───────── • 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.
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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.
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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.
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{{ 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. }}