Description: Cammy's upbringing is hardly anything normal, to put things tactfully. When someone she cares so deeply about - or at least feels strongly about - ends up in jail, she turns to one of their friends for advice... in the middle of the night, while they're trying to sleep, in their own apartment.
The humble home of Howard Rust is... actually a very cheap apartment paid for by Pacific as part of the benefits - few as they are in comparison to the risks - for working for the Southtown chapter of the Pacific international school system. This particular building is full of expats to Japan for whatever reason. Many of the teachers of Pacific actually sleep in these parts, and Mr. Rust is no exception.
Situated on the third floor of eight, it offers a decent view to the street below. It's too bad this place is a bit far off from something like, say, a convenience store. It's mostly apartment residences for the next couple of blocks, which is too bad. There's at least a decent balcony, where an unattended grill sits.
It's a very cold night here, with the only things keeping Howard company are tools and a couple of blueprints strewn all over the place. There's some very interesting things to look at, for prospective technology thieves - not that Howard would style himself an inventor, but it is clear he has been putting some very serious thought into finding permanent ways to take care of his long-standing issue with people constantly breaking his benches. Very serious, very dire thoughts.
It otherwise looks the part of what one would expect for a stereotypical unmarried man with no fear of having someone over to share the night. Dishes are undone. Things are filed about in places they shouldn't be. It's a mess. There's at least three unfinished bottles of some alcoholic substance about.
At least he's kept the TV off. The bathroom light is the only active light in the entire apartment, its eerie shine beckoning those who wake up in the middle of the night having to go to the bathroom with the ever-inviting western-style toilet seat that could use maybe a bit of cleaning.
The teacher is fast asleep in bed, uncomfortably resting on his stomach as to not put further stress on his aching back after Kyo had shown him what a true top tier tournament fighter is like. Taking a RED Kick head on is not good for anyone's continued health!
To say nothing of the usual Kyokugen lessons and the utmost pain it inflicts.
These big apartment blocks aren't exactly Fort Knox, and third floor is practically ground floor, as far as Cammy is concerned. In the dead of night, the frost hard and cold, the Shadaloo assassin keeps the shadows while scaling the wall like a cat, fingers seeking purchase on the brickwork as she climbs straight up. The cloak has been left behind, to reveal the Doll uniform beneath - cloaks aren't a good accoutrement to have on when climbing apartment blocks.
The Doll disappears from even searching sight for a while when she nears her target. Who knows the near mystical breaking and entering techniques that Shadaloo teaches it's assassins, but whatever they are, they are good enough for Rust's bachelors pad. The Doll finds herself padding through an apparently messy place full of unidentified grounded objects. The doll pauses for a moment, head cocked as if listening - eventually making her way over to the bedroom on tiptoe, careful not to step on anything other than carpet as she goes.
Eventually coming to a halt right by Rust's bed. She sinks down onto the floor, sitting crosslegged in the dim dark, and reaches out to tap on the bed, quietly but insistently, to wake up its occupant. Quiet at first, but if Rust proves to be a sleepyhead, rather louder, until he wakes.
Cammy is met by snoring. Loud, obnoxious snoring. The man appears to stir, and moves an arm... does he notice something as subtle as the tapping of the bed? Could he be a far lighter sleeper than anticipated?! Perhaps this slow-moving man is faster to the draw for midnight invaders than his movements let on?
...Nope, he just scratches his side and snores again, grunting as he subconsciously start to lay against his side - the very side he should really not be laying on considering how much it stings.
It takes a while for any real hint to come up that he might actually be waking up to these increasingly louder taps. His eyes flutter somewhere around the point these taps could be mistaken as someone knocking on the door.
"Middle of the night," he mumbles almost incomprehensibly as he's led to believe there's indeed someone knocking on the door. His vision is fuzzy, a bit murky as he tries to stir to something approaching life as he casts off the blanket. He's not even wearing anything except for boxers with the card suit of clubs printed on them.
It's only a short time after he's sitting up that he sees there's actually someone here, but he can't make out who it is. There's a surprised grunt as his right hand reaches out and snatches the toolbelt with Ol' Rusty - just within arm's reach on the nearby nightstand - and points it at the figure without actually removing it from the toolbelt.
"'m armed," he mumbles a warning.
Cammy blinks as he goes for a weapon - it's almost like he thinks someone breaking into his bedroom is wrong or something. When Lord Vega does it to her it's red carpet time, it's not like she's going to hurt him or anything. "Yes... So I see." she says, her eyes already well adjusted to the dark as she looks over the weapon of Rust's choice. "But you won't need that, I just am here to talk to you."
