originally posted in:The New Dojo
[b][u]Feather Funds | Dojoville, Undisclosed Cafe[/u][/b]
[spoiler]For Pants or any faction leaders I guess.[/spoiler]
Mason leaned back in his seat, waiting for his clients. His crutch was leaned against a spare chair meticulously, with his the brace he wore on his right leg hidden under the wooden surface of the table. The aging man could almost pass as a normal citizen rather than a cripple. Well, the definition of [i]normal[/i] was a far cry from an average townsperson in the Dojo. People of all sorts of races and backgrounds carried weapons of all kinds for the Dojo's norm of fighting.
He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He knew he wasn't there for that. Mason Cartier's fighting days were long over, and not just because of his crippled leg. A cripple was the equivalent of a unicorn in the Dojo, since there were so many alternatives like mechanical augments and healing magic. Strange, to say the least. But not unreasonable.
Alas, he wasn't there to reflect on the nature of the Dojo. He was there for a business deal.
Well, a deal at the very least, anyways.
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"I never thought I'd see one, here." [i]One individual would choose to associate herself with Mason, that day.[/i] [i]Her voice was harsh, blunt, yet still softened in a feminine manner. A businesswoman with a mean streak. Or well.. just a bitсh, but one that could at least try to back up her bark, for Isabella Trayven was built in complete contrast to Mason. Her being seemed almost barbaric, yet clothed in the apparel of a commanding officer still - towering and buff, though the dark violet jacket that coated the alloyed breastplate underneath would hide that away. Blazoned upon he chest was a single emblem, one that gave away her loyalties already, without word nor signal - a pin of the golden maw of a lion's head, the beast's face imprinted to look to the side. A sigil of Trayve.[/i] [i]Isabella's facial appearance didn't necessarily help her intimidating image, which was both a boon yet a compromise for her. It was angularly structured yet, with fading scars and blemishes throughout the fairly tanned, white skin that was her face, a jagged scar chipping away at her left jawline while another cut through her lip. Her eyes were a brilliant crimson color, with tangles of curled, deep purple hair falling to her shoulders.[/i] [i]Oddly enough, she appeared unarmed, until she sat down at Mason's table, whereas the iron hilt of a small dagger was revealed through her interior chest pocket. Perhaps she found herself more than capable of ensuring her own safety. In a land of mercenaries, kinetic bombardments, laser shark men, terroristic maniacs with super powers, and lunatics with way too many firearms.. that seemed a little odd, though Isabella didn't mind.[/i] "A cripple, here.. It's fine. It's a better state than most people are in, unfortunately.." [i]Isabella had already referred to.. past occurrences. The blaze of Dojoville that wiped out most of the town. Senseless massacres of men, women, and children in the streets. Destructions of bars, bandits once lurking in the night and ransacking and pillaging. After being here for a few months, she at least knew a little bit.[/i] "Sorry, been a stressful afternoon. Isabella Trayven. Current commander of the armed force underneath that pretty ol' purple banner." [i]Isabella bowed her head, offering a gloved hand for Mason to shake.[/i] "Heard this was about.. business."
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"No need to apologize," he said with a sardonic, more-than-usually sly smile, "to me, at least. I'm not bothered by how I am. You learn to live with it after a while, and it gives you appreciation for a lot of things you wouldn't really enjoy otherwise." [i]Like knowing how to disarm a pretty young thing like you with only a crutch and a lock-responsive leg brace,[/i] he thought as a side note. The man may have been a cripple, but he was by choice. Even now he knew that he could replace his injury by any amount of alternatives - he was even offered a gift from the upper echelons of command. A new organic leg, free of charge. But it was his reminder. And one that he'd learn to live with, and honed like a broken bone turned into the sharpened end of a spear. The leather-clad woman in front of him didn't need to know any of that. Not yet. He took her hand with a respectful grip. "Mason Cartier, owner of Billhook Cleaners. I'm a newcomer 'round here, so there's no need to worry about me believing in anything folk are weaving about you Trayvens."
