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Interested?

Hell no. This is stupid. 0.096774193548387 9.7% [ 3 ]
Meh.. 0.19354838709677 19.4% [ 6 ]
Hell yes I'm interested! 0.48387096774194 48.4% [ 15 ]
Don't mind me.. I'm just passin' through 0.2258064516129 22.6% [ 7 ]
Total Votes:[ 31 ]
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papaya j u i c e's avatar

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papaya j u i c e's avatar

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☾--------------------------☽

Makoto Sakamura

Leader of Cold Fire

☽--------------------------☾


                            A slender woman stood at the window of a two story building. It wasn't right in the thick of the city, but on the outskirts. It was the Cold Fire's HQ. Now the HQ was simple enough. It blended in mostly with the surrounding buildings. It was just a house, but it had a garage connected to it on the side. It was for all their motorcycles. The woman standing by the window was the leader of the Cold Fire biker gang. Her name was Makoto. The HQ, it was her home. Not actually. She had an apartment because it was safer. If someone decided to have a grudge on them and try and take out their HQ they wouldn't be able to take out their leader with it. It was safer to keep her living somewhere else. So, she owned an apartment to satisfy her worrisome members, but she stayed in this place most of the time.

                            Her expression was hard. She was staring down at the street. A few pedestrians were passing by. Her eyes then flickered up to the buildings around her. This city. Makoto stared at her surroundings without making a sound, without moving for a long time. Her mind was off someplace else. She did this often. There was always a lot of things to think about. And so she thought about them. Sometimes she would think about her childhood, somethings America, sometimes her father, sometimes the fie, sometimes her gang, but now she was thinking about a different gang. The Black Hawks. What was another gang doing, rising to power? Makoto began chewing on her bottom lip. Tonight was the night they were to meet.

                            A few weeks back she had heard rumblings that a male biker gang was getting a lot of attention and becoming prominent. This was becoming an issue. Cold fire was the top dog biker gang in this city. She would keep that the way it was. No band of boys was going to bump her from the position. Then, to top things off, she got a message. They wanted to rendezvous. They wanted to have a chat. A chat. It would probably be about boarders and the like. Basically are they going to have a mutual relationship or are they going to rip each others throats out? Frankly, Makoto hated these conversations. For one, she didn't like confrontation, and two, whenever they were out and about she always acted as the second hand. Her actually second hand, and best friend, acted in her stead. As the leader. Now, it wasn't that she didn't trust Chizue. She did, with her life, but it was always nerve wracking. She was always a little nervous for Chizue and wary of the others. It made her want to just get back on her motorcycle with the others and ride away into the night and just leave.

                            Makoto inhaled deeply and finally pulled herself away from the window. In two long strides she was at her desk. Her jacket was hanging on the back of the chair. Makoto pushed both her sleeves up a little bit. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. She flipped it open and typed in quickly.

                            Msg: Meet at the HQ ASAP. I have an announcement.

                            Short and simple. That was Makoto's way. She sent it to all her contacts. She had a cell phone for her gang, and an extra for anyone else. That's all she needed. She snapped her phone shut with one flick of her wrist and dropped it on the desk without much care. She racked a hand through her back through her hair, letting it fall back and then around her face. Makoto leaned forward with both hands on her desk and began scouring over a map. She had circled in pencil where their rendezvous point was and was calculating how long it would take them to get there from here and when they should leave and if they should go around a block or two to be flashy, like they often did. The people had to know who they were for their power.

                            She was a thin thing and of above average height. When she was younger she wore cute or pretty things, not so much anymore. Often she would wear men's dress shirts and ties with her outfits. She didn't wear anything flashy or pretty. It wasn't who she was. Besides, she had to hide her scar and most women's fashion showed off the neck, chest and shoulder. She could show none of those things. Makoto stayed at her desk looking at the map as she waited for people to arrive.


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With: No one
Where: Headquarters
OOC: Here we go! I'm so sorry that it took so long. I kept getting stumped! So it's only so-so ^^
Wearing: Outfit
Old Portfolio: X X X X X X X X
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akiha kobayashi

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➸➸ now you see me, never you know me.

                                        Nothing like the smell of cold, hard cash. Walking away from the shadowed alley she had stepped out of, Akiha quickly tucked the roll of money safely into her jacket, securing it in a pocket then withdrawing her hand as if it had never been there. She stared forward aimlessly, face blank and cold, moving at a steady pace through the streets. Keep walking. The woman thought as she squeezed past a couple taking up space on the sidewalk. Get a safe distance away, then you can figure out where you're going. The lump of yen was heavy and hot near her chest, as if it were going to burn a hole through the fabric and escape to the concrete below, exposing itself to the world. It was a large sum - appropriate for the product given in exchange. Another druggie's addiction would be fed, though she wasn't sure for how long. It was amazing how frequent her customers were. Frankly, she was suprised they hadn't dropped dead already from overdose. Not that it was any of her concern. So long as she got the money.

                                        Her earrings clanged together as she was hit by a gust of wind, creating a symphony of metallic noise. Usually she wouldn't wear such gaudy jewelry. In fact, her whole outfit was out of the ordinary - her regular wardrobe was anything but trendy. The only parts of the ensemble she felt comfortable with were her gloves, shoes, and jacket - leather and suede, cool and sleek, and her favorite shades of black. The clothes were a costume. She was a stylish college student walking home from classes. Not a drug dealer heading to safety after trading her wares. As the woman walked, she almost regretted choosing such heavy fabrics - though the heat was lessening as the sun went down, it was still summer, and sweat laced her skin beneath the jacket. But the cover was necessary to hide the dirty money. A bulge in the pocket would be more conspicious than a jacket in summer. She'd learned this through experience. Just as how she'd learned to walk at least ten minutes in a roundabout way before heading home, to throw off possible tails, and to keep strongly scented perfume in her backpack, to overpower any lingering smells from her occupation. Even though she detested the perfume. Even though it reminded her of that woman. But her security was more important than her emotions. She could stomach a few unpleasant memories if it meant she got home safely.

                                        After repeating her usual routine, she pulled over to the side of the sidewalk by a bus stop and looked at the schedule nearby. She was farther away from home than she'd expected - it would take a few transfers to reach her apartment. But just then, she heard the telltale buzz of her phone from within her pack, and quickly retrieved it from it's compartment. Hm. Message from Makoto. Must be official. Akiha knew that Makoto would never contact her for casual matters - they weren't close, and both girls preferred to keep it that way. Akiha preferred to keep it that way with everyone; her phone was almost never used for anything other than work. What calls weren't made to her fellow gang members were made to the various take-out places the young woman frequented. Clicking over to the message, Akiha scrolled down the screen until it was visible. Msg: Meet at the HQ ASAP. I have an announcement. The girl snapped her phone shut and put it back in it's place. Short, sweet, clear. Just like Makoto. Clarity was a trait they shared, and Akiha always respected the girl for her official tone, even in text messages. She turned to look at the bus routes again, and saw that she was relatively close to their headquarters. As the bus pulled up, she hopped on, deposited a few stray coins that had been rattling around in her pack into the box, and took a seat in the back.

