Description: There's that upcoming Kyokugen demonstration at last, but it's been a small adventure unto itself in getting there. One Howard Rust takes a nice walk out in the nicer parts of town to (attempt to) watch a movie at the drive-in theater. This particularly mundane thing would not warrant attention, were it not for the sudden entrance of the always enigmatic fortuneteller Rose, who has plenty to speak about in regards to someone both have an interest in.
Getting that bit of a cash boost from that Neo League match might've offset costs so far, but the traveling Kyokugen crew - fourteen men strong, none of them above a green belt in ability - have had some interesting ideas as to how to cut down on costs.
'Oh hey, this is on the rougher part of town but that hotel looks really cheap, let's all pile in there from here on out.'
That wasn't a hotel, that was a mass mugging waiting to happen - a few have already had to be ushered to the hospital while others have relocated back to a far more expensive hotel after having learned their lesson. Kyokugen breeds tough warriors, but the hardened streets of Sunshine City weren't going to let them do as they'd want without a fight. What a fight there was!
Out into the (mostly) safer parts of Inner Sunshine, one of them has found himself sleepless. The hotel thing wasn't /his/ idea, but maybe, he thinks, I should've spoken up about that sooner. Sure, the guys in the hospital will be okay, but that was a close call. Such a close call the certain individual has decided to just go catch some movie or another at the drive-in theater. The rental car they had used has long been stripped for parts by unsavory elements, meaning a nice, long walk for a really distant seat near one of the overpriced refreshment stands.
That man being none other than the one and only Howard Rust, blearily looking at the distant picture from an inconvenient angle. He hadn't really been paying much attention to what's been playing... some science fiction film about aliens or something or another. He nurses a mostly-melted strawberry milkshake (the only flavor they had) and a half-eaten overpriced low-quality sandwich underneath a cloudy night sky painted with the bright lights of Sunshine City's more bustling centers of entertainment and culture. He has a prominent bruise on the side of his face and some bandaging wrapped around his left elbow, but for the most part the Kyokugen green belt and unlikely world hero seems to be... more or less all right.
Discounting that dark purple thing on his head, which of course makes him look about as wretched as a man can.
The expensive town car gently rolling into the lot is grotesquely out of place amidst the collection of other vehicles, it coasts along quietly as if stalking prey amidst the school of colourful vehicles on display. The front seats occupied by hard men that may as well have been shaped of shaped stone or iron, better an extension of the car itself and of the three the car had the more charm. The words exchanged between they and the passenger had been just enough to ensure they were picking up the correct person up form the airport a mutual arrangement as she had little interest in conversing with them. It had been just that until she had out of the blue instructed them to-
"Turn in here please, on the right."
The car door opens in synch with the opening of the a large alien capsule on screen and the Italian woman in the tailored evening gown just as alien to the environment as the onscreen portrayal by the actor. Rose draws her shawl tightly about her uppers arms, the difference between the climate controlled car and the evening air had a bite to it at the moment.
"Mr Howard, May I join you?"
A slight yet pleasant smile on her face as she asks his leave before taking a seat. She wisely chooses to pass between Howard Rust and the screen to take the seat on the other side of him to avoid sitting in remnants of a spilled soda.
"I had yet to offer my congratulations. The Hero of Nepal amoungst other recent and heroic actions."
For being a man renowned now as a hero, Howard Rust... sure doesn't look the part. In some ways, he looks more the part of just another one of the beaten and bruised tough guys that walk the streets of some of the world's toughest, most dangerous cities. In that respect, it is somewhat odd that he's being left alone and not being harassed for autographs and instead is having to contend with somewhat sub-par snacks to a film he can barely really see.
It's almost the most convenient scenario anyone could have in looking for a man like himself, a man who despite rising above the darkness long enough to stand tall against one of the truly darkest chapters in human history... still living a more or less ordinary life, for all the frustrations and bounties it entails.
When his name is called, there's a sudden slurping noise as he gets to the bottom of the strawberry milkshake, turning his head to a small pop in his neck he has to pause and actually rub with one of his hands.
