2023-09-09: The Chains of Connection

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<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


One might wonder how Martha Vist Carbine is taking jail life. After all, she was used to a luxurious lifestyle of all of her whims becoming reality, because had the power, the prestige, and the wealth to make it happen.

The Empress of the Moon she was called. She's certainly taking prison life better than expected. Her cell is lovely after certain accommodations were made. She's not in a uniform, but a white button down blouse and a thick cargo jacket.

The art of negotiation was even more important in a setting like this. And she was leveraging every bit of legal help she could muster from her counsel. Decidedly uncooperative before, she was more forthcoming after she heard that Alberto was moreso, and became VERY much so after she heard that Dr. Murasame was caught.

And thus, comes this meeting today. Set up between two Commanders of the Shuffle Alliance. Martha waived her right to legal counsel for this one. One might consider that an amateur move, but perhaps... there is a purpose for that...

She's seated at the table, shackles on her but - loosely, attached to the table herself through a ring. She's enough slack to move her arms, and thus she's doing so, right now by resting an elbow on the table, and a hand upon her chin.

She waits. And when the other two enter...

"Doctor Deikun. Colonel Testarossa."

Her other hand, the fingers drum upon the table, as she looks upon them both, then her eyes flick to Tessa and the finger drumming stops...

"For a twin, you really don't have his eyes. You're lacking something." The smallest smirk forms upon her lips, "More's the pity."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

A visit to the AEU was rarely in the cards; Being situated in the Pacific meant that she rarely had the need to travel so far, save for personal travel and other things of that nature. Unfortunately, this was that other nature.

Her mind flicks through the various troubles and tribulations. Empress of the Moon. Someone who knows Leonard. A person that could give information, but certainly not by any direct torture. She didn't dare openly suggest such, especially with the sidelong glances at Sayla. The Colonel has heard about the bond of a mother and their daughter.

There's a hint of irritation in the air at the very first sentence. Deikun. It's something to needle. Careful. She doesn't dare flick her gaze from Martha.

A silent slide of the chair as she takes her seat. A deep breath in and out, before staring at the woman in front of her with a neutral gaze. Something? Something missing? It's so vague.

"And? I believe you should brush up on the development of twins, Martha." Disposing of the important surname entirely. Keep calm. Jolt yourself out of the rhythm that she's trying to push you in. "Though, it sounds like he's been talking about me in your presence."

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        Arranging this meeting had involved pulling some strings. There was the theater of a trade for letting one of GGG's intelligence operators see Murasame. That had involved pulling strings as well.

        3G's Advisor Yang had been the one to meet them, along with a representative of Chausseur. Terms had been laid out, and a reminder not to underestimate her.

        Sayla takes her seat at the table next to Tessa. Tessa was the one who needed the information, but Sayla had the connections. That and a desire to see Martha squirm.

        She wasn't squirming, though. She seemed comfortable. "It's Dr Mass, Mrs Vist Carbine." She knows Martha is trying to get under her skin- and there is a lot of anger underneath her skin for Martha.

        She would very much like to give Martha a matching injury to Murasame. But for the moment, she would let Tessa lead and provide support. Tessa was the one who knew what to ask better than her.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


Martha responds to Tessa's response with a roll of her eyes, and a dry, "Please, don't insult your obvious intelligence any further, you know I didn't mean biologically."

Her cheek remains rested against a hand, as she lounges upon it, bound and tethered and utterly helpless.

Yet of course she has knives. So many verbal ones.

"I was wondering if his sister might have what it takes to challenge the logic of a man like that. I have something of a fondness for... the contests between younger sisters and their older brothers."

Her fingers tap further upon the table, "After all, how do you think this began? It's a sordid tale, within the Vist family history, and I certainly won't bore you with relating the entire telling - but let us just say that there came a day-"

Her eyes slide over to Sayla at that moment, "-when I told myself I would have to kill my older brother."

