Description: With Quon now apparently on board with his plans Sagat has yet another visit to make. Another man that could use help, Howard Rust. Or at least that is what Sagat thinks. Rust might think he is just fine on his own. Can the Muay Thai God convince Rust to help him in return for a pretty sweet deal?
The humble apartment building of which a fair number of expats to Southtown reside is also a very pricey place to live relative to the small-ish size of the apartments themselves. There's always been a rusting barbecue grill out on the ledge of one particular occupant's home, as though a landmark that were to indicate his presence even though said grill had seen enough decay from the elements that it should be disposed of.
That, or its owner has simply forgotten it's there.
It is growing increasingly late in the day, and recent events have cast a most foreboding air on the apartment in general - a reported power outage, and the appearance of a suspicious unmarked delivery truck having stopped by. Something that sounds like a cause for concern for anyone who might be tracking a certain man down in the current day! After all, even in today's times, Southtown remains a wholly dangerous place to live. Surely, however, the circumstances aren't all leading up to something terribly dire?
In the man's apartment, a single figure stands in an unlit bathroom. The creaking of joints paint an almost sinister air on whatever sort of person might think it a good idea to be moving around at all while the lights are still out. The front door remains locked - clearly no signs of tampering or forced entry.
One may assume the worst from the outside, but perhaps the truth of the matter is something... far different, as whoever currently resides in that place goes about whatever business they have in the darkness of an apartment building with no power.
Odd how one of the people that would often be known to make places more dangerous is actually around and possibly keeping things from going that way. Of course with Sagat and his past he could just be bringing danger with him wherever he goes now that he is no longer part of Shadaloo. Then again when you are as old as Sagat you tend not to care what might happen. He will take Vega on himself if the dictator decided to try and hunt him down. Surprisingly it seems Shadaloo must not consider him a threat. He has not rn into anyone that has tried to drag him back into the fold or the like.
Instead he has been allowed to travel without incident so far. He rather misses the simplicity of the small fishing village he was staying at in Sri Lanka, but this is no time to just sit idle. He knows Vega is still up to things, but of course with his intel cut now he has no idea what exactly other than what he knew what was going on in China before he had 'died'.
For now it is time to help instead of harm if he can. Already he has managed to run into Quon and seem to hopefully have the young man back on track. Now it is time to move on to the next step. He hasn't seen Rust since before King of Fighters even started, but he knows the old man has been through his share of problems too caused my Cammy and Shadaloo. The large form of the former emporer of Muay Thai lumbers through the complex before finally he stops at Rust's door and gives a gentle knock.
The gentle knock gets an immediate - if muffled - vocal response from whoever is residing within. "Said I'd, I'd be outta here tomorrow!"
It's at least able to be confirmed as one Mr. Rust's voice, at least, which is probably the only reassuring thing in this particular situation given what he just said. Footsteps follow soon after, followed by something falling over loudly with a choice four-letter word before the lock is fiddled with.
"Cripes, thought we... went over this," the familiar voice mumbles as the door opens, "hey, uh--"
The figure beyond the door inside looks up. The outline definitely matches one Howard Rust's physique, although in the darkness it's really hard to make him out - especially from the neck up, somehow. There is, however, very little mistaking on his end as to what the figure before him likely /is/, able to make out the height and the shorts, and...
"It's... hold on, wait, uh," beyond the idea of there is FREAKING SAGAT in front of him, there is the recent memories of choice things said about the individual before him. An individual that, in theory... shouldn't be here.
"You're... you're not the landlord," he states the only thing he's sure of, a hand rising up into the shade to presumably scratch his own head as he motionless looks upward.
He gets ready to knock when it seems Rust has Sagat mistaken for someone else. He doesn't need to it would seem as soon there is the sound of someone approaching and then the door is opened. Even in the dark it is very hard to mistake Sagat for anyone else more than likely. There are few people that are his size. "I am not." he quietly responds when Rust points out the obvious.
