Description: Rolento comes looking for Whip with an offer she can't refuse. Whether he's right, or wrong, K' makes very, very sure she /does/ refuse. Or at least, negotiates better terms than the other merc demands. (To say this log contains profanity would be an understatement. Standard K' disclaimer is upgraded here.)
There aren't too many people in this world who would confidently declare that their life is most manageable when they're on a battlefield, soaked in sweat and blood, with a smoking firearm in their hands. Her existence amongst the Ikari has been an extended holiday for Whip; the routine of training, carousing and undertaking deadly military assignments around the world feels more restful and relatable than any attempt she's made to normalize... and compared to her brother's preferred lifestyle - hunting down her former family, seeking out remote facilities and attempting to unravel the mysteries of the past - it's frankly a cakewalk.
But like a bad habit, she can't kick the urge to do exactly that. With K' once more an integral piece in her puzzle, pressed clumsily into the very right and correct position he occupies, she could not evade this aspect of her fate for long. A brief excursion into the professional fighting circuit saw him confront another part of his past - and like everything, there is always a connection, however tenuous, to NESTS.
When the past knocks, it knocks hard and insistently.
Which has led, by the slippery twist of circumstance, to the following of a fresh lead. Rumours of a supposedly small-time arms dealer operating out of Metro City, whose clutches have recently seen possession of disturbingly high-tech instruments. There are few scientific facilities in the world capable of expelling such devices; the Ikari intelligence operations have picked up a possible threat from "R". To Whip and K', it resonates with something quite different. A consultation with Maxima only confirmed the strong suspicion.
"He'd better be right about this," Whip announces quite chattily over her shoulder as she steps through the front entrance to the sprawling Metro Arcade, the frantic caterwaul of a thousand dissonant machines greeting her ears with a din that would be off-putting... were she not a combat veteran. It's nothing to bombs, gunfire, and the screams of men dying in droves. "These pants are /really/ starting to chafe." She's worried about something far more pressing, obviously. "I don't see how you put up with them all day, every day!"
Said pants are leather, matching with the studded jacket adorning her torso, the tall assassin still looking like she's stepped out of her SNF match with Hotaru Futaba-- it's a good disguise, what with the black hair capped off by bleached-blonde and hot pink highlights. Her face is a bit too cute for it, but she otherwise looks the part of another street tough. She even has a chain dangling from her waist.
Reaching down to shift the heavy material about her crotch, wrinkling her nose up as she unsticks the material in a few places - it's a hot day, okay? - Whip rolls her shoulders before slipping into the arcade proper, beginning to scout out for the contact she's supposed to be meeting. It was all set up a week in advance-- very organized for the usual Metro gang approach, though the name given - 'Black' - was so vague as to be worthless, only furthering the idea this could be something far bigger. If this dealer were truly just about guns, or even Glow, they'd be a lot dumber. It's likely this shipment wasn't the first or the last.
"God, this place is confusing. Who /enjoys/ this?" She's shouting over the din now, still over her shoulder, not actually looking back to check her brother is following. Of course he is. He said he would be, right? K' is clearly completely and utterly reliable. "Can you see a King of Fighters machine? He said he's be by one! I hope it's not the '05 version..." Her nose wrinkles again, and a bit of worry seeps in.
She was in that one, and it wouldn't be good to be recognized right off the bat. At least she didn't leave her guns at home. The cost of collateral damage could be high but, really, how many of these people deserve to live anyway? It's a den of grease and sleaze if ever there was one.
"Robocop's always fucking right." K' informs Whip, in the most dismissive tones possible. It's like he's barely paying attention to her at all, because THAT'S how stupid it sounds. Sisters. K' goes sarcastically incognito in similar punk leathers - which, yes, shut up bitch, are more his norm - and a black bandana bearing a prominently displayed jolly roger. He sounds bored because he's focused elsewhere, because he's sure some shit is up, because he's worked with Maxima long enough to know that the formidable cyborg's ability at recon and intel gathering is second to few, if any, on god's green earth.
So whatever the connection is, if it has to do with NESTS, if it has to do with 'R', if it has to do with some lucky, truck hijacking joke-a-billy gang-banging fucktards... K' doesn't expect it to lead them to booze and debauchery like your typical Ikari cakewalk. Still, even alert as a predator (in this case one that ALWAYS thinks he's being hunted), K' has some nostalgia for all the games, and the environment. It was a place to hide, once, to get lost in th... Whip -has- to open her mouth.
K' casts an irritated glance at his sister from behind crimson shades, and huffs a quiet breath. "You're fucking disgusting." He tells his crotch-scratching sibling, "At least if there's trouble we can gather a shitload of quarters." K' is always, first and foremost, above all else, an optimist. A snarky, deadpan, /bitchy/ optimist. "Probably back there somewhere." Because no one holds their clandestine operations by the fucking door, Whip. Buy a clue.
Rolento LOL ATTACKS
"I am NOT disgusting!" Protests Whip with a frown, stopping with one hand upon her hip as much to express dissatisfaction with her sibling's summation as to sight through the murk for the darkest, furthest corner. At least the smoking ban has guaranteed the air isn't wreathed with lingering, cancerous tendrils-- so it's mostly just the sweaty funk and social inadequacy of the leery youths within. "I just..." She pauses, pouting her lips a bit before an innocent little smile flares to life, "Haven't got callouses where you have."
She doesn't say anything else for a moment, peering through the smoke, idly fingering the chain at her hip and spinning it a few times - as randomly violent gangbanging thugs tend to do when they're bored and looking for trouble. Looking off into the various nooks and crannies of the arcade, there are several others doing the same or similar; here a chain, there a switchblade, and probably a fingered handgun or three. Welcome to Metro City, where even the geeks and nerds are ready to rumble as soon as a suitable protagonist flying kicks into view.
Of course, Whip and K' aren't those protagonists. Not at all. Nothing to see here. Nothing except...
"Bingo," she doesn't shout that, merely utters loud enough that mostly she can hear it for the benefit of her own ego. Suddenly she steps forward and resumes weaving through the milling crowd, following her ears to the sound of the tinnily emulated music the KoF multimedia team picked out for the Ikari Warriors. Soon enough she's popping up before a machine on which a pixellated Ralf is punching a tiny schoolgirl in the face, manned by a rangy youth with far too many body piercings and dark eyeshadow under his eyes.
Reaching into the sweaty pocket of her much-loathed pants, Whip digs around for something as she approaches, and then sets a neat pile of quarters next to the machine's right joystick, sending the youth a smirk as he rolls a bored sideglance during one of her commanding officer's boisterous winposes.
"Up next," she chimes, adding as subtle as a finely-wielded sledgehammer, "I'll try not to beat you 'Black' and blue."
"Disgusting." K' reiterates with a nod, once Whip resorts to talking about her callouses. There's no sign the abominable topic bait-and-switch even lands with the renegade prototype. He just insists he's proven right, in a totally new and never before seen twist worthy of the silver screen. Of course, he could inspire the same sentiment in his sibling, smoking ban or no, because fuck them... but he's not TRYING to make a scene here, tonight. Right now. For the moment. .. probably. There's a bit of shifting edgyness to those hidden, amber orbs.. so many stupid sons of bitches ready to fight.
Nature, or maybe just nurture, tells him he could, and maybe should, pick every last one of those fights. He'd have a hell of a collection of cool knives at the end of the night. The exact processes don't even play out at a purely conscious level, before he's visualizing the progressive fight. In K''s long-caged psyche, it's not even a two player game. He might have to set ALL these fuckers on fire. When you've been taken by a multinational cartel and conglomerate of superscientists and turned into the atomic bomb of bioengineering, you tend to think in worst case scenario possibilities.
All of this basically amounts to K' gritting his teeth a bit as he scans nigh-literally /everything/ in the area, while Whip plays nice with the bored nerdling. Muscles are tense, instincts yell every time a blade flashes, and it takes some doing for the firebrand to remind himself where he is, and what he's -actually- doing. He sighs. He leans his back into the wall. K' lets Whip play her damn game, send her dumb signal. Meanwhile, he makes damn sure no one's about to kill her for it. Or kidnap her and make her the processing core of an evil supercomputer. SOMETHING bad.
Interesting. The pair has been watched since the moment they arrived. A ghost of such practiced skill that the initial glances do not register anything out of the ordinary. It seems that Whip's company is the more wary of them all, and no move is made until they both fall into something of a lull. Waiting. The endless wait before a fight. He knows it well.
