Description: Kazuya Mishima sets out to meet "Tom Abel" and make arrangements for the coming storm. What exactly does Kazuya have in mind? To what ends will his lust for vengeance push him? And who exactly is Tom Abel, and why does he seem so unconcerned with the fate of the UN...?
Many machinations are in motion within Japan, right now; the great Gears, which sacrificed much trust in the United Nations as they were born against citizens who did nothing, by the letter of the law, illegal. Heihachi, adamant to end this war, sealed an entire city threatened by nuclear destruction in an attempt to find an entity to gain control of them. Raiden, wishing to remove this mess, prepares a grand ritual to destroy the majority of the Gears and lay waste in untold other areas...
And right now, Urien is floating on an inflatable alligator, sipping from a margarita on his lap. Wearing naught but his black thong, the cool November sun far overhead, he is resting well away from the city. Whether it gets nuked, annihilated by lightning, or whatever, it doesn't much affect him any at this point.
Urien already won. His goal had been simple; to nudge the United Nations into war, and the Illuminati will use the chaos afterwards to clean house. Remove who they dislike, plant who will obey, and gain control of the last potential bastion for independent ambitions that existed in the political arena.
That doesn't make him adverse, so to speak, in meeting with potential allies. Although he might have little stake in the upcoming fight, others do. Word of the Mishima reached his ear, and although he was kind enough to give the address to the resort villa, he has made absolutely no attempt to look... professional. Intended for the upper echelons of prestige, money and honor, this place is filled to the brim with idealic Japanese buildings, attractive young ladies in kimonos, and constant service of the utmost caliber. When Kazuya navigates the sea of servants to be lead to his private glass-enclosed pool, he will find perhaps the most relaxed person in all of Japan in these circumstances...
Kazuya Mishima is never truly at ease, not when that man remains unbroken. When he stands defiant of the whole world and ready to strike his enemies down even if he must take a whole nation down with him. No, Kazuya black blood boils, or rather, simmers silently. He understands decorum, at least somewhat, which is what brought him here through more normal channels.
Kazuya is dressed in an immaculately tailored wardrobe; a purple silk shirt, black vest, and black pants. He left his overcoat at the door, tossing it aside to some servant or another upon his arrival. He carries himself through the crowd of servants with confident, decisive steps. His destination is clear in his mind.
The strife of the Mishima family has finally come to head. Kazuya, meanwhile, knows it all too well. From the time he was a child he knew it. When he seized the zaibatsu from his father, he knew it. When his father struck him down, leaving him to be scavengered by the G Corporation, he knew it.
But Kazuya Mishima refuses to be conquered. He brought the dogs of the G-Corporation to heel and sought an alliance of convenience with the Mishima Zaibatsu, at least, for a time. That is what brought him here.
"Urien?" Kazuya calls across the pool. He folds his arms over his chest. The light briefly catches his prosthetic eye in a sinister light. He looks at the float, at the margarita.
"Tch," Kazuya sneers. "You are the one in charge here?"
All those present bow deeply to Kazuya. This might remind him unpleasantly of the Mishima household. Servants were to never be seen, and whenever Kazuya happened upon one, they had the fear of death in their eyes. Had it been Heihachi, who knows what he might do depending on his mood? Empty faces, empty souls, doing what must be done for a livelihood. That is all these countless people are, and nothing more. In ancient times there was passion, honor, in this sort of attendance. Those days have long passed, when it is not nobility and emperor's aides that dwell in these ancient halls, but those swollen with money and political clout instead.
When called for, the well-built Mediterranean splashes with his offhand to aim himself roughly towards Kazuya. A slow slurping follows. The eyes that slit open... that of a man in a position of power. A man who expects to be obeyed. A man who enforces this respect with strength. Indeed, it is like some little echo of Heihachi, with the same casual disdain for the proper way of doing things. Believing him above it.
Probably not the best first impression to make with a man as dangerous as Kazuya.
"I'm in charge of the matters you care about." is called out, finishing his martini and flinging it away to land in the pool and sink. Fingers slip behind his head with a slow, pleased sigh. "You look tense. Would you like a massage? I'll foot the bell. Put it on the tab of the United Nations... hahaha! I'm just Tom Abel after all. How lucky for me, to survive all those assassination attempts... hopefully, my diplomatic efforts won't be in vain. I'm taking this all very seriously!!" There's a weird lump in the middle of his forehead, something covered up with makeup. Most might miss it. Kazuya is not 'most'. It happens to be, after all, in the same location as his 'eye' when he taps into the true potency of the Devil genes...
