[video || 001]

[cowled]

[The image opens on Bruce Wayne at his finest. He's wearing (1) new suit designed by Favrielle, and he's looking pretty swank. Because Bruce Wayne. And Reasons.]

All right, Keeliai, I have a business opportunity to propose. As of right now, I'm relaunching Wayne Enterprises. For those of you who've never heard the name before, it's a multi-national business conglomerate with a focus on humanitarian aid and the like, based out of Gotham City back home.

Anyway. For the duration of my stay here, I'm looking to start in pharmaceuticals - I'm sure you've all noticed the kedan have never even heard of ibuprofen - and work our way up from there. Essentially, I'm looking to better the quality of life for everyone on Tu Vishan, foreigner and local alike.

If anyone's interested in working for me, or if you have experience in a pharmaceutical field, feel free to contact me over the network. We can arrange a meeting in person if you'd prefer. Confidentiality is guaranteed in either case. I'm paying twice the rates the kedan offer, and I've arranged it with the local authorities such that any time you work towards me counts towards your overall work 'obligation' [can you hear the finger quotes falling around that word] here in Keeliai.

Thanks for your time.




[ooc; tags will be sketchy, but I wanted to get this up and get the ball rolling on this plot before I poofed from the internet. <3]

Comments

action;

[cowled]

[He feigns surprise when she materializes at his side. His instincts aren't screaming ambush at him yet, however, so he simply follows her into the alley. His shoulders are tense between his expensive suit, although as with all things he hides it well.]

[daughterofelysium]

[Once they're in the quiet of the alley - once she's made certain they're alone, checking their perimeter and the roofs overhead - she gives Bruce a once-over. He clearly maintains himself, probably could take her in terms of strength at the moment given the trouble she's been having. He moves like someone who's had at least some martial training. Though she can't pin down what, which is unusual. They all have their own ways of moving, boxers and savateurs and eskrimadors, even the different kinds of soldiers from different countries. An amateur, then.

She resists the urge to wipe sweat off of her forehead.] How far do you think you'll be able to take synthetic processing?

[cowled]

[The look he gives her is serious.]

As far as necessary, should I need to. I have a facility and several scientists.

[daughterofelysium]

[She doesn't hug herself, instead shoving her hands in her trench coat pockets.] There's. Something from home that I need.

[cowled]

A drug?

[Even Bruce Wayne can make that leap of logic, tyvm.]

[daughterofelysium]

No, a teddy bear. [She does wipe her forehead now, grimly amused.] Yes. A synthetic drug that needs to stay strictly controlled.

[cowled]

'Or else'...?

[Since that's a rather ominous statement and he's not just going to agree without getting a good idea of what he's getting into.]

[daughterofelysium]

I don't know what it would do to ordinary people, but it's addictive and it's - [A sigh.] I have to take it. No choice.

[cowled]

Describe it for me.

[shit son, sounds vaguely like venom. even the withdrawal symptoms are eerily similar.]

[daughterofelysium]

[She grimaces.] I can't. They just call it 'the drug', at least around us. If we don't get it, we... I guess break down is the best word.

[She leans against the alley wall, studying him. If she has to give blood or tissue samples, he'll see what she is anyway. Clint knows. Triela closes her eyes, her focus on him close enough to hear his heartbeat and the shift of his muscles.] I want to make one thing very clear. If I find out you've used it on anyone unwilling or tried to make anyone else like me, I'll kill you.

[cowled]

[Eyebrow.]

I don't generally make a habit of dealing with people [not 'children'] who threaten me.

[A sigh.]

I'll help you, of course. That's what this is all about. But I'm not the sort of man who is interested in harming others, much less experimenting on them with an unknown substance.

[That's his own form of warning, and although his tone stays light and mild, the resolve to the statement is unmistakable.]

[daughterofelysium]

[She doesn't respond at first, just nods.] Well, it's not like I could even keep that promise if you put something else in it, something to kill me or make me sick. Or it won't work and none of this will matter anyway, or you give me a placebo and keep the real thing -

[She rolls her eyes.] I guess what I'm saying is I wouldn't have come to you if I had another choice, so I know the feeling.