The question is precisely how distracted Whip is while settling at the arcade machine. A ghost is nimbly flitting through the arcade, swishing around people with such graceful ease that they do not fully notice anyone passed; a brief moment of doubt and wonder, before they continue on without another thought. The footsteps of an assassin, one with no less direct combative experience as Whip herself. It is a game to him. Just how close he might be able to get to the Ikari before she might realize. K' is a factor mostly considered irrelevant. The strange, careful motions of the lithe figure should only be possible to notice as dangerous to one personally trained by Heidern, and sculpted in the life or death world of war.
The motion is silent. El Gado does not so much as infringe on the reflection of the game. His stride no more suspicious then any other thug or hoodlum loafing in the arcade. A hand slowly begins easing out a slender blade, before he shifts with lightning speed towards Whip from behind with intent to slip an arm around her neck...!
This was not in the orders.
Where K' occupies a tight and rigid bubble, disappearing introvertedly into his own screaming instincts lest they come to control him, Whip wears her extroverted tendencies - a by-product of the unusual practices employed by NESTS in her upbringing, unbeknown to her, from birth onward - upon that studded leather sleeve. He's the more honest of them with his insular retreat, his dour out-looking perspective on life at seeming odds with her ditzy and over-trusting mien. But like the assassin she was trained alongside...
With Whip, so much is an act. An act she has come to wear like a well-worn glove, but an act nonetheless.
Her odd mannerisms, long pauses and rolling glances across the packed arcade mask and indeed enable a wariness that keeps on ticking as she exchanges 'pleasantries' with the youth she can only assume is their contact. His unresponsive attitude does not lend itself well to a confirmation of this, but she places a hand on the arcade cabinet regardless, leaning her weight into it as she makes a show of watching him play. The character on the screen opposite his is throwing a seemingly endless barrage of strong punches, resulting in a frankly cheap KO that has the boy biting out a snarling curse. It's loud-- too loud, really, considering his manner.
She's not looking at him from the moment his mouth falls open, catching his sideglance shortly before and throwing one of her own toward K'. Their eyes will meet a moment, hers seeking his behind the shades as though they were not shielded in the least - knowing he'll know that she needs to tell him something. Knowing the gleam in her gaze will tell him what, even as she pushes against the arcade cabinet, sending it rocking as she uses the gathered momentum to fling herself into a sidelong spin. That incoming arm is jarred, flung aside as she pirouettes with a stomping but not graceless effort, coming about with her own arm leaving her breast. Whip is skilled and trained, it's true, a lifetime spent turning her into something more than most any other girl.
Where NESTS strived to create a cheerful monster, Heidern succeeded in honing a human weapon.
In the truest sense; she has the sensibilities and the empathies, but can also read people. And see them.
As her arm straightens, she's /seeing/ El Gado down the barrel of a .50AE Desert Eagle, the chrome barrel glinting beneath even the hazy light of the arcade. There's no telltale 'click' - this isn't the movies, and she hasn't kept the safety on, and that just makes the gesture all the more dangerous. She's not doing this to intimidate anyone, or cause a scene. It's self-defence; and if further action is needed, it will be instaneous and brutal. Her finger is already three-quarters closed upon the trigger, expertly controlling the weapon.
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait," she announces with a smile, voice distant with concentration, watching the man before for her without a conscious effort - as instinctive in her motions and reactions as K' would be, if he switched off his own limiters. She doesn't need to; because Whip, unleashed, is only ever the tiniest shift in posture away from being who she always is. She is one with her weapon, one with death. "Next turn's mine."
Yes, honesty with the world is K''s priority. That's for sure. Maybe he just can't be fucked with the eloquently layered spy's facade that Whip utilizes. Maybe he doesn't have the expertise. Maybe he's doing it more often than most people suspect, in the first place. It's always easier to hide falsehood in plain sight, scattered with ample truth. It's been said that the renegade prototype isn't a subtle man, that he's actually quite angry and off his rocker; but he's survived this long, and he's /not/ paranoid.. at least without cause. The firebrand remains wary, cagey, /dangerous/.
Far more dangerous than El Gado gives the wildcard probably written off as the Ikari operative's local boytoy credit for, that's for fucking sure. Like his twin, K' was honed into a weapon. Where Whip might emulate the military application of a sniper's bullet, an assassin's stiletto, K' is more... the armored division. The shock trooper. That airstrike involving twenty five and a half seperate warheads where nothing is left but fire and ash. There's a reason why when this experiment, this human weapon went rogue, NESTS only solution was to pour everything into a weapon to try to counter him. After all, K' likes to set -their- shit on fire. It's his motivation for being here tonight, for those just tuning in at home.
Long story short: the only thing that forestalls El Gado's early meeting with K' is Whip's pre-emptive warning, and quiet plan. Did we mention she's a lot more precise than K'? It's not precisely subtle, but it's clean. Efficient, painless, surgical. The whole exchange is professional and like something one -might- actually see in a spy movie. Whether it remains that way once K' seeks to violently grab El Gado by the scrotum and jack him up against the cabinet with a game-jarring shove is very arguable. "Who fucking SENT YOU?" The words come in tandem, they sound loud probably, up close... but they're tensely /hissed/, ideally right into Rolento's man's ugly fucking face. Dude was stalking Whip. About to ambush her with what looked like very questionable intent. Could possibly even be one of metro's nefarious street molesters or jugglers. K' doesn't do painless, but hey - he hasn't set anyone on fire.
Yet.
Three weapons, cheerfully gathered together. El Gado is the personal instrument of Rolento, trained and honed like the edge of a blade... entirely in the art of assassination. Whip will feel a kindred spirit in the split second after this violent meeting. Especially considering she'd feel the light kiss of steel on her throat. It's something of a draw, in that regard. Neither clearly has an advantage, and if it came to it, the result could be wildly different every time.
"Heh." This is all El Gado offers. A grin. He is enjoying this. Tongue slowly running over his lips. A dark skinned man of clear middle eastern descent, dressed in the style of clothing suited to Metro City's rambunctious youth. "I can count the number of people who hear me coming on one hand, girl." This is a compliment, not a threat. It's so rare that El Gado can test himself. It was an opportunity he refused to pass up. And completely doesn't regret.
"Someone wishes to meet you. I would not reject." People have finally realized that there's a conflict going on. People duck away from the presented gun with shouts of alarm. Most do not flee; they are near pulling out their own, unsure of the allegiances and affiliations of these two. Whether they should jump on one's side or the other, or simply watch them kill themselves. The kind of cold question asked in this part of the city...
For a criminal cartel so painfully difficult to track and eliminate, NESTS do not sway to the subtlest of design aesthetics. For every genetically modified, off-kilter if mostly socially acceptable mass murderer, there is a Beast of Fire-- or a creature like Kula, the reputed anti-K' and the very opposite form of victim. The common tendency remains toward overt displays of power, blunt brutality manifest through exorbitant quantities of chi and a capacity for violence stunning even in the terms of this violent world. Whip's genetic sibling is no different; he is a weapon designed to be uncaged rather than brandished.
For Whip there was never a cage - at least not one she could fathom, until she was presented with opportunity.
This renders her less driven in their shared quest, not consumed by rage, rather sympathetic still - in spite of her best intentions - toward the family that raised her and, in their twisted way, even loved her. A shifting of loyalties and the realization of a deep, orchestrated betrayal ultimately places her on the conflicted end of the spectrum K' occupies. A part of her wants to burn it too, to crush and break. Cut and lash, cause pain no matter the cost; because in a very real way, she's already paid the cost.
They are weapons, he and she, and it may be all they'll ever be.
So what is the man before her now, meeting the sudden aggressive rush of her brother?
"I didn't hear you," she replies to his boastful compliment, some irritation dwindling in her voice as she shifts focus from the barrel of her handgun - now pointing toward a chubby young man in leather hotpants and a tiny vest, standing with his knees knocked and his hands in the air. "Not until it was too late. This place is distracting. But I banked on trouble as soon as I saw the machine, so I used somebody who's used to the noise." A small smile touching her lips, she flips the handgun to her left hand and extends it to her side, removing the threat from El Gado - like K' hadn't already ruined that for her - to single out the pierced youth.
"Walk away," she offers as though it were the most friendly advice in the world, barely looking at him - but certainly keeping him in her well-honed peripherals - as she glances back to the would-be assassin. "And you can lead on. Stay at least three steps ahead, and keep your weapons hidden. We're /not/ here to fight." The last is enunciated for K''s benefit, though her smile expresses some pleasure in the speed and efficiency of his motions-- whether it threw her off or not, it got the job done. And that's what they're all about.
"I'd advise you not to make too many more demands, though. Attitudes can change. Let's keep it civil, hmm?"
All told, it's probably a very good thing that Whip is into the idea of talking this out. Getting to the bottom of it 'by the book'... or at least, a little more calmly than K''s first inkling might be when some asshole moves on his sister. After all, every instinct the Beast of Flame has says that El Gado is a killer. A potential threat, under the right circumstances.