She stays put on the floor, though she looks a little bit tense, ready to leap just in case Rust actually does go for her. Not that she's expecting him to or anything, he seems like a reasonably helpful and patient man in Cammy's estimation. "This is the best time to catch people. You are almost always sure that people are home at this hour." she tells him brightly. "And you have not even had to move anywhere just for me.". Makes sense, no?
The shop teacher slash groundskeeper is fumbling for the lamp with his left hand while keeping the toolbelt and its pipe pointed at the figure on the floor, managing to get this thing turned on somewhere around 'I am just here to talk to you.'
The filling illumination of the room makes him squint, making things even less visible for himself than they were moments ago. He's sure he knows that voice, but you sure as hell don't break into his apartment while he's trying to sleep!!
So much that when he can't even make out the form of who it is, he lowers the weapon a little and... there she is, just sitting on the floor like she owns it. His mouth hangs open as his eyes just come into focus to see her lecturing to him as to why it's perfectly fine to break into a dude's house in the middle of the night, just to talk to them.
Let's make no mistake here, it is likely just about any red-blooded man's fantasy for a hot girl to come to them in the middle of the night, but this man cannot help but feel a sort of trepidation to go with the cup of confusion that comes with someone just breaking into his home at night for professedly peaceful purposes.
"'s in the middle of, middle of the god damned night," he growls, "spent, spent all evening gradin'... two hours behind on sleep." He complains, still seated on his bed because he really does not feel like getting up to eject her out.
"Who the hell raised you, thinkin'... thinkin' ya can just... just break in." He grunts tiredly.
Cammy actually looks a little bit contrite. But only a little bit. Her brow wrinkles a bit, and her hands ball into loose fists for a moment. "Well, I am sorry. I did not know that you spent all the time grading. But, see, if I emailed you you would say you were busy, or not even check, and it is important!". Disturbing Rust she can perhaps understand, though the breaking in part she's a bit hazy on.
"And, well. I am not really sure who raised me, but I am not sure that you are supposed to have that information anyway, so it's probably just as well you don't know either. I am not going to hurt you or steal anything or suchlike." she says reassuringly, and a little aggrieved that her break in has been received so poorly!
"Anyway. It is about Quon. I saw him on the news. Have you seen the news?" she asks, blue eyes fractionally wider than normal, one hand reaching around to grab at a braid and drag it into her lap, where she twists it nervously with her fingers. "It was last week now.".
"Hngh." He shakes his head at her explanation. What the hell could be so possibly important that she'd have to break into his home to talk? So incredibly self-important as to put herself over his entire well-being and sense of security just to friggin' talk? He begins to think maybe he really ought to just throw her out the window and be done with it as she starts getting to the important part.
"Look, I don't--- Quon?" He asks as he pushes himself up off the bed, right hand still holding onto the toolbelt. If Cammy squints, she can probably see the tail end of an extremely nasty burn scar on his right hand that hasn't completely healed - and probably never will. Ah, yes, Quon, he visited him in jail very recently.
Cammy is very visibly worried - maybe a sign of legitimate care and concern for his continued well-being despite everything going on that should strongly suggest she does not get too attached.
The teacher foregoes tact in the heat of his tiredness and the sheer offense of it all.
"Talked to him," he grumbles as he stands up, if only to fully exercise his height advantage over Cammy while she's sitting down there all doe-eyed, "he did it 'cause of you."
"What do you mean, he did it for me?" Cammy asks, not quite understanding what Rust is on about. She shifts uncomfortably on the floor, and with Rust standing up, this really isn't all that comfortable, so she gets to her feet in one smooth motion.
Though even not particularly tall Rust is a fair bit taller than she is.
She clutches her hands in a tight grip, holding them against her belly as she listens to Rust explain. "What should I do? Should I break him out?" she asks Rust, doubt heavy in her voice. The Killer Bee figured out that would probably not help Quon on her own.
"That kid, that kid's willin' to ruin his life," the man continues on the offense, too tired and incensed to give a damn about any sort of innocent and worried gestures - however legitimate - on Cammy's part as he starts shaking his left hand at her even as she rises. He's looking her in the eyes, exerting the strictness years of hard work and being in charge of some difficult kids has brought him.
"Might get expelled from, from college for that shit he did, 'n he tells me he did it 'cause he's afraid of /you/." It's only a very well-educated guess, given what Quon was willing to share. That Cammy is trying to be tight-lipped on some factors, for him, confirms it.
"Break him out /nothing/, you've been, you've been bad news for him," he growls.
