Description: Chun-Li is pulled out of a fine sleep by one of her homeland's respected law enforcement officers and talked into listening to a man that claims to be privy to the movements of a shadowy organization very close to her heart. Dastardly events are in motion, but with this firsthand warning, can the Interpol agent possibly defuse this new threat before it's too late?
It's late. It's retardedly late. In the dead of night, Chun-Li should have gotten a call (or page, or poke, or whatever it is those snazzy Interpol agents use) from a most unusual source. Oh, it's not that the chief of police in one of the greatest Beijing forces wouldn't have need of an organization as large as Interpol. In fact, their number is on his list of emergency numbers. Hell, there's even a shiny blue phone that's reserved explicitly for contacting people like that. No, it's the fact that the call doesn't come through the usual channels. There's a chain of command to follow, and even then, operatives are not usually directly available. This number must have been obtained through other means...but what?
Well, it IS China.
"Come on, pick up, pick up..." A balding, aging man paces back and forth in his office. The windows and doors are all closed, his shutters drawn to keep anyone from peering in. With his free hand, he pulls a handkerchief and runs it around his forehead, taking great care to mop up the hairless bits of dome glistening under its faint sheen of sweat. What on earth could have him so agitated?
The darkness and quiet of a distant apartment building interrupted by the buzz of a cell phone sitting on a night stand, the luminescent panel on the phone lighting up a significant portion of the ceiling and a small collection of picture frames by the bedside. A fumbling hand reaches for and explores the top of the stand searching for the noisome object, patting and questing while the ringing continues.
Finally sweeping aside the duvet and covers and sitting up in bed to stretch over and grab it before the call ends, dislodging the duvet and gently swing her legs to the floor as she flips the phone open and raises it to her ear "Agent Li" her free hand stifles an automatic yawn she hopes doesn't carry and she bemusedly studies the digital alarm clock beside her bed as she waits.
The man on the other end of the line lets forth an easily audible sigh of utter relief. "Oh thank goodness." The words are puffed out, no doubt leaving his lips on an exceptional wave of relieved stress. "Miss Li, I'm terribly, terribly, awfully sorry for disturbing you, I'm really just SO sorry." He bumbles and professes his regret no less than three times, unless he's driven to the point first. In either case, there's a brief silence and this odd sound of scraping as his hand moves to cover the mouthpiece. Back in the office, he looks furtively around, doublechecking that he's alone.
"Believe me, I would never have called you if it wasn't important, and I should have gone through your superiors, but this..." Again, that handkerchief comes out, dampened anew by beads of anxious persperation. His voice is mousy, and by the way he talks, he gives the impression of a short, mousey man; far from the thick-necked, blusterous ex-military one usually expects in his sort of position. "I have a witness here, who brought up a very distinct name." Once more, there's that sound of phone-covering. When his hand is pulled away, he resumes speaking in a lower, more hushed tone, one that makes it difficult to understand when one has just woken up.
"Most of the men here don't remember what your father has done for the people, and they're ready to just dismiss things that are too much trouble, especially when, ah." Oh, he fidgets so! "S... Sa--sha..." His voice is incredibly shaky as he tries to spit the word out, but he of all people knows the dangers of speaking too freely over the phone. After all, how many citizens are tapped by his own force daily? "I can't, I can't tell you here!"
Chun-li appreciates the buffer offered by the apologetic voice on the other end of the call. Faintly drowsy and suppressing the desire to yawn further or stretch she rises from her bed dressed and begins to slowly pace around the room, the exercise and action aiding in clearing her head. The callers nervousness and hesitation along with the fact that they had somehow acquired a direct contact number was intriguing in of itself.
"That is quite all right." she slips in a placation her voice inflecting more cheer and pleasantness than she was quite honestly feeling.
Miss Li's eyebrows raise slightly at the sudden introduction of a witness and wonder of just which case this could be in relation to and her lips part gently to ask until the voice on the phone mentions her father. 'forget what your father has done for the people' the lone woman walking barefoot through her apartment stops suddenly, the nature of the conversation on the cell suddenly makes perfect sense and the person on the phone could have good reason for their nervousness. The person on the other end of the phone stumbles and stutters a name but the woman rouses and speaks clearly and authoritatively " 'Shady' dealings? are something I am interested in.. Yes." a quick save and warning both.
here is a moment of silence on the phone and Miss Li comes back with "I'm perhaps 45 minutes away, I can be there in forty."