That the easily smirking operative's smooth management of pain and attitude means it would be better to just get this over with... make his displeasure perfectly clear to this guy, who did K' mention put the ass in assassin, that keeps talking to Whip like he's not even there. It's not a sentiment the living weapon mistakes for respect for Whip, either. Any more than he'd consider the shift in upbringing of NESTS subjects 'love'. Honed methods of manipulation, control.
So it is that it takes a conscious effort, and a substantial sneer, for K' to release El Gado long enough for him to at least think about following Whip's good advice. "Yea, great. Least ominous meeting I've ever been to." He grumbles in darkly as much to himself as Whip, though she might catch part as the rogue bioweapon picks up the rear, sparing a glance for the area left behind the group as they move, every so often. He doesn't bother to echo Whip's very reasonable boundries, but neither does he stop /frowning/, and frowning big.
El Gado ignored K'. That is generally a quick way to die. He has no chance against the specialized clone, which means he shouldn't be nearly as smug and arrogant as he is. Especially when gripped in such a manner. It hurts, but pain is delicious in it's own way. Besides, if he allowed himself to flinch, then Whip would have had no reason NOT to shoot him in the face. It's a sign of true professional control when you can be fondled and still complete things with a straight face.
When Whip pulls her weapon away, Gado's knife lowers as well. Only then does he glance dourly at K'. The man isn't supposed to be here. The intent was just to meet Whip. And yes, he makes a grunting sound of relief when let go. His weapon vanishes in a flowing motion of talented fingers. "Don't be a fool." El Gado offers to the pair. "If he wished you dead, would this building still be standing?" Still, he'd turn to start walking towards a backroom door. Particularly discerning eyes would confirm that he's limping just a touch, and trying to hide it. People are staring at the trio, but there's little concern that things were not precisely by the book. Three knocks, and the door slides open to reveal an empty table surrounded by chairs. El Gado goes first, stepping to the side and out of sight.
It would be stupid and dangerous to follow, of course.
A key component to facing down an organization like NESTS - if that's who they're dealing with - is always presenting the one eventuality they don't expect. Which is precisely why coming with K' was an absolutely terrible idea, in the simplest tactical terms; they /would/ expect that, and plan accordingly. Reverse psychology being what it is, and her former handlers knowing full well how canny the girl can be, this made presenting whatever agent had made contact with her brother... surprisingly prudent. Never mind that any other group would be completely unprepared to handle the bastard flame-wielder in the first instance.
There are perhaps a couple of dozen people in the world who could. On a good day.
Really, the only airtight plan when seeking to harm Whip is to pray K' isn't anywhere nearby.
"If he wished us dead," she replies with a convincingly civil if self-satisfied air as the lithe fellow assassin cuts her brother's estimation down, "He wouldn't have given us the chance to be prepared." Not unless this 'Black' is a complete idiot himself. Luring Whip away from the Ikari may be a small feat, these days, but it would at least have been wiser to somehow attempt to dispose of her sibling counterpart. Unless he really is an unexpected element; then they're dealing with a man who can't even do a bit of homework. An idiot.
So yes, it's stupid and dangerous to turn up, in theory. Following El Gado into that room and taking a seat as though attending a pleasant tea party would be even stupider and about as 'safe' as sticking one's hand into a roiling nest of vipers. It's still a darn sight smarter than having to look over one's shoulder because someone wants to make contact with you, and has gone to the effort of staging all of this to that intent. Even a desperate man wreathed in shadow can pick a deadly instant to strike. The assassin's art is not learning that alone, but learning how to avoid such shadows, to be in a position to control when and where that instant occurs. It's not just about waiting and watching; it's about entering a sandbox, and creating.
So Whip sits, after a quick glance and a silent focusing of her other senses to ensure the elusive El Gado cannot attempt another strike. Her own weapon hasn't been stowed, slid onto her lap beneath the table and concealed by the hanging bulk of her leather jacket. A .50 calibre round can easily slice through that and whatever lies beyond it-- though the question of their contact's own abilities looms. Could he survive it?
Sitting with back straight and expression relaxed, Whip spares but a glance for K'.
Once more, her eyes say it all. She's the bait, he's the hook.
Given their history, it's better to assume that from the beginning. Fewer surprises.
"Right." K' sounds impressed by the threat. He really does. There is not a substantial amount of sarcasm and projected disdain inherent in the tone of his voice, dry and baitingly haughty, or the way he appends, "Like it's -that- easy." It doesn't really seem to be a bluff. A man like El Gado has made his living, his life, reading people. Their triggers, their tendencies, their tells. Getting close, under the shell.
It's clear that hasn't happened here, that K' really doesn't feel the least bit threatened by someone firebombing the building, dropping it around their heads, and killing everyone (else) inside. It's like it's stupid, old hat. 'Like no one has tried THAT before, El Gado you boring shitfuck'. Did we mention that drily sarcastic -is- polite, for K'? He's behaving exceptionally well. He doesn't move to the table, Whip can have her chair, though, fine. No, at first, K' sticks to the wall, frowning behind those shades, tightening the pirate motif over his head.
After a half a minute, he starts pacing along said wall, "Yea, if he wanted to kill us, he would've used overblown, imprecise methods sure to find out EVERYTHING BUT what he's after will INDEED blend..." Okay, thinking about it more may have wound K' up a little. "So what /does/ the angry Black man want with /freaks/ like us?!?" K' inquires in (likely) intentionally dramatic, intense tones. He's not pursuing or even really speaking to El Gado, now. No, he's just making the spectacle of himself.
"Because if it's just about torching this dump to see what'll burn, /SHIT JUST ASK/." Yea, he's a large ham. He's also totally NOT bullshitting, per se. Prototype weapon, did we mention?
What sort of grandiose, magnificant manner will the unknown contact used to enter the seemingly empty room, housing only El Gado standing in an 'at ease' military position beside the open threshold of the meeting room?
Well, Rolento happens to be the one who opened the door.
It is slammed shut with a brutal push. Before the sleek, yellow-suited man moves with the grace and speed of a coiled viper. El Gado was fast. Not so much as K' and Whip, but enough to impress them. This is another thing entirely. However, the target is not who the pair might expect. His sleek baton swishes out towards El Gado, stopping just short of impacting his throat. Only the faintest show of surprise is on the man's gaunt face. Rolento remains poised in a thoroughly aggressive stance, and doubtlessly still possesses the power required to shatter the assassin's throat in a heartbeat.
"My orders were to be subtle, Gado...!" No response comes. Which is intelligent. There is not a single answer that would do anything but make the dictator more furious. At length he eases away the well-polished brown wood, and turns to look at K' and Whip.
"The presence of the renegade clone confirms the data I suspected." Rolento speaks with crisp authority, and an expectation to be obeyed. "Yet I intend this to be a peaceful exchange. Is that understood?"
A professional bearing IS something that comes naturally to the NESTS-trained assassin, but that's not to say she has it to an unerring, perfect art form. In spite of the claims of a good number of scientists involved in her creation, and the assurances of her handlers, there's nothing about Whip that's 'perfect'. K' can attest to that himself, a thousand times over and far more convincingly than any pencil-necked clipboard-waggler in this hemisphere or the next. Which is probably why he won't let her dangle on his hoo--
Wait, even if that didn't sound so fantastically wrong...
Let's face it, he won't do it because he's a rebellious, outraged Man On A Mission. And he loves her.
And he's an idiot.
There's a dull slap as K' launches his tirade, coming from the rapid rise of Whip's free hand to collide with her forehead, sending her bleached blonde bangs to a fervent swish that almost masks the apparition of Rolento. Fortunately it's impossible to miss the slamming of the door, and did we mention those peripherals? Even with the groan on her lips and her brother's dramatic tirade - and self-effacing diction - hanging in the air, she's quick to settle her attention on the striking snake. The very familiar striking snake. Rolento's reputation precedes him in such circles as Whip and K' alternately walk and simmer. To say this made sense would be a lie. But it's not completely insane either. If anyone was to have access to or knowledge of such technology...
"Rolento Schugerg." It's spoken without particular weight, or implication, no more stated than a particuarly nonchalant and unaffected individual happening to espy a popular actor or songbird. Whip is more surprised than she lets on externally, though if he were to make eye contact he'd have seen the flicker just before she says it, that seeping suspicion and doubt. A little trepidation. His operations have yielded... mixed reports.