Cammy shakes her head vigorously, causing braids to bob around. "No! He should not be afraid of me! I've never done anything to hurt him." she tells Rust. "I have never even touched him. Look, you have chi burns." she says, pointing at Rust's injury. "You get hurt by your friends all the time, but I have done nothing to Quon. I am not bad news for Quon1 I have helped him as much as I can.".
She slowly goes back to sitting, not entirely immune to the teachers gaze given a life of obeying orders. This time in a sprawl rather than neatly cross legged, she pouts somewhat, with a big frown on her cherubic face. Eventually giving voice to what she is thinking. "It is not fair. Why is he afraid. I have tried so hard.". She looks up at Rust, a woebegone expression on her face. Which slowly turns to a more analytical look. "You are not afraid of me." she points out, thinking this is even more unfair.
The man switches the toolbelt over to his left hand, gripping it tightly by the cloth rather than the pipe stuck through a pocket to let Cammy get another good look at this hand. This hand is a sign of an incredibly serious injury, one that's been given the best possible medical care, but still one that otherwise would have cost him use of that hand entirely. It's not a pretty sight to look at.
"Y'see this?" He interrupts as she mentions not being afraid of him. "Buncha friends of yours... buncha friends of yours invaded Southtown some time back." This should be fresh in just about anyone's memories, as people are still picking up the pieces even today. "Blowing up streets. Buildings. People, 'n you see this? You see this?" He puts his right hand ever closer to Cammy to she can in fact see this as one of his knees pop so very loudly.
"Got it trying to, trying to protect my school when it was god damn overrun by soldiers." He's amazed at times he hasn't been put in counseling for the fact he was surrounded by the death of so many people when Rolento came into the picture to save him and a Gedo student from the combined forces of Igniz and some other shady sort. "Nearly, nearly cost me my livelihood, and y'know what, Cammy? Y'know what? /I/ got off, got off light."
He clears his throat as he looms ever closer. He's doing his best not to let Cammy squeal or plead her way out of what he has to say - although in this instance he is, admittedly, confusing NESTS and Shadaloo for still being best friends even though events in the underworld are saying otherwise. That particular doing was almost all NESTS.
Cammy doesn't actually know much of what Shadaloo has or has not done. She does know one thing, though, which lets her dismiss pretty much all of it in one fell swoop. "I do not remember any of that. But even if I did. I am not sure what this has to do with me. Or with Quon. Or why he is afraid of me. There are many wars, people fight in them. I do not remember anything to do with a war in them.". Cammy is a soldier herself at the end of the day, as the uniform might imply, she's hardly responsible for what the generals get up to now, is she.
She frowns at Rust, the woebegone look well dismissed now with that change of tack onto things that Cammy doesn't even know about. Or particularly care about. Her concerns are more personal, Lord Vega can handle the geopolitics. "But we still have to do something about Quon. He is still in jail. What should we do?" she asks. "Have you spoken to him yet?" she asks him, a little hopeful. "I am not sure if I could speak to him. Maybe. Do you think he would like it if I did?".
"That's the whole friggin' point!" The man all but shouts. It probably wouldn't be long before any of his neighbors come and ask him what all the commotion's about, as the older man holds his hands out wide as he tries to navigate - seemingly unsuccessfully - Cammy's great big giant sea of denial on the matter, her frown not doing much to deter what he's trying to say.
"I spoke with him in, in jail aready," he clears his throat again, god damn he could use a drink right about now, "he did something, something stupid 'cause he's willing to ruin his life... he's not even, not even an adult, Cammy!"
He brings his right hand back onto the pipe proper, with signs that he might even be thinking of drawing it even though, to all appearances, Cammy could probably neutralize him before he got it out. He's tired and still working off injury. He probably didn't come off as much of a match for her in his friendly spar with Quon when he was arguably in top shape for fighting. Whatever the facts are, for how little he may know in comparison concerning her analytical prowess, this isn't stopping him from showing his displeasure.
"He wants nothin', nothin' to do with what you got, whatever... whatever people you're with," he growls as he thinks about what he's saying to her. The way she just keeps denying, the way she keeps playing innocent, the way she thinks she has the right to break and enter where people are trying to get some damned sleep! She's impossible.
Well, most women are impossible, really. She's just a bit more impossible than usual.
"Look. If ya care for him, Cammy," he raises his left hand, and lowers his head a little, "you'd... you'd just leave him alone, don't... don't drag him into none of what you got going. He's younger than... than twenty, so, he's not gonna get charged as an adult. He... I don't think he's, he's gonna be in there long."