The poor chief's sweatrag is on the verge of leaking as it is. Talking about such things on an insecured line (and really, there isn't one in the whole building) is hard enough. For months, there have been...shall we say "issues" in the brass, strange policy changes and external committees taking over the odd investigation here and there. The number of men who have walked in the past month alone already exceeds that of the rest of the five months prior! There comes a time when a good, law-abiding man has to try and put a stop to things, even if it's at great personal risk.
However, he's no idiot. Shady dealings? The phrase sparks life in his anxiety-addled brain, a clarity that drags free the clouds of fear, if only for a short while. "Yes, exactly." All of a sudden, his voice is more stern now, indicative of a surely-straightened posture and a cease to his endless pacing. A look is given to the large clock on his wall, its dingy face sporting two large, angled bits of metal that at one point in time may have been proper clock hands. Now, they're simply dust-riddled and bent things, many times forced back to their previous shape what with its protective glass casing long gone.
"I'll prepare the--" He pauses, once, and runs through possibilities in his mind. His kerchief is stuffed into his shirt pocket, tucked safely away until one miraculously dry corner flops forward over the seam. "They're doing a bit of /work/ on the front entrance, so please be careful." Will she meet him at the rear entrance? He sure hopes so. It's cold outside, and he doesn't look at all comfortable standing out back in his long jacket. A man can only nurse a slowly-burning cigarette for so long while trying to /not/ look around expectantly...
Unconsciously smiles at the change in the tone and return of confidence and an authoritative tone of the caller and she attentively listens for any further advice. “Very well, I'll do just that.” worried perhaps over goings on being noticed? That may be wise even Chun-li's usual appearance was quite distinctive... enough for people to ask questions and that may not be in either of their interests. She plays along with the scenario thoughtfully exclaiming "I'll be sure to do that then, speak with you again shortly." Shutting off the class with a thumb-press and slowly folding the cellphone closed the lone woman in middle of her apartment remarking aloud to herself "..and now I can't see."
Minutes late a woman emerges form Chun-li's apartment building and hurries to a parked car. Dressed in a cream coloured and decorative knit cardigan and a pair of black Capri pants the only thing still reminiscent of the National hero and fighters iconic look is the hairstyle. Chun-li slides into the driver seat of a new looking silver midsize saloon and after checking her mirrors the car takes off with a gentle glide that quickly accelerates over the speed limit. She makes decent time across the city and parks behind the municipal building. The woman whom has also donned a coat to ward against the nights chill and with handbag tucked under her arm appearing unhurried she strolls towards the rear entry.
And none to soon, by the look of it! Just as Chun-Li rounds the corner to the back entrance of the police station (there's only one, you know,) the chief is in the process of snuffing out his spent butt under his heel with a crackle of crushed gravel. Footsteps upon the surprisingly neat and not-dingy alleyway draw him to look up, and ah! The relief on his face is so apparent that he couldn't hide it if he wanted to.
"Thank goodness you came!" He moves to meet the woman, a finger to his lips as he draws closer. Windows pepper the rear wall, most of which are darkened due to the night shift being but a skeleton crew. "Gaung Hongqi, chief of police of the greater Beijing area." He stands upright; there's no hint of the mousey-sounding man that was on the phone. The woman's very presence is bolstering like nothing else; a physical, palpable sort of security that's far more effective than the imagined fears of a shadowy organization. Thus grounded, he digs into his coat, pulling out a nearly-new pack of cigarettes. Tapping the soft box against the inside of his wrist, he drags one out...but more than that, he pulls a small slip of yellow paper from under the pack's plastic wrapper. "Do you smoke?" he asks, offering not only the stick, but the folded-up note:
Inside, second left. Room 103-C. Shady dealing ties. Wait five minutes after I leave.
Simple enough, if she cares to look at it immediately.
Chun-li smiles reassuringly at the Chief of Police after his introductions a high ranking officer to have been waiting to meet her but it inferred answers to questions she had pondered on the drive over. There is a great sense of debt she feels owed towards this man, however he had seemed or sounded his deeds had been courageous in of themselves and in return she can do little but offer a proper bow as one would to a superior officer. A pang of regret that there weren't more men like him is banished from her mind as her thoughts turn once more to business at hand. Taking the offered cigarette and piece of paper she gives it a cursory glance with just a flicker of her eyes towards the note in her hand. Cupping her hand around the note and twisting the cigarette into a position between her fingers she asks "Can I trouble you for a light?" With no intention of smoking the cigarette she waits patiently. "I want you to know... that I do appreciate it. Thank You." The sentiment extending to a great many of the man's recent deeds and filled with great respest and appreciation.