"Rumours of your demise were greatly exaggerated," Whip continues, a smile darting across her lips. Lowering her raised hand, she slides it beneath the table, finally allowing for that telltale *click* as the safety on her Desert Eagle is flicked on; rather than off. Producing the handcannon slowly, she sets its bulky weight upon the table, removing her hands with equal care before setting them palm down to either side. Drawing a breath, she settles her shoulders and nods her head to the dishonoured Major. "Peaceful. For now."
Her smile widens a little, a twinkle in her eye carrying as much the promise of violence as playful mirth.
"You should stop throwing that term around, though. For one thing, he has a name. Don't you, K'?"
When the door slams, K' is already facing Rolento. The rush of air, the sudden motion, perhaps some miraculous instinct-driven sixth - or even seventh sense. Whatever the reason, one thing is clear - K' has razor-sharp reflexes of his own. Granted, he seems more prone to placing himself in harm's way than getting -out- of the line of fire, but. There's still no indication he can't stand the heat. Instead of aggression, though, Rolento very quickly earns the renegade bioweapon's smug derision... or rather, inspires it towards his subordinate.
"Yea, Gato." K' is likely very aware he's calling the proud assassin kitty cat. It even sounds vaguely accented, like when Angel says it. "You can't subtly headbag two trained operatives in a crowded room, shithead." K' spits. He extracts a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket, and pops it into his mouth. He doesn't offer anyone else in the room one, though with Whip at least, it's likely because she's already regretting the flames that roll down his black gloved hand, all but melting the garment away in a gout of fire that is vastly overkill for his little cig, yet controlled enough to light it without burning half the thing away.
The flames wink out just as quickly, and K' slips off the other glove. "'The' renegade clone. Shit's funny on so many levels." K' notes. A few, he may not even know about himself, yet. "So what do you have to 'exchange', Jean Reno? Haven't you heard K-Prime is the kind of aberration that'll incinerate you for your past with Igniz and his in.sane. horseshit?"
El Gado seems more then happy to blend into the background. However, the implication of his presence shouldn't be lost on the pair. Rolento would not be having this meeting if he thought there was any danger. That means the commander is confident, if it came down to such, that Whip and K' combine could be handled. Or at the very least, unable to capture him. The capabilities of the assassin are completely unknown. Whip is aware he has never failed, which means that there's none to speak on his combative prowess. Is he her peer? She might find that question enticing.
"A single character is a codename, and nothing more. Much like it is for you... 'Whip'. But true identities are not important here." His listless walk takes the commander over to K'. Whip is acting as expected. Her pistol is probably not much more effective then a BB Gun on the honed combatant, ultimately. Yet she would sense in her gut that This Will Not Go Well.
A hand snaps up, sheer speed and crisp technique trying to pluck away K's cigarette and then extinguish it with a thumb. "You will not smoke in my presence." An absolute demand. White eyes seeking to meet the clone's head on. "And you will speak with respect. If you are incapable of such a basic courtesy, then bite your tongue, private."
After so much time spent with K', Whip doesn't even need to see those flames-- nor hear them. Her attunement to chi is unimpressive by the standards of one so otherwise skilled in combative arts, but there are few sources of power on this earth as great as that her sibling has such instinctive access to. At one time, couldn't even control. She's been burned by it herself. Her hand still bears faint scars.
Memory and developed intuition prickles her senses a moment before that crimson flare ignites, and she actually twitches slightly; a tiny gesture to anyone not watching for it, betrayed more by the subsequent rapid blink of her eyes as she suppresses it, than by any stated outward sign. She also holds her breath, just for a few seconds, the time it takes the wielder of Kusanagi's stolen power to bait Schugerg further. By comparison to his reckless and threatening visual display, that's a mere drop in the ocean.
"I said, 'peaceful'," she reiterates with testy patience inadequately hidden beneath an upward quirking of lips, half-turning to sight K' over her shoulder. Rolento is speaking then, and her attention easily shifts, her chin drawing up and eyes hardening as she listens. "A name is what it's made to be, like a person. It holds no power by itself; it's forged into something that has meaning through action and experience. Through purpose and passion. A codename is something you hide behind. A tool. K' is not a tool." 'And neither am I.'
The last speaks for itself, though is suspicious by its absence.
Rolento's action steals away any further interjection from the Ikari, but it does drive her to her feet - their shared lineage and their inherent closeness showing through at last as the sister exhibits that same inner fire. Her chair shrieks backwards, and her arm extends. Perhaps El Gado will move; but if his senses are so sharp, he'll see before her hand stops that there's nothing in it - and she's far from even beginning to make contact - a warning palm held up in the periphery of K''s vision.
"Don't rise to it." It's not a request, and she can't order him around as Rolento believes /he/ can, but it carries the air of command peculiar to family and the very dearest friends. Not because she fears he'll do quite the opposite, but because she knows he will. "Major Schugerg." Yes, she'll play that game. Why not? "We agreed to keep this civil. If you change the rules every five seconds, we'll be no further on than if we'd never met. You arranged this meeting. You knew what to expect. We can either talk this out, or..."
Her mouth forms a line, gaze flicking quickly between Rolento and El Gado. She doesn't need to finish that. They may be on dangerously level footing, but that they've been brought onto this territory, rather than hunted elsewhere... it proves they're considered a serious threat.
"Why don't you take a seat, sir?"
There's that smile again, that mischievous glimmer. He did outrank her, technically speaking.
Sometimes, we have to take what we can get." K' observes. He doesn't oppose the snatching of the cigarette, eyeing Rolento evenly over the top of his sunglasses as it's withdrawn and snuffed, and blowing out a steady stream of smoke from his initial draw in clearly defiant prelude. "It's your room, Dorothy; but you drug us here. You have something for me, you want something from my sister, speak up or stop wasting my time. We're not anyone's tools." He echoes his dumb sister, crisply.
It's not QUITE standing down, but hey. K' didn't retaliate physically the minute Rolento took his fucking cigarette. "You want respect, feel free to earn it. I'm not your trainee, and I'll warn you right now /nobody/ gets what they want from me by demanding it. I've heard it all before." He bites his tongue though, slightly. Yet again it's hard not to append 'bitch'. As always. "You don't get to act entitled, we know who you are. What the fuck do you want, Schugerg?"
It may not be the position Rolento was hoping for, and he's still several steps less polite than Whip, but K' isn't real quick to give away what the mercenary leader commands of him, either. Particularly not when it'd be given to someone with motivations and temperament that aren't entirely known to him. The renegade does, for his part, seem equally sure Rolento has no way to retaliate against them without maxxing out his own collateral damage. "Because I'm sick of listening to you bark." Again, polite. "You want to lead with your prejudiced superiority, I'll burn massah's house long before I polish his fucking shoes." Bitch.
"Negative. Absolutely negative." Rolento states then, actually grinning straight at K'. He simply listened with even patience until the very end. Moving to walk away from him, ignoring Whip's offer, he shows his back rather brazenly to the pair. El Gado, almost suspiciously, didn't react when Whip moved. Perhaps he even seemed disappointed. That she didn't cause a conflict? Or that she didn't try to shoot Rolento in the head? Impossible to tell. "You are both tools. Weapons. Created and raised. That you escaped those who meant to wield you does not change the fact. Yet do not mistake this as judgement. I, too, am a discarded weapon. We have more in common then you think." It might take Whip a few moments to realize that she was included in that statement. "Isn't that right, Ms. Whip...?" He then stands at the end of the table, facing Whip far opposite. "I attained information during my raids on a NEST facility containing incredibly sensitive information. I attained this after the... thorough interrogation of agent Foxy. Most of it was partially destroyed. But I learned that there was an agent to be placed in Ikari to monitor them. You should understand that I would find that kind of information incredibly lucrative. My initial belief was that Leona was the plant. But no. ...It is you." Whip would find a depressing amount of absolute conviction in his voice. "Your presence with the renegade seems to cement this. Is Heidern and the Ikari warriors aware of your illustrious beginning...?"
If K' were a tiny, belligerent puppy, he'd get a biscuit for good behaviour.
The beauty of being away from NESTS - it's a lot more than they'd have ever given him. Or less, depending upon your perspective. Crippling personality disorders and a life dedicated to pursuing the goals of a manipulative egomaniac and his fanatical followers are not something to shake a stick at!
When Rolento so-subtly fails to R.S. or indeed V.P. her invitation, Whip remains standing herself, shifting stance to place herself - with equal subtlety - in a position that enables free movement whilst also allowing full view of the room and the two men she knows to be present. There are none others she can sense on the radar, so to speak, but her senses remain trained just in case; knowing Schugerg, the possibility of a trap can never be discounted. Though there are more ways to tighten a noose than using manpower.