                                        It didn't take long to reach her stop. After departing the bus, the girl had to walk only four minutes to reach the building most members called their home. She had memorized the paths in and out of the place from every direction, since she could never be able to tell from which direction she was coming from. Though the black market was a frequent place for her to deal, oftentimes customers would ask to meet in an exclusive location, and the meeting spots varied throughout Tokyo. She had come to know the neighborhood their base of operations layed in well. She knew it's sounds - the coughs of homeless men that took residence in alleys, the barks of dogs that had long since lost their owners. The smells - rust, garbage, and the all too familiar soothing scent of cigarette smoke. And the feel of the pothole-ridden gravel beneath her feet was all so just right, so welcome to her habitual brain. Walking up the path to the two-story, she almost smiled at how routine it was. Then she wondered what announcement Makoto could possibly have to break this routine. Well, I'm about to find out. She thought with finality and trotted up the stairs and through the door.

                                        The first floor was completely empty, which suprised Akiha a bit. Usually it was filled with rowdy gangsters, talking or fighting, but either way making a hellish ammount of noise. But now the only sounds were echoes, and the streetlife she had heard outside. She had never seen it so peaceful. But then again, she usually didn't come in this late. When her deals took place after four pm, she usually decided to go home and get the money into HQ the next day. For a moment she stood still, relishing the silence. Then, abandoning it with a sigh, she headed up the staircase that lead to the second floor. She was surprised further to see it, too, was relatively empty, except for Makoto sitting at her desk. She looked tired, sitting back in the chair with her short black locks falling out behind her. Akiha walked up, past the woman, and to the front of the desk. Then, rummaging around in her jacket for a moment, she took out the stack from earlier and placed it lightly on the table, watching as it slowly unfurled itself. She then walked to one of the chairs placed by the window and fell into it, turning her head back to her leader with an apathetic expression. She said nothing, figuring that until the woman was ready to tell her about the summons there was no need for excess chit chat. And she knew that Makoto wouldn't start until everyone she'd called was there - that considerate and thorough part of her was a little annoying. But it made sense, since it would be troubling to have to go back and explain everything to someone who hadn't arrived before she began. So Akiha waited, sitting in the chair and looking out the window Makoto herself had been gazing through only a few minutes ago.


                                        ➸➸ i have a habit of being hard to understand.


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                                        Anybody listening?
                                        Anybody looking?

                                        OutOfCuriousity: Hope it was an okay first post, I'm drop dead tired > n <
                                        And the "Anybody listening/looking" things are links, though they don't look like 'em, eh heh. It's just her outfit and a song, like what she'd be listening to on her MP3 player. XP
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xxxxxxx Cold Fire xxxxxxx
x L U C R E T I A x
xxxxxxxx Newbie xxxxxxxx

╓──────────────────────────────────────────────────╖

Lucretia, the youngest of the Cold Fire gang had been out racing on her bike the night before and was currently holed up in her room in her fathers house attempting to get some sleep. Her arm was draped over her eyes, shielding them from the bright light finding its was between her blinds. The room was a light purple, her sheets were pink with a floral comforter on them. This wasn't the room of an 18 year-old girl. No, this room was one frozen in time of a small 13 year-old who was just adventuring out into her brothers shop, who was trying to attempt to convince her parents that she was too old for pink and purple. Which obviously never happened.

There was a buzz from the black shiny phone that lay on the white bedside table.

Message:: Meet at HQ ASAP. I have an announcement.

Makoto. The leader of the Cold Fire gang. The one that saved her a** from being beaten half-to-death by the gangs drug dealer. Luc let out a long sigh. She wanted to sleep in, as much as she hated being home she loved her bed. Lucretia finally found the strength and willpower to get up and get dressed. It was the afternoon already. She rubbed her eyes on the way to the closet.

The room may have been frozen in time, but the closet sure wasn't. It contrasted the bright pastels of the room with it's nertral grays, blue jeans, and black, black, black and more black. There was some dark blues and purples here and there though. Korvina slipped on a pair of black shorts, a gray tank top, and, to protect her legs from the motorcycles exhaust pipes, some leather assless chaps. She even grabbed a purple flannel shirt in case the ride got a little chilly from the wind, despite it being the middle of summer.

-----

The ride to the headquarters wasn't terribly long, maybe 15 minutes? Luc took long-cuts to avoid people following her to the hand out, which also happened to be her second home. She had her own room there too, top floor, deemed the cubby hole because it was so small. Just a matress with some sheets and a couple of milk crates with her stuff in them. This was where she stayed if she ever needed to get out or away from her fathers house, which was hell on earth to her.

She didn't bother knocking, just strode in, not paying attention to the fact that the place was empty. The room where they usually had their meeting was also on the top floor and down the hall. She walked in. "Morning." She said to the pair, even though it was probably afternoon, though more towards her leader than Akiha. Her and Akiha still hadn't fully cleared things up since that fight. They'd become neutral towards each other, and it didn't help that the drug dealer kept herself distant from the group and Luc held grudges like the government holds money. She just didn't let them go.


╙──────────────────────────────────────────────────╜
HIGH xxxxxxx SKY
xAS x THE


{{ OOC:: Are we using Harleys-type bikes or Cruiser-type bikes, or does it matter?
E:: I'll wait until someone from Black Hawks posts so Zen has some kind of direction to go other than describing his apartment to no end. }}

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----------------- -------Itsuki Takumi ------ ----------------


"Seriously guys... Time isn't my friend.
The sun is the moon,
The moon is the sun.
If I ask for the time,
Please tell me if it's AM or PM..."

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Taking a big chug of coffee from his large thermos, Itsuki took a deep breath through his nose to take in the rich energy filled drink's scent. With a long sigh, he set his thermos back down on the table. Caffeinated and raring to get back to work, the workaholic ran his fingers through his somewhat lengthy hair. It wasn't much, maybe only covering his eyes at most, but Itsuki couldn't stand having his hair in his line of sight. He didn't even seem to care that his hands were a bit dirty, covered in grease and grime from working almost nonstop. Itsuki joked saying that the grease was 'his brand of hair gel.' Strangely, his hair looked as if he never bogged it down with such nastiness. Maybe it really was his hair gel. Now if only it didn't smell like it did.

"Well..." he started to himself, standing up from the table and taking a stretch with his arms spread wide open. "Looks like I've still got some work to do." He took a couple of handguns that the others had picked up and looked at them with disgust. There were about twelve of them in total, each of them looking like they've never been tested or machined properly. Itsuki dreaded having to have to rig up testing these to fire. He wasn't going to test these himself. No way, no how was Itsuki going to stand behind a gun that was made this poorly. Taking them apart, Itsuki saw all the problems that ensued working on them. He was going to fix them, as he never wanted to leave a project by quitting, but he was going to hate every second of it.

