Post by Daisuke Iwakuma on Dec 2, 2012 21:29:26 GMT -6
This wasn't his typical place to visit.
He hated the atmosphere already. Though no stranger to the gym and a locker room, he hated the smell of sweat, especially when it seemed to stay in the air. However, it was there and Daisuke Iwakuma had to deal. In a black t-shirt that well displayed his biceps and a pair of jeans, along with black shoes, he looked around until he saw who he was looking for. It was an older man that looked like he had walked off the set of Sons of Anarchy.
"You know who I'm looking for," Daisuke said, almost an hint of contempt in his voice.
"You kids keep looking for this guy. I don't know why you can't let the dead stay dead," the older man replied, taking a shot of whiskey from in front of him. He didn't wait long to pour the next shot.
"Unlike his last caller, I know he's looking for me," Daisuke replied. The older man got up. As tall as Daisuke was, this guy was taller.
"Ain't that special? Real fucking cute, kid. Go to my little joint and ask them to take you to the Channard room," the old man said.
"Your cooperation is appreciated, old man," Daisuke said.
"For the record...I hope when you find him, he backfists you," the man shot back as Daisuke left.
It made Daisuke stop and turn his head. He just smirked.
"Hope? I'm counting on it," he chuckled.
It was called The Vampyre Lounge. It was definitely more of a place he'd show his face, and as he stepped in, he practically felt at home. It was swanky, but it was still the kind of place where nothing good could come from conversations and you were more likely to find an unsavory person than a friendly conversation. The sort of evil you found in this place was different than where Daisuke had been not long ago. The only difference was its outer package. Going over to the bouncer by one door, he whispered. This wasn't far from his favorite place to go in southern California, but it lacked the charm. He was warned about that though, the lack of charm. This wasn't the kind of place for someone to call home.
If you did, you'd probably die here.
Taking the walk down the stairs, he looked at his atmosphere. They kept it nice around here, probably because who he was looking for demanded so. He stepped into the room and it was exactly as he expected. The decor, the lighting, all of it. He was a disciple of this path, and it was every bit as he was taught in Japan here as well. He saw the chair by the fire and walked closer, dropping to a knee to bow out of respect.
"Your master said you held regards to our ways," a man's voice said.
"He said you could teach me so much more," Daisuke replied.
"And I can, young Daisuke," the voice started. "But first, I want to know that you have the heart for the task at hand."
"What heart?" the young man asked. There was no hint of humor or sarcasm in his tone.
"I think we'll be just fine," the man smirked, getting up from his chair. "You get three requests fufilled now, the other three when I have his heart," finally revealing himself. He was an older man, long haired with a few hints of wrinkles. Daisuke looked at him in reverence. This was the real gaijin ace of his dojo. This was the man that he could follow, that he could idolize.
"I'm hardly a king, my son," he said, looking down at the man. Daisuke couldn't help but smile.
"But you're the one they--"
"I have many, many names, Daisuke Iwakuma. All you need to know is that I'm what you hoped for," he told the young man. With that, he sized up the boy and nodded, glancing at him. "Now what did you want?"
"I need someone to deal with my cousin, Ayako," Daisuke said.
"Already taken care of. Go home, my son. In fact, I already know what you want. It's there, believe me," the man said. "We," he started, pointing at Daisuke and then himself. "We are legion."
"For we are many," Iwakuma replied.
The older man smirked.
The flight home was quiet, comfortable. It was one of the few times he bothered to take a private jet, even if it was available to him often. The connections his family and his dojo had left him very comfortable to pursue things as he wished, which now included picking up the task of a vendetta he had no real reason to carry. It was hard to explain his connections on his family side, simply that they existed and that he asked few questions. If it wasn't that, it was the renown his dojo had. People wanted fighters, they went to the House of Akiyama. They wanted people to break bones and show no remorse, that was what they had. In the end, it didn't matter where it came from to him. The luxury given to him had proven to only make Daisuke more detatched from most people. He had it better than they did. He had it easier.
When he landed, he casually got out and walked toward the waiting limo. There, in a skirt that just barely qualified as professional and a tight blouse was a brunette girl, hardly anything like Ayako.
"And my cousin is where?" he asked.
"Which cousin?" she replied.
"Ayako. I really could care less what facet of American culture Ichi is taking in," he replied.
"Ayako has been...sent home," she said, looking at him with almost a hint of a smirk and a lick of her lips.
"And you are?" he said.
"Audrey. Audrey Lloris. Consider me an act of faith from your employer. He knows what you want, I know what you want," she said, coming closer. "I know everything you want."
His face never showed emotion.
"We'll tend to that later, Iwakuma-sama. For now, let's prepare for San Diego," she said. "After all, we are legion..."
