The Model and the Heir(Marisa and Anja)

The "Satin Predator" is an underground club beyond the grasp of the law and located deep in the belly of Tokyo. It's owner is rumored to have very good connections to the highest circles of the government and stands for absolute discretion, never favoring everyone or taking a side.

Everything except real violence or kidnapping is allowed in the "Satin Predator", so it's not uncommon to see a Dominatrix leading her subverts through the club in exotic ways while some mere steps away a stripper gets doused in a bath of champagne. Being intolerant is the second best way to leave the clubs feet first again(first one is drawing a weapon with the intend to kill), and regular guests know that very well.

To reach the club, you have to cross the dark part of Tokyo and enter an underground garage, which is located under an deserted building which belongs to a box office corporation, where the first security guards are stationed. They are dressed like a common security team, but lack the friendly try to scare away unwanted guests and instead have a habit of getting people lost if they refuse to leave after the first warning. AFW wrestlers, usually sexy and perverted, are free to come and go when they follow the rules of the club.

If someone takes that hurdle, they enter a satin clad elevator and reach the second security theme. This team gives a much better look at the club itself as they either wear mask, carry heavy mascara, look gothic, are tattooed like crazy or branded/ringed as they please. The second team applies body scanners and collects weapons from the guest who they get back when they leave, regardless of the type of weapon before a guest can enter the public area by the means of a short stair.

The place in general is filled with gorgeous girls engaged in all manner of lewd activities. Some are dancing in cages in different states of undressing; others are being dragged around by collars, either walking or crawling on their fours on the floor; many others were hanging from walls, restrained with ropes and bamboo structures like living sculptures; some girls weren't so lucky and were forced to serve as furniture, some as chairs and others laid on their fours holding up with their nude backs crystal tables for the costumers to place their drinks on, and in the center of the dance floor are up to four lovely girls 'wrestling' nude in a pool of some sticky fluorescent substance.

The *public* area of the club is bathes in stroboscope light which changes it's colors and patterns regularly. The owner of the house resides one step above the dancing and generally celebrating and seldom mixes in the stuff of his guests. Guests(the large majority being female) are usually free to choose what they wear, but the free atmosphere usually causes an influence from the S/M scene.

The *private* area, reachable though a stair which leads downstairs is for selected(richer, more famous(AFW) or influential(probably AFW)) guests of the house and consists of a series of darkened chambers with lava lamps to bath the guest in a atmosphere of alluding but mildly disturbing light patterns, but some rooms of the private chambers follow other rules. Privacy of couples, gangs or larger groups of guests has absolute priority for the club employees, following the motto of the owner:
"Your pleasure is my desire"

Anja had asked if the owner could think of an industrial dance night for the time when Marisa would arrive, and as it was fitting of the theme of the club, tonight was industrial dance night, guests being dressed accordingly or not if did not want to.

Her own outfit was a mix of black leather stripes over nude skin and some rather flat shoes that allowed to dance if she was in the mood after she had talked to Marissa, while her blonde hair was arranged in thick queues of hair and made her face appear like she had a medusa head with snakes on top.

She was kind of excited to meet Marissa and waited for her at the beginning of the public area. She had something that hung heavily on her shoulders, and she would probably be much more relaxed when she would have put that weight down.

Marisa was familiar with the Satin Predator's reputation, but as a rule had never stepped into the place until this night, even though she had been informed of it hosting various types of erotic battles. In her thoughts, places like this often served as havens for the Miss M's/Monique's of the world to sell young girls to, or worse, offered the temptations of being like them. However, Anja had knowledge of her past with Monique, and now curious about the young woman's own history, the model entered the club, abandoning her usual daytime attire for something a little more exotic, in an effort to blend in with the club's usual clientele.

Taking a deep breath, Marisa tossed her hair as she descended the steps that led into the private area of the club, stepping into the lair of the Raven.

The former model was absolutely gorgeous, that was a fact the Anja could admit without any act of jealousy when Marisa finally arrived in the club. She resisted the urge to push herself quickly through the ranks of the party people to face her early, but as Marisa was on the way anyway, this was unnecessary.

"Hello, Miss Evans."
Anja was slightly smiling and a little bit too nervous and insecure to call the model with her first name. It was still a little bit strange to see Marisa in person instead on tape or from stories.
"I came, in the last weeks, to the believe that this club is a safe-house and a good place to talk with you. Please follow me."
Anja made her way through the crowd of the lower area, taking care of Marisa following her. They made quite a distance into the belly of the club until they reached a satin clad room with two comfortable chairs, a non threatening but mild source of light coming out from a flask with a strange fluid and a selection of alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks. And at least Anja would need a drink as she sat down and offered the other seat to Marisa after oressing little switch in the middle of the table. Geraldine had told her that it was a SOTA white noise emitter.
"Let me start with who I am. My name is Anja, Anja Mueller. Natalia and I were, um, classmates and friends back when I was a teenager."
To deliver a point of proof, she produced an old and often folded picture of Anja and Natalia, in the middle of another bunch of girls, smiling and laughing.
"Don't let the obvious mood of the picture fool you. It was a setup for charity, a wooly sock over the eyes of the finest sort. But that is not the point I want to make with it, just give you a proof that I am not fooling you."

Marisa was more than a little taken aback by the younger girl's poise as she led them through the club. Although the model was familiar with crowds, the mystery girl let them through the chaos of people around them with a confidence beyond her youthful looks.
Sitting down, she listened to Anya's introduction, looking upon the old picture of the two young girls together.
"Well, I recognize Natalia's face. So, what was your story? Did you and Natalia both belong to...her?"
The model stressed the last word, managing to fill it with a fraction of the venom and hate she felt for Miss M.

