Description: In Russia, Angelo steps forth to take his measure of the one figure in this unfolding drama he is certain will not simply try to destroy or capture him the moment he makes himself known. This turns out to be entirely accurate, and the pair share a few words. There is little love lost between the pair of assassins, one who seeks to cultivate the power of others, and another who seeks to impose the will of another upon the world. These words have been spoken before, and they will no doubt be spoken again. But Angelo knows there are ways these things must be done, and now that it has been confirmed, it is time for the pieces to be set to shape this next explosive change.
Vladivostock is a pretty damn cold place at the best of times, and February is not the best of times. The snow is thick on the ground, crunching beneath the boots of the locals... the city is in a high state of alert, given the Chinese are supposedly on their way! Not that there are any soldiers to be seen here really but the police seem to be on the prowl, looking for trouble, and there are more cars with black tinted windows cruising around than normally there might be...
A fairly nondescript looking beat up old truck that looks like it might date back to the Soviet era putters along down a street, black smoke tainting the cold air from it's exhaust. Looks like any local businessman's ride... except hidden within is a rather different cargo. A squad of Shadaloo troopers, with Chinese army patches. Including a Doll, who is settled on a bench in the back along with everybody else, looking out of place amidst all the burly army type men. She is steadfastly ignoring the others, ignoring everything in fact, lost in thought, no doubt thinking about her objective, whatever that might be. Something bad for Russia, no doubt.
There is another figure in the back of this truck. Another person who does not belong.
In the gloom and the cold it had been easy to discount him as a pile of rags. He had not breathed, had not even thought, for hours. Now, though, Angelo comes back to himself. He is here. At this time, in this place. He never liked Russia; it is cold and the food is unpleasant. The fighters who hail from here tend to be loud, brash, burly types. So unlike the refined aesthetic he saught in himself.
The rags stir. Moving up to a crouched position, they become the hunched form of Angelo. His hood is pulled over his face, the dark material wreathing him in shadow and darkness. Most of the soldiers do not notice; one does. He stares, eyes bulging, cigarette dangling in shock. The sound of creaking leather, as Angelo flexes his gloved fingers, is almost deafening in the quiet.
"Killer Bee." A voice like bloodied silk purrs, "Do you remember me, I wonder? We met once. It was, explosive. Did you think to learn my name, hmmm?"
Cammy doesn't like loud, brash, burly types either. They tend to be hairy... and sweaty. Ugh. Ugghhhh. The commandoes suddenly almost go into orbit when Angelo makes his presence felt. Where did he come from! He must be a fighter, with stealth powers like that. Needless to say none of the grunts decide to actually go for him. The poor sods don't even have nametags...
Cammy finally moves, turning her head to face him as he reaches up to adjust her garrison cap. After staring at him blankly for a moment, she speaks. "Angelo. What are you doing here?" she wonders. "You did not seem to be the sort of person who would oppose Lord Vega's will... least of all his will regarding Russians.". She narrows her eyes in the semi darkness of the truck. "I hope you will not be getting in the way.". He sounds a bit like Balrog. The doll wrinkles her nose automatically at the thought.
Angelo shakes his head slowly. "I do not care about this nation." He says, and the hood turns in the direction of each commando in turn. He enjoys the fear that he inspires in these lesser troops. Foolish men who rely on *guns* to do what only power and skill can really create. As though the world to come could be forged from gadgets. What fools.
"However." The hood turns in the direction of Cammy again. "I find myself, disturbed, by this development. I have been studying your organization. The people who make it up."
He folds his gloved hands into his lap, a casual and easy gesture. "I find myself wondering, what is it, precisely, which you hope to achieve in this, hmmm? What is in it for the Killer Bee? What is *your* ambition? I admire your record, but your ... spirit, is harder to grasp."
"Your question is meaningless. And your timing rather odd." the Doll replies to him, barely acknowledging his question at all and frowning. "How did you get in here?" she asks. "Why are you here? If you want to talk to me... now is a bad time.". To put it mildly! You can't even have a day doing some cool special forces stuff without people dropping in at random just when you're looking all professional and composed. Still, judging from how the commandoes are mostly staring at the Doll hopefully it looks like her stock with them has gone up a bit. They didn't really like being stuck in a van with this weird girl. But now, maybe she'll stop Angelo from wringing their necks, should he be so inclined.
She rests her hands upon her knees, and leans forward a bit, peering at the intruder. "I hope this conversation is not going to drag on unduly. Lord Vega would be upset if our schedule is disrupted. Especially if it's only because you are bored and looking for conversation.".
Angelo smiles thinly, and shakes his head slowly. "I am not speaking to you because I am bored." He states. "I am speaking with you because you disgust me."
Well, any similarities with Balrog, at least, have just gone right out the window.
"Creatures which cannot comprehend what it is to be human. I have been, disturbed, by you and yours. Whether or not you can even be considered a living being eludes me. I have come here, Killer Bee, to find out whether you are capable of free thought, or whether you are little more than a windup toy to be, dismantled, when you are no longer of any use."
His voice is low and dark. He is not going to dignify the question of how he got in here with any sort of answer; he is, after all, a professional, and a professional never gives away his secrets. He still seems consumately relaxed; curious, largely, to see whether or not his sudden assault of words will illicit any kind of emotional response.
Cammy lets out a barely audible sigh. The truth is she's had this conversation more times than she cares for already - she's even had it with Balrog, though he was rather more curious and rather less scathing than most are regarding what she is. Even Balrog has some good qualities after all. Not that it lets him off the hook of course for being vile.
"I was not aware that you were a biologist, a psychologist, or a philosopher.", she tells him, a hint of her irritation in her flat tone. "I have had this conversation with more interesting people than yourself, and it was still boring then. Maybe you should go complain about GM foods or something, instead of bothering Dolls.". Ooo slight sarcasm.
"Lord Vega likes me very much. That is all you need to know.".
"We are all philosophers, Killer Bee. We cannot be otherwise."
There is no trace of annoyance in Angelo's voice. If Cammy's sarcasm bothers him, he certainly does not show it. He's been called worse by better than her. She is an amateur in the world of insults; though she might best him in fighting, in this arena, she is unarmed.
"Very well, then. If you fight for love, fight with all your heart."
He shrugs his shoulders, then. "But I shall not live in a world of Dolls. It would bore me. So, next time we meet, I will endeavor to make it... *interesting* for you."
The hooded assassin is a blur of motion, and his fingers slice deep into the side of the truck. In one smooth motion, old steel is torn asunder, and he throws himself through the widening hole. If the driver is skilled, perhaps he will continue... if the soldiers are well trained, perhaps none will tumble from the side. Either way, Angelo is done; he has gotten what he needs, and now seeks to leave only anarchy in his wake.
Cammy beams. Fighting for love! Maybe he does actually get it. Sort of. Nobody else has ever been so accurate as to her motivations, anyway. She's still sitting there beaming as the truck sways and commandoes cling to benches begging for mercy. The doll isn't too bothered, she gets up and negotiates the crazily canting floor of the truck to stand by the big hole he has made, preventing a minion from flying out of the truck with one foot.
She leans out momentarily, to see if there is any hint of where he's gone - but she has her orders and they don't include him. She turns back to the commandoes, and shakes her head, braids dancing. "We will need to press on with the mission immediately. Even the Russians will notice this hole. And Lord Vega will be upset with us if we fail.". Him being upset with them will be even worse than him being upset with her, no doubt...
Log created on 16:08:09 02/11/2012 by Angelo, and last modified on 17:06:48 02/11/2012.