Backpay [Summoning Souseki]

[Horo Danshi]

There was a verbal altercation going on in the lobby of the Aurora.

"I'm sure I don't know who you mean, mister Horo..." the receptionist tried again, bored, an old hand at Horo Danshi outbursts. "If you would please-"


"That's MISTER Horo to you!" the Dipshit Kid screeched, his words careening off of the tired stone-and-wood walls of the Aurora like so many pugnaciously-hurled housecats. His blue eyes were beady and small, sweat had begun to pour down his neck and clot in his several days' worth of accumulated stubble. Wait a minute there Horo just you wait a minute, didn't she just say -- wait a minute, what am I here for, what is OH RIGHT THAT BASTARD-- "And you know exactly who I am talking about don't pretend that you do NOT."

Fumbling in the pockets of his storm-gray chuunin vest, Horo Danshi made a small show of dancing as he searched for his evidence, and upon finding purchase, nearly tore the sheet of paper in half in his violence to lay it flat against the receptionist's desk. "Elimination of the weekly stipend!" he shrieked, his voice hitting an embarrassingly high note as he did so. Yeeeeah buddy show them your skillz, show em what you GOT-- "Restriction to mission pay! MANDATORY TIES FOR THE MAIN BRANCH? Are we going through a recession or something? Is the economy crashing? Is it the banks!?!"


"As the notice says, mister Horo, there has been a necessary restructuring of sitewide hazard pay benefits. Other costs have been reduced as a result, and we hope you will find-"


"Don't you talk Obamacare talk to me, girly, I know your game," the wrathful chuunin rasped. Wait just a Horo-damned minute, Obamacare? Hayatacare? Oh Horo Horo day, the plays, the plays... The Seikon paused momentarily in his ranting, catching his breath as realities converged, intermingled, straightened themselves out in his bloodline-wrecked brain. "The...the union will hear of this!" he concluded, weakly, searching for any more purchase or gravity that his flailing hands could add to his words.

The receptionist's eyes narrowed and her hand made its way slowly to the button concealed beneath her desk, the one next to "VILLAGE WIDE INVASION" that read "POTENTIAL UNIONIZING THREAT MAYBE" (both of which, incidentally, were sent to the exact same fast-response kill squad in the Sileo, and would generate much the same vein of reply). She held off from pressing it, however, as the Dipshit Kid suddenly whipped out a dirty paper napkin and pen and began writing furiously on it, muttering all the while. After some moments he flung it at the desk, where it drifted lazily through the air, missed its mark, and fluttered impotently to the floor.

"When So-SUCK-y gets back you give him that!" Horo Danshi declared, pointing to the drifting napkin. "Ninja VANISH!" And in a puff of smoke, he did.


Shaking her head in bored vexation, the secretary to the Sennin of the Main Branch picked at her nails a bit, waited to see if anyone else was waiting for her attention, and satisfied that she was alone, bent over her desk to examine the departed Shinobi's message. It read:

She narrowed her eyes, gingerly picked the note up, and put it in the queue of materials to be reviewed upon the Sennin's return.

****​

The Squint was one of the better-known shinobi bars in the Cronopolis area, which being a place where drinking was the most popular pastime made it a Real Find Indeed. It was not so much the quality of the booze that made it notable, however, as the quality of the establishment's owner: Ryu "Squint" Hashi, notorious retired ANBU captain, war hero, and all around bad-ass who took to trouble in his bar in the same capacity as his former profession. A man of few words, many secrets, and no stories, he grimly served at his post, took his tips, and closed promptly at 2am every night. It was said that even the Kage feared the terror that was this hard-bitten man.

Horo liked it because it was always impressive to experience the sheer lift of the old man's throwing arm when, at some point during the evening, he was inevitably tossed out.

But that time was still far off - it was merely the late afternoon, and it was only the regular off-duty and night shift crowd that was in attendance now, staring into their half-empty glasses and quietly listening to the quiet radio broadcast from the corner of the room. Horo, with at least four empty glasses in front of him and rainbow-patterned tie wrapped around his head in a tight knot, set down his fifth and smirked a dumb, foamy smirk at the doorway. He drank.

He waited.

He drank and waited.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

[joining this thread because So-SUCKy is gonna be a while xD]​

“God, what a titanic beating awaits that kid... When Yomoko takes his belt off, no one’s ass is safe from grief,” Masao muttered to himself, shaking his head in disgust as he remembered his encounter with the rather punkish Shino only a few minutes ago. The Codex Ansatsu definitely did not support such an action. Predictably, of course, out of all the operatives in the room, only the lone female among them, Hoshiko Gin, had displayed any sort of respect for the chain of command or any willingness to follow a direct order. The organization still had many cracks in its already-worn foundations. Cracks that Rin and he were trying their best to repair, but in their 16-year absences from the Corps, corruption had spread to every corner of the benighted Sileo, and their task was Sisyphean at best most days.

For now, however, the Raikage’s safety at the Academy was at least improved, if not guaranteed. But when is anything ever guaranteed? Until a few days ago we were guaranteed that Shin’s family members were all dead. And now the greatest threat to Kumo in the village’s entire history is found to be his uncle, he thought to himself, darkly. Three ANBU operatives, including a future Captain provided he did not fuck up again like today, were enough of a guard for the time being. The assembly Rin had planned for them all was not for another day at least, so there was still some leisure time. And for Masao, that meant drinking. Drinking all of the beers.

The Vice Commander headed for Squint’s. Captain Ryu ran a tight little establishment, and the portions were generous for serving and former members of the Corps. He remembered Hashi from the Demon Invasion – he had been in the Black Aces, and served as Enjeru’s battalion sergeant. How the man had resisted the urge to frag that degenerate asshole of a Sunaku, Masao could not fathom. Finally, after much meandering, he found himself at the entrance and let himself in, letting the door close softly behind him.

The first thing he saw was the beer-soured, foamy rictus plastered on Horo Danshi’s face. Masao immediately turned three hundred sixty degrees and walked away, only to realize that he could not actually exit, since the door was pull-open-only.

“Fuck me,” he growled, facepalming. The horrid, disturbing avatar that was the most annoying chuunin on the face of Raiden’s Earth had not changed in the slightest. Perhaps there was a chance the Danshi had not noticed him. Or perhaps he was simply keeping quiet for his own self-preservation? Choking down the bile rising in his throat and scarring his esophagus with dilute stomach acid and pancreatic juice, he walked forward to the bar and took a seat appropriately far enough from the chuunin.

“A sake, Captain,” he muttered to Ryu.

 

[Horo Danshi]

The door to the Squint opened, and in some universe that some Horo inhabited, Souseki walked through just in time for their appointment. Or someone else entirely different. Perhaps Risu, come to meet for their delayed, promised drinks after the mission. Perhaps the Supreme Commander herself, Sama-samaaaaaaaaaa'd out in luxurious skimpy GILF kit for the Dipshit Kid's uncomfortable oggling pleasure. Or perhaps the prodigal sister Rega, or more to the point a blizzard of her cold and totally-not-slimy tentacles, barreling inside to enter the bar and then Danshi by turn and Horo day and night that universe was not a nice one at all

But those were some other universe. In this universe it was not the Sennin of the Main Branch who entered, but one Takaki Masao, vice-commander of the ANBU death squads, known colloquially in the Main Branch barracks as "Oh not THAT fucking guy--", and generally, the Dipshit Kid registered somewhere in his sideways consciousness, not the biggest fan of Horo Danshi.

