Description: Chet's manipulations run deep, but every finger dipped in angel's blood must first prick a demon.
Once Velvet Blue made it back to their small apartment--which was a one-bedroom, one-bath sort of unit a few blocks away, likely with Naerose in tow--it was time for a rest. First, a long bath--followed by a bit of sleep--and then finally a bit of food after. It had been a pretty long night, to be fair--and Velvet didn't wake up finally till what seemed like the afternoon. That was fine with them, they were active mostly at night, anyway.
Back out onto the street, Velvet is heading to work--having just got off the subway and now in the vicinity of downtown Tokyo again. The darkstalker was wearing a long gray suede overcoat, just the shins of their long white boots visible, their blue spaded tail flicking about beneath the hem of the full-length jacket. They were just heading down the sidewalk of a street by themselves, occasionally reaching up to brush away their long black hair from their cheek or forehead.
Velvet Blue's personal force of will in attracting others to him had piqued the curiousity of Chet. The imp was an unusual creature, born of a womb into hatred and fashioned into form by tragedy self-inflicted by personal need. He knew that Velvet Blue represented an unusual free radical, one that Chet could control with a bribe.
Chet knew the levers that moved men and women. Never money - these things were cautioned against by his very backers. Never force - these things merely broke an individual. And never power - this was already in a person.
No, realizing one's potential, that was all the bribe it took to move somebody into your control.
A limousine was at the corner as Velvet Blue walked down the street, deliberately understated and plain, with a single man in a black uniform outside. He had a black cap and black kid gloves, with burnished golden silver buttons on his coat. As he approached, a window slid down.
"Please, Darkstalker. Come into my parlor," came Chet's voice, in the car, with his face visible.
The driver opened the door, for Velvet Blue to climb inside atop the leather seated interior, across from Chet, who sat facing the hood of the car.
The limo wasn't hard to spot, but neither did Velvet pay it much heed, at least at first. He had tried to keep walking on by--but as the performer got closer, the sound and blur of motion caught his attention. Then Chet's voice sprang up out of it. Oh boy.
"Gold-San?" Velvet Blue purred as the raised a brow and then grinned, walking over to the rolled down window and leaning down to see into the limousine. It looked a bit seedy and humiliating, from the outset--leaning over into a car window like this, like a streetwalker, but Velvet was ready to suffer that kind of humiliation. The limo also helped, of course... and it was getting a bit cold out, this time of year.
"Well this is an offer I can't refuse, then," Velvet grinned a little as he climbed in, rubbing his hands a little bit to warm them up. Soon after though, they'd be unzipping the overcoast, showing off the 3" wedge-heeled white gogo boots they were wearing, plus the black tights, white leather pencil skirt and V-necked purple top. Leopard print might have worked for that outfit, but that had a time and a place.
"So... what can I do for you?" he swept his tail inside before a door could close on it, accidentally.
Chet clasped his hands over his stomach, fingers interlaced lazily. "Are you familiar with the principle of voluntary exchange, Mr. Velvet?" Chet asks, having acquired Velvet Blue's name from a cursory inspection of individual reminiscences at their club.
The driver climbs into the front of the limosuine, and soon, they're rolling through the heavy traffic of the early morning.
"The principle of voluntary exchange states, that a deal between two rational and self-interested individuals, without coercion or deception, will always benefit both parties." Chet cants his head with a smooth loll to the side. "Do you know why?"
"Because if both of us are in calm wits and we are thinking of our needs, then we would agree to no deal we are willingly offered, nor are lied to about, that would harm our present standings."
Chet pauses, to let this sink in, then nods. "This way, all deals in a market system create wealth."
"Just Velvet, or Velvet Blue, please," the darkstalker shook their head a little gently, still grinning a little. This whole situation was bizarre, but it was also one they'd have to admit they enjoyed. Not many of the queens at the Pink Pineapple or the Ivory Lounge even could say they were getting picked up by guys in limousines.
"Thinking of our needs, huh? I'm not a sex worker, Gold-San," Velvet's yellow cat-like eyes roved over to the man. "I suppise if you wanted to hire me to appear with you though, that could be arranged, if you like," the smile lessened, then grew again. It was true, though--Velvet wasn't that loose, though at the same time... 'Gold-san' was amusing, in their own ways. If a little crazy.
"What do you require then, Gold-san?" they leaned a little closer, crossing their legs.