The face he looks at - Rose's - is stunning. He knows her name, he knows that face, but he can't put the two together just looking at her. It's that... sort of presence about her, something that commands attention. Something probably more subtle than just mere beauty!
"I, uh," he clears his throat, "I... don't mind," he utters kind of meekly, from a throat tired after a whole lot of yelling and suffering a really good sucker punch to his throat in that little hotel episode. It's hard to dwell upon the negativity of that particular experience - or of the little troubles and foibles of this entire trip - just sizing Rose up as she goes on to speak about congratulations and well wishes for his heroism.
"W... wasn't the only one," Howard speaks somewhat humbly. Perhaps it's fatigue from fielding such praise? He removes the hand from his neck and sits up in his seat. "I mean... a lot just, just went down, things... went as they did," and did they ever, but his voice trails off into near-incomprehensibility as he finds himself clearing his throat again. "Sorry. Throat's kinda... kinda raw."
The bruising on the older man face is a little less apparent when seated on this side, the glistening thing atop his head looks like a motley bandage on what must have been a ghastly head wound. She tactfully avoids staring though it does hold some strange fascination. Despite the passage of time between that moment and this it looks like he had been in another small war, or perhaps two.
"Events there touched so many more lives than anyone could ever comprehend."
The meticulous planning and carefully prescribed paths of her designs disrupted by its occurrence and after affects. Humanity had cast off an unnatural darkness that threatened the world but at what cost to its future generations?
Silent to the point of solemnity Rose comes to the realization she is being poor company, she clears her mind before dwelling on such things mars her face with frown lines.
"I am glad- that some places in the world recognise what was done for them. Not small deeds."
Like the people of Nepal and the autograph hunting crowd, (well those not looking to sell them online.) The flattery and charm are as bait for the lure, her purpose in seeking the former teacher and handyman turned War Hero is as yet undisclosed and her thoughts are her own as she continues to sit poised with a lady-like elegance during her quiet contemplation of the film.
Who knows how many times that man's been put through the wringer by now? From as much as being at the forefront of a desperate struggle against an all-powerful madman, to something as small and minute as... not having a good vantage point in which to try and watch the film. No car, can't just stand in a spot, cheap-tasting strawberry milkshake, overpriced subpar sandwich.
Either way, the man more or less endures danger, obstacle, inconvenience, and disappointment alike and still happens to be around. Though Rose's aura - her very being - is... oddly calming, there are troubling parallels to a meeting with someone /else/ that ended up being a persistent thorn in the side of... many. Troubling parallels that don't bubble up to the older man's mind as he tilts his body a bit and squints in order to try and see if he can get juuuust a slightly better look (even at the cost of lingering pain in his side - someone was really determined to try and get a knife in there, yet so ineffectually that he didn't even notice until it actually started to sting).
"I mean, y'know... 'd like it if, if the US gave me those... veteran benefits," says a man who seems ready to grumble and grouse on a petty local political level, "but... just, ah, just... happy we still got our lives," back to a familiar (if haphazard) routine, of a world slowly turning back to relative normalcy even with the lessons of that frightening war still looming overhead....
"It's... it's just good Vega's gone." So says the man who was the very last one standing in that horrific final stand that saw many lay their lives to bring the great force of evil down. "That, that we don't have to live in fear of him just... just poppin' up in someone's life, ruining it for sport."
The thought becomes more depressing than reassuring when he remembers who he's referencing explicitly, rubbing the side of his head with one hand as he brings an elbow against his knee.
"I did seek you out for a reason; I wanted to ask you for advice. As a teacher and as someone who knows of whom I wish to speak."
There it was, not a social visit at all then. It explains her appearance in such a place though what is to be made of someone like her making such a request. Events after the war spiralled around in almost equal amounts of upheaval and destruction.
"Namely, Zachary Glen."
The young man's plight was a major blip on her radar as well as the future ramifications of his actions, one way or another.