"For we are many," he finished.
Fade.
He hated the atmosphere already. Though no stranger to the gym and a locker room, he hated the smell of sweat, especially when it seemed to stay in the air. However, it was there and Daisuke Iwakuma had to deal. In a black t-shirt that well displayed his biceps and a pair of jeans, along with black shoes, he looked around until he saw who he was looking for. It was an older man that looked like he had walked off the set of Sons of Anarchy.
"You know who I'm looking for," Daisuke said, almost an hint of contempt in his voice.
"You kids keep looking for this guy. I don't know why you can't let the dead stay dead," the older man replied, taking a shot of whiskey from in front of him. He didn't wait long to pour the next shot.
"Unlike his last caller, I know he's looking for me," Daisuke replied. The older man got up. As tall as Daisuke was, this guy was taller.
"Ain't that special? Real fucking cute, kid. Go to my little joint and ask them to take you to the Channard room," the old man said.
"Your cooperation is appreciated, old man," Daisuke said.
"For the record...I hope when you find him, he backfists you," the man shot back as Daisuke left.
It made Daisuke stop and turn his head. He just smirked.
"Hope? I'm counting on it," he chuckled.
It was called The Vampyre Lounge. It was definitely more of a place he'd show his face, and as he stepped in, he practically felt at home. It was swanky, but it was still the kind of place where nothing good could come from conversations and you were more likely to find an unsavory person than a friendly conversation. The sort of evil you found in this place was different than where Daisuke had been not long ago. The only difference was its outer package. Going over to the bouncer by one door, he whispered. This wasn't far from his favorite place to go in southern California, but it lacked the charm. He was warned about that though, the lack of charm. This wasn't the kind of place for someone to call home.
If you did, you'd probably die here.
Taking the walk down the stairs, he looked at his atmosphere. They kept it nice around here, probably because who he was looking for demanded so. He stepped into the room and it was exactly as he expected. The decor, the lighting, all of it. He was a disciple of this path, and it was every bit as he was taught in Japan here as well. He saw the chair by the fire and walked closer, dropping to a knee to bow out of respect.
"Your master said you held regards to our ways," a man's voice said.
"He said you could teach me so much more," Daisuke replied.
"And I can, young Daisuke," the voice started. "But first, I want to know that you have the heart for the task at hand."
"What heart?" the young man asked. There was no hint of humor or sarcasm in his tone.
"I think we'll be just fine," the man smirked, getting up from his chair. "You get three requests fufilled now, the other three when I have his heart," finally revealing himself. He was an older man, long haired with a few hints of wrinkles. Daisuke looked at him in reverence. This was the real gaijin ace of his dojo. This was the man that he could follow, that he could idolize.
"I'm hardly a king, my son," he said, looking down at the man. Daisuke couldn't help but smile.
"But you're the one they--"
"I have many, many names, Daisuke Iwakuma. All you need to know is that I'm what you hoped for," he told the young man. With that, he sized up the boy and nodded, glancing at him. "Now what did you want?"
"I need someone to deal with my cousin, Ayako," Daisuke said.
"Already taken care of. Go home, my son. In fact, I already know what you want. It's there, believe me," the man said. "We," he started, pointing at Daisuke and then himself. "We are legion."
"For we are many," Iwakuma replied.
The older man smirked.
The flight home was quiet, comfortable. It was one of the few times he bothered to take a private jet, even if it was available to him often. The connections his family and his dojo had left him very comfortable to pursue things as he wished, which now included picking up the task of a vendetta he had no real reason to carry. It was hard to explain his connections on his family side, simply that they existed and that he asked few questions. If it wasn't that, it was the renown his dojo had. People wanted fighters, they went to the House of Akiyama. They wanted people to break bones and show no remorse, that was what they had. In the end, it didn't matter where it came from to him. The luxury given to him had proven to only make Daisuke more detatched from most people. He had it better than they did. He had it easier.
When he landed, he casually got out and walked toward the waiting limo. There, in a skirt that just barely qualified as professional and a tight blouse was a brunette girl, hardly anything like Ayako.
"And my cousin is where?" he asked.
"Which cousin?" she replied.
"Ayako. I really could care less what facet of American culture Ichi is taking in," he replied.
"Ayako has been...sent home," she said, looking at him with almost a hint of a smirk and a lick of her lips.
"And you are?" he said.
"Audrey. Audrey Lloris. Consider me an act of faith from your employer. He knows what you want, I know what you want," she said, coming closer. "I know everything you want."
His face never showed emotion.
"We'll tend to that later, Iwakuma-sama. For now, let's prepare for San Diego," she said. "After all, we are legion..."
"For we are many," he finished.
Fade.