Why can't we be friends // why can't we be friends went the sing-song camp lyrics in the chuunin's mind. Keeping his eyes on the newly arrived ANBU agent, he smiled hugely, and declining to wipe the foam from his many mustachios, gave a large straight-armed wave.

He continued waving as the man made his way slowly to the bar (not looking in Danshi's direction, why was that? The lighting must be poor, so sad, so Horo Horo unfortunate, this would need to be remedied, how stereotypical was a grungy dungy bar like this anyway good Raiden above I am a little drunk!?!!), leaned over, placed exchanged some words with old man Squint. As he watched the elder murder god make his way over to the bottles lining the opposite wall, Horo sucked up a lungful of air and plunged bravely off of his stool, stumbling and almost falling only once (!!!) -- no twice (DAMN IT!) -- before eventually using the blemished, nicked hardwood of the bar itself as a support to half-trundle, half-slide his way down towards the new arrival.

"Captain Commander," he grinned, pulling up alongside his no-doubt-thrilled-to-see-him company. He saluted slightly, forgetting that his right hand held his drink, sending a few flecks of white froth into his tangled black hair. Classy one Horo, the silver makes you look distinguished, killin it you're KILLIN. IT. "Fancy seeing youuuuuu."

He turned slightly to the barman's backside. "Squint old buddy, put that one on the company account too, right! Sennin's buying for two tonight!" He hooted in a low, disgusting, slightly asthmatic manner and looked back to Masao. "It's a special day Capt, so drink up yeah?" He tipped the glass in his own hand back and made a show of how to do it, fighting hard not to choke on the rate and volume of his intake.

Horo Danshi loved helping.~

 

[Takaki Saeko]

“What’s wrong, Masao? Drink and feel better!” chorused the smallish, vaguely ovoid and blue-tinted specimens of Saccharomyces cerevisiae that hovered around the edge of the small tumbler of sake Masao gloomily held in front of him. You see, dear reader, our hero had always been able to see the microbes that normally escape any human’s vision due to their sizes usually being measured in nanometers. They would manifest for him as caricatured, semi-realistic forms that apparently could talk in the common language and had feelings, most of which were directed at a passion for brewing…

But alas, the above sentences were actually complete bullshit and Masao could not actually see microbes, because that was actually just the synopsis of a completely different television show. What was NOT unfortunately pure fantasy was that the one and only Horo Horo Danshi Day had now taken notice of his arrival at the bar, and rather than do the sensible and polite thing and let the Vice Commander drink his butthurt over Yomoko’s little nephew away, the chuunin was now under the impression that they were…drinking buddies.

"Fancy seeing youuuuuu."

“I’m NOT interested-“ Masao began, starting to turn away from the halfassed salute offered by the chuunin, who for Raiden’s sake...what the HELL was wrong with the man’s eyes? Horrid, vacant black orbs that seemed off-model, topping some sort of…hideous cartoon moustache that made his look like some sort of cat-human reject knockoff from…

"It's a special day Capt, so drink up yeah?"

The sounds. The SOUNDS that Danshi made! The awful, ear-raping shlorping and gurgling like that of a man’s throat slashed from ear to ear and gushing forth unformed cries of help as his murderer cackled above...

“Maria” was now in Masao’s hand without him having to think about even drawing the crossbolter from its holster. Actually, wasn’t his favorite piece named “Consuela”? Or maybe it was “Harry Johnson.” Regardless, whatever the hell he had decided to name his weapon (the one that fired bolts, perverted reader!), he’d also managed to fire off a round or three even before the characteristic sounds of bolter discharge now smacked his ears and those of everyone else in the Squint.

“That’ll shut you up, godrot you!” Masao snarled triumphantly, expecting to see a Horo Horo Headless Corpse slumping down in its knees, arterial crimson hitting the ceiling like in the movies that everyone loved in the 1980s.

“Dammit, Corporal Takaki, how many times do I have to tell you?” gruffly spat Captain Ryu now. “You’re anticipating recoil when you pull that trigger! It’s making you flinch and throwing off your shot!”

And indeed, Masao now saw that in fact, Danshi was indeed not a headless body, but merely a Horo Horo Covered in Beer and Shards of Broken Glass.

“I can remedy that, Sarge!” growled Masao, a feral grin coming to his face as he now leveled his bolter at Danshi and squeezed the trigger until the magazine was empty...

 

[Kamitake]

It was the rare event when the blonde rogue formally known as Souseiki graced his own office with his presence and even a rarer occasion when he actually managed to feign enough interest in the managerial aspects of his positions to actually sign anything, but a life of rampant debauchery, emotional blackmail, and the entrepreneurial on goings of mostly illegal enterprises at times created too much excitement in the life of the noir caricature turned man and required that he entered the only location that both friends and foes were too terrified to come within fifty miles, although whether it‘d be the rumors regarding his sanctuary or because of the supercharged adolescent pricks could be debated. He wore a grey suit this day with the usual white dress shirt and black tie although sans fedora that usually capped his now tamed blonde mane. He walked in through the front door to his secretary’s surprise, a subtle hint that today would forgo the usual stalking of alleys and be more about the rabid drinking of private, exquisite liquors in his office. As per usual, he neglected to remember his secretary existed in anyway until he found himself impeded by her surprisingly solid body while attempting to walk through her. She was a diminutive but a deceptive thing, quick enough with the smiles to disengage even the most drunken of petitioners but potent enough in her abilities to give Souseiki second thoughts on anything regarding her person, and surprisingly painful to run into. The scoundrel noticed she was wore a black pencil skirt along with her burgundy blouse with his newly exercised powers of “giving a fuck” that also gave him the unperfected ability to pay attention to her squeaking.

”Sir, I received a visit from a disgruntled employee, he seemed extremely displeased by the recent financial restructuring,” she attempted to inform him while waving the note the Dipshit Kid had thrown at her.

“Slash his pay, desecrate his mother‘s grave, and have his dog killed, or slash the grave, kill the mom and desecrate his dog. Look, the order doesn’t matter as long as you just make sure you use a .38 caliber or it all goes to hell, or doesn‘t.” The last time he had forgotten his last bit his newly furnished living room looked like the damned set of Braindead. He attempted to walk past once again before she cut him off, braving the non-existent graces of his patience.

“But you eliminated the weekly pay in efforts to incentivize mission production,” she answered ignoring, as usual, the second and third orders she had received.

Souseiki stopped for a moment to ponder his next step before he snapped his fingers with child-like delight. “Then cut his medical benefits, put a hard cap on his lifetime policy. and raise his deductible. Use the money we save from that to buy a billboard that says “Fuck You” and make sure to put it next to the hospital bed he wont be able to afford from now on.”