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"Weaving about Trayvens.. what [i]are[/i] folks "weaving" about us, hmm? Our methods of punishment? I assure you, the punishment of those thieves was more than necessary." [i]And admittedly, more fun to Isabella than she thought it would be. So, Isabella had a few teams of troops kidnap some of the thieves and bandits in action, to bring them back to her. In the end, she purposefully left one of them, mangled and mentally damaged, in the middle of a street, a little letter upon the body itself. It was gruesome. Even stupid. But thieves were no more in the Dojo.[/i] "...Or is it our military establishment in the Dojo? The anti-technology perimeter around our encampment? Please, I'd love to hear about what the naysayers murmur and bitсh about in their spare time." [i]Cocky. Isabella was blunt about it, at least.[/i]
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He met her bluntness with another simple smile. "No need to defend your honour or whatnot. Like I said, I'm an outsider. More than that, a cleaner. I do my job, you do yours. And it just so happens that they happen to collide in this strange, strange place." Mason knew better than to bring up the conquests of the Trayvens, not even bothering to mention who had said what. Her reaction was defensive, and that said enough. "Sometimes," he began with a hint of sarcasm, "I like to pretend this place is as civilized as my home. That everything is regulated and has at least some sense of order. I'd like for you to indulge in my fantasy, Ms. Trayven, as a civilized person. Tell me, with all the death that occurs in the Dojo, how do you rid yourself of any unsavoury leftovers?"
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"Unsavory leftovers.. Sometimes, I have the men burn their equals in piles. The stench isn't the finest, but it is one of the quicker ways. Besides.. "death by fire is the purest death", or some shit like that." [i]Isabella murmured, before she continued with that same disdainful tone. Either she was new to the concept of being civil, or this was intentional.[/i] "If the dead are few, we bury them underneath. Primarily out in the woods, we've got plenty of room without being bothered by the Dojo's сuсks.. A punishment for those who've acted up. Carrying bodies isn't fun, I'd know that. You know, there's a punishment for grave robbing in Trayve.. death by burial. Rather dull, unless you're the one underneath. At any rate.. you mentioned that you were a cleaner. There's a few things that one could be, underneath that name, and considering your question.."
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There was something that the man couldn't hide at Isabella's mention of their body disposal. Unlike some of his former comrades, he didn't enjoy painful sentiments and symbolism in punishment. Termination was termination, and nothing else. "For civilized people, you shouldn't be forced to burn bodies unless you wanna prove a point." The word "civilized" seemed a bit forced from his mouth. "I've only recently been expanding into the cadaver disposal business, but you can guess what I do just from that. Any unwanted corpses, I'll take off your hands. From there, we take care of them in ways that'll fit the Dojo, which is mostly organic fertilizer for plants and whatnot. Much healthier alternative to letting all those fumes choke up your soldiers." He spread his hands. "Yes, it does sound a bit barbaric, doesn't it?" Saying that was purely for show. He considered it much more humane than the methods Bella told him about. "But you can't deny that the Dojo is full of death. Be that from duels, invasions or just another massacre. For health reasons, the skeletons can't just stay in the closet anymore. No pun intended."
