Description: Cammy meets a cheeky chappy in Metro City's subway while on the hunt for Glow, and in defiance of stereotypes he's not selling syrups from the back of a three wheeler.
It may not possess the glamour and excitement of the London Underground, but the Metro subway isn't a million miles away from home for Billy Kane-- it's really more like three and a half thousand or so. It gives some indication into the character of the Syndicate punk that he's genuinely thinking this as he saunters through the carriages, past glowering thugs and dazed hobo liquor parties, and it actually makes him chuckle. The ripple of amusement wins him a wild glare from a particular ne'er-do-well leant up against the rattling doors - and suddenly the situation isn't quite so pleasant. Kane changes instantly.
"Got a problem, is it?" He sneers, rounding on the man to place himself across the doors in a wide stance, leaning forward until his bandanna-clad forehead is about an inch from the man's face. Dark skin, flanked by dreadlocks, begins to bead with sweat as the unruly enforcer violently extends a hand. It SLAMS into the cheap metal behind, threatening to rip the doors from overworked hinges, opening to the speeding air beyond.
It doesn't take any more to make a mark; because he's Billy freakin' Kane. And this is his city, now.
"Didn't fink so--" His lips curl into a nasty grin, and he shifts stance, for a half-beat looking on the verge of actually throwing a headbutt from inside Bruce Lee range. But instead he actually leans back, tipping his head to one side, brow rising. "Per'aps you can do me a favour then? Just a little one. There's a girl about, cute little fing, /lovely/ legs, tight abdomen, bit of a G.I. Jane type...?"
That gets a shifty sideglance, Billy's eyes following suit before he glances back.
"Pigtails, eh?" A nod. "You're a real mate."
As quickly as he thrust himself into the hapless bruiser's personal space, Kane is gone, continuing his brisk - and exceedingly well-balanced - saunter up the inside of the carriage. He's spent all day tracking his prey down, accosting a handful of vagrants through the slums, even dragging one along for the search when he failed to offer anything verbally coherent. The sniffer dog brought him this far. And now he's closing in.
She should be just... about...
It reminds Cammy somewhat of the London Underground as well, at least the scummier stations, though unlike Billy, that is not something she considers to be a good thing. Overcrowded, the reek of sweat, and in Cammy's case at least, not being able to see a damn thing due to the forest of people, all of whom are usually taller than her.
And the thugs, of course. No shortage of thugs in a place like this, the world over. On the other hand, the thugs are why she's here, as she wanders down the carriages herself, looking out for signs of Glow.
As it is, there are only hobos and beggars so far, quite a few of whom try to cadge some money out of her. "Sorry, I already gave it all away." she tells the latest one in a somewhat pained voice.
Ooo, a syringe. She crouches down in the middle of one of the carriages, and picks it up gingerly, inspecting it for signs of mysteriously luminescent liquid. And she narrows her eyes. "Anybody know where this came from?" she asks, addressing all the bums and vagrants who are calling this carriage their temporary home, as she stands back up.
For such a boisterous, brash brawler, Billy Kane knows how to move with speed and stealth when necessary-- though in here, it barely is, the swaying and noisome nature of the battered subway car covering for most of the sounds within. There's a reason so many people end up mugged, raped, and murdered. Even when the carriages are empty, even picking out the sound of one's own breathing can be tricky. A perfect place to be a shark amongst fishes - though if Cammy's a fish, thinks Kane as he closes in, she's a barracuda...
Gotta watch those types. Nasty bite.
"Sad state of affairs, ain't it?"
There's an accent that comes from home, or what would be home if she wasn't grown in a vat. Billy is upon Cammy as she rises, drawing to a comfortably nonchalant halt about three feet hence, just out of comfortable striking range as it ameniably happens. He spares her a smile as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, habitually-wild gaze slipping from her to the crowd around her as they make eyes at the woman. She is quite the sight; and they're predominantly a stupid bunch, eager to scrape what they can, whatever the cost. With the Syndicate strongarm (strongrod?) in their midst, they won't do a whole hell of a lot. Billy, though...
With his other hand he's reaching into his back jeans pocket, withdrawing a small wad of mucky notes, which he flips through momentarily with his thumb before flicking the bundle up over Cammy's head and toward the beggar who attempted to win her favour just a couple of moments ago. The man can't believe his luck.
"This city's a real mess, petal, all these people sufferin' just to make their way. Stuff like that," he nods toward the syringe, dropping both hands to his waist to loop them through the waistband of his jeans, "That's their way of escapin' from it all. Where did it come from? Could be anywhere. 'Im, or 'im, really any one of this bunch could be after a way out. But the fella /you're/ after's prob'ly face down in an alley, or propped against a wall with a knife wound. The real question is, why do you care?"
His voice lowers for that, gaining an edge that's notably threatening. Here's the crux of the issue, then.