'I fear I am already neglecting one student, I feel like he is calling out for help but I do not know I am the one to help him."
Fatigue and frustration colour her voice with light touch of colour and little change in the tone or inflection, her calm and poise unruffled despite the myriad of emotions and frustrations she keeps carefully locked away in her mind and heart."
Rose stiffens, that sentence hangs in the air between them like a perceptible wall, only her desire to leave some room for a reprieve for those who fought in that conflict holds her tongue. She withholds her comments for the sake of Rust alone even if it is a poor attempt at comforting. All she can do is withhold the knowledge and certainty of Vegas eventual return until the world is once again ready to fight him.
"I sought you out for a reason; I wanted to ask you for advice. As a teacher and as someone who knows of whom I wish to speak."
There it was, not a social visit at all then. It explains her appearance in such a place though what is to be made of someone like her making such a request. Events after the war spiralled around in almost equal amounts of upheaval and destruction.
"Namely, Zachary Glen."
The young man's plight was a major blip on her radar as well as the future ramifications of his actions, one way or another.
'I fear I am already neglecting one student, I feel like he is calling out for help but I do not know I am the one to help him."
Fatigue and frustration colour her voice with light touch of colour and little change in the tone or inflection, her calm and poise unruffled despite the myriad of emotions and frustrations she keeps carefully locked away in her mind and heart
"Advice?" Is the first thing Howard asks, even as he neglects to turn to look to her eyes. (That, and he's attempting - more like failing - to watch a movie.) Some would really question his credentials as an educator. Pacific certainly would. He probably would, after during King of Fighters he was putting his own hopes and desires above those of people he was a teacher for. After all, his homeroom scored the lowest in standardized tests that year in the entire Pacific schooling system.
Given that revelation from some time back, it is something surprising that someone would want to come to him and call him a teacher in such a positive light, as Rose speaks of who she means.
Zach Glen.
That's enough to get him to look away from the movie that seems to be building up to something intense if the music is any indication. It's hard for him to really see what's going on, but the name drop overrides any such inconvenience that comes from theoretically missing what might be a good part.
The older man turns around on a creaky seat with a certain haste as Rose explains her particular plights. He scratches the side of his head as a few gears grind in his head in putting a few pieces together.
"Zach... well... he's, he's got a lot goin' for him now." He's not entirely sure he liked the tone of Ken's voice in some things they discussed a short time ago, but that's true - it seems there are people with legitimate interest in having Zach be able to succeed in his aims as he continues to master himself. "I know he gets a li'l tempermental," a 'li'l', Howard, really, "but... I like to think that he's got, y'know, bunch of people who can keep him... down to earth," which is probably the best way to put it.
He starts to tap at his forehead with two fingers. what's the gesture supposed to indicate? "Actually, uh, this is... tough to ask, but," he says this while still tapping his forehead, but he knows that on some level there needs to be just a little discretion in talking about such things in public (especially in a town plagued by rough sorts who may or may not be knowledgeable of such), "would you be one of... his types? I mean, not... not dating," he shakes his head as he taps his forehead again, "I mean... mind... stuff, if... you mean teaching him that way."
-----------------------------<Paste from Rust>-----------------------------
"Advice?" Is the first thing Howard asks, even as he neglects to turn to look to her eyes. (That, and he's attempting - more like failing - to watch a movie.) Some would really question his credentials as an educator. Pacific certainly would. He probably would, after during King of Fighters he was putting his own hopes and desires above those of people he was a teacher for. After all, his homeroom scored the lowest in standardized tests that
year in the entire Pacific schooling system.
Given that revelation from some time back, it is something surprising that someone would want to come to him and call him a teacher in such a positive light, as Rose speaks
of who she means.
Zach Glen.
That's enough to get him to look away from the movie that seems to be building up to something intense if the music is any indication. It's hard for him to really see what's going on, but the name drop overrides any such inconvenience that comes from theoretically
missing what might be a good part.
