He had spent some time in bars, on the streets, listening to the alleys, and this is where his investigations led him, this was where those who did the kind of business he was after would be found. The Black Bazaar.
There was a very definitive edge to the location, almost as though the streets got dirtier, darker, less well maintained. This was where people who had nothing went, this was where those who wanted everything went, this was the first place that Junan had been to outside of Cloud where he felt like he was home.
Standing on the edge he took a step inside the domain. His flashy bright colours stood out, and as eyes found their way to him he smiled, his smile crept up his face and he fought down the urge to laugh. Nothing here scared him, rather it invited him, challenged him. Here he didn't have the organization to push him down, instead they were back in Cloud, on the streets there, doing what he was certain various groups here were doing. Except in Cloud they had very little in the way of competition. In this place everything was unknown.
Were there multiple large gangs? Did an organization like the one he worked for exist? How strong were they? But then the thought which gave him butterflies, that excited him most, did any of that matter? He didn't care who ran these streets, they had no hold over him, here he was free, truly free. His face turned down, the smile taking on a more ominous look. He was looking for people with which he could set up the organizations business with here, a regular customer or source of custom. Either would work.
The crack of his heels on the pavement pierced the air, fights were easy to find in various alleys. Perhaps because he was so completely out of place in the way he was looking he'd not garnered himself any threats so far. People were watching him, but they were not approaching him, there were no threats on his life, no attempted hold ups. They had clearly seen his type before. He was dangerous, psychotically dangerous, almost inviting someone to make the first move against him, and only the foolhardy, stupid, or most confident individuals would try it in a village filled with shinobi.
Walking into a bar he walked up to the bar, asked for their hardest most disgusting drink. The bartender smirked, poured him some home brewed stuff which he assumed was basically poison, then watched Junan down it with ease and ask for another, taking the drink he went and took a seat. The grin on his face clear as he sipped the drink, not caring at all about the taste nor what effects it would have on the human body. He did however hope it would earn someone some interest in speaking with him. If he were approached rather than needing to approach someone else, then all the more information he was likely to get.
There was a very definitive edge to the location, almost as though the streets got dirtier, darker, less well maintained. This was where people who had nothing went, this was where those who wanted everything went, this was the first place that Junan had been to outside of Cloud where he felt like he was home.
Standing on the edge he took a step inside the domain. His flashy bright colours stood out, and as eyes found their way to him he smiled, his smile crept up his face and he fought down the urge to laugh. Nothing here scared him, rather it invited him, challenged him. Here he didn't have the organization to push him down, instead they were back in Cloud, on the streets there, doing what he was certain various groups here were doing. Except in Cloud they had very little in the way of competition. In this place everything was unknown.
Were there multiple large gangs? Did an organization like the one he worked for exist? How strong were they? But then the thought which gave him butterflies, that excited him most, did any of that matter? He didn't care who ran these streets, they had no hold over him, here he was free, truly free. His face turned down, the smile taking on a more ominous look. He was looking for people with which he could set up the organizations business with here, a regular customer or source of custom. Either would work.
The crack of his heels on the pavement pierced the air, fights were easy to find in various alleys. Perhaps because he was so completely out of place in the way he was looking he'd not garnered himself any threats so far. People were watching him, but they were not approaching him, there were no threats on his life, no attempted hold ups. They had clearly seen his type before. He was dangerous, psychotically dangerous, almost inviting someone to make the first move against him, and only the foolhardy, stupid, or most confident individuals would try it in a village filled with shinobi.
Walking into a bar he walked up to the bar, asked for their hardest most disgusting drink. The bartender smirked, poured him some home brewed stuff which he assumed was basically poison, then watched Junan down it with ease and ask for another, taking the drink he went and took a seat. The grin on his face clear as he sipped the drink, not caring at all about the taste nor what effects it would have on the human body. He did however hope it would earn someone some interest in speaking with him. If he were approached rather than needing to approach someone else, then all the more information he was likely to get.