Barrier Gate, Coronado System The Ramen Restaurant
"[Ugh...I should've thought twice about all this!]"
Vincent left out an exasperated groan as he leaned back against the chair's backrest. A constant, mind numbing conversation kept him busy while waiting for either Cobra or the Direktor to arrive in this not so humble establishment. A simple discussion between himself and, of course, himself. Whether the reserved table was good enough for the occasion. What if the kusari ambience wasn't enough - the music, the people, the FOOD? He should've brought something to drink before anyone saw too. Or should he? Maybe it was better to just make an order as the waiter came by their spot
There were a lot of things to consider which by default: he did not. The other side of this excruciating dialogue suggested a more laid back approach and with less indirect 'publicity' as to not attract unwanted attention. In the end both had agreed to a quiet table somewhere in the 'south' side of the restaurant. Circular, medium sized and made of wood normally fit for four individuals. As such, four chairs of the same material were neatly placed around the main piece. Cutlery and glasses of water were already present for all seats, while Vincent's were very much not there. The only thing holding him company other than the voices in his head was a bottle of scotch he'd grossly drain every now and then. There wasn't much taste to it anymore, but he still enjoyed the buzz it'd give.
"[Anytime now, come on.]" - said the merc quietly under his nearly intoxicating breath were it not for the restaurant's good ventilation and nose tingling smell of ramen and traditional kusari cuisine.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
"Right this way, Okyakusama," beckoned an overeager Bretonian waiter to a greyhaired man in a plain black suit, "One of your party of three is already seated. We can take your order once all are present."
The old man sat down, hanging his cane on the back of his seat. Once his eyes met with Caliban's, he nodded and reached into his suit - pulling out a large bottle of 804AS MacMillan.
"I hope you did not have to wait long. V made a mention of your prodigious capacity for good spirits - I hope some of my stock from before the Liberty-Rheinland war will go far in making a good first impression."
"[Fair enough. Now you just have to act the part - or be it. I don't know at this point.]" - he replied whilst holding on to the bottle of scotch and a nearly unquenchable thrist radiating from his optics.
The mere mention of Viper prompted the half drunken merc to remember a time when she was still around. Playing young Caliban like a tool and him being fully aware of it. He didn't mind. The furnance in his chest burned every time she was around - a spoken, yet unspoken love for someone that is now gone with few chances of returning in the near future. People like Viper always appear and disappear on a whim. Maybe that's what made Vincent starved for her presence in the first place. If only he realized that sooner. If only he hadn't gone for the Bird.
"[Yeah...I miss her already.]" - a short pause between words - "[You seem to be doing just fine in her shoes though, Direktor.]"
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
A marching beat of five people closed in, blended together seamlessly since the quintet remained synchronized and in-step with one another. Four of the five were visibly armed and armored, fanning out once inside this evidently not-so humble establishment. This allowed the easily identifiable man at their center to stroll over to his intended table and seat himself. Once that had happened the honor guard took up positions near the table, facing away from the three here to no doubt talk business of some variety. At least in that respect their presence was hardly threatening and more an assurance that this meeting would not suffer from third parties.
"You look terrible." It was the first thing Damien decided to say, and it seemed as if for now he was choosing to ignore the "contact" until the mutual acquaintance at the table introduced them. Purely for the sake of formality, of course. For a Commander of a terrorist movement that engaged in barbaric displays on a daily basis, he appeared to be in good spirits on this occasion. A pleasant and almost disarming expression on his face, and a dress uniform to denote him as being the elected representative he truly was.
A part of his mind did wander and consider what to order, depending how long this meeting was going to last.
Vincent left out a dry laugh. Perhaps he wasn't fully aware of the sorry appearance he sported. A tattered coat stretching down to his legs, covered in burn marks and gunshot holes. The bulky metal frame forming up his body was full of scratches and dents on the arms and chest, as well as a wide gash across his right temple.
"[It's a matter of perspective, Damien. Personally I think I look great! Then again...I wasn't much to look at in my past life either, wouldn't you agree?]" - he replied as his optics were recalibrating, not unlike how one would squint their eyes trying to make something out of a blurry image. - "[Oh well...I didn't arrange this wonderful dinner...-ing to give one another fashion ratings.]"
The merc would stand up to present the Direktor to Damien and viceversa. His optics flickered briefly in a certain rythm, followed by an instant injection of his signature orange-hued drug through the myriad of tubes stretching from his right arm to the chest and the back of the head. It had an immediate effect of sobering up the user as much as it could.