"Better get started, I guess... Itsuki groaned, grabbing all the necessary tools to take apart the guns and repair all that he could. He started with the first, cleaning it out and fixing it to look like a normal gun should. One that fires properly without the risk of killing the shooter. No extra metal inside the chamber of the gun. Each minor repair that Itsuki made to the gun made him hate them even more. When he finally finished working on fixing the handguns, he took them downstairs for a test fire. He readied a trigger mechanism to fire the gun from outside the chamber, loaded the gun with a few rounds into it, and stepped out to fire it. Ah... Perfection. How the guns should have been made in the first place.

With the guns fixed, taking however long it took, Itsuki found that his coffee wasn't going to keep him up much longer. This mechanic barely ever left the garage for the Black Hawks. His sense of time was shot completely. The light barely came into the section of the garage he worked in. Morning looked like sunset and dusk felt like dawn. Poor, poor Itsuki never really had the time to go out and enjoy himself. He was always too occupied with working. Then came the other essential life needs such as eating and sleeping. Itsuki ate when he was hungry and slept when there was no amount of caffeine to match his need for rest. He even had his own little 'sanctuary' in the garage. Itsuki had brought a mattress, a blanket, and one week worth of clothes.

He didn't really care what time it was, Itsuki just wanted some rest. Throwing himself onto the mattress, he covered himself up and was asleep within minutes. Albeit a bit thrown together, it felt almost like home. His apartment wasn't as poorly kept as his 'sanctuary,' but Itsuki still stored a lot of extra parts and tools. It was almost a storage shed to him, with a bed, kitchen and bathroom to get by. Itsuki never had the time to go out anyways, why would his house need to be tidy for a date, let alone any guests? He spent the majority of his time with the Black Hawks, making sure everything was in check, while they made sure that the people stayed in check. Those people being civilians or the other Black Hawk members.























"So... Lunch?
Or is it dinner?
Hell, I can't tell.
I'm in a shop all day working on things,
Does it look like I know the sky?


----- ----Mood: Sleepy --- -----
------- -------Location: Black Hawk Garage ------ ------
----------------- -------Itsuki is with: No one at the moment. ------ ----------------


-
TDA_Romeo's avatar

Dangerous Lunatic

Location: Damien's Apartment, Koto Ward
Current Feeling: Boredom
Ride Tune: Fortunate Son
OOC: N/A


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The cool wind slid across his face as he rode through the quiet streets of his neighborhood, killing the silence with the roar of his Harley Davidson Dyna. On his bike, Damien stuck out like a sore thumb. His open jacket looking like a type of cape that flew in the wind while he was riding, his short, blond hair shining in the moon-light. The only American that lived in his quiet and tucked away neighborhood, it wasn't needed to be said that he was seen as an outsider. Most of his neighbors initially tried to go out of their way to avoid him, which suited Damien just fine. After his time in the combat zone of Iraq, he was used to being shunned by LNs. The situation kept Damien on his toes, and let him know even earlier that something might be wrong if someone was to approach him. In this matter, he wasn't quite sure why he decided to settle in Japan, especially in this tight-nit town. Most people that were in his previous profession would have made their way into "The Circuit", traveling between war zones for easy bucks. However, with the US Administration the was it was, those days were coming to an end. Warriors were quickly becoming a dying breed. He couldn't lie though, he had contemplated being a Merc. He had plenty of offers from various companies who wanted his skills. Plenty of friends in all the companies. Damien simply saw the direction the world was moving towards, and knew that he wouldn't be able to make a living off one tour after another. All good rides come to an end.

Damien slowed his Dyna as he approached the building that housed his far-east home and rolled into the parking complex. The sound of the wind hitting his face was killed by the echoes of his V-Twin as it bounced around the concrete walls. He took the two ramps up to his favorite parking spot between his ZX-6 and his and his 2009 Skyline. He kicked out his kickstand with his black Converse Side-zip and killed his Dyna.

He dismounted from his bike and moved between the vehicles. As he walked, he unzipped his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of strawberry pocky and a cellphone. He opened the box of pocky and placed the pink stick into his mouth before closing the box and packing it back into his jacket. Damien had to admit, it must have been funny to see a large Jarhead with an affinity for a feminine candy. If he were back on the Essex, he probably would have been ridiculed by his battles. Not before he kicked their asses, of course.

Damien made his way to the elevator and fumbled with his phone as he walked, stepping inside the steel suspended coffin. Upon finding the contact he wanted in his phone, he hit the button for his floor and placed the phone up to his ear, biting down on the strawberry iced pretzel and watching as the door closed. "You better be awake." He mumbled to himself as he felt the elevator move. Damien felt the elevator stop after several seconds, stepping out and making his way into the hall. As he walked, he listened to the Garage's answering machine. Grunting in displeasure, he pulled out the keys to his apartment, unlocking the door and stepping inside. "Takumi! it's Trask. I'll be over there in about an hour, make sure the shop's open, Sacho's got some business he wants me to take care of tonight!" With his words said, Damien disengaged his phone and placed it back into his pants pocket.

Almost immediately after hanging up his phone, Damien heard the sounds of repetitive clicking on his tile floor. From the kitchen he saw the perpetually drooping face of his furry room mate. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you want." He said as he walked over to the four-legged pup. He smiled and popped a squat in front of the English bulldog and scooped him into his hand, scratching his belly with his index finger as he entered his kitchen. Damien grabbed a can of puppy chow and popped the tab, tearing off the top and setting it on the floor, setting the dog down. "Chow down, Chesty." He told the pup as he walked away, immediately hearing the can scraping on the floor as the dog began to devour his dinner.

Damien then made his way to the living room, making his way over to his couch. He yawned as he knelt down in front of the furniture, reaching between the cushions and withdrawing his favorite hand cannon and two magazines. He then lifted up his jacket and outer shirt, revealing a concealed Kydex holster and placing the handgun inside, sliding the two magazines in his pocket. as he lowered his shirt back down, his handgun immediately disappeared into his clothes. Damien rolled his shoulders before standing back up, feeling an ache from a job earlier in the day. Content with no-longer feeling naked, Damien made his way to his hallway closet, taking out his helmet before stepping back out the door and locking it. "Time to go do work." He said as he turned around and made his way back to the elevator.
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                                    Hot. Hot. Why is it so hot? Waaaahhhh...

                                    In block 36, building 9, apartment 15, the long limbed figure of Chizue Yoshino lay sprawled out in front of a humming fan, chest exaggeratedly heaving for breath and sweat soaking into the towel hanging around her neck. A heat wave had descended on her neighborhood, and everyone was paying the price for it. All of her windows had been flung open, as well as the ones over her tiny balcony, and everything had been shut off except for essentials and, of course, her beautiful, hard working fan. Ah, if only she had a dozen fans to place in strategic places all over her washitsu room, then life would be perfect! But her utilities bills would probably be horrifying. Then she would have to work twice as hard to keep up with it! Though would that be so bad if she worked in air conditioned places...?

                                    NO!! Chizue rolled onto her side, clutching her head as though she were suddenly suffering from brain freeze. No more work! Her mind was trying to trick her! As though she could actually work more in such exhausting conditions! She had a life, you know! A pretty busy one, in fact! Work and fun and then work and fun put together...it could get kind of tiring sometimes. But Chizue had no intention of changing it for the world. After all, it was a lot of fun! Yup. Except...