She holds eye contact for several long moments, "Please, and next you're to tell me you don't call him 'Casval' in private. Don't insult my intelligence with your vain denials of who you are, Doctor Artesia Som Deikun."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

A finger idly scratches at her own palm. Digging slightly deeper, slightly rougher. Obvious baits won't work. Obvious things won't work. Hands on her lap, more for restraaint of herself than anything Whatever movement she made could reveal so much to someone who's clearly aiming for any weakness.

"So he's told you?" The words bounce in her mind. Perhaps she's overthinking it. Too many steps ahead, too many bounds and leaps of faith to try and extrapolate the relationship between the two. "He's quite the talker when he needs to be, but I've rarely heard of any of his collaborators surviving for long."

The smallest crack of a smile before flicking herself back into place.

"That's a tale and a half you have." Martha's words. The effective equivalent of forcing a confrontation of the past. "I thought you were someone who looks towards the future. So what did my brother offer for that if you know what he wants?" 

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        Martha is already digging at Tessa, and of course she is. The woman is a monster, and she'll use whatever leverage she has. Whatever few weapons she has remaining.

        There was a time when Sayla had had the same thought. She even thought she could follow through. They all know how that turned out.

        But when Martha takes a run at her, Sayla meets her eyes. She drums her fingers on the table, and let's out a little 'tsk'. Not of anger but more... disappointment. Like Martha is failing to grasp a simple concept, but she doesn't give her anything more, at this point.

        Keep calm. Keep your anger cold. Quiet. Save it as a weapon. She drums her fingers on the table, eyes watching Martha. Watching for any sign of a lie, or a half truth. Her walls are down, to sense any emotion on a layer where Martha is dull- but where even a woman like her is going to find it difficult to hide.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


Sayla's little 'tsk' of disappointment earns her an annoyed glint in the eye, but despite evidence to the contrary she takes it as scoring a point there.

Instead she turns her attention back to Tessa at her comment, especially when she says a 'Tale and a half'. "Must we play such games as trying to bait me? By now, you ought to know that my Grandfather was a founding member of Amalgam - in it's original incarnation, before it became what it is today."

She doesn't really elaborate upon that, much, but that much she certainly reveals, "Mithril Intelligence certainly realized the ties of Anaheim Electronics to them well enough... you raided us several times for our... collaboration, with them."

She then eyes Tessa at that moment, with a smile, "As for him, I'm sure that he decided that our conspiracy was entertaining enough that he didn't consider clean up duty. Almost certainly he won a wager over this outcome, betting against me..."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"... prove to me you have what it takes not just to challenge him, but to kill him."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"And I'll consider telling you what I know. You're about the age I was - when I made that decision myself."

A tiny smirk graces her lips, "As I am a woman who looks ahead, I'd like you to tell me your vision of a future where Leonard Testarossa lay cold and buried - with your hands upon the shovel's haft."

She leans forward subtly, "Do be convincing, my dear, this is your moment."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

In the silence, the subtlest whispers reign supreme. It's instinctual at this point; To stay quiet, to listen, and to carefully parse everything before her. Sayla's reaction was within expectations. No reason to consider her a liability in this. But to imagine, all three of us have complicated relations with our brothers...

Amalgam. A word snagged. Filed away. She allows the statement to pass by, a tangent for another time. There was something clearer on the horizon. Bruno's capture should corroborate this, and there's no history of Martha being a consumate liar.

Choice words were also prepared for Amit. Hell hath no fury like a person trying to find answers about her brother.

Silence reigns supreme within the desolate room, gazing firmly at Martha's own challenge. Of course. He always was this way. Always taunting, always flaunting. Martha's talking about it. The future.

"You want to hear a fantasy of killing my brother?" The question is left in a pregnant pause. The fingernail scratches, digs, pressing in to the point of skin blanching white from pressure.

There's a light give. A glance over at Sayla. Be strong. For herself, or for the one who's in the crossfire?

Her fingernail stops scratching. It only digs.

"I'll have to admit some surprise, Martha." Her tone is level. Restrained. "Based on what you say about understanding my brother, it seems he's still been good at hiding what he truly wants. Did he talk about his goals? What he wanted in the end?" No. That was a moot point from the beginning. Anyone talking about looking to the future and absentmindedly praising Leonard wasn't aware. No, not in the slightest.