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"I don't give a flying fuсk about whether it's "barbaric" or not." [i]Isabella stated bluntly, and yet in a meaningful manner as well, those red eyes refusing to revert from Mason's face.[/i] "I just care that you get it done. You eat the bodies, you burn 'em, I could care less. You start doing things that do piss me off, or generally any of my boys 'n girls. Though I could most certainly use your.. services." [i]It seemed as if throughout the short conversation and the differences that the two possessed, Mason had been able to persuade the Trayven warlord into interest of his operation. Now he needed her to keep taking the bait.[/i]
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[i]Spoken like a true Dojo-woman,[/i] he thought bitterly. "Perfect. I can cut straight to the chase then. I understand that you know your infamous negation fields are quite valuable to most individuals around here." He didn't want to waste any more time with the purple-haired warlord with the knife on her belt. The faster he could get her out of there, the less room there would be to anger her and start a fight. Or maybe that wasn't a bad thing. After all, the savages of the Dojo respected strength over all. "The offer is simple: if you supply me or teach me to create these fields of yours, you will be given a considering discount for our services. Let's say... 80% or some. The ability to immediately disable technology would be quite an asset for any haywire machines people may leave lying around." Mason cursed himself this time. Old habits really did die hard - the word "asset" unconsciously slipped off his tongue. While it made sense in context, he knew better not to refer to almost anything in field agent talk.
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"Go fuсk yourself and your discount, how 'bout that." [i]Taking the offensive was always fun.[/i] [i]Isabella leaned back in her chair then, falling silent as she crossed her arms over her chest and released a huff of a sigh, as she met Mason's gaze then. It wasn't that he had mentioned the fields as an "asset", it was the factor that he had even announced them in the first place as a trade deal that set her on edge. If it was Rubicon or some other militaristic force, she'd oblige. But a discount..[/i] "I'll let you in, on some trade info." [i]She started, her arms uncrossing as she clasped her hands together.[/i] "Rolling in and out, back and forth, twenty-four seven, is gold, food, pretty little gems, and all the septims that I need. That's what happens when Trayve sticks to mining and conquering. Give me a price on your services, and I'll see about it."
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This time he seemed a bit more prepared for Bella's abrasiveness. His face barely budged, apart from his smile lessening with each word that came out of the Trayven's mouth. Now, he seemed more neutral than formally happy. Now, his feelings were transparent. "Smarter than the average bear then," he suddenly quipped, a far cry from the gentle fatherly tone from earlier, "you got me. But allow me to let [i]you[/i] in on a little secret. Mines eventually run dry. That big mountain you're tapping, or whatever rock you choose to rip next, will eventually be out of shiny stones. Conquering? Sure, you can always stick to plundering and pillaging. It's what you people do best, isn't it?" Whoa. That was different. "Risky business though. One day, just when you think you're safe and there's no way it could go wrong, you bite the wrong string and get yanked. There is always a bigger fish out there, no matter what. But you wanna know what's reliable? Making profit off of things that don't change. Things like the Dojo. A place where there's always gonna be people like you conquering and killing as they please. So someone like me comes along, asking them if they wanna play Barbie with dolls named "civility" and "humaneness". Alternative methods. They bite, and suddenly I'm making profit off of everything this [i]cesspool[/i] is dedicated to." He was seething through gritted teeth now. Mason, who was just a gentle soul from before, had gone full-out prejudiced. "I'm talking about controlling the entire [i]pond[/i] here. Every fish that swims, shits, or eats in it pays me. And it'll always be that way because I offered a trinket that wasn't a gun or a bomb. So lemme now that you get what type of person I am, let's flip the deal. You get a small share of what we make, along with free access to any chains we build around Tatakai. Factories made to mass-produce cleaning drones could easily be repurposed for weapons... without letting any of your competition know where you're getting your goods from." Complete discretionary arms dealing. He was telling the truth - there were no laws in the Dojo that prohibited things like untraceable ghost guns. Hell, there weren't any laws in the Dojo at all. "Not only that, but you'll have ghost money as well with our small share. A little reserve money could always go a long way when you're backed into the corner. And surely now you understand that the difference between your flashy swords and mines and my cleaning drones is that every time you make coin from spilling blood, I make double cleaning it up. So what I'm offering you is completely untraceable revenue. With access to my other facilities, you could run a monopoly on the mining business on Tatakai. Branch out into services that distribute whatever you dig up as well as mine it. Double profit. But of course, you could only do that with someone like me. Sure, you could try and run with my idea after I gave it to you, but who's saying I haven't already invested before you could?" Was he bluffing? It was impossible to tell. Everything he said made sense, but if he was capable of it all was another question. The distaste lacing his words and carved into his expression hid whatever truth that could hide behind it. It was like a gambler who traded a poker face for raw emotion to hide his hand. "You seem smart enough, Isabella Trayven. After all, you caught me red-handed in trying to cheat you. So I'm going to assume you know very well that even though I'm an old man with a screwed up foot and a very clear view on the Dojo, I could easily make this offer to another group with supplies I need that are secondhand to yours, but useful nonetheless. So, do what you will with [i]my[/i] trade info."