"Been 'earing some funny fings about you. Not a one tells me why you'd be in a rank subway car fishin' for the paraphernalia of the downtrodden," there's a swagger in his voice as he twists the flashy words around his thick Cockney accent, lips twisting to a self-sure smirk, "Care to tell me... Cammy White?"
Cammy wasn't grown in a vat, she's a real girl. :(
"Yes, it is a sad state of affairs, but this stuff isn't just your usual high. If it was, I wouldn't be here, the Metro City police could get on with doing their job." she tells Billy, all focused upon him; she may not know who he is but he commands attention, and she's not blind to the deference/fear that the bums in here seem to be giving him.
Her eyes narrow a bit. "Why do I care? I've got orders. And even aside from that, this gunk not only ruins lives, but it's enriching some very nasty people. Someone tried to kill a young man's mother with a grenade because he was threatening his Glow related bottom line. Not exactly acceptable business practice, is it?".
She puts her hands on her hips, thus far unfazed. "Perhaps you know who that is - I'm pretty sure whoever it is, he's not face down in an alley with a knife wound. After all, you're a long way from home as well, and seem to be here with a purpose, rather like me. And I was expecting someone professional to show up if I was walking around here long enough, smashing up enough Glow.". She had assumed the flying hobo was that, but apparently not. She's trying not to think about the flying hobo, that does not compute.
Cammy's immediate response connects a couple of dots; Billy's not part of the operation that brings him here, and the snippets of information he has accrued weren't precisely complete. This answers the first question aptly enough. There's an element of intrigue in her failure to immediately recognize him, as well. She's young, that much is true, but not someone who tends toward the fighting circuits. He could have guessed that part, but to have not been briefed on the individual members of the Syndicate...
No wonder she's got so many people interested. A mission of mercy, in Metro City? Nobody's tried that since Mayor Mike. The place is a dump. It's a haven for scum and filth. Not only does it make Cammy interesting; it makes her incredibly dangerous to a great number of people seeking to establish themselves. Including those involved in putting out Glow, but--
"It goes a lot further than you fink. Glow permeates this city. Obviously you know about Cody Travers, bloke 'oo helped 'save' us all from Mad Gear?" Yes, he uses the word 'us', by way of sly if oddly instinctive response to Cammy's assertion that he's wandered from the roost. "That's 'ow deep it goes. The people you're worried about are just the beginnin', types that die eventually, one way or another. Glow's their life-blood, gives 'em reason to live and becomes the reason they pass on. Life's like a turnstile, love. That's all."
Despite his placement and posture, he's almost friendly now. He pauses, watching Cammy for a moment or two, gaze level behind the natural cruelty - or at least hardness - inherent in those eyes. He doesn't look like a good man, but right now, he doesn't look like a terrible one either. There's certainly no guilt or anger there.
"I'll be honest with you," Kane admits with a shrug, reducing the immediacy of his physical threat by slipping up against one of the many safety rails extending along the floor of the car. His arms fold across his chest - bare and muscular beneath his leather jacket - and he glances upward, puffing out his cheeks before continuing, "I'm 'ere for me, to satisfy a bit of curiosity. Since you don't seem to know who I am, we'll start there, eh? I'm Billy." He doesn't say it with any weight, like they were two strangers meeting in a pub. "Billy Kane. Feel free to look it up on your fancy computers; you'll have a file on me, I'm sure. But I'm not 'ere for business."
Beat.
"Well, not really. See, I agree with you. Glow's bad business. But you wanna help this city?"
He chuckles, shrugging both shoulders, arms scraping up his chest.
"Don't look at me an' mine. Chances are, we're the only help you'll get. You don't owe me a fing - and I don't owe you neither - but, next time someone approaches you, wants to make nice? My advice is you listen. People in this city are threatened by you, by what you are, what you represent. Those orders you're takin'? Not the kind of orders we like to let in. This city belongs to itself. Work with it - work with us - an' maybe we'll achieve great an' beautiful fings. Don't kick, don't punch... don't even raise your bloody fist 'til you're sure about who you're dealin' with. Call it friendly advice, alright?"
Cammy's hands move from her hips, to wrap around herself, vaguely defensive, when Billy backs off a little. So it's to be a chat, is it. "I know of Cody, yes.". Her tone is somewhat disapproving, so maybe she's not impressed. On the other hand, when one sounds posh like she does it's easy to sound disapproving even when you're not. "Ancient history now, though, like Belger, and he's presumably rotting in some jail again anyway.".
"Okay. Billy Kane. You already know who I am it seems." she says. Honeyed words from him, but she's unconvinced; she may be somewhat clueless at times but one thing she can do is read people, and this is a hard, violent man in front of her, and a man apparently defending the Glow trade at that. "But while you might know my name you seem misinformed. Glow abuse is a recent trend here - Mayor Haggar cleaned this city up, but it looks like someone needs to give it another rinse. Something is going on here, something new. Something that maybe even involves British hit men, I guess.".