                                    She wasn't having any fun right now. She was hot, bored, and lethargic; not a good combination. She debated drinking, because getting drunk often made the time go by quicker, but that meant going out to buy liquor. She wanted to take a nap so that she could wake up to cooler weather, but it was too hot to sleep! It was too hot to do anything!

                                    "Graaaaaaahhhhhh! Why is it so hot, huh?! I really wanna know! Is it global warming?! Is this the karma of our ancestors?! Tell meeeeee!" she yelled at her ceiling, thrusting her arms up to flail them. This hardly lasted even a minute before Chizue's arms dropped back to her sides, and she went limp, energy sapped. She sighed. "No use. If this keeps up...I'll just die here. So much for a cool death for the second in command! 'Here lies stupid Chizue, killed by global warming. So uncool.' Yup, that sounds about right..."

                                    Chizue rolled onto her side again to stare dully at her fan as it whirred and whirred and whirred on. Such a determined little machine. If only she had its energy, maybe she could get something done. Even if it were just drinking...but Maki would probably scold her for drinking out of boredom. Chizue idly wondered what the woman was doing currently. Her leader had been stressing out about another gang recently, but Chizue had worried so much about coming out on top as a teenager that these days she just wasn't as concerned about it as she probably should have been. That was a bad mindset, though, right? Shouldn't she want Cold Fire to flourish and be the best? Yeah. Yeah.

                                    Something was buzzing. Her phone...? Again she rolled, towel slipping off her shoulders as she got up to her knees to look for her smartphone. It was one of her most precious possessions, as well as her most expensive. It was a good thing she had gotten an unlimited internet access deal when she bought it, otherwise she'd be in it deep! She spotted her phone innocently lying a foot away, and she dropped down on her front to pick it up, letting out a grunt as she did. Ow. She checked her messages.

                                    A text from Maki! Yaaaaaay!

                                    Msg: Meet at the HQ ASAP. I have an announcement.

                                    Awww, boooo! This meant she would have to move. She would actually have to get up and walk and take a shower because she was gross and sweaty, and boooo. Surprisingly enough, she found herself already rising to her feet, shedding what little she wore as she made her way to her shower. She finished washing up within a few minutes, and dripped cool water everywhere as she searched for something to wear. All she had available at the moment were a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt along with her leather jacket, but she didn't mind. She wasn't the sort of person who had a wide variety in her wardrobe, and that suited her just fine.

                                    It might be good to invest in more than one pair of shorts, she thought wryly as she dressed. The cold shower had been invigorating, but pants had never been a good choice for this weather. She had been asked more than one time why she didn't keel over and die from overheating. She honestly didn't know. Shaking her head, Chizue finished dressing, reluctantly closed all the windows, turned off her fan, grabbed her wallet, keys and phone, and slipped into her shoes at the entryway before locking her apartment door behind her. She waved at her landlord Subomi-san as she descended the stairs, quickly ducking away into the alleyway leading to her rented garage space before the woman could catch her for conversation. Nice lady, but boy could she talk!

                                    It took a few moments to unlock the garage door, and she smiled at the sight of her UJM, which gleamed in the waning light. Though not her first, Tokagero was definitely her favorite bike of all time, in spite of - or perhaps because of - its simple design. She pulled on her modular helmet, which was white with a green lizard stencil on both sides, and rolled her bike out before securely locking her garage. Like hell she wanted anyone breaking into it, ever. She mounted her bike, turned on the ignition, and was off. With the burning sun sinking in the horizon, she was grateful for her tinted shield. The wind whipped at her clothes, uncomfortably warm. Damn, she wished she hadn't worn her jacket, but she preferred less road burns if she ever had an accident.

                                    It was usually a twenty minute ride to get to headquarters, but five minutes were shaved off thanks to a few back roads she had discovered some time ago. She parked her bike in the large open garage and hung her helmet off a handlebar before heading inside, hands tucked into her pockets with her usual swagger. The first floor was empty, almost eerily so, but she readily assumed her cute little juniors were off causing trouble elsewhere. She legged it up the stairs to the second floor, and absently rapped her knuckles on the door frame as she walked into Makoto's office. It often doubled as their meeting room when they wanted private discussions amongst the inner circle, and Makoto usually let Chizue have free reign about the place so long as she didn't mess with certain things. Sticky fingers and all that.

                                    It looked like not everyone had arrived just yet, and of course it had to consist of some of the quieter members in their group. "Yo! Kobayashi-kun, Ikeda-chan, good evenin'. Sup, Maki?" she greeted, throwing an arm over her friend's shoulders and peering down at the map that Makoto was staring at so intensely. Seriously, the girl was giving her a migraine just by looking at her. Makoto had the right kind of eyes for intense looks, all dark and mysterious. Chizue spotted the little spot circled in pencil, and she tapped it with one long finger. It hadn't been there the last time she'd look at this particular map, but then would she have remembered it anyway? At any rate, Makoto's gaze was directed at that general area.

                                    "Hn...we goin' somewhere, Maki?" she asked, leaning her head down so that she could look up at Makoto and raise a single eyebrow at the other woman. It was a skill she was quite proud of. Mostly because it was fun to wiggle her eyebrows at people.

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xDaishox's avatar

Wheezing Gekko



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K U R A M A XXM O R I


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                                      "Bye babe. I'll see you after work." When the woman before him hesitated a few moments Kurama took it as his cue. He swung an arm around her, supporting her head with his broad hand. She tilted her chin up and feigned a shyness that the red-head knew she didn't have a shred of. Leaning in, their lips embraced, both opening to create an abyss for their tongues to dance within. The taller male ground their bodies together, giving her a little frisk here and there with his hands, enough to get her feeling good, but not so much as to get her wet and ready to go. They screamed a shamelessness that everyone around seemed to take notice of as they made out right in front of the building the business woman worked at. No one would say anything of course - she was a higher up who liked to bite the heads off of lesser men and eat them for snacks. You wouldn't be able to tell though from her thin waist and skinny legs. There was a cause to be openly conspicuous now though, when she was returning to work to put in overtime for a project she was doing. Kurama knew when she left this late into the evening he wouldn't see her until morning, and she was always much too tired to bang when she did get home.

                                      Disentangling their lips Kurama licked his, giving her a n** on the neck before moving to her ear to whisper, "Don't make me wait too long tonight." Watching her walk into the building the blue eyed male begun to think it was time to start scouting the scene again. It wouldn't be long before her superiors started to ask questions, and it would be better if he wasn't around for it.

                                      Swinging a leg over Ryota Sakamura's bike, he fit on his helmet, his riding gloves crunching beneath his grip as he revved her up. He took off fast, the roar of the powerful engine between his legs making him happier than any woman could have. The new leather jacket he'd received as a gift from Saki-chan (the business woman) fit him nicely, the cow-hide soft and supple, but strong enough to defend Kurama against the cool winds when riding.