"Hm," Kazuya says, watching Urien brief trip across the pool. The Mishima's focus is steely and disciplined. Even now he can remember--with anger--his father teaching him the fighter's eye, the need for constant focus and attention for danger. For weakness. He observes the knot impassively save for a slight twitch of his mouth. He closes his eyes for a moment.
"I reserve pleasantries until after business is settled," Kazuya says. "You have certainly drawn attention." His lip curls slightly, "but I doubt simple good fortune saved you from those assassins," he says, managing a slight--and smug--smile.
"What do you intend for Heihachi Mishima?"
Weakness? This is a strange creature. He is full of it. Ignorant. If Kazuya was to leap across the pool and attempt to strike him in the stomach, there's no doubt the attempt would work. Yet this is the aloofness of a man who believes himself an apex predator. A man who thinks there's no NEED to keep up his guard. Yet such arrogance is tempered by experience; yes, this 'Tom Abel' is strong. How strong? That is left to the fighter's instinct within Kazuya to wrestle wtih. "There's always time for pleasure in life, Mr. Mishima." coos Urien. The way he says that name implies he is fully aware that Kazuya wouldn't like it. "And yes. I think a proper man in this world makes his own luck. As for Heihachi...? I don't care. Like any proper monster, he will eat himself full and sleep for a time, or enough heroes will rally to slay him. I could care less. Why...? Are you interested in profiting from his imminent collapse?" One eye slits open wider at that. "...we might be able to work something out, if that's the case. But... a scavenger? When I hear your bloodline, that's one of the last words to come to mind...!"
"Tch," Kazuya sneers again. His attention turns toward a servant trying to fish the glass from the pool. The servant likely freezes, having suddenly caught the attention of a monster. His attention shifts back to Urien.
"A scavenger? Hah! I intend to drag the man to hell myself," Kazuya says, glaring at Urien.
"But what about when this is over? I don't continue to lose what I've earned because of Heihachi's arrogance. That's why I've come to bargain."
Those eyes meet Kazuya's own. Unflinching, uncowed. If anything, distantly curious. He shifts to rest an elbow on the side of his floating crocodile, beginning to drift sideways without any attempt to shift things and avoid such. "So you want to not be anchored to the Zaibatsu ship when it goes sinking, you are saying... that makes sense. You're his son. If Japan's backlash over his involvement becomes grim indeed, you might get sucked down, too. Might that be what you're getting at...?"
"Precisely," Kazuya answers. "I did not seize control of G-Corporation just to have Heihachi tear it down in his little war." Kazuya unfolds his arms stepping around the pool to look toward Southtown.
"And when this is done, someone will need to pick up the pieces and fill the void left in Heihachi's fall."
"I don't care." Urien states, almost flatly. He allows the current ot take him where it will, snapping his fingers sharply as another attendant leans precariously to deliver him a margarita. He licks the salt on the edge before drinking heartily, flicking his fingers to and fro in the water. "Just fight publicly against Heihachi. You don't need to do anything meaningful. Make a show of it, and I'll spin the media that you were an insider supporter of Japan's freedom all along. It won't even attach you to the United Nations. Hardly a safe ship itself, right now!!" A funny thing to say, given this man is supposedly the sole remaining diplomat of said organization on Japanese shores... Kazuya's information network runs deep. But Tom Abel has been so enigmatic that it speaks volumes of what moves behind him. There are very few organizations that can allow someone to simply not exist. And one of them, in particular, has always had very vested interest in world politics...
Kazuya's head turns sharply when Tom Abel makes a bold offer. It seems so...simple. Too simple. The Mishima looks the ambassador for several long moments as if trying to read him.
"And what do you get from this arrangement?" Kazuya asks. "I know politicians enough to know nothing is free."
"A favor." Urien responds, simply enough, as his plastic alligator slowly spins away until he's no longer facing Kazuya in the slightest. "If I have interests in Japan, you'll have quite the infrastructure in place to help out a little. Don't get so suspicious... not everyone cares what yapping jackals do with a corpse, you know. It'd be less a pain in the ass to do nothing, as a matter of fact...!"