"What proof is good enough for you?" The eternal question. She's well-aware; She's playing into Martha's hands. The ball, the questioning is in her court. It's sick, how easy she's playing along. So damn obvious. But if it gets the information she needs out of this sewage pile of a person, so be it. "Do you want me to talk about some sick fantasy that a serial killer would cheer for? An indiscriminate military maneuver that leaves him nothing more than ash and radiation? Crippling him and leaving him in the path of a kaiju? Ricin in his cup and watching the life fade from his eyes? Or would you prefer strychinine? Months of isolation and withering away?" Those eyes sharpen. Bit by bit. A sheen of primal emotion beating in the coals of her infernal heart. It can't help but leak out, the omnisphere tinging the barest hint of red, tendrils infecting and infesting.

"A shovel implies he deserves to have his body preserved." That sentence is spat out. "You are aware of what he's done. Even if he hasn't said anything, it's obvious why he was attracted enough to aid your own conspiracy." Always him. Always him and people like this. "If you had the slightest inkling of what he wanted, you'd have nothing but scorn."

An audible click of the tongue. Focus on the searing pain on the palm. It's only a bit more to draw blood. Hold yourself. Don't say more than what you need to.

"The best he'll get is a grave besides our parents. Not even that, if he keeps on doing what he does." The move against her submarine. The disagreement that fractured everything. The conspiracies he's aiding. Amalgam. Was this where you were? Was this what you decided to be in the end? For that?

As much as she can sympathsize, she can never agree with her brother. Not for that. Not for anything in this world or any other.

"So no, Martha. There is no future where I carry the brain-splattered shovel away from the mound where he's buried. It can only end in far worse."

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        She doesn't seem to score the hit she had hoped. More fool her. That's fine. They came here with a goal. Stick to that. The fact that she's so calmly talking about Amalgam, about the people Sayla's brother worked for.

        But she glances quickly to Tessa, when Martha lays out her terms. She can feels those emotions rolling off Tessa. Sayla's wall slip up reflexively. She's felt the vicious streak Tessa has kept under control. But she nods- there's no need for Tessa to hold back on her account.

        There's something missing in Tessa's description, however.

        What happens to Tessa after this? She's describing her brother's death- but not the future. Just the act of killing Leonard. There's nothing beyond that.

        Tessa and Sousuke are maybe more similar than she had thought, in that respect. No... perhaps Sousuke had been further ahead than Tessa was.

        "...Does the Colonel's answer satisfy you?" She asks, her voice flat. She suspects it won't. It wasn't what she asked for.

        The woman across the table holds all the cards, and has nothing to lose. If this continues at the rate it's going... all that they'll have to show is Tessa's opened wounds.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


Martha looks down Tessa, unflinching, as she begins to answer her question. At one point, one moment, her eyes flick down to her wrists pointedly - as if to see her nails digging in.

Before they then return to her eyes, always. Always does she return to her eyes. Always does she peer straight into them.

Listening as she counts the ways to deal death to Leonard Testarossa, to do it impassively, her eyes trail over to her fingertips.

And then, while she's listing strychinine, Martha rubs two fingers together as if she's examining her own roughly manicured nails from her time in jail.

As if she's bored.

Hearing her pain, hearing her pour herself out, hearing her-

- and when she's finished, Martha doesn't say anything. Until Sayla asks the question, "No." The brief look towards Sayla is replaced by one at her, "You imply this, and that - about everything I know and don't know. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps you're not. The point is - I could get you on his trail. Through several of his 'haunts' that I'm rather certain he doesn't think I'm aware of."

Martha then returns her eyes to Tessa's, "But I don't think you want it badly enough. If you did, you would have already offered me my freedom-"

It's at that moment she leans forward.

"-and you wouldn't care about what I've done to your little friend. You wouldn't care that her Mother is within earshot."

The smile returns to her lips, "You wouldn't even care that this entire conversation is being surveilled and recorded and disseminated at this very moment by an organization that would find it very vexing for you to offer such to me."

A soft chuckle leaves her lips, "I didn't have to throw everything away to resolve my own little family drama. But you? You my dear... I think you'll have to."