Oh, the irony.
"I'm not even sure who you and yours are, yet. If it has anything to do with Glow I'm afraid that probably won't be possible. It is against our policy to negotiate with terrorists and criminals." she tells him firmly, hands going back to her hips again.
A snort emits from Kane at mention of Belger, a rolling of the eyes and shaking of the head quick to follow. Dismissing him as an amateur, a blowhard who reached too far; and that's exactly what the Londoner thinks. He shouldn't need to say it, not to someone so insightful as the Delta Red operative. He doesn't speak until she's done, nodding his head slowly as he grows more serious.
"I said I'd be honest, petal, an' I will. I'm not a hitman, but I've been a criminal. I've done bad fings. Terrorist, though?" He pauses, then lids his eyes as a slow, certain headshake answers that question. "Nah. Not my style. If I'm gonna get up to no good, I do it upfront with no lies, no deceit. We'll never 'ave to negotiate - either we share a common goal, or we don't. I'm just proposin' that you stop an' use that big ol' brain you've got on your shoulders, rather than charge in on your tod. Mayor Mike?"
That hangs for a heartbeat, accompanied by another shrug as the subway car lurches, shifting gear.
"Bloke did some good. But only some. No vision, see? Glow happened because of that. It happened coz it was let in. It's not somethin' I'm interested in, nor the people I work for when I'm not goin' behind their back to speak to pretty girls on the Underground..." He tails off with a grimacing smirk, then glances aside.
"I'm not gonna threaten you. I reckon we're both above that, don't you?" She's strong, fast, and skilfull-- there's genuine respect in both the wholly rhetorical question, and the look he shoots her to accompany it. Billy loves to fight, and a part of him itches to test his own abilities out on this youthful, well-to-do countrywoman of his, but for now he's not got the slightest intention. Everthing in his manner screams it; if he intended to fight, they'd both be wearing bruises by now. "But you don't trust me, eh?"
A chuckle breaks his lips, as the subway car begins to screech inexorably to a halt.
"That's fine, love. You don't need to. Just know this /will/ go 'arder if you don't learn to widen those barriers a bit. A, ah, colleague of mine's been dispatched to confront you. Big, strappin' fella 'e is. Scar on 'is neck," He draws a hand across his own, all the way from the left to the right, "Dresses a bit like a Japanese schoolgirl, but don't underestimate on that account. I reckon you're better than Duke, but /Duke/ doesn't reckon that, an' I wouldn't ever count the man out. See, 'e doesn't know what you're after, but there's a lot of people around getting twitchy coz you're 'ere. Makes 'em 'ard to control."
He admits a lot by using that word, but she's not stupid; she's already figured that part out. Billy steps away as the carriage shudders and stops at a dingy station, but more comfortable than most, set beneath the financial district of the city. He pauses to adjust his jacket, waiting for others to alight before looking over his shoulder at Cammy. His back's to her-- an expression of trust if ever there was from a man like him.
"Remember, Cammy, this ain't about Glow. It's about Metro City. Play nice. Next time, we might work together."
Cammy isn't quite so extreme as Dudley, but either way, she's not the sort of person to attack someone when their back is turned. No, about the worst thing she ever does is some horrendous bone snapping or joint rending which seems to happen every so often, instinctively, but that's not exactly /her/, at least not in her mind. Military fighting styles are designed to kill. No big surprise.
"I see." she says, though really, she doesn't. Billy Kane seems to be something of an enigma so far, treading the line between praise for Mayor Mike, and telling her to back off the Glow. A faint headshake, betrayed by swinging braids as her slightest head motions are, gives a hint to her confusion.
"If we're going to end up friends a colleague being sent to ruin my day doesn't seem to be very compatible with that." she says smoothly. She reaches out to steady herself on one of the still intact seats, as the carriage starts to rattle and jolt and shudder, approaching some destination.
"And I'm not really after anything!" she calls out, voice louder, to carry over the screeching wheels. "I'm here to do a job, is all! It's fortunate that my job seems to involve cleaning up Mike Haggar's tarnished family silver. It looks like it needs it!".
She certainly doesn't think of herself as a crusader, merely a professional, and a loyal soldier. Though that perhaps speaks volumes in itself, duty and do-gooding sure doesn't pay compared to the fight circuit, as a glance at Delta Red's payscales would reveal.
She watches Billy's receding back with a sombre look, staying put in the carriage. This last couple of days has made Metro City seem like an impossibly complex place. Who could imagine that some simple drug suppression mission could become so convoluted?
Log created on 06:36:06 05/13/2012 by Cammy, and last modified on 08:42:37 05/13/2012.