“But Hayatacare eliminated private medical insurance companies in Kumogakure, it‘d be a political nightmare to make those changes so recently after he‘s just managed to sign it into law,” she shot back at him knowing that Shin would never budge on his landmark proposal.

“Then have him shot and leave me alone.”

“Oh ok.”

He was about to slam his office door before he heard the words that made him stop dead in his tracks, word that would haunt him until the end of his mortal days.

“Won‘t he still be able to ramp up a hefty bar tab on your account at the Squints before the cleaners get to him?”

And that’s how the Nanjirou Sennin of Kumogakure found himself entering the decrepit doors of Squints looking for a man charging beers on his tabs The place was a dive, ancient wood held it together by the strength of prayers while half-trollish women went about to make their even more repulsive patrons at home. While Souseiki may not exactly be a man of discreet taste, even he drew the line at toxic sludge funneled down by hags fishing for tips. Every step into this place stripped his soul a little barer of concepts such as humanity and only worked to flare a savage rage as these vile, atrocious people cheerfully spoke to each other and spilled beer on the fat folds of their quadruple chins. His beer maybe. He was only four steps in before he could no longer make an attempt at civility and went berserk with rage as he struck the first man he saw. Souseiki grabbed the unfortunate portly bastard by his Hawaiian shirt before he began launching a maniacal wave of excruciating blows.

”How many times must I explain….” he shouted before degenerating into gibberish better expressed in what could only be described as "kicking the shit out of him". ”Stupid civil War… Terrible for the economy... Surplus of labor… Law of supply and demand... Medical Advancements… Retirement ages… Goddamned Unions…

His last blow launched the beleaguered man upwards into the air and then downwards on an unsuspecting party’s delectable nacho platter. Souseiki struggled to contain his ancestral fury between breaths before his venomous green eyes stared down any of the other patrons thinking themselves brave enough to handle the raging Sennin. Little did they suspect that he was more than willing to escalate this little scene, although they’d probably guessed immediately after he drew an ornate masterwork sword from his scabbard and began waving it wildly to make his point.

”All right, which one of you is the dipshit stupid enough to charge beers on my goddamned tab!?”

 

[Horo Danshi]

Well this has escalated quickly...

A slightly stunned, drunk, almost sleepy Horo Danshi had this thought as he stared at the shattered beer glass in his hand, its contents splattered over the floor, the bar and its occupants, covering them in flecks of yeasty foam. A little part of him wept for the microbes that lifted from that dripping brew, that mingled with the ruder germs that covered those surfaces, that tainted their Prized Germa-nin Purity with the tracings of the establishment's past company. Goodnight sweet princes,, the Seikon-riddled shinobi thought sadly, waving a tiny mental gesture of farewell in his mind's eye. Goodnight fair maids!

And then the Vice-Commander of the ANBU corps was shoving his mini-arbalest straight down the Dipshit Kid's eyeballs, and welp, that was the end of Horo Danshi.


Meanwhile, in the universe where this game takes place...


As one Horo Danshi expired, the Horo Danshi in the current world found his demise interrupted by the sudden arrival of a new individual into Squint's a quarter-second earlier than the other. The combination of the force of his entry, the crash with which he slammed the door open, the Dipshit Kid's half-curious half-reflexive twitch towards it, and Takaki Masao's slightest of kneejerk reactions to the same stimulus, came together in just such a way that they sent the remaining bolts flying past Horo's ear, into the wall behind. For an instant the Chuunin's stupor lifted, and he stared wide-eyed and quivering at the nearness with which his silly little life had almost been taken. The expression on the Vice-Commander was truly terrifying - how did one force such a purple flush, exactly? What precise dimension was this creature channeling, in what reality was that a thing a normal person did, and how was a poor Horo Horo supposed to DESTROY HIS FRAIL AND FICKLE FORM AND PICK THE MEATS FROM HIS CHEEKS AND KNOW HIS SANGUINE HERITAGE THROUGH THE THROTTLING OF THE</B></COLOR> VOID VOIDVOIDVOID<i></i><COLOR color="darkblue"> oh dear, Horo old buddy, get that together man put it back together WHEEEEEWeee man you's a crazy chick yeah you's a crazy bitch.

The newcomer, however, was soon the object of all the attention on the room as he began laying, apparently without provaction, a truly righteous beatdown on a man whose corpulence and drunken state, happily, was enough to shelter him from the fatal consequences of the man's blows. Rapid and violent they came, and from he who issued them, a series of complaints. And it was then that, squinting through the boozy haze that was still not quite as heavy as he would have liked, Horo Danshi realized the identity of the interlocutor. Blonde. Sharp. Iconic, really. Outrageously overdressed for pugilism. An air of absurdity communicating that yes, ah, yes! The Sennin of the Main Branch had arrived.

Horo Danshi grinned widely as the large arc of the beaten man sailed through the air and landed in a crash of confectionery delights. Peering past the now-emptied weapon of his attacker and would-be murderer, he waved in a large arc to his "boss."

<B>"Hey boss! You made it!" he crowed, dodging slightly out from behind Masao's menacing figure, reality bending and churning ever so slightly to allow the Seikon to pass by unimpeded. "Have you met Takaki Masaooo? You should! Here let me get you all another round, he just destroyed one of the beers you paid for." He swept gracelessly over to the bar once more, pounding on the hardwood for the attention of Squint who, with two such prominent Kumo military figures and one very prominent drinker in his midst, had made perhaps the wisest decision of all: cross his arms and watch.

Wisdom, however, was the furthest thing from a Horo mind, generally speaking. It was a family trait. "Squint!" he squawked. "Three bears, three scotches, three bourbons! I have a PAYCHECK to drink, damn it!"

 

[Takaki Saeko]

“Like a newbie still, I see. Just magdumping in the general direction of your target until you run out of bolts.” Ryu rolled his eyes at Masao, as he calmly started to polish a glass mug with the towel he kept tucked in his apron like his bar hadn’t just erupted in a titanic maelstrom of violence what with bolts flying, swords being waved around, and dudes sailing through the air. Then again, compared to the action the old retiree captain had seen during the demon invasion, a scene like this was probably akin to Saturday morning anime aimed at small children and crafted with the sole purpose of getting them to bug their parents for toys. "Pokey-Mans" or something.

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Masao huffed, realizing that yet again, Horo Danshi had exemplified that in real life it was supremely hard to kill people with no actual sense of self-preservation. He considered doing the tactical thing and tactically reloading with his tactical magazines, only to be interrupted by the bartender tactically handing him a tactical receipt for the damages, along with tactical pen for signing. This was going to cost him...speaking of which, who the hell had been responsible for throwing off his aim on a point-blank shot, anyway?

"Hey boss! You made it!" squawked a distracted Danshi, whose body seemed to twist and eeeewww warp through him. It wasn’t gay if their members didn’t touch, right? Right?! And why did this have to be with that guy and not, say...Joukuu? On second thought, even Danshi was probably a better option. "Have you met Takaki Masaooo? You should! Here let me get you all another round, he just destroyed one of the beers you paid for."