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"...It's a rare enough thing." [i]At that moment, a smile, one of a darker intention, formed across Isabella's scarred, young face and she nodded towards Mason and blinked, before continuing.[/i] "A man who lives up to his reputation, and a businessman who doesn't hide behind lies that he spoon-feeds to others. Course.. you could always be a liar. But I'm taking this bait anyway, Cartier. After all of that.. well, you've really done some work, haven't you? Very well, very well." [i]Isabella knew that it would be best to keep her illegal affairs hidden from Rubicon and the rest of those "vigilantes" that roamed the Dojo in search of justice. Rubicon because they would be a legitimate threat, and the vigilantes because they were just annoyances.[/i] "...Since war helps us both, you more than I.. any conflicts that you would.. perhaps, wish to initiate? Not these Hawkwind mercs, they seem rather frank and honest with their intentions. Rubicon.. we could talk about, though. Any others though.. well, I'm sure that we could reach an agreement."
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After a short while, his eyes began to cool. The fire of spite that lit behind them faded, yet kept their coals still hot in his eyes. For Isabella, there was no need to hide his true thoughts of the place anymore. The Dojo was disgusting, a clever facade that hid the lawless anarchy beneath. The place that produced someone like the man who took her away from him. "Hawkwind Contractors are branches under my operation. As for Rubicon and the others, no need to instigate anything yet. But updates on their technology and any info they give you as allies will be valuable to the both of us." It was no surprise that he knew about their partnership with Rubicon. After all, it seemed that Rubicon was very vocal about it. "Allow me to continue stressing what type of person I am. I used to be an agent of sorts. I specialized in making technology, weapons, armour, gadgets and all. I was so good that they began calling me L'Artisan. I lost my leg in a simple op gone sideways. I was scheduled to have it taken care of and fully healed after a month or so. But during that month, my wife was murdered in the crossfire. The massacre of a dirty corporation that had gotten the attention of the wrong person - they call him Alex Wilson, the Courier. He used to be a local around here. I went AWOL. Wiped myself off the records and just... existed, for a while. I had no reason for field work, so I let myself go. Fighting didn't give me any pleasure either, because I learned sometimes a knife or a bullet doesn't go as deep as alternative methods." His tone seemed to get chillier upon mentioning "alternative methods". "Nowadays, they call me the Bookkeeper. Who I keep records for is none of your concern. Some days it's for myself. Other days it's for people like you. You see, Isabella, everything in my books have an account. Assets like money, weapons, buildings, equipment and such. The same for liabilities. But there's also accounts for blackmail, lists of loved ones and family members who are to be killed to punish others, sterility serums for aspiring business owners, and genetic codes that can render any heir debilitatingly autistic or otherwise unfit for inheriting businesses. And no, the irony is not lost on my that I have indeed "weaponized autism"." He smirked. At least he had some sense of humour. "Everything has value. So I don't need a good leg to hurt people anymore - there are ways to destroy a man or woman that go beyond any torture or execution." His reasoning for telling his story seemed pretty transparent: a promise to Isabella if she ever chose to go back on their deal. "I trust that you're professional enough to not go back on transactions. But now, I like to make the terms and conditions very clear for the sake of whoever's sitting across from me. In exchange for all the resources listed, specific assets will be requested of you from time to time. This will range from samples of your infamous negation domes, or information gathered on an opposing faction."