                                      Today was the big day, or night would be more accurate, and he would start it off with a bang.

                                      Stopping at Itsuki's he made sure his bike was nice and safe before strolling off to a coffee shop. He grabbed enough coffee for the men in his crew, along with a dozen donuts for them to share as well. As an extra he bought a sandwich. Making his way back in no time, he busted into the room, prizes in hand.

                                      "Yo, yo, Black Hawks!.. Tonight's the night we've been waiting for." Their leader begun to rev his own engines up, preparing for the night they were supposed to encounter Cold Fire for the first time.

                                      "You guys better be..!" Setting his eyes upon the scene he found an empty room. No wait... that bump on the mattress was Itsuki right?

                                      "Ready..." Finishing his sentence from earlier he walked over to the mattress, throwing off some tools and rags from a table, and putting his foodstuffs there. With a 'tch' the red head looked disdainfully at the dismal scene.

                                      "Su - ki - saaaaaaan..!" Kurama started ominously, creeping up on the figure, unaware if he was sleeping or not. Either way it didn't quite matter. He pounced on the curled up figure, grappling him to try and get an arm around his head and make him concede victory to his well-planned sneak attack. It was a whole mass of 6 foot muscle, coming at him.

                                      "Wake up!" He roared, ready to infect the others with his excited emotions, but the mechanic being hiss only current outlet. Finally getting off Itsuki, he threw the sandwich to him. "Eat somethin' will ya? You're gettin' freakin' skinny! Looks like they're starvin' you or sumthin'" Kurama remarked pulling out his Blackberry. He would have preferred an iPhone, but Saki-chan used a Blackberry with her company, so it was cheaper for her to buy one of the same for Kurama. He wasn't happy about it, but he took it anyways. He touched the screen scrolling through to a group message. Clicking in his words he sent it out to everyone, picking out a cream-filled donut and munching on it until Itsuki got up and pumped some caffeine into himself or one of the other guys came in.

                                      To: Black Hawks
                                      Message: OI! Get your lazy asses to the garage pronto -
                                      It's a Fuji Mountain night!

                                      // Sacho //


                                      He had a habit to type weird messages. By a Fuji Mountain night, he meant it to be something monumental. Whether the guys got his meaning or not, they knew what was coming up, and he'd made sure to tell them to make the necessary preparations they'd needed for the night. Throwing off his jacket he exposed the tighter, black v-neck top he wore, matching with grungy, ripped, blue jeans tinged a brownish-grey that bunched up where they met his half-laced black leather combat boots. The belt attached to his waist was simple and black, but off of it, near his back right belt loop, hung a few decorations - beads actually. One was blue, one was green with a small bit of black inside and one was a round hematite. Still munching on his donut he took a seat throwing around more tools and supplied onto the ground that may have been strategically placed there in the first place. ignorant, Mori said,

                                      "So what've you been workin' on?" It was more to pass the time as he waited for everyone to get there. It wasn't their HQ but it would do until Saki-chan finished building them a nicer one.





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Black Hawks
Akiyama "Z☯N" Takagachi
Drug Dealer



There was a small white room, sparse with belongings, housing only a mattress with crumpled sheets, a desk, lamp, scattered bits of clothing and copious amounts of baggies ranging from itty-bitty to very very large. Also a silver-haired man, who just happened to be fumbling away with a calculator and pen.

Akiyama, Aki for short, and better known as Zen, was the drug dealer for the Black Hawks motorcycle gang. A gang that was gaining 'respect' very quickly.

He got the nickname Zen because he really needed some. He was a hot-headed boy that was up one minute and down the next, friendly then violent. His varied usage of drugs not only caused his hair to gray prematurely but it also affected his personality, made it sour at times. You could just never tell what was coming next. So whenever he was in a foul or unpleasant mood people would joke and say he needed some Zen, and it stuck.

The young-man was about to fall over in his chair and crash, but he needed to figure out the groups finances first. Yes the druggie was also pretty much the groups treasurer and a math genius. But he was stumped as to how they were losing so much business. There had been a couple new gangs of different types that came into their area but they didn't seem to be doing much harm... well there were a couple. A chinese drug gang was making themselves more known, but Akiyama didn't think loyal customers would buy into the cut that those guys were selling. Then there was another motorcycle gang, apparently the Black Hawks had kind of ticked them off... mildly, but having another big gang angry at them would not help out their situation.

Aki, in a fit of frustration, shoved the calculator, papers, drugs, baggies, and the like off of his desk and headed for his bed before his already dark circles grew darker.

---------------

It was the next morning and Zen was shuffling in the sheets, in only his boxers, attempting to wake up from the drug induced nightmare. With a start he woke up rubbing his eyes and cursing, something about how he needed to break the habit. Yeah right. That would be the day. All of a sudden the little flip phone buzzed to life a couple times with the distinctive tone that belonged to their leader, Kurama Mori.

Not wasting a second, and not even checking the message he dressed and headed out the door to his bike, but not before packing himself a couple of joints and taking a long snort of some fine white powder to get him going; he'd still need coffee though, but he knew who would have it. Ripped jeans, boots, and a plain white teeshirt was the fashion of the day as he started his bike up and headed down the road towards their garage.

---------------

The roar of his engine could be heard down the street when he came speeding into the driveway of their groups garage. He had his helmet on, something he usually didn't wear, when he walked into the garage. "Coffee?" He asked begrudginly towards the mechanic, american, and the redhead the muffled voice caused by the helmet only making him sound more pissed than he normally was. The scene didn't seem to affect his mood at all, he was somewhat used to this kind of stuff, and after so many drugs and parties involving them, hardly anything was surprising. Hardly, at least with this group.





{{ OOC: SO MUCH EFFING CODE! Also I'm still trying to decide if I want either of my characters to ride harley-type bikes or sport-type bikes. }}
Herpinderping16's avatar

Thankful Friend

9,300 Points
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----------------- -------Itsuki Takumi ------ ----------------


"Seriously guys... Time isn't my friend.
The sun is the moon,
The moon is the sun.
If I ask for the time,
Please tell me if it's AM or PM..."

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Bririririririiiiiiiiiing! Briririririririiiiiiiiiiing! Briririririririiiiiiiiiiiiing! Bririririririiiiiiiiiiiing! Click.... Itsuki groaned at the sound of the phone and rolled over. The others new him all too well. Weary, groggy, and yawning quite a bit, Itsuki stood up and stretched himself back awake. He listened in for the answering machine, knowing that it was already too late to pick up the phone. "Takumi! it's Trask. I'll be over there in about an hour, make sure the shop's open, Sacho's got some business he wants me to take care of tonight!" Damian, the Right Hand of the gang. Orders are orders. Itsuki had to do as told, or be in a load of trouble. If not with the Right Hand, then with the Leader, Kurama. Trouble wasn't really part of Itsuki's schedule. What he really wanted was sleep.