The older man turns around on a creaky seat with a certain haste as Rose explains her particular plights. He scratches the side of his head as a few gears grind in his head in
putting a few pieces together.
"Zach... well... he's, he's got a lot goin' for him now." He's not entirely sure he liked the tone of Ken's voice in some things they discussed a short time ago, but that's true - it seems there are people with legitimate interest in having Zach be able to succeed
in his aims as he continues to master himself. "I know he gets a li'l tempermental," a
'li'l', Howard, really, "but... I like to think that he's got, y'know, bunch of people who
can keep him... down to earth," which is probably the best way to put it.
He starts to tap at his forehead with two fingers. what's the gesture supposed to
indicate? "Actually, uh, this is... tough to ask, but," he says this while still tapping his forehead, but he knows that on some level there needs to be just a little discretion in talking about such things in public (especially in a town plagued by rough sorts who may or
may not be knowledgeable of such), "would you be one of... his types? I mean, not... not
dating," he shakes his head as he taps his forehead again, "I mean... mind... stuff, if...
you mean teaching him that way."
------------------------<Paste to Drive-In Theater>------------------------
For a woman concerned for the fate of a young man she doesn't express herself in quite the right way. A gentle lifting of her brow and silence the key indicators of her thoughtfilled contemplation of these facts their implication.
"It is good that he has people important to him."
Her minds eye refrains from disturbing the dark surface of whatif's and posibilities arising and instead taking some comfort in the expression and analysis of a real Teacher. Someone as far removed from the expecations of a 'normal life' would always have trouble identifying which areas may be of most concern. Right up until that blink, a derailemnt of her train of thought as her look changes to one of consideration and her brow lowers at a realization.
"It is my firm belief the world is fraught with enough peril that I might forgo dating, for the time being."
The line is delivered straight but there is a comedic bite to the chilly comment, perhaps a joke played on the woman herself of the world in general, either way she can appreciate the scenario enough to see an angle where humour is present. A single finger half rises to her head, one finger curled as though she may immitate his tapping gesture but instead draws her finger back over her ear combing the seeming unchanged hair back.
'Mind stuff? Yes, I have been known to ... Dabble."
Speaketh one of the worlds premiere psychics and a fortuneteller whos services were commanded by the highest powers and welthiest of patrons. She doesn't hold back the smile though it appears on her lips just faintly, a copy of a copy of a copy of the genuine amusement she feels. It was almost quite charming in it's naievity; untilled earth that blooms with wild flowers.
"I had concerns- but I think perhaps he has been growing quite well on his own. You have my thanks for alleviating some of my worries."
It's hard to say if one Howard Rust himself can even really say he lives an ordinary life any more, as hard as he tries to cling to the ingrained values of 'wake up, do job, sleep knowing you probably still have job, wake up, do job.' It is what he fought for back in mainland Asia, after all - and all the frustrations that come with it.
So many frustrations, but... far more preferable in comparison to a world run by Vega.
"Dabble, then... that's... a yes," as if he really should be asking, although his tone of voice crosses the ambiguous line between annoyed and confused despite this clarification. The largely blank look on his face is born of plenty of fatigue and worry in stark contrast to what the woman before him speaks of. On some level, he knows who he's speaking to - but it's clear his mind is preoccupied with so many worries for what's to come pretty soon.
"Much as I do for him," the best he can anyway, "I can't, I can't truly know what that's like to be this," he taps his forehead again before bringing his hand back to the counter while things get noisy in the distance. Clearly, missing an exciting part of some film or another, but it seems he's more concerned with making sure his overpriced snack stuff is still in arm's reach, "I wouldn't write yourself off. If you got the... the perspective," by which he means 'the mind stuff,' "it'll do him a lot of good. I, I can't know how he feels 'bout... everything, all the time, the way he thinks, given... the whole mind thing."
He's extremely hesitant to compare it to some of the students he had at Pacific. A few did have a few learning disabilities he had to struggle to work with - it's not the same, even if that's the only mundane comparison he really has for it. He can't go and say Zach is comparatively /handicapped/. That's just not true.