A beat.

"Starting with that foolish pride of yours."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Even as she finished that sentence, there was a pang of guilt. Of doubt and shame. Of course this wouldn't be good enough. The gut instinct of someone who's always controlled their own words screamed at herself from within. And it wasn't enough. Enough for this idiot who wants to grandstand and see.

But. A sliver. She does know a few things. Martha Vist does have information. The very, absolute bottom bar of success has been cleared.

Martha's words strike...And she barely jolts at that. Tessa's gaze brazenly follows, leading herself along like anyone who'd be caught in honeyed words and the encouragement of worsening herself. The camera brazenly on the ceiling, the decoy for the multiple ones peeking through holes in the walls, under the table, and on the ceiling. The general direction of the nerve center of this facility. All of it.

"...Is that your counterpoint?" That's...That's it? Merely become like the woman next to her? That's...That's genuinely it? The flash of confusion across her face is genuine. "I should free you like she did?" Calm down. Calm down. It's a provocation. She can't just release her. Not after everything. "It's fortunate we're not related by blood." A deflection. Pride? Her? Ah, Martha doesn't know. Or maybe she does. No, don't get caught up. Don't think in circles. It'll only make the spiral worse.

It's so frustrating. So vexing, dancing around and knowing that she couldn't just get the answers. But she had to. For finding Leonard.

"For someone who's looking to the future, you're a terrible prophet. His tact for it hasn't rubbed off on you..." Resist the urge to glance away. Match her eyes. Match it. Beat by beat.

"What sort of 'everything' are you implying? Lecturing about being down in the dirt is difficult when you're been nursing a silver spoon."

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        The look of boredom is a vicious strike. Martha's not even enjoying dragging out all of Tessa's hurts and anger. She's just dissatisfied.

        But there's a knife for her there as well. Just offer her her freedom.

        That was never going to happen. It was never on the table. The fury behind Sayla's eyes is hard to hide- even as Tessa's confusion- 'just like she did'.

        "You were a businesswoman, Mrs Vist Carbine." She had tried not to step in, but now... "But we both know you're asking for something that you know we wouldn't accept. Right now our counter offer is walking away from the table." The way Sayla speaks is calm, collected, and... certain.

        She looks to Tessa, firmly. They can't keep playing this to Martha's tune. And sometimes the strongest negotiating position is being prepared to say 'no'. After all- they *can* do that.

        Martha doesn't have quite the same liberty.

        "So, Martha, do you have a second offer? Perhaps something that shows you aren't bluffing us and wasting our time?" Martha's not the only negotiator here. She's not the only one who can play hardball.

        Martha may not respect her- but it's a poor businesswoman who leaves the negotiating table with no benefit to herself.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


"If we were-" Martha replies to Tessa on how it's fortunate they're not related by blood, "-then the last thing I'd feel is pride as you pulled the trigger."

There is something gloating about her smile, "But I prophesize, that in that world, I wouldn't be your target to begin with. You too would reject the logic of men... instead of being bound to it."

And indeed, she does arch an eyebrow at Tessa's comment about nursing a silver spoon, as if to indicate that Tessa certainly scored a point there.

After all, what does Martha know about that life?

"Ah. You assume that from my privilege I've never had to debase myself. There was a time when I considered running away from it all - I might have. The marriage my Grandfather and older brother arranged for me with dearest Melanie. A man twenty one years my senior."

A hand twirls in the air in a slight gesticulation, "What is that saying from the Middle Ages? Lie back and think of Britannia? Well, I thought of what I would stand to gain towards my desires if I endured."

Now folding her hands together, her eyes flick towards Sayla as she tells her the counter offer is walking away from the table, "Are you truly speaking for both of you here? Or as 'Puru One's' Mother?"

She gives Sayla the longest look, "There is no second offer. Though I'd truly ask yourself if you're thinking clearly here. Your daughter? She's already been thoroughly debased by what was done to her..."