"We're people, you son of a bitch." It's spoken ostensibly quietly, but far from soft, carrying a whispering edge that could slice from steel plate and severe tendon and bone were it weaponized. Even as she says it, Whip's immediately aware that the protest runs against her own feeling-- and that's what cuts so deep. Rolento is known as a master manipulator in his own right, and what better way than to speak cold truths? She's running, she hasn't stopped running since she first began to find her path away from NESTS, and he knows it. She is, by point of fact, more concerned that he can see through this aspect of her emotions; rather than his attempt to blackmail her. "I've proven my loyalty to my friends dozens of times, maybe hundreds. They don't know who I a--" She actually hesitates, which makes her flinch, the shame and embarassment running deep.
"Who I /was/." She recovers too fast, too furious, gnashing out the syllables, suddenly aware a flush is creeping into her cheeks and she's sweating - not just from the heat and the choking leather. She curses Rolento inwardly, but she curses herself the harder. "But they wouldn't believe you if you told them. They trust me. We've fought together, and I never betrayed them. If I'd meant them ill, they'd know; I could have done it so many times, a simple pull of a trigger, a word in the wrong ear... I'm too good."
That's actually spoken with conviction, her posture drawing up with a flash of pride.
"If you want to blackmail me into something, Schugerg, you need to do better than that. The Commander wouldn't take your word over mine. Is this why you wanted to meet me? To make stupid threats? I'd rather step aside and watch K' roast you in your fatigues than listen to any more of this..."
Her eyes flick downward, but that's the only betrayal of feeling she gives, as she takes a step away.
"You're selling us short, still, Jean Reno." Rolento's grinning doesn't do a lot to disarm K', but we cannot emphasize enough the significance of the lack of fire in the interaction thus far. "I'm not a weapon. I was gonna be /the/ weapon. I'm sure you've dug up all of that in your own little crusade. We have." K' and Maxima. Rogue Prototypes. They fight crime. "They tried to feed me a line of bullshit, keep me under control, keep the attack dog on the heels of the poor schmucks that threatened Igniz and his ascent to ridiculous levels of perfect hair forever." K' loves and respects Igniz.
The volcanic bioweapon pushes off the wall and walks along Rolento's flank, half-watching the mercenary out of the corner of his eye. A predator, sizing up another. "So how about we skip the part where you do the same, and I admit I'm a weapon. I'm the best fucking weapon ever built in the history of the world." Arrogance, or inferiority complex, or one more perfectly acted gambit. It's impossible to tell with an operative, a blade /as/ well honed as K'. He's not exaggerating much.
"Thing is, even a terrier that's been forced to fight for her life from the moment her jaws were strong enough to kill can be retrained. Even in that dog, there's enough will and character to come back from a mindless weapon." Pause. "Ever seen it? It's /adorable/. Now I don't give three shits what you think, Schugerg, but I assure you, I'm smarter than any fucking terrier." K' taps his forehead, he grins /right/ back at Rolento, he plucks crimson glasses off his eyes with the other hand. It's not just the raging furnace of the Kusanagi blood. It's what's up there.
"See, now you're going to go 'HAH! Foolish, DUMB Whip!...'" K' seems to enjoy this, more than his slightly rattled sibling. "'I can PROVE it to them.' If we're lucky, you have some DOCUMENTS to slap dramatically down on the table, still trying to play chess with pieces that are /laying C-4 on the fucking board/." K' seems to have a lot of patience for that approach, too. "So let's skip to the part where -anyone- but Whip believes that being a defecting plant is going to change her station with people like the Ikari.." Wait, did K' just compliment the Ikari Warriors? Maybe he IS a clone.
"So SKIP IT, and ONE MORE TIME, Schugerg, you try /telling us what you want/. Before I decide to make your life hell until and unless you manage to kill me, just on /fucking principle/, because you threatened my sister in front of me and that burns pretty much all remaining chances any piece of shit in this world to stay on my less murderous side." K' seems to enjoy playing up his rogue, deadly operative status, it's true.
"Do be quiet, renegate. Ultimately, this decision is that of your sister, and should be hers to make. You can decide to become my enemy after this, if you'd like. But I'm afraid I was not done." Eyes slowly turn back to the girl opposite, still acting as if he has some kind of upper hand. "As for you... Bravo, Whip. Bravo. You speak your pretty words with all the efficiency of a parrot. But I can see how empty and transparent they are. And I truly believe that you wholeheartedly stand by what you say." There's something more here. Ominous. Hanging like a cloud overhead. "But do you think NESTS that completely inept? After all, you are not one of their random attempts at simple destruction. You were carefully created and raised for the perfect infiltration. The perfect. Infiltration." Rolento grins once more, leaning forward with his hands upon the table. "And what better infiltration then breaking away from the main organization and becoming one with the very unit you were created to destroy...?! They did not lose contact with you, Whip. Heidern is not untouchable. They ALLOWED IT."
Rolento stands up straight thereafter. "Because I found an interesting addition to the papers. The thorough, careful efforts they made to brainwash you. I assure you, it's completely unknown. But with a single codeword, your loyalties to NESTS will erupt out of you, and kill who you think you are. Because of WHAT you are. A weapon. As a matter of fact, I am in posession of this phrase. My blackmail was not to tattle on you to Heidern. It was tu turn you against everything you believe and love." His baton swishes through the air, impacting an open palm. "If you truly believe I am lying, then call my bluff. I have no compunctions about turning you on him. Yet if that was the case, would I be in negotiations with you instead? Think carefully before you do something you regret...!"
Despite her attempts to hide it, too late, Whip will even admit later to K' that she was blindsided by Rolento here - he managed to get under her skin, to pick at the one weak seam she has. Because she's not perfect. The most believably human and humane of NESTS' pet projects, errant or otherwise? Perhaps. Away from confrontations with the organization and those attached to it - including the former Mad Gear strategist - she's in almost every way undetectable from any other bright young woman on the street. Without her fighting skills and the underlying edge that powers them, she might even be called 'normal', relatively speaking.
But she can't put these things behind her. That's ultimately why she'd have sympathy for K', and align her goals with his even were they not so closely and inescapably intertwined. Even if she didn't love him. The bitter irony-- that so long as she's running, she can never get away.
Her only route from NESTS is to turn around and finish what they started.
That thought has haunted her, the twisting of memories; from one fabricated upbringing in a scientific cell, monitored and administered with all the things - material and otherwise - a growing girl is calculated, including friends (or at least a friend) and a stand-in family. And also from her true past, the one she dimly recollects only since meeting K', like a piece of her had been missing. That he could prove that missing link to a truth she'd never concerned herself with suspecting. It's been almost impossible to consolidate.
But she's done it anyway. Trained to accomplish the drastically improbable. Trained to overcome.
Alone, would she have the strength to face the revelation that all that's been for naught? That it's all part of another sinister lie? That everything she believes might AGAIN be a falsehood? The implications of what Rolento presents go deeper than just her ties to the Ikari, but threaten her to the last facet. Friendships mean nothing, her present and past fall to pieces, leaving only a hollow shell. A gun in need of bullets. A stiletto in need of a hand to drive its thrust home. The very tool that he claims. Perhaps if he'd managed to secure this meeting with she outnumbered and forced to defend herself with no more than that... perhaps...
'Perhaps' doesn't matter, because K' is stood beside her. His fierce words resonate in her heart, give her the confidence and the support she needs to see these wild claims for what they are. It's true that if Rolento spoke truly, she could be the thing she most fears-- the end of what little she's found for herself in this world. But the most important part of that 'little' stands beside her, a raging inferno contained within a man.
"I think," begins Whip, quietly once again, her gaze still lingering upon the floor before she lashes it sidelong, all but stabbing Rolento in the throat with the piercing knifehand that her stare becomes. "If the story you tell is correct, then NESTS were inept enough to allow you - one man, a washed-up criminal searching desperately for some reason not to simply shrivel into obscurity - infiltrate one of their highly-guarded facilities, eliminate one of their highest ranking agents and the designer and joint-mastermind behind a large quantity of their most cutting-edge projects, and steal away with classified information on the very same?"
Suddenly she barks out a laugh, cruel and cold, a toss of her head sending dyed hair lashing briskly.
"If that's the case, Rolento Schugerg, then I've nothing to fear from them. Because in this room, right now, you've got one woman you fear enough to blackmail into obeying your orders - threatening the life of her friends and all she holds dear to do it - and..." Her lips twist in a smile, and she thrusts her arm out sidelong, index finger pointing steadily at K', unwavering. "A man that even Igniz is afraid of. Were you his better, or even close to being his equal, and capable of everything you've claimed? We wouldn't be standing here together. NESTS would be on their knees, and I'd be hunting you down with the Ikari Warriors."
At the last her arm shifts, snapping the same digit toward Rolento. Her eyes are afire.