"[Cobra meet Direktor Kai Siegfried of the uh...]" - he paused as his voicebox adjusted to correctly spell what 'BDM' stood for - "[...Büro des Marinenachrichtendiensts. 'The Büro' for short. Direktor, meet Alliance Commander Damien Moretti of the Xenos.]"
He sat back down with a more sober look on his 'face'. There wasn't much more to say at the moment - each knew the other's group to an extent. Repeating the same basic information would help no one, and presenting either in a possibly 'good light' might suggest favoritism or where his own allegiances lie.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Siegfried rose to deliver a deep nod towards Cobra.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Commander Moretti."
The old man opened the large bottle of whiskey, deftly pouring out three glasses with a smooth precision and grace unexpected for a man his age. Siegfried wasn't much for superstition, but the Rheinlandic tradition of a sharing of good spirits at the beginning of a new meeting as an invocation to some long forgotten god of hospitality had always struck a chord with him.
Though the Xeno representative came with an armed retinue, Caliban undoubtably weighed down with all manner of offensive impliments, and the Büro gunship several klicks outside the viewing window of the restaurant with needlers focused on the brainstem of every single person in the restauraunt and the adjacent levels, Kai had a feeling that such preparations would be unnecessary.
Holding out the first glass by hand to Moretti in deference, "Please accept this and share a drink with us as a token of good faith, and a sacred oath to do no harm to those present while we dine together."
"I don't drink." Evidently the new world cared little for the old ways, its superstitions, and oaths. Instead he cut to the heart of why this little ensemble was here at all, and why he was being so tolerant of foreign agency in more than one sense. "Let's address what you actually want." It was obviously to do with Ontario. But he needed to gauge the angle for himself and test the measure of the man. After all, he was sat there as if he were an equal.
Damien's overall demeanor seemed vaguely friendly but not without the potential to slight the foreign conspirator. But at least for now he was perfectly quiet, head tilted at a slight angle as he waited to hear what pretext had been fabricated to justify a move like this.
Beating around the bush wasn't something that would please either the Direktor or Damien. Caliban eventually broke the ice after pulling himself together. He spoke as bluntly as he could. Each side wanted something and he was there to explain what, when and how.
"[The Büro expressed their interest in keeping certain... parties away Planet Sudbury. I suggested that you maintain hold of it, as opposed to letting either The Technocracy or LSF scavenge the place dry. Or The Order stealing what you're owed under the pretext of saving humanity.]" - he stopped briefly, almost as if he'd take a deep breath, before continuing. - "[They would like to offer different types of goods to aid your cause and a team of scientists to boost research efforts.]"
Caliban raised his hand, calling for the waiter to whisper something in their ear. Murmurs between the two revealed that they were talking about a bottle of Kusari Wine and three glasses.
"[You're no stranger to deals with more nuances than what you see on the table, Damien. I won't hide the obvious fact that BDM would like to use the knowledge they gain here to treat a concerning symptom in Rheinland. There is a Nomad resurgence in Omega-58 that is kept in check by the gentleman in before you.]" - a waiter interrupts the conversation subtly as they deliver a sealed bottle of wine and three glasses left in front of each seat before leaving - "[...things would be much simpler with the Büro and the Xeno Alliance would cooperate for a while - until this crisis blows over anyway. Nobody at this table likes aliens - and right now both of you are on the frontlines busy holding a stalemate until eventually cracks will start to show.]"
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Damien smirked before laughing softly at this proposal. "Even if I agree there's no way I could sell any of that politically. And you already know that. Any agreement we might reach here today would need to be unimpeachable on my end, anything less than that and we have no deal." This spared them the need to gauge what assurances he might have been expecting, and further suggested a potential willingness to cooperate if it meant his associates could avoid causing controversy.
Surely the Director could speak to this point himself, and so to that effect Damien glanced in his direction and waited.
Sliding the drink to Caliban, Siegfried poured one for himself.
"What Caliban says is more or less the case." Siegfried took a slow sip, making an obvious effort to savor his drink.
"Every last one of these potential caches of alien technology have been a game of dice with the survival of humanity as collateral - and we simply cannot trust any of the other interested parties that look at these swords of damocles as nothing but new toys to use on the other children."
Taking another sip, Siegfried slowly sat back down at his seat, his practiced jovial demeanor slowly turning serious.
"With Liberty, the Order, and even my predecessors, ambition clouded them from seeing the sobering perspective that slapping a familiar name on an alien superweapon does not make us understand better how it works and what the price will be. I won't make any assumptions about your intentions are for what is contained on Sudbury, but I do know that you are the only ones keeping Liberty from taking it uncontested - and buying any amount of time to delay Libertonian ambitions on whatever it is they seek to do with another 'toy' is worth a great deal to me."