Cammy listens quietly to all of this. And after Rust has stopped talking, there is a long silence. Eventually the Doll wordlessly gets up from the floor, and prowls off next door, to obtain a glass in a state which passes for clean in this household. Filling it up with water, she returns to Rust's bedroom, and presents him with it.
"But... He is my friend. I'm not going to hurt him. Or do anything bad to him." she tells Rust, trying to make him understand. "I've done a lot of good for him. Some of which he doesn't even know about yet. And I can't just leave him... What will I do then?" she asks, flopping back down onto the floor, a big - or in her case, small and thin - bag of woe. "I will be lonely. And I've not even done anything. I do not understand what has happened.".
Not precisely true, she is hardly lonely, she has lots of people to talk to. Unfortunately they are people like Balrog.
He's following her when she reaches for one of his glasses, with a look on his face that says 'I didn't say you could drink out of my cups.' He does, however, remain in favor of chasing her out the door by some means or another, assuming incorrectly as to that's how she got inside.
He seems a little surprised when he finds the cup isn't for her - it's for /him/. He eyes it with some suspicion, as if half-expecting it to be poisoned and then withdrawing the antidote unless he helps break Quon out of jail or some such.
But he's also thirsty and his throat is dry. Thirst wins. He reluctantly quenches his thirst to the tune of Cammy trying to plead with all her little Vega-given heart as she starts being a little ball of pity on his floor. He... doesn't like really anyone being a little ball of pity on his floor.
Especially when they've broken into his home in the middle of the night!!
"Ngh." He grunts as he takes in the lead-laden flavor of the tap water, which is just how he likes it. He grunts another incomprehensible bit of consonant sounds as she's all how she hasn't done anything wrong, how she'll be lonely.
He has no idea what it's like over there, but it can't be anything good. Problem is, there's nothing good when it comes to her being /here/ either.
"If you're not gonna, not gonna take it from my mouth," he starts, "you should go get it from, from his." He ambles over to his nightstand and puts the half-full glass on the table. There's not really a whole lot of room for that glass.
"No... no sneakin' in. I dunno where you're from, or, or how they raise you, but that shit doesn't, doesn't fly here." Normal people would have screamed and called for the police by now, as sometimes useless as they seem to be in dealing with people like this. "Just... just visit that prison. Normal visitation hours, none of this, none of this cat burglar bull, all right? He'll tell you."
He'd better!!
"Listen, it's... it's in the middle of the god damn night, you broke into my house, and... and if you don't just get out," he shakes his head and points to the window, "'n let me sleep..."
He doesn't finish the threat. He wants to go back to sleep and not have to deal with any of this when Quon has made it relatively clear in their chats as to the hows and whys he's been asking what he has been.
Cammy wrinkles her nose from her spot on the floor, not even sure if she's got what she came for. Sorta. "I will talk to Quon." she says, a little optimistic that her friend Quon won't let her down like this Rust character, who did, after all, beat Quon up once. "I will just go and talk. Maybe the cops won't mind.". Hopefully Interpol isn't after her or something like that.
"Ok, Rust. Thank you for talking with me." she tells him politely enough. "Even if you don't have anything good to tell me.". She gets up, brushes her braids back into position so they hang nicely down her back, and then stalks out for the door. Which she peers at briefly, discovering you can unlock it from within, so she opens the door. Getting out of these places is a lot easier than getting in.
So long as she observes visitation hours and the such, then maybe she will be able to speak with Quon with the utmost minimum of friction. The man has his free hand on his head as if he were beginning to develop a headache from this kind of talk in the middle of the night. Why in the hell does she think it's okay to go and do that, he thinks to himself.
"Go." He grunts at her remark that he had nothing good to tell her, well, what the hell is she expecting, he thinks further as he hears the door open and - likely soon enough - close. He doesn't think to get up and go lock the door to prevent other opportunistic thieves from coming in. No, he just wants to sleep and get in however much he's going to be able to.
Tomorrow is not going to be a great day, especially when he has to fall asleep on his stomach somehow to keep the stress off his back and sides.
Cammy skulks off, leaving Rust to his sleep. Feeling rather miserable by Doll standards. Practically booted out! Some friend he is, pah.
OK, so he's the friend of her friend, rather than a proper friend, but close enough. She assumes.
And soon enough, she'll have to visit the jail. The old fashioned, legal way. She's never been in a jail before that she remembers, so it'll be an experience at least.
Log created on 13:52:00 12/08/2010 by Rust, and last modified on 16:50:51 12/08/2010.