"I /am/ calling your bluff, Major. Speak the word if you have it. I'd trust K' to stop me, if it came to that," a troubled note enters her voice - she can't hide it, the idea of it hurts, no matter her conviction that he'd be capable to 'stop' her. They all know what that means. "Or you can try again, speak your mind without resorting to threats and blackmail. You must stand to gain something from this but crushing a couple of lives, because if all you're doing is trying to eliminate one or both of us, for whatever reason..."
She doesn't glance at K', or El Gado, she simply lowers her hand and lowers it onto the hilt of her pistol.
"At least two people won't be leaving this room. How much faith do you have in your weapon, Schugerg? I assure you I trust mine implicitly. All of them."
K' waits his turn. He listens to his sister, this time. Nods with every word. Doesn't look at her, though, not really. He's /eyeing/ Rolento. It's almost as rabid as advertised. She is, in the end, absolutely right... about more of it than Schugerg might like. "I would be quieter." That part is a whisper, a murmur. So quiet, it's a little scary. K' utters it, through gritted teeth, to the floor. Then he turns to face Rolento fully. "If you were /LISTENING/ to a fucking /WORD/." It's true, Whip's earlier observation. The best way to fuck with her is to pray that K' isn't around to notice.
Threatening Whip in front of him, well. He gave Schugerg a pass, which was awfully generous of the renegade prototype. Then Rolento had to go and escalate. "To think, I thought you might actually have something to say. Think carefully before -you- do something you regret, shithead. Whip's right. You do that, it won't just me trying to kill you. It'll be all of -them-, too. All the time." Maybe Rolento thinks his rivalry with Heidern is already at that level. K' kind of doubts that's the case. "Plus if you haven't been /paying fucking attention/, that shit tends to go awfully wrong in the end, every time. I'm not going to let her hurt anyone, and pretty soon, /she'll/ be up to her elbows in your blood and the little, fascinating broken pieces of everything you've ever thought about building. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you already know that."
K' keeps offering the option of setting aside all the leverage and manipulation and just being up front with it, but Rolento isn't biting. Nor is he in any position to call the rogue bioweapon by cute pet names like 'renegade'! Despite his sudden composure, his volume has been building, gradually, throughout the diatribe. "But if we're going there, you'll be the /first one dead/!"
It's at that juncture that K' seeks to /slam/ Schugerg squarely in the face, with a tightly balled face, in an all-out haymaker. It's enough to brain most human beings, pulp a skull, perhaps two if they were lined up. Yet it's still held back, a warning shot, half of what the rogue prototype might offer. Rolento's taken the wrong turn at every fork K' has offered him, in the firebrand's book, yet the Beast of Flame provides one more. He -did- say 'if'!
Slowly, Rolento smiles towards Whip. He actually seems pleased. Even satisfied. If there was some grandiose test, then she has absolutely passed it. The strength she appears to draw from K' is noticed, however. Absolutely no attempt is made to dodge the fist. It slams into Rolento dead on, right in the cheek. His entire body jerks to the side, one booted foot skidding as he twists and catches himself with the ground, hand impacting it so hard that an imprint is made. Blood spatters upon it, clean and speckled. But K' would absolutely know he just let that happen, and it was anything but painless. "You wanted to strike me... K'. And I allowed it. Very well. We will get to the actual business..."
Slowly he moves to rise, unless further punchings and kickings follow, but he doesn't think that will be the case. A massive bruise upon one cheek, skin split open. Blood from a nostril and the corner of his mouth. A good 25 percent damage, one might assess!! "In fact, I have no particular interest in Heidern at the moment. He is a man I respect, ultimately. We do not see eye to eye, and we do not work together. I believe we are presently at an understanding that it is not worth the trouble for either of us to be enemies." He wipes the blood away with the back of a hand. Rolls his jaw around a few times. "The fact is I plan to wage a war upon NESTS and Shadaloo. And I need elite operatives for such a task. I approach you... because you are the only one of Heidern's men I am interested in. You are like me, as I said. A weapon." Rolento seems serious now. There is no hint of that term being abusive or insulting. Perhaps almost something somber and tired. "The information I present to you know I intend only to use as leverage. So I can properly trust you, to a level capable of executing these missions. And you would not need to trust me. But you are not so simple a creature anymore, are you? Hah! Interesting. That could be greater then I anticipated...!!"
"I warned you," murmurs Whip, straightening from the table with a flick of her head, "Peaceful. For now."
Beneath the strengthened exterior she's still rattled from having to confront what she has. No matter how confidence in one's convictions, it's a human thing, to doubt. A lingering, nagging voice in the back of the mind serves to prey on the tiniest weakness in the psyche - and it's a thing that men like Rolento do seek to exploit for their personal gain. Were she any less of a 'weapon', or any more of a person, there's no doubt that Whip would be shaking right now. As it is, her pulse is merely quickened. The drawing of blood doesn't help; she's no predator, but she is a killer, and she's been trained to respond to that scent.
Drawing a deep lungful of air, she swells her chest and exhales again as Rolento speaks. The irony in this is, she wasn't feeling much like the 'weapon' when they arrived here. It's always there, can always be triggered as easily as though she held the much-vaunted codeword in her own mind, but earlier and of late in general she feels more light-hearted and... human than she has in a long time. Even fighting in the war, killing men manipulated into the terrible machinations of a brutal dictator, somehow there was a sense of levity.
In levelling his accusations, in applying his test, Rolento /has/ turned her the cold operative once more.
Or at least, as close as she could be after all that's happened. 'Not so simple', indeed.
"Thanks for the invitation." Her mouth ripples in a wry smirk, the humour not entirely departed, she's still Whip - but then, that was part of the training. In some ways she's been the success that NESTS wanted-- able to kill and function at a higher level than others without caving to her baser, primal instincts. Without being a social cripple. "How could we possibly trust you? You've come here to propose an alliance, and you start by having your assassin attempt to shank me," Of course she noticed, it's not hard to spot a fellow killer. "Then threaten my life in an infinitely more creative fashion? You're a snake, Schugerg."
"But..." She pauses, letting that hang, glancing at K' now, an eyebrow curling upward.
"Unless K' would rather we finished what he started, I'd like to hear you out. But before that... was any of what you said true? Have you infiltrated a facility, or had dealings with Foxy?" She speaks that name, still, as though it were a friend's - the woman monitored her and administered the care that NESTS likes to believe it best provides. Almost a mother, to their delicate projects. "If we work for you," she doesn't convinced even a she says it, the words curdling with distaste, "Then you withhold nothing that might help us. No games."
It probably -is- a choice Rolento can respect, at the end of the day. If the arrogant mercenary is going to turn his sister against him, against everything she knows, well. It's just smart to get a leg up on the situation, and that's just what the fist to Schugerg's face is meant to provide. One will just have to forgive K' if he doesn't immediately shift to sunshine and gumdrops when Rolento reveals it as employment screening.
The renegade bioweapon just shakes his damn head, after a moment though, dropping that tight fist to his side and stepping off to Rolento's opposite flank, rather than back with Whip, pressing his back against the wall once more. "/Finally/." Is all the Beast of Fire offers, dragging the bandana from his head to reveal a mop of wild, white hair as he reties the black headwear, flashing the skull and crossbones prominently the whole while.
It's all he really inputs into Rolento's pitch, aside from off and on sardonic commentary as he asides to Whip, "He focuses in on you because he thinks you'll be easier for him to control, and if he can convince you, he doesn't need to worry about me." K' doesn't seem to remember that he's been (apparently?) wrong about Schugerg's motivations just a few seconds before this, if not several other times. The confidence is unshaken. Rather finish what he started? When Whip finishes her own assessment, leaves that opening, it's clear that K' almost takes it.
The rogue prototype -would- rather just set Rolento, El Gado, and anyone else the merc boss has hidden in the wings to flame, one way or the other. "No, absolutely, let's hear how trusting our lives and operational security to this rodent is a good idea." Rolento's getting all that respect he demanded from his new recruit, at least!
One would almost say K' is being cooperative, if it weren't for the levels of biting sarcasm approaching 'crocodile'. The firebrand drops himself into one of the chairs, flipping it around as he descends to keep the back between himself and the rest of the room as he settles in to listen attentively to this proposition. Rolento's certainly got an audience that's warmed up to hear it!
"Negative. The fact is I do not need brute strength for these operations. You lack the qualifications I need from my agents." Rolento levels this at K' in a very matter of fact manner, slowly rolling his broad shoulders to get rid of the last bits of initial stunning from being faceslugged. "Affirmative." is finally said towards Whip regarding the latter. "Agent Foxy betrayed me. I managed to track her down and capture her, and gained the location of a sensitive facility. That is how I determined your link to NESTS." It seems he wasn't lying about that, then. Mostly, it confirms how dangerous Rolento can be as an enemy when sufficiently motivated.
