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Solo The Mad

"Humans are such deliciously interesting people! Don't you agree?"

0 · 421 views · located in Ingloriously Normal Japan, 20XX

a character in “Bad Hands”, as played by Astro_B0Y

Description

SOLO THE MAD, WEILDER OF THE BLACK BOOK




Image


BASICS
Name: Mugen Kuzunoha
Age: 24
Faction:

Solo works with each of Japan's organizations. His network spreads far and wide. He maintains a policy of neutrality with all gangs.

Role: Information Broker

Solo has an extensive network of loyal contacts that he's been building since he was younger. Solo's contacts give him eyes and ears that reach all around Japan. His valuable information leads many to seek his aid. although Solo himself is a decent fighter, his true power lies in knowledge and information. He is one of the top information brokers in Japan, and because of this indispensable to the country's gangs. His loft/main office is located in Osaka. He prefers that place because its position as a neutral zone of sorts.


APPEARANCE

Complexion:

Solo's healthy skin is a light brown color. It's smooth to the touch, and there isn't a wrinkle or blemish to be seen. His hands are always manicured, put the palms are rough to the touch.

Body Type:

Very thin and athletic. His body is toned, but there isn't much muscle to speak of.

Height and Weight:

Solo comes in at 6'3", and weighs about 140 lbs.

Distinguishing marks:

This is the big one ladies and gentlemen. Solo has a couple things on his body that separate him from most. For starters, underneath Young Kuzunoha's right eye is a small beauty mark, his mom had one in the same place. But here's the real kicker. Starting at his collar bone, the entire left side of Solo's body is covered in tattooed text. These words that cover his body are excerpts from the fabled Black Book. These intricate tattoos glow bright with magical energy when a spell is cast.

Apparent Temperament:

Solo's posture can be very paradoxical. He always seems relaxed and smooth. A cool aura radiates from the man. At the same time, Solo will occasionally break into a skip or twirl on his way down the street. His aloof demeanor persists into the most chaotic and solemnest of times. His face is always accompanied by a perpetual smirk.

Hair and eyes:

His dark brown hair is buzz cut. Solo's eyes are a pair of burgundy colored orbs.

Facial features:

A tiny beauty mark underneath his right eye, and stubble on his chin lend some uniqueness to Solo's oval face. Both of his ears are pierced. At both lobes, two black bead-like earrings lie. On his left side, two more hoop earrings can be found along his cartilage.

Wardrobe:

Young Kuzunoha's wardrobe ranges from business casual, to painfully hipster. A typical outfit for him consists of a white tank top, his favorite light black waist length jacket, dark pants and a pair of white loafers and a white leather belt. Let's not forget the yellow and red flannel that hangs from his waist--that manages to add some flair. There are a number of accessories that Solo never leaves the office without.

The first is his black hat (see photo). It is adorned with two pins on the right side of the brim. One yellow one with a smiley face, and one pink one with the word BANG! written in blue across the face. Solo keeps a silver necklace around his neck. At the end of the chain is a silver ring. Judging by how protective he is over it, Kuzunoha is obviously very attached to the trinket. Two leather wristbands are around his right wrist and, finally, on both middle fingers two silver 'X' shaped rings cover the length of the finger.


PERSONALITY

Solo's one whimsical, crude son of a bitch. From the get go, one will notice one thing: Solo's better than you, and he knows it. Arrogant as hell, he likes when things go his way and simply can't stand to come in second to ANYBODY. He has a strong sense of self, and values his individuality of anything else. Solo sees people as ants in his ant farm: they're there for his enjoyment. If they're boring, whats the point of them living? He's a ruthless fellow who won't hesitate to deck you if he deems it necessary. That said, to those he has warmed up to, Solo is extremely loyal. If you've earned his trust, he will protect you to the ends of the earth--you're his possession now--and he always takes care of his things.

On the surface he might come off as a thug, with his curt method of speech and all those tattoos, but in reality, Solo's quite the scholar. The young man is sharp as hell with his wit, he also has an interest in classical literature and poetry. Extremely well read, Young Kuzunoha trumps the mind of the laymen. He is as ambitious as he is greedy. Once he sets his sights on something he won't stop until he obtains it; be it a woman, man, money, or status, he won't stop until it belongs to him. Solo's a master manipulator. He's good at stacking the odds in his favor. If Solo has one flaw [aside from the monumental ego, short temper, and all around rudeness] , its the unhealthy obsessions he can develop. Solo places beauty in high regard. Be it a woman, man, building, whatever, if they do not match his warped ideal of the word, he will want to make it match--even if the original piece is destroyed in the process.

It should be noted that Solo is an atheist in the sense of being absent of religion. He practices no particular faith. That said, he is a firm believer in Gods.