"For a stunning young lady like yourself, of course." Truthfully, it's hard for a man to /not/ be taken by the woman. No sooner do his words leave than he stops doing whatever he was doing, both eyes widening. A hurried clearing of his throat spurs his body to motion once more as he reaches in his pocket for his lighter. A zippo, or at least a reasonable knock-off, it seems. Engraved with some gracious words about the years he'd spent on the force, it looks well-used. The brushed metal is worn smooth in a number of areas, but the metal hasn't lost its luster.
"I mean...I'm sorry." Flipping the cap open, a spark gives way to a gentle flame that flickers restlessly in the gentle night air, bent and nudged by the slightest drafts--none of which find themselves able to wrest the precious fire from its mooring. After it sets the tip of the given cigarette alight with smoke and a glimmer, the cap is replaced with a shrill, sharp snap. Still slightly flustered, he slips the lighter back into his pocket, and now that both hands are freed, he brushes down the front of his jacket. "Believe me, if you can do anything--ANYTHING to help this city, I'll personally throw a parade in your honor."
That done, his hands slip into his pockets once more. No, just one. No sooner does the hand disappear than it pulls out again, the sleeve pulled back by the way he bends his arm. His wristwatch ticks almost silently, as analog as the clock in his office...though in much better shape with its polished steel links. "They're going to wonder where I am," he explains, taking the time to look up at the numerous windows peering lifelessly from above. With a slight bow, he turns and walks toward the well-lit back door. The jangle of keys is heard as it pulls shut; apparently, the man had forgotten his keyring before going back inside. Handy, that.
Not a minute later, the light hovering over the back door also flickers out. Doubly handy.
Assuming that the Interpol agent is quick, she'll find the halls empty. As said, the place is running on minimal crew and most of the officers are either in offices or running rounds through the holding cells. Down the 'second left' as indicated in the note is a very thin hallway, its left side smooth and featureless in its drab gray color. On the right are a number of doors, all heavy steel things with metal-threaded viewports: interrogation rooms, to be sure. Why would a witness be held there, though...?
The dull thud of a closed door rings through the hollow halls, followed by the heavy clunk of a metal lock falling into place. A thin, wirey-looking man, uniformed in full police dress, comes stepping through the hall and up the stairs into the main station. Five minutes on the nose.
waits quietly outside, the fire slowly consuming the cigarette as she reads the note just once thoroughly and tucks it into a pocket rather than the handbag still tucked beneath her arm. Leaning against the wall and in the dark to minimize her profile yet not appear to be hiding she listens carefully and mentally tries to keep account of the time. The vibration of the loud noise rings through the building but its also felt by someone leaning against the wall outside. Chun-li drops the cigarette and grinds it out with the toe of her hoes in an unpractised manner before striding to the door and opening it wide enough to peer in and with minimal noise and slipping inside (and retaining the lost keyring) She hurries down the corridor and quickly and quietly but with the air of someone on a mission rather than rushing. Past a few of the doors she shows and stops as she reaches 103-C and peers inside just to make sure nobody is going to bludgeon her over the head when she steps through the door in practical manner.
Opening the door she enters without saying anything but also unsure of whom she could be dealing with, as inferred 'a witness' usually had some reason to co-operate but in this case maybe even more to remain quiet.
Only one person is in the small room, at least now that the mean-looking cop had been called out. The room is a tiny thing indeed, barely ten feet square. A folding card table is set out near the middle, directly under the glaring light set in the ceiling above. The concrete walls are all painted white, though the telltale lumps of cinder blocks and their sealing grout shows that it wasn't a very expensive job. A folding chair has been pulled off to the side, one of those metal things with plastic-capped feet and a metal back that's uncomfortable no matter which way you sit in it.
Parked in the other seat is, by first guess, one of the city's random thugs. He's by no means large, what with his wiry, bare arms--adorned in a smattering of tasteless tattoos--rest their elbows on the table before him. His forearms are extended, both hands with their fingers intertwined. His wrists are constantly in motion, making the balled-up double-fist taptaptap against the flimsy table constantly. The only sight of his t-shirt are the rolled-up white sleeves creeping out from under a thick yellow hoodie, its arms having been torn to make the ragged, zig-zaggish patterns that stop just at his shoulders. The garment is obviously old and to be honest, a bit dirty. Smudges adorn the thing here and there, though the hood itself is pulled down. He's completely bald, a head that would shine in the bright light were it not for the garish inking he's had done. It SORT of looks like a Phoenix, with its beak coming down the top of his forehead? It's tasteless , whatever it is.
Regardless, had Chun-Li not been informed about him, it's easy for one to think that she's got the wrong guy. This guy, with his pierced brows and lips, looks like he belongs in prison.