“It was for a good cause, asshole!” snarled Masao, furiously waving his piece (not that piece, perverted reader!) at the slippery, maddeningly unkillable chuunin who had so far completely evaded the vice Commander’s two latest attempts at murder. Maybe whoever this boss was would have better luck actually doing the deed, however, which brought up the question of who in the village was actually enough of a saint to feed and pet Horo Danshi?

“Great, it’s that film-noir asshole,” he muttered to himself on catching sight of Souseiki, who also had his own piece (that is, his sword – this isn’t a bathhouse, dear reader) out and pointed at everyone in the room. Previous dealings between the two had been brief, but from what he recalled of the man, the Main Branch Sennin was a definite alcoholic with pain medication issues.

"Three bears, three scotches, three bourbons! I have a PAYCHECK to drink, damn it!" whooped Danshi now, because in reality, this thread, no, this very roleplaying site, had always been about Danshi and his dreams of a better tomorrow for libraries all over the world.

“Your fourth wall has a huge hole in it, narrator,” sighed Masao to no one in particular. “Ah, fuck it. I’ll have some of that, Captain,” he said to Squint.

 

[Kamitake]

In the coming days after the series of investigations held by both ANBU and the Raikage, Souseiki would find himself with a moment’s opportunity to wonder why exactly had propelled him to lunge after Masao and not the infamous Dipshit Kid that had instigated the entire mess in the first place. To further complicate the issue, the Dipshit Kid had even ordered more drinks on his tab while the enraged Sennin had pummeled an innocent bystander and managed to show a brazen, stupid courage that Souseiki normally could not tolerate from anyone. Yet as time would continue to pass the answer would finally elucidate itself with the simple revelation that for a single moment in his life, Souseiki had known fear.

Souseiki had never been afraid before. He hadn’t been blessed with the luxury of an innocent childhood at the orphanage he had been raised, teased and beaten at. He had no time to learn fear in his adolescence, he had been to occupied with ruthless efficiency. He had not bothered with fear the day he had kissed madness and yet now… It was fear that propelled the blonde Sennin to Masao despite rationality’s beckoning to Horo. It had been fear that made his heart thump wildly in his chest. Souseiki could not lie about the fact. He had been afraid for a single moment that Masao might be competent enough at his job to kill Horo before the film noir caricature could beat the shit out of the soon to be christened Dip Kid.

His perceptions heightened, time stood at a standstill as he leapt into action. The Nanjirou blurred through the few bar obstacles unlucky enough or dim enough to remain there after his violent entrance before reappearing before the Vice Commander. He employed his charming smile before launching a spinning maneuver that would bring his ancestral steel through the crossbow and within an inch of Masao’s face before he turned away. Souseiki only spoke three words at Masao during their brief encounter.

”Humphrey Bogart rules.”

So it was that the story advanced in the same manner Souseiki advanced on Horo: Homicidally, subtly comically, and without hindsight to what Masao was likely plotting behind his back. He sat himself down at the bar like the archetypical down-on-his-luck noir hero looking for another chance before he snatched one of the bourbons the positively infuriated bartender had lain out for Horo.

”You’re going to have to forgive my manners. Hi, I’m your asshole boss,” he cheerfully introduced himself before drinking the shot in his hand. Souseiki politely asked the bartender for the tab which had now included broken furniture and a fine for hurt feelings. ”Lets see here, according to this, you’ve managed to imbibe around seventeen beers, five sake bottles, a case of whiskey, and a Piña colada creme de cacao flambé royal.“ The Sennin might have laughed at Horo's expense if he hadn't of thought ordering that drink was enough punishment to Horo's sexuality. ”Well I have to inform you that the weekly stipends were actually made by Hayata Shin, not that it couldn’t have been too obvious with every branch bitching about it. So I’ll make you a deal, I’ll forgive the tab after I’m done straining every drink through your liver and we’ll call it even.”

The Nanjirou raised his sword high in the air...

 

[Takaki Saeko]

[Posting out of order, apologies!]

The swooshing noise and wind that blew the stray hairs out of his face, coupled with the lack of instant death or at least total facial disconnection meant that the damned sword had missed his face by only a few centimeters, whether by luck or a simple mistake on the Sennin’s part. Either way, however, that horrid 1920’s fossil had just attacked him. And who the hell was Humphrey Bogart?! This was the 1980’s, for Shinbatsu’s sake! No one watched films in black and white anymore! Now was the time for that long-awaited tactical reload.

The fully-charged magazine slid into the beckoning, softly-curved and naughtily splayed-open recess in the bolter’s receiver with a satisfying rasp of lubricated metal rubbing against metal, and locked in place with a barely audible, shuddering click. He now gently but firmly grasped the delicately-wrought slide and drew it back, tensioning the prods with a slight quiver as the glistening string writhed into a new configuration, ready to fire, before letting the return spring release its burden and send the slide rocketing back into place like a gasp. Now, with only the delicate pad of his index finger, he started to squeeze, the trigger slowly prodding against the delicately-formed sear that only needed to yield but an angstrom until the explosive climax and release of a ten-millimeter hollow-point bolt into Humphrey Bogart’s behind (the other nickname for the 1980's iteration of the Squint was of course, "San Francisco"). Of course, lest the reader jump to the conclusion that this description of reloading and firing a weapon was just a barely-veiled reference to the act of coitus, let the writer be clear: in cases like this, violence was better than sex.

I’ll teach you not to miss next time with your gimpy bloodline, Masao thought gleefully as he completed the act and gave the final squeeze needed to fire into the back of Souseiki’s left ass-cheek. To his surprise, the weapon now warped and shattered in his hand, the slide splitting cleanly in two as the prods flew forward and also detached, spinning madly into the darkness and sending the bowstring flying in the opposite direction. The bolt merely sat dumbly in the barrel, seemingly shrugging (if ammunition could shrug). He realized then that in fact the damned sword had in fact hit something – the bolter. And just as in one of those immoral Chinese games and cartoons in an unpatriotic foreign language, the damage had illogically not manifested until AFTER some action had been made. No wonder the Sennin had simply chosen to direct his attention to Horo Danshi instead of dealing with the obvious threat of a very angry ANBU Captain.

“Well played, you bastard,” he muttered with a mix of admiration and pure murderousness. But this wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot. Souseiki had still barged in and thrown off his shot at finally putting Horo Danshi to actual useful work (as fertilizer, that is. Even the notoriously organ-happy medical sennin Kushin would be advised to stay far away from the Horo Horo superbug that turns your eyes to goo and your brains to turkey sandwiches for the alcoholics in the ER to eat as they sober up). As the village’s walking film-noir caricature now proceeded to wave his shiny erection around in front of a stupefied bar and a (likely intrigued) Horo Danshi, Masao had plans of his own. “RDF Squad on duty, proceed to the Squint and assist in arresting Main Branch Sennin Fujinami. This is not a drill.”