Speech:

Sounds like your typical Steve Blum voice

Solo's method of speech changes based on the situation. Normally, he speaks in a mixture of crude, vulgar curses and articulate poetic prose. Other times he can be sly and silky smooth. One thing is constant though, he's hardly ever respectful.

Pet Peeves:
  • People who don't realize his greatness.
  • Idiots
  • Boring people
  • When people call purple a color, its VIOLET!
  • Odd numbers
  • Being under another's authority.
  • Those who mess with his subordinates.
  • When people call him by his government name. First or last. Honorifics other than -Sama piss him off too.

Favorite color

For the most part, Solo likes all colors. His favorite though would have to be white. Why? It contains all colors.

EQUIPMENT

Specialty:

  • Solo is very nimble.
  • He's able to think quick on his feet and adapt to the situation at hand.
  • Solo's very knowledgeable in the field of mythology so he knows quite a bit about the more...mystical folks, specifically what they can do in a fight.
  • His sheer arrogance and will to live can help him weather physical, and psychological shit storms.
  • Knowledge on magic and the arcane

Fighting Style:

Although Solo knows basic swordsmanship, his main style is self taught. Inspired by the Drunken Fist, and several dance styles, Solo's invented his own style. Hand springs, back flips, somersaults, you name it, Young Kuzunoha will do whatever it takes to win the battle. This technique though has its share of weaknesses. Its his own style, sure, but its broken, and easily exploited. Its biggest strength is in its unpredictability and mobility.
Weaknesses:

  • His temper. If his rage is ignited, he will lose all sense self control and throw strategy out the window.
  • Arrogance. He'll often underestimate his foes, and take the battle too lightly leaving himself open.
  • His fighting style, though erratic and unpredictable is full of openings. If exploited he can be effectively crippled.
  • He isn't physically strong. He lacks the raw power to handle tougher foes. If the Book can't handle it, he gets the hell out of dodge.
  • His phobia of dirt and excessive disarray.

Preferred Weaponry: One handed swords, knives, or any other bladed weapon. Let's not forget that good ol' Black Book.

Inventory:

  • His cellphone.
  • A pair of white earphones to go with the cell.
  • An engraved switchblade that reads: Kuzunoha on the blade.
  • A healthy sum of money [garnered from deals, blackmails, etc.]
  • A bag of M&Ms
  • Hand sanitizer
  • A pair of black gloves to keep the germs away

And...

THE BLACK BOOK

Image

The fabled Grimoire Of Destruction crafted by Lord Alistair in ancient times. It's been said that The Black Book is responsible for the fall and rise of numerous nations [does Rome ring a bell?]. Men who wield the book have graced the pages of history [Ever hear of Grigori Rasputin, Adolf Hitler, or George Washington?] and become Gods in their own right. The story story of how Solo came into possession of this book is a grand tale--that will not be detailed here [wouldn't you rather wait to find out?] The Black Book literally has a mind of its own. Able to float around and even speak on its own. The book also has a proper name. It calls itself 'Merlin' and speaks with a thick, snarky english accent. It's a arrogant prick--just like its current owner.

Now after all this build up I'm sure you're dying to know just what the book does...and my friend...it's time that you learned.

Merlin is the Grimoire Of Destruction. The name should be all you need to know about its abilities. Grimoire Merlin grants Solo a level of magical power on par with the strongest of Yokai--if he ever learns how to use it properly. Learning the secrets of the Black Book takes time, and there are countless secrets of the book that he has yet to learn. These are the abilities that he knows thus far.


  • Aegis - A basic, but useful maneuver. The tattoos on Solo's arm fly off his arm and take the shape of whatever he desires. A blade, an arm, a tentacle, a shield for defense, whatever. The tattoos size is only as large as the half of his body that they originally cover. Nothing more.

The Black Book is a source of constant mystery for Solo, and to this day he works tirelessly to unearth the secrets this tome holds. The tattoos on his arm are enough for battle, he keeps the actual book stashed away in his office.

LIFE

Hobbies:

  • Dancing
  • Beating, maiming, slicing, killing--its therapeutic for him.
  • Listening to extremely loud music [classical, jazz, and hip-hop are among his favorites]
  • Video Games [specifically ones with morale meters]
  • Information Gathering
  • Participating in rap battles [His Emcee name is White Flame]
  • Reading [specifically ancient texts and classic literature]
  • Women, Men, and very specific Yokai [Oni and Tengu disgust him.]
  • Fucking ish up. [people, gangs, golf games]

Likes:

  • Literature, Poems
  • Beauty
  • People
  • Knowledgeable or creative people
  • Old tomes and artifacts
  • Clint Eastwood Flicks & Star Wars
  • Cheeseburgers--so long as there is a perfect ratio of lettuce to cheese to patty to tomato.
[*] Cats [specifically his white cat King Lear]
[*] Marijuana, Hallucinogens
[*] Himself
[*] Booze
[*] Candy--blue M&Ms to be specific
[/list]

