Description: Nagase, on orders from the Duke, heads to the Capital 7 Casino in Metro City to attempt to 'persuade' old Syndicate ally Li Xiao Wen to assist with the Southtown siege. Unfortunately, the veteran chinese gangster is too hard a nut even for a potential assassin to crack and the cybernetic ninja is chased away. Will 'negotiations' end here... or is it only the beginning...?
Metro City, Capital 7-
Enter the biggest and most successful casino this side of Metro City, at least these days, the Capital 7. It's loud, it's crowded - particularly on the lavish and well-lit casino floor - and it's positively filled with energy and excitement. And greed. Amidst the cacophony of cashier noise, loud mechanical sounds and seductive voices of the automated gambling machines, game table employees calling for bets, shouting and clapping, and the siren song of the carefully selected, atmospheric, music it is easy to get distracted. Especially as the near endless stream of light shows and alluring images project themselves onto the collective consciousness of the gathered throngs. Here, in this place, the more well off of Metro City society gather to engage in the kinds of sins you can only find a place like this: whether it's greed, lust, sloth, gluttony, or vanity... they have it here... for a price. Though this place in town might never be associated with the more filthy, poverty strcken, and often illegal, goings on in the run down parts of the city so far away... the two had kinship that ran deeper than most would ever know.
After all, they were both funded by Geese and the Syndicate. At least, once upon a time. Few outside of the managers of this place had more than inkling that there were anything less than legitimate about this place. And rightfully so, it wouldn't be good business for anyone to think otherwise. Speculation in the Syndicate had it, however, that the upper management in this place had ideas about breaking away in the absence of their benefactor.
But no dog of the Syndicate escapes his master once he's been fed.
That's why, today, the Syndicate had decided it prudent to send a pleasant reminder of said dog's obligations. In the form of an unassuming-looking, if loudly dressed, young girl. She's presently taken a seat right on top of the desk in the owner's office. Any papers or other things that may have occupied the space have been neatly set aside. Sitting in the lotus position, gauntleted hands folded neatly in her lap, and her booted feet together... her sanguine eyes stare intently at the door to the office as if willing it to open. Her hair is multicolored, dyed, foxtail of wine red, white, black with two very small pigtail tied tightly in back. Her clothes are likewise a, mostly cotton, mixture of wines reds and blacks that expose her porcelean shoulders. The entirety of her legs, however, are covered in black stockings and nylon sleeves.
How did she get in here? Well, it's pretty easy when you're skilled at the art of using your surroundings to avoid arousing suspicion. It helps to have connections too. At least he won't have to worry too much about re-hiring employees. Not yet anyway.
With Geese having gone 'quiet', and Li's power base _so_ far from Southtown, it could maybe be expected that the gangster would, ever so slowly, separate himself from the Syndicate. After all, the Chinese gangster is a man with ambitions, they do not ultimately involve staying underneath the thumb of Geese Howard. He has been amassing power--societal power, financial power, underworld power--but it's been a slow process. That's alright. Li is patient, building up the legitimate side of his business as well as the criminal side. So, yes, the Capital 7 is one of the busiest and well-patronized attractions...
...but in a city that doesn't really have much to offer tourists, it can't be said that that's particularly -difficult-. He's gotten... secure, here. Which is why he's not really expecting company, as he keycards himself into his office--his inner sanctum. It's a large space, decadent in its almost pure emptiness--save for the large, obsidian-polished desk at the far end, and a few couches, there's plenty of space in there, and the walls, while rich mahogany, are largely devoid of gaudy artworks--just a few tasteful ones, really. As the door clicks and he steps through, he looks up, and pauses, just for a moment, before closing the door behind him. It latches with a very solid *click*, and the man waits just a few seconds more--ten or fifteen, perhaps--before saying, mildly, "Kelly didn't inform me I had an appointment today."
It's an admirable trait: ambition. Coupled with a strong drive there is little ambition cannot achieve. This is a philosophy that the girl sitting across the room from the chinese gangster held dear. In that, the two might find a shred of kinship. But, there were ceilings that every will, no matter how indomitable, were subject to. Some ceilings were made of glass, and some were made of much sterner stuff. This was a concept well-understood to the youthfaul kunoichi, whose entire life has been spent on one master or another's short leash. No matter how she might try, the weight of the knowledge that she might never escape her own situation was heavy upon her.
And it is this weight that comes through in the tone of her first reply, "It'd be quite difficult to inform you of a guest that even she was not expecting."
Moving off of his desk, perhaps out of a desire to maintain a decently respectful atmosphere or perhaps out of a need to move, she proceeds to stuff her hands into her shirt pockets and pace. All of this is done quite slowly and deliberately to avoid triggering a defensive reaction from the chinese gangster. She didn't come here to fight him, or even threaten him, if she didn't have to. She was just a messenger. "I hear business is doing well. ... The Syndicate has heard it too. I've been sent to check up on the whole situation, and inform you that your services are still very much needed. ... No, required is a better word I suppose..." By the time she's finished this sentence, she's crossed the office and proceeded to eye a particularly interesting work of art hanging upon a mahogany wall. Her back is to him, he could probably attack her if he so chose... but one might question the wisdom of that given he knows nothing about her and she seems to know an awful lot about him. Especially as a pair of disarmingly cute, but never-the-less real, tanto blades with panda bear handles are strapped to her back.