"He wants to be a teacher too, but... I dunno if he's got all the answers 'bout what he wants to... teach." He turns his head a little to squint and see if... agh, it's impossible to watch the movie from here. Oh, well. He turns back to Rose with a creak in one of his elbows.
"Probably... still got a lot of blanks he wants to fill yet, y'know? I, uh, I don't doubt you could help him with that." Assuming they're on the same page, as it is.
Haughtily raising her chin the Italian woman quashes a surge of annoyance and anger though she remains quiet for the duration of Rusts speech. From another source she would let the comment slide but it strikes a raw nerve, as both a teacher, male and fighter the soft spoken teacher was far more compatible a teacher than she herself.
"Mister Howard You do yourself a disservice in thinking you do not know it. It is a discipline like any other, Shaping something with your hands or with your mind is not so different. You may even have a better understanding than most would."
She draws the shawl around her like a barrier as she waves a hand dismissively, she banishes her discomfort and agitation before levelling the entirity of her attention against the stocky and loveable Rust before selling her chin upon that upraised arm, her face is smooth to the point of no expression whatsoever and her eyes are bright and piercing
"That said, he is not an alien Mr Howard. I assure you, In young Zacharys case he is both a young man and a fighter foremost in his own mind even if he has yet to realize this."
Involving Rust more than he was would be unfair and potentially harmful to both but she would not have either of them lose what they were doing for the boy because of a misconception.
"If you think his problems are beyond you then that is the only reason that they are. He once approached me for training and all I gave him a condition, he wasn't ready."
If anyone here would find a more tenuous and alien connection to a young man it would be Rose herself. But it seems time was indeed getting away from her as he was developing fast enough on his own.
"He's a good young man and his heart is still in the right place. His friends have served him well."
A wistful tone, from a woman who spends more of her time looking forwards than backwards or even to the present.
Maybe on some level Howard has a better understanding 'than most,' but given what he does know of the differences... or, perhaps, it takes someone who knows even better to set the record straight? It's hard to really speak up when she gives that piercing glance, a glance that is somehow - on some really deep, primal level - extremely familiar in some ways despite the fact he has never seen this woman face to face in person.
It's a touch unsettling, and due cause to almost forget that one even has a half-eaten sandwich to try and gain at least a modicum of nutrition and satisfaction from. He starts to hold up a hand as if to say 'I never said he was this or that,' but he never quite raises the hand up all the way. Such is the strength of Rose's gaze when she wants to speak her mind.
His mind is a different matter, filled with thoughts about how to form a coherent sentence as to explain what he means in all of this - it's weird, Ken's put him in that same corner not that long ago himself. The hand lowered from its partial raise, a finger gently caresses the stale, low-quality bread of the sandwich as he shrinks in his seat as if wondering if there were any point he could really speak about.
"That's... that's past tense," he finally murmurs out, "we're still workin' on that, day by day." Zach's still reaching out towards his dream, in the end, in his quest to better and master himself.
But what of himself?
"'m sorry if I'm not... I'm not all there," he murmurs out as he straightens himself out, "got a, got a big demonstration soon for Kyokugen. I'm headin' it."
He's a green belt. That's not exactly the level of expertise a martial arts dojo wants to typically be in charge of a demonstration for!
"Just... just kept having one thing after another, you know? 's... why I'm out here, just, fresh air." Certainly not fresh food. The air... maybe. Sunshine City's air is not exactly the picture of cleanliness here, given how much automobile traffic goes through with all their dirty exhausts smogging up the skies. (Given his background in construction work, maybe this level of pollution /is/ mildly fresh to him.)
The short cough that follows does not really support this line of thinking about fresh air very well as the older man pats his chest. "'scuse me."
The potency of that gaze falls away as she turns her head back towards the distantly projected screen rather her attention once again divided and taking care to note the sufferance of her escort who are watching the pair almost unblinkingly.