He waits for a few moments to see if he is invited in or the like, but he finds he probably has to do it himself. "Can I come in? I would like to talk to you." If anything at least he is trying to be polite. That rather big frown of his combined with his known history of course can't help in make Rust feel uneasy about it all. If allowed in he ducks through the doorway and finds a more spacious place to stand. There are probably no good chairs that the large man could fit in anyways. "Why are you having to move? By choice?" he asks. It seems like he has not heard of the problems that Rust has recently had to deal with.
On one hand, it's probably a relief it's not his landlord. On the other hand, it's Sagat. It's a hard pick as to which one he'd rather /not/ have in front of himself. The shorter of the two steps backwards as a cautionary measure, which more or less can be easily (mis?)interpreted as an invitation to come in.
Aside from light filtering outside, it's pitch dark in here. For whatever reason, most likely coincidence, Rust's head still remains shaded and unseen as he grouses. One of his shoulders creak nervously. "Uh... look, j-just, careful where you walk, third box I, I knocked over this evening. God damn... power outage, 'n both my flashlights were outta batteries." As was, presumably, his cabinet. Surely, Sagat's visit will be brightening his dim day.
This apartment does seem increasingly bare by now, if one squints. There's a number of boxes strewn about full of things, including one recently opened one with a very suspicious marking and copious layers of industrial tape along with layers upon layers of stickers and bar codes and other such postal nonsense.
Of course, there comes the question, perhaps the most obvious for someone to ask who has supposedly been dead since those pivotal events at that island.
"Well, uh," the man clears his throat, "to, to put it simply... lost my job after that, that whole mess at that island. I heard... I heard you didn't make it out."
This speculation has now proven false considering there is FREAKING SAGAT right there.
"I'm, I'm startin' a new one, but... but Pacific was coverin' for, y'know, this place. It's pretty spendy now that, that they aren't." The man starts pacing, as if attempting to make out what it is he knocked over in the dark /this/ time. "That, 'n I lost a boat goin' there, rental place's been up my ass 'bout, 'bout buying a new one for 'em."
For such a large man he does do well in not running into or tripping over anythin despite the darkness. Of course once he finds a safe place to stand that is out of the way it isn't like he is moving around enough to knock things over. "I wanted people to think I was. I need to recover and have Shadaloo believe I was gone." he explains as he folds his massive arms over his chest. He does listen intently to what Rust has to say, that single eye seeming to drift from the box that seems out of place compared to the others then back towards Rust himself.
"This place doesn't look worth it from outside or in. We'll find you a better one." he comments idly. Of course what is this 'we'll' thing he just mentioned? It doesn't seem like Sagat gives Rust much time to ask about that since he is already speaking again. "The boat will be covered as well. I am in need of you to let Quon stay with you once we get you a place." There is that whole we thing again.
Given the tone and such being used it is less than him talking about possibly helping out in finding a place for Rust. It is almost more like he is simply stating what will happen because he said so. Some habits die hard and it seems the large man still seems to just order people around as if it is okay.
Is that really it? Such would be the look of the man's face of disbelief, if his head were even visible as it were. A low grunt seems to be the beginnings of some expressed doubt about this idea or another. The last thing he needs is to have someone like Cammy pop by and cheerfully (for a given value of, er, cheerful) ask if he's seen Sagat lately.
"Wait," he starts to murmur in between statements about a 'better' one, but it gets interrupted by a sudden cough he pats out with his fist as Sagat elaborates further, along with another, maybe even far more interesting subject matter that's far more worthy of the word 'wait.'
"Wait... Quon?" Asks the man as he steps forward a few steps, but yet his head somehow manages to be angled just right to be obscured from view thanks to the shadows. "H-Hold on," he raises a finger, "where's... where's Quon now? I haven't, haven't seen him..."
The man suddenly winces, as if mentally bracing for what's probably about to follow, "he didn't just, just get himself into somethin' like... that again, did he?"