Dislikes:

  • Odd Numbers
  • Unappealing, Uninspiring things
  • Filth
  • Nature [He cannot stand the wilderness]
  • Health Food [especially sugar free drinks]
  • People who can't hold his interest
  • Those who don't make the most of their abilities
  • When people refuse his advances

Fears:

  • Losing his sense of self or values
  • Not fulfilling his ambitions
  • Being defeated [in anything]
  • Dying
  • Being forgotten
  • Betrayal
  • The Wild Dogs' Alpha. Specifically because he knows almost NOTHING about this being.
  • Those stronger than him
  • Water. His best friend may be a Kappa, but simply the thought of being submerged in a bathtub terrifies him.

Agenda:

Solo's biggest fear is death. In an effort to try and escape this ultimate fate he has immersed himself in research. His information network is really just another tool in realizing this goal. As he works towards his goal, Solo's thirst for knowledge grows greater. What started as a quest for immortality has now shifted to a hunt to know all. Solo wants to obtain every single bit of information in the world.

Where they hail from: Okinawa

Relations:


  • Walker

    Formerly a champion sumo wrestler [despite any lack of notable girth on his body], Kappa Walker met his match in the ring against Ravager-a blood thirsty Oni. Ravager left Walker paralyzed from the waist down, effectively ending the Kappa's career. Poverty stricken, and without any family to lean on, he found himself living on the streets. That was when he met Solo. It was just like the legends. The water in his head had dried up, and without any means to refill it, Walker thought it was the end. At that same time, some sleezy looking thug threw three guys on their ass down the dark ally that the Kappa had made his home. That thug was sipping on fresh, cool bottle of crisp agua. The thug was Solo. He saw the pitiful looking thing and refilled his bowl. Reanimated, Solo told Walker one thing. "You're with me now, you're like an investment, got it? Watch my back, and I'll watch yours. Simple." Walker had no objections. When Young Kuzunoha realized the Kappa was paralyzed, he immediately commissioned the finest wheelchair to be crafted.
  • Dan

    Solo's oldest companion, and quite possibly his biggest handful. Dan is an Oni. Big, blue, and the biggest wuss you'll ever meet. Despite having the massive build, and explosive strength common to his race, Dan fails in every aspect of physical combat imaginable. He runs slow, can barely jump, and lacks the capacity to even build enough rage in his soul to make a fist. Yes, Dan is...lackluster. That said, the gentle oni packs one hell of a big heart, and an incredibly creative soul. Dan's passion is singing, and his dream is to become Japan's first big Oni enka singer. His lyrics invigorate the soul. It should be noted that Dan is the only Oni to date that Solo can even stand to look at.


  • Yumi Kuzunoha

    Solo's mother. A retired enka singer, has-been, and rising reality television star. Yumi Kuzunoha is the female embodiment of her son--minus the violent streak.
    She thinks herself the center of the universe , hates not being in the spotlight , and thinks people live to please her. Her selfish ways lead to the end of her marriage with Ryotaro. She now stars in her own reality tv show--and always barges in on her oh so interesting son and his affairs. She currently lives in Osaka around the same area as Solo.
  • Ryotaro Kuzunoha

    A former high-ranking member of the Kyubei Federation, and avid scholar, Ryotaro taught his children that physical strength was only as strong as one's mental strength. Though Solo and his father constantly butt-heads [he hated authority ever since he was little] , even today, he respects him, and never passes up the chance to share a drink with him. Though he doesn't necessarily work for the Yakuza today, the oldest Kuzunoha male still supports the group. He simultaneously considers his ex-wife the bane of his existence, and someone he needs to take care of.
  • Yuzu and Yukiko Kuzunoha

    Solo's younger twin sisters. First years in high-school. The rambunctious duo stays in Okinawa with their father--and boy do they give him hell. They may be even more vicious and violent than their big brother.
  • King Lear - An adorable bundle of white fur. The cat was a stray his sisters found. Due to their father's cat allergy, they had to pass him on to someone they could trust. And that was Solo. Besides Walker and Dan, King Lear is the madman's greatest confidant.

Notable Experiences:

Born as Mugen Kuzunoha, Solo The Mad grew up in Okinawa. He was as much of a bastard as he was then as he is now. Fighting, gangs, he was in it all. Teachers and students alike shrieked in terror when the boy's named popped up on their class list. Those same parties were often amazed when that same potty mouthed, hot tempered child always topped the class list in academics. In class, starting in middle school, Mugen signed all of his papers 'SOLO!' in big, bold letters. No surname to speak of. The name stuck.