"I have no compunctions about revealing the details of these missions beforehand for your approval, within acceptable limits. I believe it would be more beneficial not to strong-arm you into such things with threats. There is no reason Ikari would need to know; they can believe you are doing independent work, as you usually do..."
"I don't tell them everything."
There's a matter-of-fact edge to Whip's cool response, a subtle undercutting swipe of cynical humour that might be more apparent were she to continue: 'But we know that already, don't we?' Let him wonder how seriously she takes him - her determined and forthright explosion of fearless logic against his attempted blackmail already spoke volumes in that regard, but she can be read a few different ways. It's a chance for Rolento to prove how observant he can be, how socially tactical, Such meetings as these do not beggar full disclosure of one's emotional state; there are tests within tests here, even in the seemingly blunt approach that K' adopts.
"However, Schugerg," she appears to have dropped the honorific as she continues, slipping her arms behind her back, fingers hooking together as she ping-pongs a glance between the two most important men in this room. El Gado is watched only as one predator keeps another in their sights; as a defensive after-thought, a precaution. "There's more than one person here who sees straight through you. Trying to keep us apart won't benefit you; where NESTS is concerned, our interests are shared. You involve me, you involve him. I didn't come here to broker a deal - and for what it's worth, neither did you. You're making threats and demands."
She smiles, and turns to place her flank to Rolento, her back to K' - and thus very well guarded - as she steps to the shadows recently vacated by her brother. She lingers just on their edge, a toe slipping into the murk as she looks askance at the beret-clad military operative.
"So /I've/ stated /mine/. Speak clearly and honestly, and speak to us both. If you keep trying to drive a wedge between us, you'll only find yourself between a rock and a hard place. It's clear we've got something to talk about, though, and it's clear that if you don't betray us, you may just help us. I said it once already, to your stab-happy apprentice-in-crime, but let's keep it civil."
"We're /not/ your agents." K' points out rather more forcefully than necessary. For a moment, it sounds and looks like things are about to get heavy one more time. Whatever satisfaction K' has gotten to this point, or relaxation derived from Rolento not -actually- trying to turn his sister into a living weapon against her will (more fully?), is pretty much blown out of the water when the mercenary leader choosed to berate him /again/. There's only so much being called an idiot the Beast of Flame will tolerate, and from someone like Schugerg... well, if it weren't for his dumb sister in the mix, the conversation would've been over some time before.
Whip does a fairly good job of saying what K' has to say /without/ the cluster f-bombs and probably explosion of fire, granted. It's enough to forestall the firebrand's reprisals, even if it's clear even /through/ impassive shades that the renegade prototype is staring nails at Schugerg. Someone doesn't like him, very much; but that same someone does like NESTS even less, K' is forced to remind himself. He knows he doesn't have the force of arms to do it alone, and 'die trying' is only acceptable and appealing on certain days.
Folding his arms and staying in place behind and beside his sister, K' settles for dark tones rather than actions; for now. "Maybe he'll hear it this time, when you say it, since he's not trying to pretend you're worth less than his personal house nigger." K' spits, away from Whip, "Talk about your dumb fuckers." See? He can talk about Rolento like he's not even here, too! That, or K' just decides to stop trying to deal with the merc himself. Intel is good. Rolento is bad. K''s life is simple. Some or all of these things may not be as simple as presented.
"It is a foolish tactical plan to reveal more then is strictly neccesary. Information can leak. Operatives can be compromised. The only way to be absolutely sure that information remains where it should be is to tell absolutely nobody." Rolento offers matter of factly, still standing at the end of the table. K' is given some amount of wariness; enough to remain relatively comfortable an explosive outburst could be dealt with. El Gado remains loosely noncommital, his opinion on matters impossible to ascertain. Careful, listless pondering follows on Rolento's half. "What I need are things done which would not be realized until well after the fact. Surgical precision. The sort of assaults that bleed long and slow, and might go undiagnosed. You can understand my skepticism that your associate is capable of this. You have had extensive training in subterfuge. K' has had none. His skills are instead better suited to a vanguard position. Now I have to ponder the fact anything I say to you will be relayed to him. I will not reveal details on any mission until I fully endorse participation. I do not need a soldier with emotional dependence on an incompatible element... If you are so thoroughly intertwined that you cannot separate your capabilities and still demand equal footing, then I believe our deliberations are closed."
Words uttered prior have fallen upon the Ikari's ears as scarcely-veiled threats, and the petty in-fighting squabbles induced by too much testosterone. Like two snarling dogs kept on chains, Rolento and K' have snapped and rattled at one another for many minutes now-- she, in the middle, keeping a cooler head than she'd ideally like, what with her own investment, the emotional suckerpunch initially dealt by Schugerg, and these frigging leather pants that seriously don't stop chafing for five seconds, oh my god, you have no idea.
A woman's lot is tough. A sister's lot can be harder.
"Dumb fuckers indeed," echoes Whip as Rolento stops speaking, having kept K''s latest vitriolic - though dangerously incisive - comments at the back of her mind, and behind her in a literal sense. Unfiltered by shades or the sharp analysis of the former Mad Gear's gaze, her own soft brown eyes regard him with a careful, weighing distance. A smile twitches on her lips, betraying something between amusement and chagrin as she considers their mutually worthless position. He won't do what she wants, and she knows that doing what he wants... well. At best it's foolhardy, at worst an absolutely critical error. He knows that, of course.
Slowly the lost girl, the errant assassin, the autonomous instrument draws and releases a breath. And then she leans against the back of her vacated chair, placing both hands upon the cheap wood and placing her entire weight with a heavy reluctance as she glances sidelong to her brother. It's not a question of their ability to remain apart she asks - they survived that way for so long, and continue to do so, he with his anger and his pet robot, she with her toy soldiers and a life that alleviates her of so much responsibility.
No, the question is whether K' will accept what she's about to say.
"Wait outside." The two words are so simple, carrying a gentle command that's not to be argued with, if the hardening of her gaze is any indication. She straightens slightly, pushing the chair forward until it's once more under the table, then stepping into its place, a hand alighting once more on the Desert Eagle set upon the table. Her gaze shifts from the Beast of Flame, back to Rolento and his dagger-wielding stooge. "We'll talk alone, but mark me well, Schugerg. I guarantee only that I'll take your caveats on advisement. I'll divulge nothing to K' that presents a direct risk to you and your... organization, until such time as you betray me and render any agreement null. However, if in the course of accomplishing your goals my personal security requires that he be privy to any knowlege I've been given, then I reserve the right to make my own judgement."
Picking up the gun, she spins it around one finger, the weighty handcannon ill-suited to such a task for most, but Whip manages it without difficulty, before allowing it to rest casually at her side. It even swings back and forth slightly, as though it were a favourite toy handled by a little girl.
"Leave us, K'. If you hear gunfire, come running, but not before. They won't get close without me firing."
K' mostly smirks through Schugerg's speech, though there's one or two shakes of his head. "As if it's /your/ call what she needs. As if /I'm/ some mindless subhuman you can talk to like I'm dumb enough to screw important operations. News flash, Jean Reno - NESTS isn't scared of /you/." K' does have a point. No one inside the Cartel has, to date, honed a massive (and wildly ineffectual?) crisis plan for dealing with the merc commander. "You threaten my sister, to confirm what you already know. You act like a half-dumb aryan with a deathwish, probably because you know Whip'll do just this."
No, K' isn't real happy at the proposed private conference. "You want allies, no one wants to watch NESTS bleed as much. You want pawns, child soldiers, manipulated assets you're certain will play the game the way you've planned it, then either one of us - and especially her - would be stupid as /shit/ to hear you out." It's not the first time he's made sure Whip is aware she's being a dumb hooker, in his very formidable estimation.
Despite the sheer heat in the words, in the tone, in the passions running beneath them, there's a measure of restraint to the Beast of Flame. In that he's talking at all, at least. Whatever Rolento thinks he can 'deal with', K' is mostly interested in discontinuing what he sees as manipulative farce. Weakening them... for Rolento's benefit. He /eyes/ Whip out the side of his glasses, "You're buying that, eh? I'm an operational security, I might disrupt plans to hit NESTS! Boy, I sure am dumb, Rolento better just tell /you/ what he wants, and you better keep it private to make sure it doesn't all go to hell!"