He wasn't too sure if Rust had heard from Quon at all recently. He had a feeling the man didn't know what was going on in this case because. From what he gathered when he finally did find Quon the young fighter seemed to be avoiding everyone and everything. "He was sleeping on a bench in the park. He apparently is homeless." Mentioning that just makes the brow furrow a bit more. Partially due to Sagat knowing in part it is his fault, but at the same time his attempts to keep Cammy away just never worked.
He reaches up to lightly rub at the bridge of his nose and his single eye closes. "He is going to train with me. I am going to show him how to fight and take back his life. But I can't be around to keep an eye on him at all times." He isn't fully sure if Cammy truely is done with the young man. From what he can gather at least she hasn't been looking for him or visited him as of late when they talked.
"I will pay for a place. I might need a room at times, but I rather keep traveling than stay in one place. I just need you to help Quon when you can." he says while lowering his hand and that single eye opens again to look to Rust. "You can train with us if you want. I know Shadaloo has done alot to you as well. Don't you want to pay them back?"
A bench over in the park? The forty-something man slumps visibly at this revelation. Is there nothing in life that's going to ever go well for that young man? He himself got a fairly raw deal, but he really is, by all accounts, probably one of the people who came out best in this whole matter.
He knows exactly where this is going when Sagat mentions 'keeping an eye.' It's coincidence that the two are actually rubbing the bridges of their noses independently as this is brought up. Cammy, just, Cammy, what the hell is wrong with that girl? For his brushes with Shadaloo in the past, even he can't really fathom what it is she keeps trying to drive towards.
There is an unnerving silence as Sagat speaks of all he's hoping to get out of turn. That Howard turns his back and ambles back over to some other darkened part of the room is probably not a good early indicator of what he's thinking of in regards to that.
"L-Look," he speaks up about half-way through the idea of paying Shadaloo back, "in the, in the big picture, I'm a working man, not... not some kinda super hero." Never mind that he just admitted outright earlier that he was present for the grand final battle for humanity's fate against some kind of great horror or another.
"The... the way I see it," he turns around, waving a finger, "when you're, you're dealin' with terrorists, the kinda people who're all 'bout ruining your day, I think... I think the best way you fight 'em is, is that you don't let them, I mean... uh," how does he clarify this, he thinks to himself.
"I got, I got a job that's gonna let me do a whole lot more... more training with the Sakazakis, uh, the Kyokugen dojo." Yes, that dojo, the one run by an increasingly senile man whom regularly terrorizes the countryside with giant triplicate waves of awe-inspiring chi, and also Costco.
"I still got my, my dreams, too. If you're askin' me to help drag Quon back into his, kicking, screaming... doin' that thing he does that lets him, uh, y'know, slip through hits, some more kicking... probably more screamin'... I think that's, that's gonna be the strongest stand anyone's gonna make."
For all purposes Sagat lets the other an speak his mind. He may have been speaking as if he is giving orders and expecting Rust to follow them, but maybe that is just his style and he just doesn't realize he comes off that way. "Sakazaki? They mean well I suppose, but they aren't exactly the most sane of individuals." This coming from a guy who let his hellbent lust for revenge drive him to fall from grace and join one of the most, if not most, evil organizations known to man to serve for many of years. "As for dreams...."
He ponders things over a bit. HIs hand coming to rest on his chin where he idly rubs at it while thinking. "I believe in training Quon he will be able to accomplish his own dreams. He believes he won't ever get to be an actor, but who is to say he can't?" he says and there is a slight grin. It is kind of an unsettling one even if he is actually in a good mood. It is just the large man looks menacing in almost anything he does without even trying. "What are your dreams?"
Curiousity gets the better of him. Maybe because Rust intrigues him to an extent. The man seems so simple, but from what he has seen the man is also more of an accomplished fighter than he might ever give himself credit for. What is it exactly the ex shop teacher really wants?