"Yes and No."
Anja had emptied her first glass with ease and already filled in a second one. She was drinking too much and to fast when this kind of theme was on her agenda, but the alternative would be to be depressed or sulking in a dark corner, cuddling her stuffed crow like a little girl.
"I was Natalia's final opponent in the big tournament, and she is my oldest friend. When this Eric dude was busting the clubs real motives, we were about to be shipped to that island if I remember the tides of events well. To make a long story short: Police was late, as always, so I got lost in the shuffle and spend the next 5 years on the run. Until some months, where things got a little more clear and I made peace with Natalia again."
It was a strange feeling to speak to Marisa that way, but if someone could understand this, it was probably the model.

"The Circle of Dragons was a multilayer organization. Some of them worked closely together, others were solo and only loosely affiliated to the group. My owner, the Mistress of Masks, was a close friend of M. You probably met her around the Carnival Season in Venice where everyone was masked anyway on one of your model gigs. Maybe you can access it when you ask for the files at police if it catches your interest."
She wasn't sure if Marisa could probably know the Mistress of Masks, who had been much more reclusive than the busybody Monique. Hearing the name more often, it came to her mind that not even she did know the real name of her former owner, there had been so many passports in her possession that she could have been really anyone.

"Anyway. As you probably know best, Monique has the looks and the charisma to bend even the most beautiful flowers to her will. But her skills in accounting were rather limited compared to my owner, so they made a joint venture of some sort."
Joint Venture, that sounded so strange but still normal.
"You may ask yourself what that has to do with you and me. Natalia was always the beauty, the flower that was shielded as far as possible from anything business related. But I was to be groomed to be second hand and ultimately successor to my mistress, so I came into the questionable delight to stand by and watch as these two hags played their game with us, you, your friends and a whole network of clueless dupes."

Marisa listened with a growing sense of disbelief. The schemes ran much deeper than she or any of the others had ever thought. She had never heard of this Mistress of Masks, but admittedly, there was a lot about Monique she didn't know.
"It must've been a painful thing, having to fight your best friend to the death. I'm glad you and Natalia have made your peace. She and I had our own..misunderstanding a month or so ago. We fought, in that way we were both taught by Miss M, but we ended up working things out." The model paused to finish her glass of wine. "So it looks like luck, or fate, has given you your freedom." she commented, calling for a second glass with Anja. "But what do you plan to do with it?"

"That's a really nice wording for a sexfight. I like it."
Anja laughed, glad that the serious business she had to discuss was not so serious at all before taking a sip from her glass. And why not? Marisa was definitely hot, very hot to be precise, and Natalia was no girl to shove from the sheets either. And it seemed that most of the business of the mistresses was kind of sexual, one way or the other.
"Natalia has cashed some chips and gave me some trout in AFW. I like it so far, but I guess I am also kind of a drifter."
Her future lay now brighter before her than before, but until their common enemy hadn't fully gone away, true safety wasn't in sight.

"Let's come to business then. I am not mad at you or anything like that, I just have a business related idea. My mistress planed for me in advance, I am about to inherit a substantial amount of money from her when I turn twenty one. I plan to keep a share of it, I have invested sweat, blood and tears for the money. But the rest is basically your money. And the money of your modeling friends. Split it, keep it or donate it. I don't care."
Anja was serious about giving a large amount of money away, despite being poor for the last five years. She had more than she needed now, and money hadn't kept her safe at any time.

Marisa looked Anya in the eyes, but as far as she could tell, the other woman was serious.
"Anya, lots of money was changing hands during that time." she said. "Substantial is an understatement. You can't really expect to give it away like that. And...if I did take it, who would come looking for it?"
Although she didn't like the money's past, Marisa knew that there was much she could do with it: Give some to the families of the girls who didn't live through those hellish clubs, perhaps use the money to give Natalia a modeling career, the list went on.

The Blonde was slightly amused at Marisa telling her that she maybe could not take the money because she was worried who might be behind her to get it back. But she had a solution for that too.
"Let me ask you a question for an answer: How do you know the money you have in your wallet at the moment is not washed money from an arms or drug deal? The thirty cent you got in return at the grocery store yesterday? The answer is easy, you don't know. It is a case of detective work to find out where money originates from. But I can also understand if you feel uncomfortable with handling the money on your own, even if it ironically is really your money. Hand it over to the police if you want and wait for the next couple of years until it is cleared again. The pathetic rest of it of course. Taxes, governmental issue, corruption..."
The German wasn't a girl who thought of people as stupid because they had a certain job, but the public did.

"Guys who could probably come after you are from organized crime and basically anyone involved into milking you like cows on a sunny day then. But the second thing could come for you any day. You know, old tapes from a young lesbian girl turned supermodel turned wrestler with, uhm, a lot of enthusiasm who is handled like a piece of soap by Monique. No big deal you might say as one of the icon figures of AFW, but it would make your matches a lot harder psychologically by lost respect, scratch your fame and probably most important, could lower the sale of your merchandise products. Heck, if there would be no AFW, I would watch tapes like this anytime on a rainy day."
Anja couldn't really deny the criminal heritage in her, even if it was just for clarification.

Marisa considered the Raven's words carefully before she spoke. The safe course would be to give the money to authorities, but the resulting questions were indeed ones she wouldn't feel comfortable asking. Not to mention that due to red tape it would be years before the money got around to doing anyone any good. And when Anja put it like that all money has a past. As for her reputation, Marisa guessed that if there were any tapes left after the police raided Monique's operations, they would've surfaced by this point.
Tapping her fingers against the table, the model eventually nodded.
"Ok, if you're serious about this, then I'm in." she said. "How will this work? I'm not an accountant, but I'm willing to bet if my bank account suddenly triples, someone will get suspicious."