He turned back to Souseiki, who as usual was going on about dolphin livers and chimpanzee paté and whatever the hell they ate sixty years ago (unlike the superior, microwaveable synthetic food of the glorious 80’s) and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” he said, before landing a punch on the insufferable blonde’s face.

 

[Horo Danshi]

"Hi, I’m your asshole boss."

From the frying pan into a cool refreshing iced macchiato, the Dipshit Kid thought to himself in sunshine-fashion as the Sennin of the Main Branch took the bar stool next to him. Now here's an understanding gent, the kind that gets the problem of the little guy and the small man, yessiree, Sou-Sex-i the undertaker of female panties why LOOK at that outline of his it is ever so crisp!

"D'aww you're not talking about that note are you jefe? Horo Danshi half-purred as Squint, with the typical all-knowing glance that he gave when violence was imminent but he knew exactly who to bill for damages, turned to ring up the afternoon's excessive tab. "Well I guess I was a bit saucy there, might say salty even, might attribute unto good guy Horo many a spice indeed, but now we're all here, enjoying the department's money, you feel better about your ill-gotten gains, yes?" He stretched his arms above his head and reached out beside him, making to even drape one gangly appendage around Souseki's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, finding himself interrupted only when some parallel universe frantically inserted itself to prevent the motion, and thus preserve the Seikon's well-being for even just these two moments longer. At the cost of yet one more utterly damaged other-reality, the Dipshit Kid's gesture passed mere millimeters from the Sennin's backside and the Dipshit Kid, long-used to that particular fuckery of the universe as a whole, merely shrugged mentally and carried on.

Souseki was in the process of reading the bill off, Horo nodding in happy half-tipsy tandem (Don't sound so impressed boss it's only a Tuesday afternoon jeez louise and Horo Horo day), when a glimpse of the chuunin's other erstwhile drinking companion, Takaki Masao, made itself registered in the stubbled man's mind. Something about the image did not quite equate to the general good feelings, the optimism, the sunshine and ethanol that had otherwise taken driver's seat to the Horo Danshi cerebral cortex. What was it, though, that this added up to? This even stare, this slight escalating of the eyebrows, this change of pall and pallor upon the Vice Commander's cheese-shaped head? The broken weapon in his hands? How had that happened, the Vice Commander must not take very good care of his weapons, Goodness Horo Gracious maybe he should be reported to SantaruRinSamaaaaa-

"...and a Piña colada creme de cacao flambé royal.“

"YOU AND WHAT ARMY?" the Dipshit Kid shrieked in defense of the accusation, before realizing that he bought these all the time, and that scientifically speaking he would be all a-scurvy'd by now were it not for the delicious processed coconut and corn syrup in that particular drink, and really he should be grateful to that brightly-colored flaming entity, rather than repressive. I apologize my desired bev of warmer shores, I shall not spurn you again for any man, nor woman nor Sennin shadow-thing, nope nope nope. But the Sennin continued his slow, impressive monologue and explanation regardless of Danshi's outburst, building to point in rhythmic, confident, deliberate fashion.

Drain my what through the who? the chuunin wondered, peering up at the ceiling lights in spirals of thought. But that would not be viable to my personal well being OH IT IS A THREAT. And he watched the shadow grow larger before his eyes as the Nanjirou raised his blade high into the air, preparing to strike the strike that, in all possible universes, would have been the end of the blue-eyed rogue and his collection of pithy annoyances. And the universe let out a sigh of relief, that it was finally about to happen, that for now and all there was no more Horo Danshi, born through a fluke of fate into the Seikon heritage, over whom to burn itself again and again to charred and butchered husk.

But oh, oh oh dear readers. Where God demanded, Man intervened. And the quiet of the world was doomed to further interruption still, as before that sword could fall, the attackers sole attentions were disrupted, took new aim, refocused, upon the third character, the next specimen, He of Tertiary But Extreme Importance: the Vice Commander, Takaki Masao.


"Here's looking at you, kid."

It was at this point, strangely enough, as the melee erupted around him, that Horo Danshi decided to leave. Not that he was discouraged by the fight, or even the fact that the two primary instigators were of such a temperament that at any moment they could have forgotten their cause for conflict and re-centered their aims on making short work of the Dipshit Kid indeed. But merely, even as the noise level rose around him and things began to break, the Seikon experienced one of his rare moments of disentangled quiet, wherein events of this reality seemed to slow and become inconsequential. It was...kind of pedestrian wasn't it, this fight? Almost like the end was preordained, like some god, like Raiden or Raijin or Shinbatsu had lifted the possibility of any real ramifications from this battle, like any violence done would fail in its lasting effects, would be for naught and nothing. Horo Danshi was fond of a good scrap, sure. But it just was not his party anymore, even as a stool splintered over his backside into a shower of hysterical pieces that all but bellowed yakety sax playing on some gut-clenching hilarity of a physical altercation, as it surely was to the outside world.

Looking around, the Dipshit Kid decided he had done what he'd come here to do.

Replacing his thoughtful gaze with his more typical, default, beaming-smirk combo of annoyance, the Dipshit Kid walked and weaved and ducked and phased between the roilsome members of the drinking establishment and, throwing his shoulder against the weight of the door, eased his way -- still somewhat pleasantly buzzed -- out into the Kumogakure afternoon sun.


[OOC: Topic Left (unless stopped?!?!)]

 

[Kamitake]

… only to be struck across the face before the insufferable Horo Danshi could be eliminated once and for all. Souseiki hadn't reacted fast enough when Masao had tapped his shoulders and subsequently clocked him, although whether it was because of his one track mind or because he was astounded that somebody in this universe other than him had referenced something not containing magical ninjas was a question for later philosophers to agonize over. The Sennin hit the floor as hard as John Dall fell for some film noir reference nobody reading this is old enough or interested enough to understand. He lifted himself off the floor before inspecting the sucker punch‘s damage. A small trickle of blood appeared on his hand after he had wiped his face only intensifying the fury building in the lithe frame. Things were about to get a whole lot more interesting.

”Give me a quick second,” he spoke as he politely excused himself. In Masao’s probable confusion, the Nanjirou quickly turned to the bar in order to drink the several shots lined up for him. It wasn't to dull the throbbing on his face and it certainly wasn't to soften the pain his knuckles would surely feel from the soon to be repeated bashing of Masao’s skull, no. Souseiki hoped that the eight shots he had just imbibed would blur his judgment enough during the fight that he would think it a most astounding idea to pick up his sword carve a crude S into the Vice Commander’s chest. Of course he was also gambling that taking eight shots after suffering head trauma would also affect his motor reflexes enough that the crude S would really be more evisceration and guts everywhere. He turned once again with his most charming of smiles to his belligerent assailant. ”Where was I again?” he asked as his right hand scratched his chin in a faux attempt to remember how angry he was. He snapped his fingers. ”Oh right.”