Her right hand is extricated from a shirt pocket, snaking its way up toward a pair of bright yellow, glossy, lips as she eyes the painting through the rose-tinted lenses of her spectacles. "The Syndicate's been quiet lately, I know. You must be quite surprised. But there are new developments taking place that you might be very interested in..."
Li *doesn't* close in with her. The ninja won't miss that he has his favored weapon in his hand--apparently usually sheathed behind his back--but he isn't threatening her with it, either. He doesn't really have any compunctions about hitting women or the like, but there's a certain lack of decorum in fighting in his office. He wouldn't enjoy it, per se, and replacing some of these fixtures and some of this furniture is expensive, an expense he'd rather not have to lay out for if he doesn't have to.
But she does solve some mysteries for him--like who she's working for, for one, though he could've guessed off the bat. Few are the groups that would dare to infiltrate his inner sanctum so boldly, and if she got in past all the guards, without having to harm them, then she is a woman of some skill.
"Business is doing just fine, yes. Quite well in all aspects," he replies, again sounding mild, though behind that placid front he's obviously thinking, and thinking hard. "As for the requirement of my services..." He smiles, then.
"I think perhaps the contract on that has... expired. If Howard wants to retain my services, then he'll have to find some way of convincing me." His expression states, as he then does, "... you aren't convincing enough. Once, I needed the Syndicate.. I think I don't anymore."
Her eyes close, slowly, and a soft inhale follows as his closing statement draws her attention from the painting in a very unfortunate way. The hand that was touching her lips snakes upwards to touch upon the bridge of her glasses and she pushes them back against her nose. Silence follows for a moment or so, and then she turns around and levels a very threatening glower at him. T'would seem her attempt at promoting a nice, business-like, atmosphere has already been destroyed. "...That is an unfortunate statement for you to make. I -don't- think you understand...", she drops off before taking a few measured steps towards him and turning sideways. Dropping her hands to waist level, she's ready to fall into a fighting stance on a dime. "...This is not a request. I was told to attempt to persuade you, and I chose to do so in a civil manner of my own voilition... but if you really intend to sever ties with the Syndicate..."
.she trails off again, dropping into a low stance with her defensive hand forward and the other in a position to free her bottom tanto from its sheath. "...You will be making a terrible, and costly, business decision." Her soft features read dead-seriousness, despite the presence of that staff, she is absolutely willing to leave him bleeding right here on his lovely little office floor. "...Before you do that, however, I'll share an interesting tidbit with you. The Duke is making plans to retake Southtown for the Sydicate. As you might imagine, such an acquisition has promisingly lucrative potential. You could find yourself being rewarded for your 'loyalty' greatly." She shuffles her leading foot forward a bit, leaning in, broadcasting a full intention to attack should he say anything displeasing again. "Or... I can kill you. You know it wouldn't be hard for the Syndicate to acquire this place again with you out of the picture. ... Do you really wanna go there?", she scoffs, almost mockingly as if she thought that were an absolutely stupid decision to make.
Finally she taps her heavy platform shoes against the floor with an audible, precisely timed, thumping."Whatever you decide... make it quick! I'm a busy girl!"
Li has his doubts--doubts as to whether Geese and the Syndicate really have the *reach* to pin him down in Metro. But he didn't get to where he is by being rash. There's plenty of time to consider things. Casually, he steps past Nagase, to his desk, taking calm, precise, measured steps to get there, and then slipping his briefcase atop the slabwood top. "The Duke, you say," repeats Li, and there is a note of interest in his voice.
That -is- interesting. But does the Duke have what it takes? More to the point... does Nagase? She's the immediate threat, after all, if there is one. "You could certainly try to kill me. The Syndicate *may* have the financial resources to take the Capital 7..." and here, Li smiles, not in a friendly, open way.
"That is, assuming you were to succeed and... assuming there would be anything left for the Syndicate to *take* if you did manage to assassinate me. I would be a poor gangster indeed if I didn't have contingency plans, after all."
Leaning against the edge of his desk, he plays with the short-staff that is his weapon, flipping it idly through a casual sequence, as if it helps him think. He really is quite dextrous with it.
"I think, perhaps, I need to talk to the Duke myself. These things simply can't be done through messages delivered by -minions-, after all," he replies, blithely, putting just that little extra dig on it. Clearly, he knows where he considers Nagase... and where he considers himself. Whether that's a true assessment or not?
As he works his way, slowly, across to his desk... those sanguine eyes remain trained upon his person. She doesn't make any real movements other than the turning of her head, until that briefcase slides ever so softly across the desk top before coming to a stop. When he begins to parrot the Duke's name back to her, thoughtfully, however... she does rise up out from her fighting stance. From there, she simply stands in one spot and listens with a patience that defies her earlier statement about being in a hurry. At least, that's what her silence would seem to say about her... but the crossing of her arms and fingers drumming slowly against her upper left might suggest otherwise.