She smiles at her thinly, "... whatever meaning Puru One found from it all - our dear girl over there could help it mean so much more - if she were willing to do whatever it takes to stop Leonard Testarossa."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Pride? Pride on death? For what? The frameworks of the pyramid of desires were too different, too...foreign. To wrench down everything for one singular thing, to pursue one singular thing and just that to the detriment of everything else. That's what she was asking, wasn't it? How ridicul- Her hand stops. That glare only sharpens.

The words wash over like cold water. Is that why she characterizes it like pride? If siblings locked inconflict would go that far, of course, of course...Proud of your sibling. A side of her screams. It's honey. You know it's honey. Look at where she is. Don't take her words at face value.

Don't say anything stupid.

"Ridiculous." It makes sense. It makes sense, and I hate it. THe people in Mithril. The people that she met. A few of them joined for revenge. They never lasted long. Those who survived in Mithril...Found something afterwards. But its a goal. Something in front of them that they'd do something akin to joining a PMC.

"You...propose an interesting argument." How much of yourself do you shave away for your goals? "I believe we're fundamentally different in that regard. If I had to take the proposition you're using..." A trembling finger tapping against her own chin. "I'd castrate and blackmail him after securing the obvious. The marriage was political, is it not?" No love lost, and turn the one using to the one being used.

Yes. There was more than one way to approach a problem. There was more than one method of disarming a person. There was more than one trick to show a hand. The red flares of emotion had settled back down, restrained, guided.

"Sayla." A firm word. The trembling finger had stopped. "Don't."

I'm so angry. I want to leave her begging for mercy. But that'd be a victory.

"...We can debate all day if my demeanor matches up to your expectations, Martha. This in itself has been enlightening." Things to chew on. The value of the self against the goals one wants to achieve. "But we desire different things in the end." The disenfranchisement of a brother, and the control of a company. ...Ah. That was the missing link.

The Colonel released a long sigh. "You're someone to be pitied." The confluence of emotions were raging on inside. Pity. Anger. Distaste. "If you have nothing to offer after you've fallen from grace, you're empiter than most. I have one final question before requesting the location of my brother's houses, denial or not."

A firm stare, however a teenager could look at the Empress of the Moon. "What was my brother's wager?"

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        Sayla's whole body tenses like a coiled spring when Martha says that name. Like she's ready to launch herself across that table as Martha calls Leina by that name. For a second, it looks like the negotiation could end then and there.

        But Tessa asks her not to. Orders her not to. So that coiled spring remains under tension, controlled, as Sayla takes a deep breath. She won't hit her. Not yet.

        "...How did that work out for you?" The cold anger in her voice oozes with venom. Martha wanted to get under her skin. Fine. Enjoy the prize, Martha. "It seems to have lost you everything. Your company is going to a boy you so hated. Your grandfather got everything he wanted, and you're here. Without allies. Without assets. With the grand total comforts of a nice shirt and a jacket- but those won't last when the sentencing is done. Your tools have all turned on you. You have nothing but the satisfaction of prodding and poking us- and that might last you a few days."

        Sayla glares at Martha. "Leina will recover from what you did to her. So will all of them. I still have the people I care about. I still have my family, and my friends, despite everything you did to them. The best you can hope for is living out your remaining in prison- because you're too much of an inconvenience to let free."

        Meanwhile, Tessa goes for a different approach. Declaring Martha someone to be pitied. She asks her final question, and Sayla raises an eyebrow. An interesting question. She has to hope Tessa is on to something. She eases back in her seat, crossing her arms, watching Martha again like a hawk.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


Ridiculous Tessa says, and Martha counters with a simple, "Is it?" And doesn't say anymore, letting the wounds she poked fester. Tessa does offer what she would have done in her position.

And Martha chuckles darkly, "Ah, youth. Such passion. I certainly thought of similar at the time. But no, the old fool was more useful to me alive... and subordinate."

But she falls quiet, and listens. "Do we? Ah." She smiles thinly at Tessa and shakes her head in a moment of condescension, "That pride of yours is adorable - a shame. A true shame."

She doesn't answer what his wager was in that moment, instead looking at Sayla in her anger, "Hated? My. I didn't hate young Mister Links. I objectified him." As if she realizes the inverse to the hypocrisy and simply didn't care, but to the rest...