Souseiki retorted with all the wit of an enraged alcoholic (commonly known to punching bags like Kotaza as Souseiki) known more from shattering faces than eloquent elocution of verbose reasonings. He quickly launched a series of well angled blows designed to force the Vice-Commander to stumble before he placed a prompt conclusion to his introductory tirade via kick to Masao’s midsection, mostly to create a suitable debating distance between them both. The blonde’s blade screamed for blood and vengeance but Souseiki drew a more formidable weapon in the form a brick-sized radio. To everyone‘s surprise he didn‘t throw it, an action that if taken would have easily constituted a war crime due to the Knoekia‘s size, and instead elected to turn it on. ”All available Main Branch shinobi are directed to place Vice Commander of ANBU Masao under arrest by order of Sennin Souseiki. This is not a drill. The suspect is drunk, belligerent, and presumed to be a menace to vintage films everywhere. I repeat again, this is not a drill.”

The two men would stand in silence as the few patrons that hadn't received the earlier but just as obvious sign to fuck off, well, fucked off. The air sizzled around the Nanjirou as his chakra began visibly enveloping around his sleek but muscled frame. A single moment elapsed into an eternity only to end as quickly as it began. The Nanjirou took a single step forward before he drew his weapon of choice, a thin rolled cigarette to be promptly lit a second after it found itself in between Souseiki’s lips.

”You’re good, you’re very good. But you’re probably not good enough to catch the reference I’m making,” he snidely spoke as he blew smoke. Souseiki tossed the cigarette straight at his opponent before promptly charging in its shadow.

 

[Shiruba]

The AIT was wearing his full AIT body armor but wore a black robe over it to protect him from the snow. Shindou did not like the get up that much but he wore it because it was protocol and he did not want to break protocol already. His beard has been growing and it covered his lower half of his face making him look like a Spartan from the movie 300. His skin on the right side of his face was still noticeably burnt and it would never be fully healed because Shindou won't allow it. He in fact like looking like a menace because it scared the kids away.

Shindou has been listening to the radio to hear if anything has been going on and he heard Masao calling his squad to arrest the Main branch Sennin and then the Sennin did the same to arrest Masao. This must be a joke because Souseiki's order seemed ridiculous and his words seemed slurred. The old 47 year old vet was near the location and used his byakuugan to see what was happening and he saw destruction in a bar and people fleeing. Shindou didn't now whether or not who was at fault but the fight had to end. Shindou used his advanced speed do to his nearly attuned Hyuuga traits to make it to the scene before anything else was able to happen. As Shindou opened the door he saw the Sennin dash for the ANBU Captain.

STOP! Shindou yelled while tackling the obviously drunken man to the floor. The 47 year old AIT got up and looked at Masao, astonished to see what was going on. What the fuck is going on over here?

Shindou was voice was tense and stern showing who was in control, hopefully the two men would be able to realize that they should stop now. That probably won't because they both seem to be drunk out of there minds. Shindou backed away from the three and had an equal distance between the other two; he didn't know what will happen next and who would make the first move.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeiRF8O0zss

His tacticool ANBU issue full body armor, (he had opted for the ceramide plates interspaced with chakra nanoweave,) clanked ever so softly as Moro sprinted down the filthy streets of the Chronopolis to Squint’s. Shiny new .30 caliber repeating crossbow came sliding off his back and into his waiting arms with a small shift in momentum with the ease of a corporate trustfall exercise. He spotted some guy with a disgusting mustache grinning wildly at nothing. Moro could hear the characteristic cacophony of a bar fight happening just inside the door, so what was this idiot’s crème-de-cacao-eating grin for?

“FREEZE, you loony eyed psycho.” As was customary following such an announcement, everyone did the opposite as customers, paying and not, began piling, (or should I say stumbling) out of the bar left and right. In the confusion, one instant he was there, and the next he was just gone. His physical description didn’t match that of the sennin’s either way, so Moro wiped the oddly ominous man from his mind. Strangely enough no photo appeared on the small monitor in his quarters of the Sileo when the BOLO went out from Vice Commander Masao. Just physical characteristics and clothing.

Jeez did they hand out senninship to any snappy dressing con artist these days? Atleast have a picture of the guy for Raiden’s sake! Moro secretly hoped that it was a Chanel suit, because those never went out of style.

Moro waited for a lull in the flow of fleeing patrons before kicking the door open. Sweeping the crossbow left to right and slamming his back against one side and the other, he checked his corners. There were still people fighting inside, Moro just glanced over them coolly as they weren’t the Vice Commander or the target. Sliding his back against the wall, he spotted both of them, standing directly in front of the bar, face to face like duelists in an eon long forgotten. It wasn’t hard to imagine a tumbleweed rolling by in the light breeze brought in by the gaping door that rustled clothing almost imperceptibly. The murderous intent rolling off of the two of them almost made Moro gag. It was practically tangible and either way it clogged his senses and made it difficult to breathe. Particularly from the sennin, it wasn’t just the naked steel he was holding or his body language, his singular focus was palpable from the corner of the room that Moro had continued to slide into without ever taking his eyes off the pair. A trainee he recognized from the recent assembly rushed into the bar and tackled the sennin. Moro chucklegrunted satisfactorily.

Slowly, deliberately, he righted a table and a chair and plopped his crossbow on the table with a satisfying thump. The table was leaning like a cholo to one side but Moro was steadying the weapon with one hand, making sure it was pointed at the door in case the sennin had called for backup like the Vice Commander had. Seating himself, Moro simply called “Sir, if you need anything, just holler. I’ve got the door.” Moro would let the three of them duke it out, primarily because the mismatch in power could lead to him just being the way, more harm than help. However if the ANBU looked like they were in trouble he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in. Likewise, if any shinobi without a mark to enter the Sileo so much as moved to cross the threshold after seeing what was transpiring in the bar, they would receive a verbal warning upon entering, and if they moved past the doorway they could expect to leave the bar a couple bolts heavier, if they were lucky enough to leave at all outside of a body bag.

 

[Morishige]

And then entered the greatest Inuzuka in the entire world. Inuzuka Gekido. The beast. But he wasn't alone this time. After Judo entered the room, three more Inuzuka with their ninken entered behind him. Practically an entire squad of teeth and fangs just made it to the scene due to the village wide broadcast of Souseiki. Thankfully, before he had entered, the former captain did a quick scan of the room with his implant to make sure no traps were in wait. However, he did find a man with a crossbow pointed at the door. Should the trigger be pulled, Gekido was fully aware and capable of stopping. Also it seemed that Souseiki was recovering from someone who had flung himself at the man. One could never predict a drunk mans actions, so there must be precaution against the other as well.

As Masao began his approach to take advantage of the man getting up from the ground, Gekido sent the other Inuzuka to halt p him. While two of the bodies grabbed the man's shoulders to stop his advance, the third simply stood between the two his claws ready to slash if needed; of course each ninken followed their respective partner as well. But the first to speak was not Kido, but instead Judo, his companion through thick and thin. One quick look at the situation made the dog actually sigh. In a dark but seemingly wise voice, the animal spoke; he had finally learned the tongue of the human and was putting it to use as often as he could. "Gekido. Why must we get involved with such troublesome individuals?" he groaned. The alpha male looked down to his companion in shock. "What are you talking about!? We haven't been in a good brawl in weeks! What's gotten into you?" he quickly responded before looking at the others in the room. Realizing he hadn't said anything to them yet, he scratched the back of his head with sharp fingernails.