[Triela massages the back of her neck.] And I still don't trust you or believe you, necessarily. [But again - no choice. No choice but hoping Clint's friends come through, and maybe they will, but hedging her bets isn't a bad idea. She exhales.] I'm a cyborg. The drug they use to maintain our mental conditioning, to make sure we function appropriately - that's what I'm running out of.

[cowled]

[He watches her through all this. Making assessments. Running calculations. 'Cyborg' rings dangerously close to 'meta', but she's a child. He wouldn't just let her 'break own'.]

And what happens if I recreate it for you, and give it to you? What exactly are you programmed to do?

[daughterofelysium]

Protect. Obey. [It's wry, a veil of humor worn thin over anger. Her voice drops a little.] Fight, kill. What do you think something like me would be for?

[Though that almost makes her smile, thinking of Hilshire. His awkward determination to give her a life beyond protect, obey, fight, kill, his fantastic failure to communicate it.] There's no one to order me to do that, here. People will only get hurt if I don't have it.

[Unless she leaves the city, which is always a possibility. But not until she's really losing it, not until she hits the edge. Until then, she's going to hang on to hope.]

[cowled]

[... More scrutiny. And then,]

I'll manufacture your drug for you, in whatever quantity you need. And I'll teach you how to do it yourself, so you needn't rely on anyone for it. But I want something from you in return.

[daughterofelysium]

I figured you probably would. [She straightens, crossing her arms.] What? A bodyguard? I can take the kedan all right, if they're not in a mob. If you want me to kill someone here it won't do you any good anyway. [That does get her to smile.] They come back.

[cowled]

I want you to promise not to kill anyone.

[It always comes back to killing with Bruce, doesn't it.]

[daughterofelysium]

[She gives him a blank look. Because that was the opposite of what she expected.]

You're kidding, right? [Triela braces, plants her feet a little wider apart, squares her shoulders. It's a defensive posture, the one she using when picking or accepting a fight - she doesn't even realize she's doing it.] You said you're part of a multi-national conglomerate and you're telling me you don't want me to kill anyone.

[cowled]

Do you have a problem with that?

[He's adopted the manner of speaking he uses when giving speeches to a classroom of children in high-risk areas for delinquency. It's very much an alpha-male tone, even if he hasn't lost an octave off his voice and isn't snarling out his words.]

[daughterofelysium]

Well - no, but. [Her posture slackens, and now she looks slightly confused.] I don't get it. Why?

[In her experience, money and corruption don't only go hand in hand. They engage in the kind of affairs she'll never be old enough to read about.] You could ask for anything you want, pretty much. I'll die without the drug.

[cowled]

[Bruce crouches down in front of her. He's still quite a bit bigger than she is, but the gap's a little narrower, at least.]

When I was a bit younger than you are now, my parents were murdered in front of me in an alley much like this one. Since then, I've believed that no one should ever have to go through anything like that ever again. Life... doesn't always work out that way. But that doesn't mean we can't try. Do you agree?

[daughterofelysium]

[If things were slightly different - if the Agency took boys - he could have ended up one of them. Triela looks down.] When I go back, if they order me to, I might not have a choice. If I disobey, they could change my conditioning - take my memories, whatever they want. I might not even remember I promised you anything.

[But it isn't a no.] Signore Hilshire - my handler - he would understand, but they blackmailed him into joining in the first place. He won't be able to stop them.

[cowled]

No one knows what happens when we leave. That's all right. Swear to me here.

[He'll worry about the rest later.]

[daughterofelysium]

...I. [Promising not to kill. It's a little terrifying.] I swear.

[Hands into fists. She can do this. She can not kill. If it means staying alive long enough to get home.] But there's something else. Don't show me how to make it. It's addictive. It wears us down, makes us go kind of crazy after a while. Signore Hilshire told me never to take more than an emergency dosage with me into the field. Just in case. There's a man named Signore -

[She stops herself and tries again, like saying his first name is a struggle.] Clint Barton. Show him how to make it, or show someone he picks.

[cowled]

All right.

[He rocks back on his heels, but isn't quite ready to stand yet.]

I'll need tissue and blood samples. You'll have to meet one of my scientists. I'll be there the whole time, she won't hurt you.