Well... Trask only mentioned to make sure the shop was open, right? Score! About another hour or so of shut eye then. Opening the shop was simple enough. Though walking as sluggish as could be, Itsuki lifted up the garage doors and unlocked the front of the shop. The light was surprising, and also hurt his eyes. He really had no idea what time it was, though the sunlight was a defining factor that it was sometime during the actual day. Stretching and yawning once more, Istuki felt the breeze of fresh air. It wasn't as stuffy as the garage, and it felt rather nice. This was perfect and all, but Itsuki was really dying for a bit of shut eye. An hour really wouldn't be much at that point anyways. And this breeze did feel rather intoxicating.

Itsuki looked back at his makeshift bed and sighed. "No sleep for me now. I bet the big boys have a need for me later tonight. Better get a bite to eat before getting dragged into everything. Maybe cap off the ol' caffeine supply while I'm at it." Itsuki looked back at the shop and pulled out his Victory's CORE bike and locked up the shop again. "Sorry, Damian. My stomach comes first in this situation..."

Firing up the engine, the mechanic set out for the restaurant down the street from the garage. Itsuki was a regular there. With all the time that he spent the garage, he needed a nearby place to fill his belly. Itsuki stopped by and ordered miso soup and another large cup of coffee to go. Normally he ate there, but he didn't want to have the shop closed for the others when they showed up. Damian was going to be there in less than an hour, and while he did do as he was told, Itsuki closed the shop up again. Damian wasn't going to be happy if that was the case. And if he had a problem, Kurama might have one as well. Again with that whole 'trouble' situation Itsuki wanted to avoid. While Itsuki was a full on member of the Black Hawks, he didn't seek them out. They came to Itsuki for a mechanic to keep their bikes and equipment in top working condition. The higher ups on the list could do away with Itsuki however they pleased if they didn't like how he was behaving. Besides, a working hand was easy to come by given enough pay. He had an important job, sure, but it was one of the easiest to replace. Sure the new members came and went, but their importance was mainly in the number factors. A lot of them abused their welcome, which was quickly made work of. Some of the others got caught and jailed by the police. Rookie mistakes and all.

Itsuki was never one to be a part of the violence himself, but he's done his share of misdeeds with the gang. It shames him a bit to think that his life has been forced to go down such an alley just to get by, but he tends not to think about it. Lingering thoughts like that only lead to mistakes. Mistakes that could be costly. He made close bonds with these guys, Itsuki didn't want to be the cause of any problems they could get into. Most importantly Itsuki hated the thought that he could be the cause of anything that led to their deaths. Itsuki pulled his thoughts together to think better things. His job with the Black Hawks paid the bills, and it wasn't all bad. The mechanic made friends with some of the folk near his apartment and the garage. Though he was hardly around his apartment, he could spot problems as they arose and insisted to help. That is, if he had the free time. While it earned him a little extra money here and there, it also helped alleviate some of the fears people had about these gangs roaming the streets.

To Itsuki, the Black Hawks wanted to be known, rather than feared. He didn't believe the gang to uphold the 'You're either with us or against us' style thoughts that many other gangs do, but rather be supported, influenced and grow in a more undercover like way. Riot and fight after fight and riot was a way to get attention, but it made the streets unsafe and threatened business away. You either lost a buyer or made an enemy, most cases both. Itsuki helped fix problems for those around him because it helped retain business, and even allowed for those people to trust the Black Hawks for protection if trouble was brewing. That was Suki-san's past mechanic employer's experience talking though. You either did a good job so that the client would come back in case of another problem, or lose business because of a low end job that the client hated.

Riding back to the shop, that was all Itsuki could think about. These thoughts were the only things clouding his mind at the moment. He had almost forgot all about Damian and Kurama's business for today. Itsuki almost forgot where he was going too. Good thing it was almost habit for the boy to drive to the Black Hawks' garage. He pulled back into the garage and opened up the shop once more. Itsuki was gone for maybe half an hour, but for no one seemed to have been here yet. No matter, Itsuki sat down and chowed down on his food. He was so hungry that it was gone in seconds. Suki-san had barely any time to savor the taste of it at all.

With no one here, Itsuki actually took the chance to look at the time. He thought he had enough time for a little more shut eye. Itsuki crawled back into his makeshift bed and covered himself up. The idea didn't last long, for the mechanic heard a loud, booming voice entering the garage. There was a voice he knew all too well know, Kurama's. Itsuki hoped that if he stayed still and quiet that the boss would leave him be.

Would he?

...Would he?

"Su - ki - saaaaaaan..!" he said in a spooky whisper. Oh no... Almost instantly, the energetic leader was pouncing on the sleepy-eyed mechanic and putting him in a hold that hyper-extended his arm behind him. "Ow ow ow! I give! I give!" Itsuki cried out, surprised in both being startled and in pain. "Wake up!" Kurama demanded, in a boisterous shout. With those kind of vocal chords, who couldn't hear him? Itsuki was rather sure that he was NOT getting his sleep anytime soon. "Eat somethin' will ya? You're gettin' freakin' skinny! Looks like they're starvin' you or sumthin'" the boss added, chucking a sandwich his way. Itsuki caught it and almost fumbled it to the floor, but managed to keep it from the grime below. "Oh, um... I just ate, but why not?"

Moving at what seemed fifty times faster than Suki-san, Kurama was already wondering what the mechanic had been up to. Ugh... The painful memories that were not too long off. Itsuki dug up one of the guns that he had fixed up to fire correctly and put it down on the table. "These. Whoever sold this and the eleven others with it needs to be dealt with. I know we buy this off the black market, but this was low quality even for that. I looked at these earlier and had to fix them. If I didn't, these would probably blow off your hand. I'm just glad to have these fixed..."

Just then, the sound of a motorcycle roared. Itsuki turned his gaze to the doorway and waited for the rider to walk through the door. Helmet on, the rider walked into the shop. The mechanic recognized the man as Akiyama. Known to everyone in the Black Hawks as Zen, and addressed as such. He wondered if anyone wanted some coffee. Holding up his thermos, Itsuki declined the offer and took a sip. Mmmm. Still good.

[OOC: Consider the beginning of this post leading up to when Sacho showed up, then everything after that. Any problems, let me know. D: ]




"So... Lunch?
Or is it dinner?
Hell, I can't tell.
I'm in a shop all day working on things,
Does it look like I know the sky?


----- ----Mood: Sore, sleepy, yet somehow waking up. --- -----
------- -------Location: Black Hawk Garage ------ ------
----------------- -------Itsuki is with: Sacho and Zen ------ ----------------


-
TDA_Romeo's avatar

Dangerous Lunatic

Location: Damien's Apartment, Koto Ward
Current Feeling: Feeling free
Ride Tune: Thundergods
OOC: N/A


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Damien' Dyna roared through the Tokyo streets as he maneuvered between cars and lanes. As he weaved in and out between lanes he swerved into the oncoming lane, coming face to face with a large transport truck a few hundred meters away. The driver of the truck began hitting his horn, in hopes that Damien would go back to his proper lane. Damien wasn't shook. He had played this game before- although, at least here, the chances of the cars and trucks here blowing up were severely limited than in Iraq. He simply glared through his tinted visor and watched as the truck drew closer and closer, until it was almost twenty meters away from him. In between the time that the truck and Damien were closing in on each other, the trucker had hit his horn more times than Damien cared to count. At that point, Damien went back into his lane, smiling under his helmet. Damien was certain that he had come close to giving the man a heart attack- Damien couldn't help but chuckle a little.