His arrogant smile does, however, provoke a narrowing of the eyes. It's ever so subtle, but it's there. If this were any other guy, she definitely would have called this meeting to an abrupt end and attempted to gut him like a fish. But she knew she couldn't do that now, not yet anyway. So, instead, she just takes a deep, audible, breath - and it really stands out from the incredibly soft breathing pattern that was practically instinct to her by now - and rolls her eyes upwards briefly. She proceeds to just roll her neck slowly, even as that staff dances on his hands a short distance away, finally placing her eyes firmly back upon him when he refers to her as a simple minion. It's here that she blatently cuts off anything else he might have been prepared to say...
"I'm sorry, but you're not really worth that much." Now it was her turn to dig. "Make no mistake, we have contingency plans too should you decide you won't cooperate. At that point, it just becomes a matter of me eliminating you as a risk to the Syndicate. Also, for procuring whatever assets you might have that are useful." One again, her voice and indeed her entire attitude portrays absolute confidence in her ability to kill him. Is that confidence rooted in reality...? There's one way for him to find out. "The Duke doesn't have time for small fish, that's my job." She shakes her head a bit, and then emits a somewhat feigned sigh of exasperation. "I don't really enjoy it, but whatever!" Truth be told, she did enjoy killing the ones that crossed her at least. "...I'll state it plainly: the Duke wants you to hep him establish a foothold in Southtown. Something that looks legitimate, something profitable even... and he's willing to throw money at it. ... Or, you can die. It can't be any simpler."
"...Oh... and...", she stops drumming her fingers momentarily and raises the index finger of her right hand in the air infront of her. "...Don't go thinking you can rely too much on any safety features of this room. Including that door latch...", and motions with that hand toward the door he carded into. "I've already taken care of them. The only way you're getting out of here, aside from cooperating, is by your own strength..."
"I appreciate your concern," replies the man, dryly, showing no outward sign of consternation. If she -has- indeed foiled all his security measures... But there's no guarantees of that, are there? Nor does he seem particularly cowed at the ninja's threatening ways. Straightening, he assumes a standing position that might almost be considered a fighting stance... sort of. Clearly he isn't concerned. Locking the door wasn't for his *safety* after all.
As for the subject of arrogance, well. Abruptly he stops 'playing' with his weapon, holding it in a loose grip. "You seem to want to send me conflicting messages. That the Duke wants my help... but that I'm not worth that much to him? Come now, surely even you can see how that doesn't mesh. If the Duke wants me in on this, he'll have to come to me to discuss it," he says, flatly, any trace of nonchalance and carefree attitude vanishing like fog in the sunlight, his voice firm, uncompromising.
With his free hand, he reaches into his hip pocket, withdrawing what looks like a slim Bluetooth headset, fitting it into his ear. "Oh, by the way," he says, casually, "I -am- quite impressed that you managed to defeat the first layer of my security. You certainly have a way with electronic systems. But in some ways, well, I -am- old-fashioned..." A line on the side of the headset glows blue--indicating activity--and he adds, casually, "You can fight me, I'm sure. But do you really want to fight the eighty security guards--excuse me, sixty-four--as well as the pit fighters that I have in my employ? You might beat me... but I don't think you want to face that many, do you? Surely your training *might* see you through... but my people are loyal to me. Tell your master--I want to see him directly. Only then will I decide." Walking around his desk, he seats himself in the lush leather chair, sliding a drawer on his right out and taking out a pen.
"Now... if you'll excuse me? I will most eagerly await the Duke's reply."
After her attempt at cowing him, which doesn't seem to work, she simply places her right hand back upon her arm and resumes tapping her fingers. There's a fold that appears in the left corner of her mouth, as he straightens, that suggests irritation. It turns into a full-on frown, however, when he begins to rebuke her regarding her logic.
When he stops, however, to fetch /something/ from his pocket... she attempts to interject, "I merely stated that we had other optio-", and pauses as she realizes what it is that he produces. Her soft features, including the frown that mars them, completely melts and becomes something else. A nasty, toothy, snarl complete with a death glare. Shit- in her OWN arrogance she forgot to account for the possibility that HE might have something on him!
A gauntleted hand snaps downward, slipping into a shirt pocket to grasp at a concealed throwing weapon. She isn't fast enough to prevent him from activating the headset, however, and by the time she's ready to draw that weapon and hurl it at him he's already spit out some very important info: sixty four personnel, plus pit fighters. Many of which may be a moderate threat to her on their own no doubt. That pretty clenches any other threats she has but one at this point, "...You /will/ regret this."
...and her hand is drawn from the pocket, she turns on her heels and darts for the door before disabling - remotely - whatever measures she placed upon the door to prevent it from opening, turning the knob, and darting out...
Perhaps, it would be pleasing to him, the very moment she darts out there is shouting and activity coming through the open doorway as security sees her. There's a faraway command to stop, followed by a two second pause, and gunfire. ... Then the thunder of heavy boots going down the stairs again. ... And silence. At least, until someone from security inevitably comes to check on him.
Log created on 19:30:31 05/23/2013 by Nagase, and last modified on 23:44:28 05/24/2013.