When the door is opened, he looks up wearily, expecting the same man that had just left. When he sees someone different, his brows furrow and the left side of his upper lip curls up. His teeth have obviously seen better days, with bits of blackness creeping up between them. "What happened to the other guy? Can I go yet?" The fatigue in his voice is quite apparent; he must have been held here for hours. His lips look dry, like he hadn't been given much to drink in his time here.
Chun-li walks in with a pleasant smile and only half turns as she swings the door closed behind her. The manner is well practised and she focuses on projecting the calm and at ease demeanour expected of an Interpol officer. She studies the witness a moment and notes the signs of fatigue and treatment which she finds distasteful but focuses on the job at hand, whatever the witness were in here for must be no small thing given the nature of the night so far. Crossing to the table with the upright back of the folding chair in hand she slides it into place and takes a seat opposite the witness. Eyes and hands busy with the handbag she had brought with her she one by one lays out a lined-pad, pencil and a dictaphone all the while explaining "I'm afraid not just yet." she flashes him a cute smile and unreasonably asks of him "Could you please go over everything you've said again to date." All the while watching him for his reaction and without introducing herself.
The very idea of going through everything AGAIN causes the young man to sigh. His head droops downward until his forehead smacks against the table with a dull thud of distressed plastic. His shoulders droop to the point that he just starts laying out on the small table before him. "I've gone over this like a hundred times already, fuck..." Both forearms curl up around his head, one's hand creeping up with fingers spreading over the curl of his shaven dome. "I told ya, I gave ya all I knew, so c'mon, can I go home now?" The words are muffled as he doesn't even lift his head to speak.
"I got this cat, an' see, she's gonna go nuts that I ain't back to feed her yet, then she's gonna start clawing up an' pissing everywhere and I sure as hell can't take the landlady bustin' my nuts over more'a that smell, plus it takes for fuckin' ever to clean it up, and--" Really. He came in of his own volition to try and help the cops out for once! See if he ever tries to turn around and do something good again.
Unmoved by the displays she utters in a hopefully sincere manner "Oh my, that is unfortunate." commiserate but unrelenting, she picks up the pencil and scribbles a brief couple of lines onto the paper, date and time with a too loud scratching of the pencil in the quiet room, keeping her hands busy that she might not start tapping or fiddling betraying any hint of the irritation she was beginning to feel. The curiosity and worry she had experienced to this point was beginning to erode and the irritation form being awoken this late at night was playing across her mind. Chun-li not longer bothers to smile hoping that the 'cute girl' angle might help her out in this situation and simply settles in to wait him out.. or someone will return and discover them but that should shift the dynamic. She wasn't long out of bed (nor that long in it in the first place) but it seemed it would be hours still before she saw it again.
As the seconds drag on, it becomes more and more evident that this new woman isn't going to let him go. He remains still, hunched over as he is, possibly contemplating how much sleep he could possibly get if he were to pass out right here and now. His upper body clearly shows his deep breathing, so he's certainly not dead. He's just being stubborn. That scratching of graphite upon paper starts to wear at him, little by little. What is she writing? He hasn't said anything. Given his treatment already, perhaps it's some sort of punishment list. His head tilts to the right, turned at nearly a ninety degree angle. One eye can peer out over his forearms, looking between the paper and the woman writing on it, a few times back and forth.
Finally, he sits back up with an irritated groan, both of his hands coming up to rub at his face. "All right, all right...!" The action of sitting up propels him further back until he's more or less properly seated...and further still. He slouches in the seat, his arms hanging down, hands in his lap. "Look, I...know this guy, this old friend'a mine, said he's been uh, tryin' to make it big, you know? Years he's been tryin' to start his own business, shit like that." His chest again swells as a deep breath is drawn in, release in a long sigh. That done, his lower lip tucks in, tapping the metal rings piercing it against his teeth; obviously a nervous habit. "He's just always lookin' for money, you know? So he says--he says to me, this guy--says that he's got an in with some crowd, gonna go right to the top, right." His hands pull up, slipping into the thin pockets of his hoodie. The action tugs on the fabric, pulling it taut over his shoulders and the back of his neck. "All he's gotta do is just, deliver this thing. He ain't told what it is, just t'bring it to the big Stadium--y'know, where they had the Olympics and shit? Some...prop kinda thing for a show there, he wasn't really all that clear with me."
He pauses here, his eyes closing as he tries to recall specifics. His memory is already growing hazy, having told the story multiple times over. Did he already tell her about this? Did he mention that? No, it was to that other guy, wasn't it? Is it even still daytime outside? Again, his lower lip is pulled in, a ring or two caught and trapped between his teeth. The idle chewing repeats that metal-on-enamel sound, soft clinking that abounds in the small room.