As the Dyna closed in on the garage, Damien felt his vest pocket vibrate. Not wanting to take his eyes off the road, Damien simply continued to ride, having a feeling that he knew of only a few people that it could be that would call him at this time of the night. Of those few people, only one would be important enough for him to almost get in a wreck for. As he rounded the next street, he came upon the garage front for their gang. Slowly, Damien lifted his visor and scoped the bikes that sat in front of the garage. "So, we got Druggie, Gearhead, and Big Bossman." He thought aloud as he pulled into the garage and revved his engine, announcing his arrival.

He let the motor run for a few more minutes before he killed the engine and hopped off the Harley. He then took off his skull-ridden helmet and placed it on his handlebars. "Shogun, what's the deal?" He asked in the best shot at Japanese as he could. Damien hadn't been in the country to fully have a good conversation with the natives, but he got by with what he could. As Damien awaited an answer, he reached into the pocket his jacket and drew out a pack of cigarettes and his zippo, popping the box open and drawing out a single red with his lips. He then looked down at his lighter, A momento from Iraq. It was cheap and poor quality, with a horrible design of the EG&A on it- a reminder to Damien of the poor state of the country and the tour. He flicked open the top with his thumb and spun the wheel with his index finger, lighting the cigarette before flicking it closed and placing it back into his jacket.
xDaishox's avatar

Wheezing Gekko



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K U R A M A XXM O R I
● ● ● [ WITH ] ● ● ● / / Itsuki, Zen, Damien ● / /

● ● ● [ WHERE ] ● ● ● / / Black Hawks' Garage ● / /
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                                      A boyish grin grew on his face as the shorter, full japanese male mechanic gave in to his brutish prompts for victory. He had just eaten huh? Couldn't have been - he looked like one of those half starved African kids. Soon he'd be getting a swollen belly or something. His attention was soon caught on the mechanic's new item though, hearing his latest news about shitty guns.

                                      "Yeah, they need to be dealt with." Kurama concurred, picking up what Itsuki had placed down and examining it. It looked like a legitimate gun sold from any regular store, but he guessed he'd gotten what they'd paid for. At least they had the mechanic to fix 'em up. "This the usual guy you get 'em from?" Tossing it in the air to allow himself time to re-grip the way a gun should be held, the redhead examined it side to side, testing how it felt. He didn't deal in the shitty bootlegged guns of the Black Hawks, he more oversaw it, and fixed things if they needed to be fixed. As in now. He couldn't rely on all of Damien's guns, and those were a bit too valuable and expensive for the every day joe shmoes. They couldn't lose that kind of business to Cold Fire or other up-and-coming gangs though, so they did have to dim down some quality for the poor ********.

                                      "Give me some details on them then Itsuki. If these are the same guys, they're intentionally shittin' their quality, probably going to ask for more money. A little talkin' to them might help, right?" Looking ahead he extended his arm with the loaded gun, closing one eye as if he were aiming for something on the wall. His lips had curled into a bit of a grin - not one that contained mirth though, one of a feline stalking its prey. Intentionally provoking the leader of the Black Hawks? Not so much a good idea. They were probably hoping to hike their prices before the Black Hawks got too big. They misjudged their timing a bit on that one though.

                                      Hearing the door open and someone enter Kurama immediately jolted his extended arm to aim at the doorway, the loaded gun's dark cyclops eye taking a gander at their drug dealer.

                                      "Bang!" The red head said, pretending to receive the shock up his arm. "You're dead." As far as the leader could tell, the grey-haired man didn't react much to the danger of the situation, but merely shuffled in, looking for coffee, used to their leader's actions perhaps.

                                      "On the table." Kurama pointed at the bitter brew with his gun hand, the other arm lazing casually on the back of a sofa. His legs had spread as he remained in a relaxed position.

                                      "You look like s**t. Take two. That colourful donut too, with all the sprinkles on it. When're you going to let me dye your hair huh? You need some colour in your life." Kurama complained at the male. He'd been pestering him to let him dye his hair a raven-coloured black for ages. Really, he'd wanted to give him a bright orange or an icy blue, something of that like, but he didn't think the guy would go for it. For shits and giggles maybe pink.

                                      Zen seemed to be eternally tired - well, drugs could do that to you. He'd be a bright kid if he wasn't strung out all the time. The redhead had been there and done that and couldn't go back. He'd had enough energy when he was Zen's age, but he was an older guy now - more mature, or so he liked to believe.

                                      "Give me something to look at." He commanded, wanting to know how their finances were going. He would often ask everyone for a report of such, detailing what was happening. What kind of a leader would he be if he didn't know what was going on within his own gang? If they didn't want to make a report of any kind though he'd take a briefing in a private meeting sort of way.

                                      "Ahhh, Sargento Shini. Hearro." Mori greeted the American when he entered, speaking his best english - or should I say engrish - to the man. It wasn't a lot, he knew a few phrases, but his pronunciation was so shitty you could barely tell he was speaking english in the first place.

                                      "I'll tell you once Ryan and Young Blood get here - though I will tell you to put a hold on your mission for tonight. At least until after something bigger happens." Kurama let a little hint drop of something big happening tonight. "Also Itsuki informs me we've been getting shittier cheaper guns, yet we're still paying' the same for 'em. Tomorrow or some time soon, we're gonna go chat with 'em. Ryan too. I'll tell him whenever that ******** decides to come." Intentionally rough when speaking about his second in command, it only showed their closeness.






TDA_Romeo's avatar

Dangerous Lunatic

Location: Black Hawks Garage
Current Feeling: Standing Fast
Ride Tune: N/A
OOC: N/A


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Damien smiled at the Black Hawk Leader's greeting, his cigarette being manipulated by his lips. He moved over to one of the guns that the gang had picked up, inspecting it as he listened to his briefing on the night's events. "Amarini mo kantan" He muttered as he gripped the handgun, staring down the sights. "Sights are off. Pretty shitting manufacturing from the looks of them. Looks like some kind of Dawa copy out of Pakistan." He placed the handgun down on the table. "This wouldn't be a problem if we picked up on my side-business." He mentioned as he looked over to the Leader with a large grin, cigarette smoke slightly filtering out from his lips as he opened his mouth.

Damien knew about the gang's weapons problems. Damien knew that the Black Hawks were going to be in some deep s**t with these Cold Fire bitches. He didn't have the full story. He just knew that Sancho had his commanding presence. Similar to Damien's old Squad Leader. He could still see the man now, standing in his kit, throwing out calm and collected orders to Damien and his Fireteam in the middle of a fire fight in Fallujah.

