or experienced enough to identify himself, other than in the most nebulous capacity.
"She is indeed a threat to your lord," he murmurs, which is true, "and has recently returned to Southtown." He smiles slightly, his expression serious. "I tell you this to thank you for your straight-forwardness. It is not what I've come to expect from those who serve Vega." That smile widens, his eyes hinting at hidden humor. "Perhaps I'll have to revise my opinion."
Hardly. Duplicity is not exactly second nature to Alma, but he has, after all, dealt with politics. He's no liar, but he's not above failing to mention the truth. If Cammy pursues Rose, she will surely be noticed. And then--
There's a chance that a soul might be saved.
Only now realizing his goal, Alma secretly feels a little bashful. Here he is, thinking he can casually set a life on the path to redemption in a single encounter. But would it not be worse to feel thus and not act? He has only so much control over the consequences of what he has just said, but--
"Good luck to you... Killer Bee."
Cliff wind whipping against his hair and jacket, Alma Towazu, the Thrice-Born Hero, smiles again, his gaze both warm and contemplative.
This is a matter of individuals, not of history.
Cammy listens more, and blinks when he talks about Rose, not even aware that she was nearby. "I do not have any orders concerning Rose, either. Lord Vega has other concerns at the moment.". NESTS, at the moment, to be precise, and Chizuru too, but Cammy is waiting on some backup for that one. "But I am sure he will want to know this.". She tilts her head sideways a little, and shakes her head, nose wrinkling. "Though I am not sure why you tell /me/ this." she adds, a little suspicious. But that's not really for her to decide - Lord Vega will hear about it, and then he can do whatever he wants with the information.
"Goodbye." she calls out when she realises Alma is leaving, frowning very slightly. "Maybe we will meet again. Maybe it won't be so peaceful, though." she states, not sure what the Masters wishes will be concerning this unusually open self declared enemy.
And with that she turns her attentions to the shack, stepping inside, to have a poke around and see if there's anything interesting hidden within.
Log created on 17:01:48 11/04/2010 by Alma, and last modified on 19:14:25 11/04/2010.