"So he looks inside, you know, he's always had a problem lookin' at other people's stuff. An' he tells me, this guy, he's all talking about wires and shit, some..." At this point, he starts to gesture with his hands, forming a big circle in the air over the table. "Some big round thing, lots of wires and bricks of some acid-smelling stuff that kinda smelled like gunpowder, except he ain't never seen no gunpowder that smells like that, you know? So I ask him, hey, do you make a habit of smelling gunpowder? The fuck have you been getting into?" And then there's the story about the guy trying to hook up with his sister-in-law, but how he's a good guy, and...oh, now that she's started him talking, Chun-Li may find it hard to get him to stop.
Time indeed does drag on for the pair in the interrogation room, eventually as the man sprawled across the table begins to show signs of life she devotes her attention to him once again. Slowly following along through his account of events and mentally translating and noting key points. A second-hand accounting of a 'friend' who had taken a job of dubious origins and nature. Letting him continue uninterrupted up until his description of the object of delivery "Do you have any idea what that package contained, what that device was?" her hand raised trying to forestall the the spillage of information from the witness. She alternatively asks "Or who your friend may have gotten involved with?" The two key points of his story that she could possibly discern as reason for someone to be scared enough into coming forward to the police. Regardless of his responses the pencil lingers over the page ready to note his responses and the dictaphone records silently while sitting on the table. Chun_li offers a little encouragement "This could be very important, and I think you know that already. That is why you are here and have put yourself through this ordeal."
"I didn't see it, this is all stuff he told me." The guy slouches still, hands now on the table but slipping fast as his tired arms rest at either of his sides. "But he thought--I thought it's some sort of bomb, but that's crazy. Do people still do things like that? It's like those movies, you know, where someone sneaks things in no matter how many guards they got on duty." His head cants to the side, and as he thinks, his features scrunch up a bit. His eyes lift toward one of the upper corners of the room. "Still, I thought I oughta at least come tell you guys, just in case. I don't want him to be responsible for all those people if it's real, right?"
Oh, and the name! He looks directly at Chun-Li as she asks for a name. For a few seconds, he stares with a blank expression. When he tears away, it's because he's resumed that "thinking face". He said...somethin'. It was..." A hand rises, scratching at the top of his sweat-sheened noggin. "Somethin' Law... Super Law? No, that ain't it." His eyes scrunch shut as he mixes and matches words in his mind. "I know it was S-something. Shal.. Shamma... Shitsu...agh!" He scoots his seat back suddenly, doubling over as he smacks his face right into his waiting, uplifted palms. "Shala! Shala...damn it, that ain't it... Fuck!"
The prospect of what this all could mean has Chun-Li feeling sick to her stomach, The prospect of a possible bomb was a concern but a possible threat targeting people at a stadium was a crime of the worst kind. Chun-Li solemnly nods "Perhaps it will come to you in a moment." this all seems a little unlikely and yet she has a bad feeling. Intuition can be the difference between a good cop and an average one, likewise a fighter and right now hers had the Chinese fighter more than a little on edge. If this truly did have to do with Shadowloo then it could not be ignored and yet neither could she coach or coax the answer from the witness. As far as it stood the evidence was all second hand, but it all hinged on the mans recall as to wether this was somethign warranting her time after all, Gods willing it wasn't and it was all just a misunderstanding or deliberate waste of police time.
"Shadaloo!"
The man recalls the name with sudden clarity. His face lifts, his expression utterly certain that he's right! With just three syllables, he'd surely broken any hope of this "problem" being a hoax, or at the very least, something that the rank-and-file officers could take care of. No, now that there's ANY connection to Shadaloo, Chun-Li just won't be able to resist, could she? "That's it, I'm sure that's it. I remember because I thought it sounded like something out of his movies again, and--"
It's at this point that the two are interrupted. A very, very tiny grate in the wall crackles to life, followed by the chief of police's voice. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, miss, but there's really no time left." The original officer must be returning, no longer distracted by whatever it was that the chief came up with. Immediately, the poor 'hostage' looks around and spits out toward the direction of the new voice: "Hey! Hey, when are you gonna let me go? Can I go? You can't hold me like this!"
"I'm sorry sir, I really am, but the order comes from higher up than I. I'm trying to get you out, I promise, just...just please cooperate, just a little bit longer..." The two will likely be at it long after Chun-Li leaves, but now she's got what she needs. She has a link, however tenuous, between her being pulled out of bed and the organization that she so despises. What will she do with this knowledge...?
Log created on 20:09:34 09/09/2011 by Vega, and last modified on 00:30:16 09/17/2011.