"Hmmm." She listens, and there's the smallest shake of her hair, her once perfect hair, that's now had a toll taken on it in prison, "Tell me, Doctor Deikun." She chuckles, "How long will that last, with a family like yours?"

A beat.

"Would you like to put money on it?"

And before she even allows Sayla time to process what was said...

... she turns back to Tessa, "Twenty Thousand. He once had the gall to say so to my face. A paltry sum, but I was unamused to hear he was betting against me at all."

Wait. Wait is THAT why she's considering turning on him? For something SO PETTY?

She taps a fingertip on the table, "You were to be my wager against him. But... I've discovered..." The tapping stops, she smiles at Tessa, "... you're not one worth making."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

The arguments are easy to pick out. SOmething has clicked inside her head. That was the angle. Total control. Willingly. Her neck can't help but bristle at that.

She doesn't bother to reprimand Sayla, only cast a neutral gaze at the clear venom at display. There's no jolt of surprise at it, only a muted resignation and understanding. There were things they both wanted to protect. That was why they were here. Things as large as the future, as small as their own daughter. It felt as if understanding the argument in a moment of clarity had defanged Martha in her own mind.

"If it's prideful to have my own sense of self, then your argument holds no merit." There was using yourself. Pushing yourself. Grinding yourself donw. But...To completely resign yourself to it without anything else, without thoughts of anyone around...

...Without connections...

Was something that rankled at her soul.

Another sidelong glance at Sayla. Within reason. Do not let her get to you. Look at what she's pushing. That nothing matters except herself, even here. Sayla. Don't. It's left unsaid.

"Only twenty thousand?" Considering her brother...Yes, this was only a minor play. Martha Vist couldn't know the bigger picture, because she was never regarded as such. "A bet more for a light joke than a serious gamble." ...Which meant he had seen this in his own way.

The sense of pity she had for the imprisoned woman only grew.

"I believe we have nothing else to discuss." She settles back for Sayla's words before standing up, signing towards the camera. Soon, they'd be far away from her. "Though, I'm seeing something hypocritical there. If you're unbound to the logic of man, as you've said before, then I'd be the perfect wager. Rejecting logic means being foolish and reaching for everything you can, no matter how small. So you say, right?"

Her lips curve upwards, a finger on her chin once more. Self-derision. "Isn't it the ultimate rejection of reason to bet on me, the sister who can't catch up?" One self-inflicted wound is a small price to jab one last time. "Goodbye, Martha Vist Carbine. I hope your obituary is printed sooner rather than later. If you decide to send information, do include your thoughts."

<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

        Once again, she catches that glance from Tessa. The unsaid warning. She nods, barely perceptiblly.

        But it's Tessa that decides the meeting is over. That Martha is not going to give them what they're after. As Tessa stands, so does Sayla. Maybe Martha wins-

        But there's a small win that Tessa didn't compromise herself there. At least in Sayla's mind.

        But she doesn't leave Martha's offer to wager unanswered. "...I'd be prepared to wager my life on it- but you have nothing of equal value. Not even close." She turns away, walking with Tessa. It wasn't the result they'd hope for, but she doesn't bother to say goodbye. Tessa has said it well enough.

        Martha Vist Carbine can rot alone for the rest of her life, for all Sayla cares. She deserves worse.

        They'd find another way to get the information Tessa needs. Somehow.

<Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.


There are things she could say, here. At Tessa claiming that she's still bound by the logic of men. Words come to mind.

She almost says them. She almost does, but in the moment, she looks at Tessa, and thinks of Alberto - who too told her she was still following the logic of men.

In that moment, as Tessa tells her Goodbye, she closes her eyes, and simply says, "Heh."

Maybe there is something to what he said after all, maybe there's something to what this girl is saying now.

Opening her eyes, they look over to Sayla. 'Nothing of equal value' she says...

...in that moment, she feels this Oh-so-spiteful spike, her face twisting into something. But she closes her eyes again... and considers...

Was that why she was so happy to twist the knife?

In the end, she doesn't say anything else as the two leave. A moment of introspection, but in the end...

... nothing but questions to herself.

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