Despite it all, K' laughs at this. Long, loud, and absolutely mirthlessly. "Either this guy is as retarded as the news always said, or he thinks we are." K' notes in punctuation, "So how about my counter-offer. We play it your way and I'll go out of my way to /prove you right/, cocksucker. I'll put seeing your racist, sphincter of a head on a pike ahead of Igniz. I'll show you /how right you are/." Yea, leaving quietly is definitely out of the question. "You want to hear this fucker out? Be my guest; but that's where I stand on Rolento assfucking Schugerg's bullshit. Lying /twat/." At the least, the veil gets removed?
Rolento just looks at K' as he begins, with some unreadable expression on his face. It is closest to smug satisfaction, as if something he had thought turned out to be true. Then he glances back to Whip, eyebrows raised in an expectant manner. "Does his words fill you with pride, or shame? He speaks with the self-assured ignorance of one who thinks far too highly of himself." He finally shifts his attention back to the clone. "NESTS is not scared of you." It's spoken very slowly, with a sort of comforting to it, as if Rolento is aware he's breaking some kind of bubble. "No. Not /you./ They are scared of the power you could one day hold. And they are scared of your 'research' getting out. Do you really think..." The commander moves to step towards K' then, looking down at him rather clearly. "That someone so simple and predictable could be a greater threat to NESTS' assets? Raw power is a dime a dozen. For NESTS, quite literally. They can make as many falsetto K's as they want. You, my friend, are simply the closest thing to a success they've had. Please make sure to underline the fact that has nothing to do with either your personality or intelligence." A glance back to Whip follows. "We're done here. If you had any genuine interest in my proposal, thank your 'partner' for that."
Frankly, it's all Whip can do not to roll her eyes and sigh in utmost exasperation as her attempt to maintain control of this rapidly unravelling meeting is met by more of the same treatment from either side. It's painful listening to K', because everything he says - however unnecessarily wrathful and over-protective - she agrees with to some lesser or greater extent. His feelings mirror her own, or they'd never have come this far. They probably would never even have found each other. Their veins may pump with the same blood, no matter the true source of it, but more pertinent still is that they resonate with the same spark. The same energy.
The stolen flame be damned; what really powers K' is the same thing that keeps his sister fighting.
Rolento by contrast simply confirms her worst fears. Whip isn't afraid to die, or be injured, or have anyone take advantage of her in even the most brutal fashion-- her training, years of physical and mental conditioning have prepared her for any form of devastation. What she's afraid of is losing everything she's battled so hard to get, that her headlong flight and subsequent turning upon NESTS will result in betraying everyone she's come to care about. Ironically, Schugerg's initial tactic was the best. Perhaps, without K'...
But there's no space for 'perhaps'. Even before the scarred tactician is done saying his piece, the lithe Ikari woman is ready to leave. She stands here watching two silly boys, slapping each other over the pettiest of personal complaints when they all face a greater enemy. Or in Rolento's case, purport to. It would be bad enough if her pants weren't now /really itching/, and this isn't the place to make adjustments.
"If you'd had anything worth hearing," she answers Rolento with a slow shake of her head, speaking softly - with only the faintest hint of regret, tone coloured more by disappointment and resigned annoyance, "You would have said it anyway. Your claims to be 'intelligent', to have researched me and my background, should have told you good and well that K' would either be with me, or waiting for me to return to him. If I'd come alone, would you have unveiled your plan, warts and all, trusting me not to keep my loyalties? If you think me a turncoat only kept in sway by the watchful eye of those I purport to stand beside, Rolento Schugerg..."
A toss of the head and she straightens up, dyed hair flapping against her face before it's preened aside.
"Then you know /nothing/ about me. I won't work alongside a liar, and that's at least three times your words or actions have very deliberately deceived me. You talk about power, you insult my friends, you insult /me/. All in all, you've performed like the worst kind of gorilla brute. Military intelligence? In this case, an oxymoron. I'm afraid K' is right. " A smile teases at her lips, and she turns to actually leave the room, no longer looking at Rolento but in her periphery, "You're a lying twat. Oh, and..."
Whip stops halfway to the door, fingering the firearm at her hip, a slyly measuring glance alighting on Rolento for a moment before it slips across to K'. Her smile holds a hint of mischief, but also the first genuine fragment of warmth she's shown since being psychologically jolted by Rolento.
"He's not my 'partner', you ineffectually hissing snake. He's my brother."
K' tilts his head, for a moment he looks like he might get /even madder/ at Rolento. Then he does laugh, with some good humour this time. Then another shake of his head, a slouch of his shoulders, and he shoves his hands back in his pockets, the threat suddenly abated. He even holds his tongue - miraculously - right up until Whip's said her peace. The smile doesn't really leave his face the whole time, now. Suddenly, with his latest, and most pointed words, Rolento seems to have paradoxically lost the ability to piss off the Beast of Flame. ... for now.
"Do you really think... if I were so simple and predictable, I would still be alive, shithead?" The words are quieter, as K' simply eyes Rolento evenly, predator to predator. He lingers behind just a moment, long enough to exchange murmurs with Rolento, man to man. HE IS A MAN, DAMNIT. "Do you really think... anyone in the world is stupid enough to say I have the brute strength to take on NESTS?" Least of all K' himself. "Sure, they can crank out new projects; but people aren't predictable. People aren't stupid, not unless they choose to be." It's not many who get to hear the Beast of Flame talk so frankly. The condescending comfort in Rolento's voice gets its counterpart echoed with... pity(?!?) in K''s.
"I'm a threat to NESTS because of what I represent, to everyone else they try to predictably weaponize, you sorry bitch. I'm a threat to NESTS because I'm smart enough to survive, smart enough to get better, smart enough to hit them in the nuts every goddamn time they turn to look away.. then be gone before their friends show up. I'm a threat to NESTS because everyone /else/ who's a threat to NESTS figures out quick they should know me. They all seem to know enough to want to be my pal." K' gets kind of sick of that, sometimes. "You? You're just a half-bright bigot who can't see what's right in front of you. My life's been /way/ too full of you." With that? The white-haired firebrand flips Rolento a bird, and moves to exit with his sister.
"I never lied." Rolento states matter of factly. "As it lies, my information on Ikari is minimal. Heidern takes pains in obliterating any traces of information, something likely taken for granted. I knew nothing of you until we met, beyond what the dossiers in NESTS spoke and your professional records as a fighter. The renegade K'... was, in contrast, up to my expectations." He then turns away from the pair, arms crossed behind his back. "I decided against crass manipulations upon meeting you... I almost pity how this ended up. But ultimately, it matters little to either of us. We each have our own way of fighting a war. Yours is no less valuable then any other. After all, it is due to the likes of K' that I can remain a threat that NESTS ignores. There is no gain in us becoming enemies." He has nothing else to offer but that. El Gado would look Whip up and down like some kind of serial rapist, and seems rather content with how things ended up.
Anger. Whip's been trained not to get angry-- hell, she's been genetically manipulated and dosed with drugs until it's actually a very difficult state for her to occupy, by contrast with the flawed experiments that mark the majority of NESTS more outrageous flock. But as Rolento denies the attitude he's presented since this meeting again, she feels spiking flare of venom, feels her finger twitch toward the trigger. She couldn't kill Schugerg, not so easily, but it would be satisfying indeed to lodge a bullet in his spine...
"You /attempted/ to manipulate me," she settles for gritting out, voice strained and breaths coming deep and heavy through her nose - a frank attempt to keep herself controlled, "You made threats, wanted me to believe you could turn me into an unhinged killing machine... and the only reason you dropped your ridiculous act was because I refused to fucking buy it. I called your bluff. You had no /choice/."
El Gado is summarily ignored, but a moment later so is Rolento himself. Whip isn't remaining here any longer, doesn't even look back to ensure K' is following as with a deeply frustrated swish of her hips she heads for the door. It's opened with a single, forthright slash of one hand, left to fly open behind to admit her brother; though she's half hoping he finally breaks and makes with the firebombing. She's gladly join in.
"If you don't want enemies, play more nicely with your friends, you fucking slimeball..."
It's a growl as she departs, as much for her own griping benefit as Rolento's. She's done with his bullshit.
"Shit, man." K' still seems amused. It's like there's a little conduit between the white-haired firebrand and his sister. When she goes from pragmatic to angry, he is suddenly amused. God knows what might happen next, maybe they /are/ just as chaotic and crazy as Rolento says. "I can't wait to see what you call crass. /Then/ maybe we can be enemies. It'll be fun." Oh. K' is still flipping Rolento off. He hasn't stopped that. He's not looking at Schugerg anymore, though. Oh no. He's licking his lips and winking at El Gado, his free hand pulling down his shades, then dropping to his crotch. That gets a good, hearty squeeze. If Whip's smart she won't look back as K' follows, backing out of the room right behind her.
Log created on 18:56:13 06/01/2012 by K', and last modified on 09:12:03 06/07/2012.