"You have nothing to apologise for, I however have intruded on your dinner and entertainment." Not a whit of judgement present in her voice, she keeps all of THAT safely within the confines of her own head. Not so humble and worldly a woman as to not have and reserve judgement over some things. The movie itself seemed quite terrible even in the brief moments she paid attention.
'And you were kind enough to humour me as well."
Plucking a card from her breast with little fanfare but a gentle twirl she offers it to he former teacher. The plain white card card has gold inset printing and decorative borders but displays just a very long series of numbers. Only a small series of blooming roses hint at just who the card might belong to though the number is central and it a rather hard to read cursive and flowery font.
"perhaps, One day I might repay this favour and.. should you ever have worries, You will be able to reach me there."
She doesn't really mention as to what he could or should be worried about but there is a horribly sympathetic look on her face for the barest of moments. Rust has earned the peace he is 'enjoying' at the moment and her lapse is quickly covered, emotion slips back behind the mask of reason and practicality, was it a kindness?
But perhaps I should not tarry further, I may well be holding up my hosts dinner as well."
It was actually very likely that a spread would be laid out and briskly re-heated to impress in her of her clients station might hold favourably in a fortune told, as if the world could work under such rules of management.
The movie certainly wasn't worth the unfreshments. (They most certainly are not refreshments! The dictionary deserves to be updated.)
Humorously, in the man's worry he almost doesn't notice that she's presenting to him a card of some kind given his attention is drifting back to what little of that movie he can actually watch from this vantage point at her apology (and in some roundabout way, reminder).
When he realizes this mistake he points his finger at the card once as if to say 'oh wait, that's for me' before accepting it with something of a sheepish nod. It's kind of hard to read in the lighting he sits in, but the squinting tells all that he tries.
"Well... thanks." Lack of enthusiasm? Disappointment? No, he's just a tired and stressed man, by all appearances, who continues to have little things add up in worries and fears. Perhaps he is blessed that these little things are capable of adding up in a world presumably free of Vega once and for all as he tries to find some place to put said card so he won't lose it.
He tries to sit up a little straighter again, shifting in his seat. "Y-Yeah, actually... I kinda know what you're gettin' at with hosts," he murmurs as he thinks back to all the extremely formal occasions he had to attend when he was working at Pacific. Some even in different countries! Hell, there was that meeting in Spain for some reason, where he met that wrestling model guy... wonder how he's doing, he thinks. Name started with a D...
"Good luck with 'em," in whatever capacity someone is hosting her for. She does seem like someone important... no, he's pretty sure she is. He knows he's seen that face. Once he fully realizes who he's been talking to this evening he'll probably kick himself (gently - there's a demonstration to be had after all!).
"I'll keep an eye on Zach," he says with a promise buried under his usual gravelly, tired tone of voice as he shifts in his seat to really see if he can't at least get the basic gist of the friggin' movie here before heading back over to where the rest of the Kyokugen students have holed up. He'd need plenty of rest.
"You just... you just take care." Even with these worries, he has high hopes that the demonstration should go through okay enough.
The aura emanating from Rust is pervasive, that weariness settles on her head and shoulders as much like a cloak as the shawl, for a moment she feels the urge to just sit back and watch the world move without her, or just.. let the threads slip form her fingers. Rising to her feet she throws that cloak off, there was no time to malinger or let the moss grow since much time was already lost.
"I would invite you to come along as my guest; but I suspect you would wisely decline."
A brushing at her posterior after seating in such conditions and subtle stretch and she has summoned up enough of an inner reserve of energy to get through the remainder of the night.
"You should rest well Mr Howard, You will need your strength in the days to come."
That last bit was a tad ominous as she begins to walk back towards the towncar the clip of her heels on the concrete slows as she half-turns back.
"Farewell, and thank you for your time. Oh, and Good luck with the demonstration. I hope it is both fruitful and enjoyable."
Nothing so unsophisticated as a wave before she reaches the car and this time one of the men opens a rear door for her.
Log created on 20:33:44 07/06/2012 by Rust, and last modified on 02:50:59 07/26/2012.