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The tall, red armoured samurai would approach Mason. It had been some time since the figure had been at the dojo, that was the data Tesuto was able to process. So his appearance was somewhat of a surprise. “Greetings, Master Mason.” The samurai would say in his approach, giving a bow of respect to the man.
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He smiled warmly and waved his hand away. "Just Mason. No need for the manners. Tesuto, is it? I've only heard of you by name. Pleasure to meet you." He offered his hand to the armoured samurai drone, a much more conventional and western gesture compared to the bow. "Pardon me, please, I'm still getting used to everything here in the Dojo. Not everyday I used to see a guy come meet me in full combat gear. People say you get used to it, but I don't know about me. A surprise every time in a place like this." Interesting. It seemed that he was a newcomer after all.
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[spoiler]whoops. My bad. Thought he was an old character haha[/spoiler] Tesuto would take the man’s hand, shaking it. “Aha. This is true. We must be ready for anything after all. With the sheer amount of armies that think we are a ruling political power of Tatakai, we’ve come to be rather prepared.”
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[spoiler]Oh all good lmao, I just took at as a part of Tesuto's character. Easy mistake that could be made by anyone.[/spoiler] Mason cocked his eyebrow with interest. "I've noticed," he joked with a hint of friendly sarcasm. It wasn't a secret that Tatakai was the home to some of the most powerful armies and individuals. "You see, I came here as a humble man trying to make a living. I own Billhook Cleaners, a small cleaning facility just down the way. We do custom jobs for armour and weapons and all that, steam-cleaning and even laser-cleaning if we have to. So I got myself thinking: if the Dojo is a place for fighting, why isn't there anyone to clean up after the fights? Especially the massive ones that tear up the area around it. Buildings broken and burning just from what you people call a "spar"."
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“Errr...yes, you raise a good point.” Tesuto would agree. “I am assuming you, as one with a cleaning company, have a solution to that problem?”
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"More like a proposal," he admitted with open hands, "Billhook Cleaners isn't much of anything right now. A small and dedicated place for sure, but it's not really a full-blown company like most of the private military companies you have here. Now, if the Dojo were to fund me so that I can get proper resources... than you wouldn't have to worry about any repairs in Dojoville, even with the daily chaos."
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“Let us talk numbers then. How much are you thinking?” The samurai asked.
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He thought for a moment. "Well that depends. How often does the Dojo get damaged in fights, invasions, and all that? How much property is damaged? How much general [i]infrastructure[/i] is damaged? What about utilities - power lines, hydro pipes, all that - what happens when they're damaged?" It seems that Mason had done his homework well before the meeting. "The numbers aren't clear right now, but as you can tell, they'd be sizeable. But the bonus would be none of you would have to worry about picking up bodies or scrubbing blood after doing what you all do best."
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“We have made enough money off of patents, taxes and fee’s to likely be able to pay the cost.” Tesuto would say. “Considering most of this money is used for repairs anyways, I see no reason I’m not bringing your company on to assist.”
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"Not only that," he continued, "but we would act as a complete third party. Consider Rubicon, the Trayvens and every other faction loyal to themselves. You can rely on us to clean up any mess made by any of those -" [i]Bloodthirsty egotistical maniacs[/i] "- folk," he said through lightly gritted teeth, "without being under the threat of getting shot or cut down. Instead of risking your own, have us clean up the next duel's aftermath with our own drones. An arena destroyed by two gods over a bet? No need to worry, we'll have it repaired for the next duel."
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“Yes....well I would like a quote first however. I am interested but I need details.”
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"What do you mean by quote? Like an official statement or papers? Because I have the papers and everything all ready."
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[i]Oh dear.[/i] Tesuto thought to himself. “A quote as in, an idea of how much it would cost exactly. All you have said is it will cost quite a bit. I need an exact number before I pay anything.”