"Ahh... truth be told," the older man scratches his head, "sometimes, ah, sometimes I don't think... I don't think anyone's right in the head." Or perhaps it is indeed him who is not right in the head, worrying so much about the hows and whys of a mundane world so many people seem to be able to safely and securely tuck under the rug through their lives while he often struggles away.
But then again, he has also established that he imagines objects as people unto themselves.
The roughly menacingly asked question puts a lid on his murmuring and speculation about matters of sanity and general coherency of the human mind in the matters of everything they are all surrounded by, and the man in his forties gives pause at the question asked.
Not because he's unsure of what to say, but more as though Sagat seemed... unbelieving, in some form or another.
"I, I don't think it's... much of a secret," it really isn't, as his knee pops in a way of saying 'get on with it,' "I'd, I'd always wanted to make it to, to the top as a fighter, but... ahh... to, to give the short version... lots of things just, just kept gettin' in the way."
That is the short version of the short version, to be sure.
The man paces a little before turning back over to Sagat, head still vexingly hidden in shadow. "Ahh... you... you probably saw how King of Fighters turned out for, for all of us." He grouses. "Quon... never got, never got a chance to fight in it." That could've been what he needed to get a jump start for his potential career as an actor, which makes him feel all the more guilty. Instead... well, it was a series of incredibly unfortunate events, as it were.
"I know, I'm, I'm getting up there in years, but... but I like to think, I still got a shot. I might," he says, his confidence belying his choice of words, "just... just so much bullshit, poppin' up all over, until recently."
The man is worried about age getting in his way? He must have forgotten who he is talking to at this point. That grin doesn't fade from Sagat, but instead he looks more an more amused as he listens to Rust and what he has. "So age is a problem?" he asks and he hmms. "So does that mean I should retire from fighting because I am in my mid fifties?" he asks. He is doing his best to keep his tone an amused one so he doesn't think Rust is offending him. The whole attempt at trying not to be menacing isn't exactly an easy thing at times. He likes to think he is doing a decent job these days.
He gives a shake of his head. "Stop worrying and just do it." he tells Rust. Odd how much the fighter is letting his perspective change since he has managed to break away from Shadaloo and take time to evaluate his own situation. He actually steps forward towards Rust and he leans forward, that grin still not fading as he looks more closely at the man. "If that is what you want it is perfect to have Quon around. You can train and improve together. You can become the best and Quon can gain the strength he needs to where he doesn't need old men like me and you to watch out with him."
There is a bit of a chuckle and he straightens back up to his full height and a large hand is rested on the shoulder of Rust and he pats. "Think of it as a chance to do what you want without worry of keeping a job. I would be paying for residence afterall. You can make enough through fight winnings for food and such, right?"
"N-No, not like--" How can he really explain the difference between his situation and the rest? In the big picture, there probably isn't a way - many of the very greatest fighters alive are, indeed, currently around Rust's age or even older than himself.
He's interrupted by the sudden firm hand on firm shoulder, and at the closer range it's far easier to make out the man's head. It seems like there's... something on it. New hairstyle, maybe? How many hairstyles can a man of, er, his particular conditions really experiment with? Maybe it's a nice hat he's wearing indoors for some reason.
"I'm, I'm not... I'm not objecting to, to Quon, no," the ex-shop teacher clarifies, "now, this job, this job I'm gettin', that's... that's one I want to keep, and... and believe me, it's not gonna stop me." If anything, it's probably going to help keep it all going - perhaps even assist with Quon too, assuming Quon isn't going to be resisting every step of the way. "And... uh, yeah, I don't think... uh, food's gonna be an issue."
He's more worried about the mouthwash at this rate.
"I'm, I'm not lettin' this stuff hold me back, all right, just... just gotta take a, take a good week or two to, to sort things out," the man tries to reassure as he walks back - and into - a stack of boxes he hastily turns around and holds in place, "it's not just... just residence, or jobs, but... but I gotta see if I need to, to get my work visa changed here, some insurance stuff filed... work out the, the li'l things, too."