"First off. You with the crossbow. Put that away before you get yourself hurt. Secondly," Gekido began. He wondered who else in the room knew who he was. But now he looked at the two high ranking individuals who were supposed to be running the village, not beating each other up. "You both remind me of myself when I was young. You are acting like children all because you both are stupid enough to ingest that devil liquid. If you can't handle the job I'd be happy to take over myself!" Gekido said with a hearty chuckle. Looking to both of them, he moved over to a stool while Judo actually leaped up onto the bar to lay down behind Gekido. "Can we discuss this like adults, or do our claws need to be bloodied tonight?" he asked, the one Inuzuka position between the two leaders growling slightly in anticipation of a fight.

 

[Ishu]

"More liquor more, more problems..." Saigo said as he was close to the location. Running as fast as he could he knew he was heading into trouble. Using family traits passed from generation to generation, he could "see" who was in the room cause from vibration. He counted the bodies and damn it seemed like these people teleported there. Right before he turned the corner to the area, he used another family technique. "Tetsukawa!." Body armor, the kind that not even a shotgun shell shot at point blank can penetrate. As he turned the corner he saw someone BOLT and when he meant BOLT he meant Usain Bolt couldn't even catch him. In Saigo's eyes he wasn't familiar and seemed to be scared as shit. He ignored him and rushed in the door. He stood there six foot six as he ran into the room, wearing his signature sheep hunting coat, black jeans and combat boots . Obviously this whole atmosphere was like a movie. He looked at everyone in the room and felt like leaving he didnt want blood on his hands today but it was too late. There was a man holding a crossbow point directly at the door meaning him. "Well those bolts are close to useless. Like a spit ball to a wall. Nothing but just fucking irritating..." He thought quickly. He was in no position to even talk. He was ready thought, for anything and everything. When I say everything, I even mean the surprise twists that Albert Hitchcock had in his movies like Vertigo and Psycho. He would enter his stance the instant anyone made an aggressive move.

 

[Kizoku Usui]

"All available Main Branch shinobi are directed to place Vice Commander of ANBU Masao under arrest by order of Sennin Souseiki. This is not a drill. The suspect is drunk, belligerent, and presumed to be a menace to vintage films everywhere. I repeat again, this is not a drill.”

The loud earpiece rang these words through his brain, as if some one had shot a gun next to someone's ear. The Hashigaki had forgotten to lower the volume, something he should have done before going on duty. He looked at the desk in front of him, the nurses were just filing paperwork. "I will be back. if anything just get someone to call me. And with that the old med nin rushed out of the hospital, his black robes flapping through the wind,in a bad-ass way like batman's cape. It didn't take long for the 35 year old Me nin to arrive, but boy was he a bit late. His sonar could pick up every one's location, and he could "see" ten men in the room, three helping up the Vice Admiral, a fourth just getting between the two brawlers, his claws seemed to be. His older brother, Shindou stood also in between them, protecting most likely the Vice Admiral from further assaults. A dog spoke to a man named Gekido, who stood in between the brawlers, Takaki Masao and Souseiki. At the door, there were two people, a man who Usui recognized by his gigantic size with a leather hunting jacket and a man holding a crossbow.

Maybe the fight had been stopped, or the arrest had been made. Either way, Usui walked inside the "Squint", slipping through both men who barricaded the door clicking his earpiece, the hood still up covering his silver hair, eyes covered by a cloth the same color as the robes. "Medical Nin Kizoku Usui on the scene. Seems like the action has stopped."</COLOR><i></i> He moved toward the wall, leaning against it reporting to his headset what he could "see". His sonar scanned both the Vice Commander, and the Sennin for any outside injuries. <COLOR color="silver">"No real external injuries on the Vice Commander, though there appears to be minor bruising. Souseiki seems to have suffered a blow to the face. His lip is bleeding, and his right cheek seems to be swollen a bit. Also... Usui scanned the floor as well, seeing the blown up pieces of what used to be a really expensive crossbow. "It seems that a crossbow was drawn, but it was somehow destroyed...At this point, I cannot tell if it was used at all or not...

The Hashigaki was on his toes, ready to defend at all costs. He couldn't tell if this situation was completely under control. He did agree with the Inuzuka who was just chilling nonchalantly near the stool. This was pretty much a stupid useless brawl. If they were fighting about it, it must have been important. Especially if it put an arrest on the Vice Admirals head. Maybe they would just talk out their problems, and then call it a day and fall asleep. And afterwards, they would know how bad of an idea it was simply because of the hangover they will suffer from. Usui sighed, perplexed by the situation itself. How could leaders of this country act in such a foolish way?

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

A large party of ANBU made their entrance, one in particular walking at the groups head and just entering with enough time to catch the arrogant Inuzuka belittling her squad mate and captain. Gin took special note of his furry Judo companion who could actually talk? What witchcraft was this? Were they on a damn witchhunt? Any knowledgable shinobi or kunoichi knew that Inuzuka held a special bond with their canine companions, and could communicate just as easily as two humans. But she had never heard one actually talk.

"Hey Dr. Doolittle!" A voice of a young woman chimed in from amidst a eight member team of faceless ANBU, "Maybe you just lack the competency or the sex cells to shoot a weapon properly." Her eyes narrowed, slinking in behind Masao to use all of her petite form to remove one of the Inuzuka from his shoulder. Looking to the stationary operatives, "What are you waiting for?! Detain the eyepatched one, his demon mutt, and the the perp-in-question?!"

Two of the eight ANBU rushed in on the group, to wrestle the second Inuzuka off of Masao, making whatever moves necessary to get the task at hand done; continuing to do so if they persisted. How had this all started? And why so much animosity between the two powerhouses? Not much was known or evident, other then the obvious. They were in a bar, and the Sennin-in-question was clearly a drunkard baffoon wreaking in the pungent smell of alcohol. It was a claustrophobic's nightmare at this point, and there were to many to keep track of. At some point, the numbers had grown from three, to more then you could count on both hands. 'I think this may be overdoing things just a little bit..' Thought Gin, as she paid close attention to her Inuzuka adversaries. Masao had a track record in blowing things out of the water, but then again, she felt he was always in some way justified. "Sir, ready to commense in further action if needed..."

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Despite the sennin’s notably thinner and reed-like stature compared to the blockiness that was Masao’s physique, the hits were powerful and enough to push him back, and the extra oomph of the kick at the end (thankfully, as the combatants were both men, neither one directed untoward attention to each others’ bait and tackle, as that would be a severe breach of sportsmanlike conduct) made him lose his wind for about a second, enough to allow the foppish but somehow hard-boiled “detective” to radio in the paddy wagon in an attempt to protect the integrity of melodramatic celluloid everywhere, where ‘sadistic villains and heroines tormented with deeply rooted diseases of the mind flashed across the screen in a panting display of psychoneurosis, unsublimated sex and murder most foul,’ in the words of one critic.