"You know that I'll give you a good family price on some nines. Everyone uses those." He said with a s**t-eating grin, plucking out his cigarette with his left hand and flicking the ash off the end of the cherry. Damien drew his MEU (SOC) with LAM and showed it off. "Get another one of these for you . Yoi kakaku." He then twirled the handgun on his finger and grabbed the barrel, offering it to the leader. "Can't have this one though. Ash and I got some history together." As Damien looked at Kumara, immediately thinking of the night they first met. Damien was outside some bar in the downtown district of Tokyo, fighting with some Japanese low lives and Sancho got involved. Some backs were saved that night. Damien never forgot.

Damien immediately went back to the current situation. "I got to say though, this dealer... You sure I'm going to need back up on this? Come on, Shogun, I can do this tonight, by myself, even with everything going on." He asked. Damien, when it came down to taking care of business, wasn't sloppy. He made sure that people got messages, and that problems were taken care of. He wasn't going to let bullshit like this slide. He didn't need back up like Ryan... Ryan. Damien couldn't see how a Jap could have such an English name, but as far as XOs go, Damien knew he could count on him. This new kid, however, Damien wasn't sure, Damien also wasn't one to just let a new guy come in without proving their metal.

Damien's eyes continued to look down at his 1911, wondering why it was still in his hand, his eyes then going back up to Sancho, as if to say "go ahead, give it a glance." Damien placed the cigarette back in between his lips as he continued his gaze upon the Biker Leader.
papaya j u i c e's avatar

Questionable Prophet

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☾--------------------------☽

Makoto Sakamura

Leader of Cold Fire

☽--------------------------☾


                            Makoto glanced up when she heard someone enter the room. Akiha was standing in front of her desk. She woman watched her drugdealer rummaged in her jacket. She waited patiently for what Akiha was going to give her. The pair didn't talk very much. Makoto and Akiha both spoke when they needed to. If they were together and didn't need to speak they just wouldn't. That's something she liked about Akiha. They were comfortable with just staying silent and didn't feel the need to create frivolous small talk. When the money was placed on her desk she reached over one hand and picked up the wad of paper. It was a generous amount. Makoto straightened up and counted the money quickly. When it was all counted she opened a drawer in her desk. Makoto grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. The paper had her chicken scratch on it, written down the paper in two columns. She jotted down the number and returned the paper to the drawer. She then reached into the back of the drawer and stuck the tip of the pen into a small hold in the back. The back of the drawer popped out. Makoto stored the money back there until she had time to take it to the bank. After placing the money and popping the back of the drawer back in she shut the drawer and gave a little sigh.

                            Makoto the leaned back on her hands again as the next person entered the room. Luc entered looking tired. Makoto smirked at the woman. "Evening," She replied to the woman's greeting. Her attention then turned back down to the map once again. She was going to wait until everyone was here because it was more convenient that way. That's when her best friend entered. The woman started a little bit at Chizue's loud greeting. The room had been so quiet until the. She felt a familiar arm toss itself over her shoulders. Makoto smiled at she felt the woman lean over her to look down at the map that she had just been intensely studying. She saw Chizue's hand appear in front of her vision. She had immediately spotted the light circle around the rendezvous point. It was an old parking garage that hardly anyone every used. A good place for two gangs to meet up at night.

                            That's when Chizue's face leaned down in between Makoto's and the map. At the question, Makoto nodded. "Mm-hm." She couldn't help but smirk at Chizue's arched eyebrow. Makoto could do it too, but without the same kind of finesse that Chizue used. It suited the other woman better. She straightened up, bringing her second in command up with her. "Remember? The meeting with the Black Hawks is tonight." she told the girl. She hadn't wanted to say anything until everyone was there, but this shouldn't hurt. Makoto had told Chizue about the rendezvous a little while back, but it must have slipped the woman's mind. That was fine. Makoto wasn't really the type to forget anyway.


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With: Lucrieta, Akiha, Chizue
Where: Headquarters
OOC: Dead -.-
Wearing: Outfit
Old Portfolio: X X X X X X X X

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                                my reflection just, bends in to rows of clothesTA
                                      TABand bad ideas, TA but ideas nonetheless TA in a song !



                              PROFITPROPHET HIS breath created a haze along his instrument’s reflective surface, he watched himself for a second looking into his own eyes for a moment, the eyes of a monster, a hunter. Squatting behind his victim, who was strapped onto the table, plastic securing him in place also acting as a net for any blood splatter. The room was set up in a drug warehouse, pictures of a family had been placed on along the walls that surrounded the pleading drug kingpin. These pictures were pictures taken by the police after their bodies had been found. “What do you want?! Money? I can give you money, is it drugs that you want? I can get you anything you need, man!” Grinning softly the assailant spoke. “I want your life, Felix. That is all.” His english accent still survived, though more american now, the british was still very present in his voice. “My guys will ******** kill you! You’re dead, you hear me? YOU ARE DE-” With a precision strike the instrument went into the kingpin’s corruption ridden heart. “Yes, yes I’m dead, oh woe and matrimony you’ve shaken me to the care, you know how old that’s become? Can’t people like you find something new to say?”The man speaking into the other's fluttering out eyes, he was still alive choking on his blood listening to the last words spoken; the fear of death was fleeting he had accepted his fate now the only fear that remained was what remained after. “You’re ‘guys’ will be too busy killing the enemy gang that outguns them; they think they killed you by the way.” Speaking to the now dead body, it would be in the next hour or so that Ryan would go through the process of butchering the body into smaller pieces to be placed in a garbage bag with rocks in the bottom of it which would find its home with 78 other bags just like it at the bottom of an oceanic trench.

                              PROFITPROPHET Radiant arrows of light found their way past the shutters of his windows, with grunts of displeasure Ryan shifted his once motionless body to try to get away from Helios’ waking call but the effort was futile. Sliding his body off the bed, stretching as he stood with a groggy yawn to accompany it. Dragging himself to the bathroom discarding his underwear as he slipped into the shower; as the water worked its wonders it had filled the bathroom with it’s off product of steam. With time passing and his ritualistic morning continuing Ryan stepped out of the shower moving the towel against his body allowing the tool to do its wondrous work of removing the excess water from his skin. As his body dried the man was quick to work in dressing his body in his garments.

                              PROFITPROPHET He would be out the door moments later; dressed in a simple grey shirt and black jeans he looped his walking path around towards the garage as the doors began to rise at the click of a button they would unveil its own hidden contents, a Brammo Empulse; one of the newer age motorcycles completely electric in function. Gripping his fingers around it’s handles and applying pressure which would send him on his journey. He had already checked the message from Mori for him to head over to the Garage, which was excellent for him; he had planned on going there in the first place and in the matter of an hour or so he was walking in the door of garage; only taking a moment to check his peripherals for who was all there before he actually spoke. “So, where’s young blood at?”




                                    So I left, that is it. That’s my life,, nothing is sacred I don't keep friends,TA
                                          TABI keep acquainted, TA I'm not a prophet, TA But I'm here to profit !
                                              █████ ███ █ █ ██
                                              R Y A N M A V E N

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