Kazuya continues to watch the so-called ambassador. His knuckles clench, joints popping with tension. "Of course," Kazuya sneers. "It's always favors. An opportunity for you and your...benefactors to move in Japan in the aftermath. Kazuya exhales deeply, closing his eyes.
"Fine," Kazuya says, "a favor in exchange for your turning this story to my ends."
"...Benefactors?" There's a little bit of snap to Urien's voice. He swishes his hand a bit violently, splashing a nearby attendant as he twists his crocodile menacingly to face Kazuya. "This is a favor to /me./ Nobody else. Don't get the wrong idea... I'm no minion." He cracks his own neck to the side firmly at that. "But yeah. A favor. Everybody wins. Well... I already have. I guess it's more giving you a shot, hrrm?"
A bit of a smile creeps onto Kazuya's face when Urien snaps back. "Of course," the Mishima answers. "A personal favor. We are both men of power, after all," Kazuya looks back toward Southtown. Perhaps he can somehow sense Heihachi. It could simply be a look toward his future.
"Consider it an investment," Kazuya answers with a roll of his neck. "A downpayment on future victories. I will certainly make it worth your time."
"Us both being men of power doesn't put us on the same level. Don't forget that." Urien growls as he wobbles to and fro from the disruption of his pool water. He drinks the last of his margarita and then hurls it, striking the glass wall overlooking the distant city and shattering. Almost immediately, someone is upon it with small brush and bucket to gather up the pieces. "Anything ELSE you want from me, Mishima? I'm rather busy, after all..." He leers towards a few attractive females in the corner, wearing bathing suits. All look less than content, to say the least.
"Of course, Kazuya answers, "I won't." It's a statement with complete honesty, though Kazuya's thinking is likely not the same as Urien's in that regard. He steps away, plunging a hand into his vest pocket.
"No, I'll leave you to your celebrations. Shall I give my contact information or one of your attendants, or do you already have it?"
He steps toward the door with the same deliberation with which he entered.
There's a derisive snort from Urien, as he finally pushes off the crocodile and moves to draw himself up the side of the pool. He holds out his arms, and a fluffy white bathrobe is slipped on him in a few moments. "If you do your part right, then you won't hear from me anytime soon. You'll finally get your chance to stick a knife in your old man's back... since everyone knows you can't manage it head on." There's a bit of a laugh as he then strides in the direction of the waiting brood of females, who don't completely hide derisive frowns at his approach.
Kazuya stops abruptly. His fist clenches tightly once more, pressure applied under his knuckles pop again. Lightning starts to arc around his aura, dancing down his shoulder and along his arm.
"I've defeated him before," Kazuya says coldly. Harshly. "And now I have bested the Demon himself. Defeating Heihachi is not the problem."
"You beat him. Sure you did. THE Heihachi Mishima. And it's just a coincidence that he's still alive. Did you take mercy? Somehow fail to do the final blow? Or are you talking out of your ass, and didn't manage shit?" Urien settles heavily into the chair behind him, sighing deeply. "I don't really care about barking dogs. You're ruining my buzz, Mishima!! Get the hell outta here!" There's the rough sound of authority, tone nothing but sheer rudeness and disrespect.
Kazuya trembles for a moment. He may be considering his options. His hatred of his father runs deep through his black heart. It drives everything, at least in part. It's what gives him the strength to overcome whatever adversary he faces.
His grip relaxes, the lightning dissipating as quickly as it came. "I was a younger man then. A fool. I did not finish him when I had the chance,"
Kazuya glances back once, his eye flashing red. "I will not make the same mistake again. He continues on his way with the heavy footfall of designer shoes against polished tile. A younger Kazuya might have started a fight here. Older and wiser now, perhaps Kazuya has learned to be patient. After all, he has waited this long for vengeance already.
"Whatever you say." Urien mutters, with a tone of disinterest. His antagonism seems to be gone to the wayside now that another drink is in his hand. One leg crossed, drinking heavily as the females flood around him with the practiced technique of attendants who've made a long living flirting with powerful men. "Make your showing a good one, then...!" His laugh can be heard ringing out as the door slithers shut, and the many attendants lead Kazuya back outside the rural resort.
Log created on 19:21:44 11/22/2017 by Kazuya, and last modified on 10:14:02 11/23/2017.