“You beat your girlfriend with the same clumsy disinterest you’re showing me? You need to get wasted first or you can’t get it up?! Hah, no wonder she finds you so boring,” said Masao, lackadaisically setting his nose back into place (it had been jammed over to the left and as a result had made it kind of hard to breathe) before expelling a thick glob of crimson from his mouth. The situation was rapidly escalating with the calling of goons from each side, and the entire series of events so far had been one clear violation of the motion picture production code stacked upon another, and there was no way that this would ever be allowed into various theatres across the nation, no matter how many loopholes got exploited by clever directors. As the Sennin now flickered into shadow and charged, however, the door suddenly burst open. Aw shit, here comes the cavalry!

"Back in Black" by AC/DC​

The Kizoku’s hulking frame now barreled into Souseiki’s, sending them both into a death tumble that looked like a rabid snake and pissed-off mongoose trying to make little academy students together. As Masao glibly watched them wreck a nearby table, the door opened and in strolled Moro like a pimp, hefting some sort of goddamned-sexual-tyrannosaurus-of-a-machine-crossbow that couldn’t have possibly been regulation-issue, not that Masao really minded.

“Ahoy, Squaddies!” said Masao with a cheerful thumbs-up to them both, right before a raving pack of feral Inuzuka now slammed into him, reeking of wet dog and even more horrid kibble-breath as they tried to rip his arms out of his sockets.

"You both remind me of myself when I was young. You are acting like children all because you both are stupid enough to ingest that devil liquid. If you can't handle the job I'd be happy to take over myself!" Great. Gekido, of all people in the village, was trying to preach nonviolence.

“No, we CAN’T just all get along, Mahatma!” growled Masao in response as yet another hulking main brancher now smashed into the room. Jesus Saito in a Shinbatsu sandwich, what the fuck is the main branch feeding its jounin?! His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the painful sonar pinging of Hashigaki senses, which likely served to make all the Inuzuka howl in protest, enough for him to wrassle free of the pack, albeit missing his shirt (even though wearing a now-tattered suit jacket and tie).

"Hey Dr. Doolittle!" rang out a familiar voice. Gin now stood at the doorway, flanked by some more goons, except thankfully, ANBU goons. "Sir, ready to commense in further action if needed..."

“The order still stands!” Masao growled. “In the name of the Raikage, START YOUR BEATDOWNS!”

 

[Miroku Akkuma]

Akkuma was drinking at one of his usual sake bars in the Cronopolis drinking his usual warm jug of sake when he heard the call, it was the Vice Commander issuing an arrest of the Main Branch Sennin. Placing the cork back into his half full jug of sake he tied it to his belt underneath his Anbu robe. The seventeen year old Anbu in training was quite intoxicated and eager for a brawl not too mention drunken fighting was his thing. Rubbing his short spiky blue hair with a disheartened sigh still adjusting to the new hairstyle, the red eyed youth scanned the area around him trying to remember the location of the establishment where they were located. However he didn't need to think for too long as he noticed a small squad of shadows moving away from the bursting into a nearby bar. Akkuma laughed joyously as he dashed towards the entrance at full speed activating his Sharingan, as he approached the doorway pausing meters away from the entrance. 'Mmmm..how to..aha I know.' he thought to himself as he dashed forwards through the doorway his Sharingan showed him a massive group of shinobi with in the room, he recognized some of his comrades through their chakra. Those dangerous red eyes looking out through his black mask with an almost hypnotic blood red ripple-like pattern on it, the mask he'd made during the gathering of the shadows.​

“The order still stands!......In the name of the Raikage, START YOUR BEATDOWNS!”​

growled the Vice Commander, this was all the confirmation Akkuma needed he dashed into the room passed those at the door and jumped flipping into the middle of the room, landing with a chakra imbued kick to the ground sending out a shockwave. The shockwave would knock everyone within a fourteen foot area around Akkuma into the air where the sharingan wielding shinobi would then proceed to attempt to hit everyone within the area, seven times each with a mix of chakra enhanced kicks and punches. Anyone he couldn't distinguish as an ally had the same barrage launched at them "FOR THE RAIKAGE!" he roared in a drunken battle cry his sharingan helping him maintain an extraordinary perception. The assault would be launched at such a speed it would seem as if there were multiples of the blue haired Anbu gear clad trainee attempted to unleash a whirlwind of beatdowns on all. Chairs were flying through the air along with tables, drinks and the usual pub items.

Akkuma had brought a whole knew world of chaos into the mix with his Eternal Chaotic Dance jutsu, once he'd completed his dance of chaos he stood in the centre of the room. "BRING IT SO UNFAZED ! HOPE YOU SWIM OR DROWN IN MY GAZE!" roared the Uchiha before doing a bring it motion to those who wished to oppose his comrades and this he couldn't allow without some intervention. The seventeen year olds robes still ruffling from the motion of his attack, his black Anbu Mask with its blood red ripple pattern adorned on his face. "Anyone who interferes is obstructing our duty and will be pimp handed until disciplined, understood?" he asked drunkenly if all understood he swayed slightly yet his Sharingan still held that focused deadly look.​

OOC: Topic Entered ! (Edited for mask description)

 

[Shiruba]

A whole army of shinobi joined the frenzy and some Inuzuka actually grabbed Masao but they were quickly handled by a Hashigaki. The whole situation got out of hand. All the ANBU that were ready for battle and even Usui joined frenzy, who would he help? If his allegiance is with the Main branch he would have to be taken care of just like the rest. Shindou stood next to Moro with the crossbow aimed at the people who just stepped in. Gin and her gang joined the group and were ready to take action for what may go on. They were ordered to arrest Main Branch Sennin Souseki but he didn't think it was necessary. The old vet was not going to go against the order of the Vice commander, so he went to walk towards the Sennin and suddenly it seemed like someone came running through the door and started to attack. Shindou never met the AIT before and it was more then annoying that he was reckless. The young AIT released a barrage of attacks at the main branch members and even Shindou. He must not know that his is also an ally because they never met. Even though Shindou was 47 he was more then capable of dodging the attacks because of his hyuuga abilities and kinjutsu but the first few caught him off guard. Shindou took three blows to the face and his face turned red. The elder AIT ducked and dodged the last few and wiped off the blood from his nose. He attacked the young ait with his own speacial jutsu Air Palm so it will push the young AIT out of the door in which he came in.

Boy, you crazy that is to reckless. Shindou said with a stern tone. He wasn't in the mood for scolding but that AIT had no idea what he was doing. Attack recklessly one more time and you would be taken out. Being capped out had its benefits and one of those were putting little shinobi boys back in there place.

Main branch we will be taking in your sennin under the direct order of the ANBU Vice Commander. This is now under the jurisdiction of ANBU.

Shindou stepped forward to Souseiki and noticed his injuries. A mednin should take care of him before anything actually happens.

Usui can you heal this two.