While it does draw a glance Sagat is at least nice enough to not question just what is on Rust's head. Maybe even a cat looking for a place to sleep? It has really good balance if that is the case. He lets out a low chuckle as the smaller man steadies the boxes and seems to still be so nervous. He supposes he can't blame Rust for that. It isn't like most people know how to deal with Sagat in a more personable level and many just expect him to kick them in the face.
"There won't be problems. I can make sure of that." Sure he might not have resources like he did when he was with Shadaloo, but just that appearance for SNF he made alone combined with the one he is going to do soon given him plenty of money to work with. Not to mention he can perhaps ask Ken Masters for a few favors to help people out if need be. As much as he rather not do that it is at least an option.
He considers things then nods. "Week or two. That is about what Quon needed." the giant says while fiddling about and eventually pulling out a wad of bills. He reaches to take Rust's wrist to hold the hand out and places the wad in it. "Five grand should be good enough to find you a nice place. A roomy one for Quon to stay at too.....and me if I feel like it." he adds and gives a bit of a grin. He isn't serious......maybe? It might be better not to find out if he is or not and just do it.
It might be one of the world's greatest hopes that whatever it is on Rust's head is a cat and not something... far more sinister, so born of desperation as to be a crime against nature unto itself for its existence.
Howard Rust is probably always going to be a man who sweats the small stuff all around himself, for that is just the world he feels he's a part of even as he makes broader steps back in the direction of the wild, wacky, but not always fun world of organized fighting.
A part of him seems a bit worried at 'there won't be problems.' He's... really hoping Sagat didn't already go and sign some things in his name, somehow! It was already bad enough when it was implied someone was able to look at his bank accounts a fair while back.
The boxes steadied for the time being, the younger of the two turns around just in time for one of his hands to be grabbed and have five thousand dollars in cash placed in his hand."
"Uhh," the 'and me' part is pause-worthy, make no mistake, "thanks, I'll... I'll probably have to, to rent a storage space first, 'n then," he scratches the side of his head. There's 'nice place' and there's 'five grand.' This apartment is crazy expensive for what it offers. It's Southtown, and the United States dollar is looking to grow ever weaker.
Then again, with what Ken Masters promises for his Neo Development Project per fight...
"Look, uh," he's not even really sure what to say at this point when he's looking at a man formerly so deeply embroiled in one of the greatest terrorist organizations of the modern day - one he probably avoided having a serious beatdown from by grace of the presence of Raizo during the great invasion - who is once more giving him the gift of so much money.
"Thanks," he sums it up succinctly for lack of anything else he can really describe of the situation as one of his knees pop again as he exhales loudly, "I'll... I'll make it work, one way or the, or the other."
More than can be said for his ability to stock batteries for times like these, at least.
It is probably best not to think too much about what is on Rust's head. It might be something that could just drive Sagat mad if he tries to figure it out in the dark. In the end he counts it a blessing that he managed to stop by when it is dark out and there is a power outage happening.
The larger man just nods and he steps back then looks for the door. "I have some other things to take care of. I have a fight and other things." He doesn't go into too much detail and honestly it is probably for the better. The less Rust knows what Sagat is up to the better. Less stress on the younger of the two in this case.
"I'll try to let Quon know the situation. Hopefully he won't have any problems with this arrangement." Even if he did can he really refuse a nice place to stay instead of constantly being on the street and in homeless shelters? Sagat supposes he will find out. "Call me when you find a place." he says while moving to step out of the apartment and close the door. Rust might try to wonder how he is supposed to do that, but inspection on the wad of bills he was just given he would find a number scrawled on a piece of paper. It looks like even wanderers have cell phones these days.
Log created on 12:22:31 12/11/2011 by Sagat, and last modified on 15:51:06 12/11/2011.