Chet unlocks his hands and his fingers glide together on his thighs, sliding onto his pants, to frame the visible space of his pants beneath his golden amulet belt buckle. It's a subtle intimidation move, to force Velvet Blue's eyes up to his, or force them to look away from his head within the tight confines of the limosuine. Chet is a skilled fighter, and the cashmere sweater he wears beneath his jacket is tight enough to display the physical force he suddenly shows with a dead hard, level look, right in Velvet Blue's direction.
"I want a lockpick, and I need your skills. I need a forward agent for a burlesque club I'm designing for the wealthy of Metro City, and you have a sense with people that is preternatural. I'm looking for someone that can give me access to some of the most powerful men of New York, and I want you to do it for three things."
"First, I want to break the power of the regime in America. This plan, you will not until the end, when my employers destroy the power of the dictator in charge of the United States."
"Second, my employer pays me a great deal of money to find people like you, and this task relies on my ability to find a shrewd man like yourself, Velvet Blue."
"Third, you are wasting your life here in Japan as a mere entertainer, and I wish to teach you how to use what you have, to be someone special. I'm not offering anything, beyond the standards of our time, besides the ability to develop your primary skill for your own purposes."
"You, Velvet Blue, are born for the circles of power, and you are born to be a knight, not a squire. Perhaps, one day, you may be a noble, but that happens only when people in servitude have children."
Chet's face softens. "Do you understand my bargain?"
Velvet is silent, watching Chet and how his hands move, just sort of observing him, waiting for an answer. His eyes do travel up from the man's buckle to his eyes, however. Velvet likely wasn't even thinking of this as an interrogation or intimidation sort of tactic--not at all. Velvet pursed their lips together, making sure the indigo lipstick they'd worn was on straight, perhaps. Or maybe just out of anxiety.
"You want to give me a job at a burlesque, club, huh? I can do that... though I'm a bit curious on who youw ant me to weave my magic on, exactly, and for what end," Velvet Blue's arms shift out of the arms of their jacket, leaving it against the seat behind them, before curling their nearest arm around Gold-san's, if he let him. Was Velvet testing to see how they'd react? Maybe.
"I have a very particular set of skills for doing things like that, but I'm very particular on how I use them, you might say," he winked.
Chet raised the arm with the attempted curl, showing the palm of his hand and his straight fingers with a soft frown.
"I am only business, my entire life, Velvet Blue."
"You will not be working at the burlesque club, unless you choose, and you will be allowed to mingle as you please. You will be paid two hundred thousand American dollars, per acquisition of entry into the charms of a target. We are targeting real estate interests in Metro City, with the intention of laying the Trump Family low by leveraging their interests into an alliance with us, my employers. I work for a circle of esteemed men in Europe, within banking families, devoted to reform of global laws. Our alliance was fostered after the nuclear devastation wreaked upon Mt. Fuji by the United Nations, and we are now attempting to bring peace to the international situation, through financial espionage."
"If you are interested, I can promise you, I will teach you how to be a beautiful arrow."
"I'm not all about money, you know, though that does sound lovely," Velvet snerks, titling their head and letting hair fall over their face, partly. "My real target is going after the corruption and horror in this world, and you're asking me to brain blast guys for you," Velvet seemed a little put off with how Chet shrank away from him, perhaps taunted by it.
"Human politics doesn't necessarily interest me, I've been to the demon world and saw shit you would not believe--this all is very banal and boring, things of that nature on this side, I mean," Velvet waved that off, leaning back in his seat now, arms crossed with their legs still likewise. Their blue spaded tail was flicking about near their boots, as if also a little agitated.
"That is the offer," Chet replies, his fingers returning to their place on his lap.
The limosuine comes to a stop. "You are at your destination. Accept, or refuse. It is your decision."
"Nnnn... I'll think about it, and get back to you," Velvet Blue slips their arms back into their jacket and pulls it back on, folding it over their front.
"Okay then, Gold-san?" it was an intriguing offer, and maybe he would take Gold-san up on it. It was a crazy idea, but crazy sort of fit somehow. Plus he might need the money at some point, potentially--it beat having to steal it, anyway. Once you'd spent time in the makai, things were not quite black and white anymore. There was more to morality in just the word of law.
"Don't go picking up too many more strange drag queens, okay? I might get jealous," he waved Chet off as went for the door.
Log created on 23:29:12 10/25/2018 by Chet, and last modified on 20:25:46 10/26/2018.