Solo's obsession with humanity can be traced to the day his grandfather died from cancer. He was a strong, healthy man of sixty, but the disease swooped in and killed him with ease. That shook the boy. For the first time he saw how fragile and unpredictable human lives were. It terrified and intrigued him all at the same time. That was during his first year of high school. He secretly started to envy Yokai and the long lives they lived.

Graduation from High School came, and the Young Kuzunoha was left wondering what was next. Unlike his father, Solo had no interest in joining th,e Mafia. It took his father twenty years to rise through the ranks of the Kyubei. He had no interest in wasting so many years doing the same. Four long years in college did not appeal to him either. After all, a human life only lasts for so long. The idea to travel dawned on him. It was a spur of the moment thing, but it was an idea that spoke to him. Solo grabbed his bestfriend Dan, an Oni, and set out.

In the duo's travels they spun many tales. Allies were made, foes were battled, treasures were found. Why the tales of Solo and Dan were a modern incarnation of classic fiction. It was like Huck Finn, minus the southern racism and raft.

These travels around Japan sowed the seeds of Solo's Network. His list of contacts exploded during this two year journey. When Solo and Dan's journey came to a close he began work on putting this Network together. In this age, the man with the gun can easily be defeated by the man who knows about said gun. Information was a lucrative market, and the advantage it all gave him wasn't bad either. At first, only small groups and individuals came to him. But as time went on, and word of his information's success rate spread his list of clientele grew in number, and status.

It didn't take long before the three biggest families came seeking his aid. And his aid they did receive.

There's many stories left to tell about Solo. Like the origins of 'The Mad', or how he got his hands on that devilish Black Book, or his whirlwind romance with a Satori that ended in broken bones and heartbreak. On both ends. But those are all for another time, and better told by the man himself.

Good things come to those who wait...right?

So begins...

Solo The Mad's Story

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Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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Amber lights were ablaze, and joyous laughter resounded. The familiar smell of fatty festival food was mixed with the equally familiar smell of immanent bloodshed. How does the quote go? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Right? Right. Crowds packed the streets of Osaka. They smiled and stuffed their faces with food while indulging in the apparent peace that this harmonious occasion brought. Now, I say 'apparent peace' because anyone with half an ear to the ground, and half a nostril up in the air knew that the smell of shit going down was thick in said air. Somewhere amid this clusterfuck of clueless souls he strolled. No, correction he skipped. He looked like a child coming home from a spree at the toy store, what with his hand full of three helpings of fried-eel on a stick, and that wide, innocent grin. You would never guess that this black waistcoat donned guy kept a severed Yuki-Onna head at his home.

Solo The Mad, that's what he was known as in Japan's 'Underworld', and his men had decided to come out and enjoy the festivities--since they could already see it from the windows of their downtown office. It had been a long day after all, the Kuzunoha brat had managed to close the books on several big deals. Despite it only being the eighth of January, Solo's business had reached its quota for the month already. Him and his boys, one wheelchair bound Kappa, Walker, and one cowardly Oni, Dan, had done good work, so a night off was a small thing.

He swallowed one serving of eel whole and chucked the stick to the concrete below. Solo made his way through the throng of folk. With all three of his greasy boons devoured he slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants and skipped along. He weaved in and out of pockets of people like the rabbit flag the Wild Dogs marched under. Which the Information Broker never quite 'got' by the way. Maybe, just maybe there was a story regarding the appearance of the gang's mon in that vast bank of information that resided in his dome. Something like the 'divine rabbit was a friend to the supreme dog of old' or whatever. But if there was such a tale, it would have been long since buried amid the piles, and piles of stuff Solo's medulla oblong-whatever held.

I think I left the iron on!

That Sahen guy is pretty cute huh? I heard he was a weirdo though!

Who cares! I like Hojo! Mmm, eight fingers!

Too much food...I'm gonna...Oh God...!

Information. Scraps, bits, just like the things he heard flowed to The Madman. They clung to that dome of his, kind of like the way dust clings to that new dust grabbing Swiffer broom your mom got the other day. The collection and detection of such useless things was something he couldn't turn off. Nor was it something he wanted to turn off. Solo was the type that wanted to know everything, and not just important stuff either like ancient civilizations. Nah, he wanted to know the little shit too, like your name, where you're from, what kind of shoes you got on...the list just goes.

"Ooof!" Thud!

A little boy smacked into Solo's leg. To a kid so small, even running into an untoned frame like his was like colliding with a brick wall. The boy's knees were scuffed. Solo noticed this and grimaced; scabs were an ugly thing to look at. "S-sorry mister...." The child managed to utter as he slowly picked himself up. The wine colored eyes of the broker could have been blue as ice, because the look he was giving the kid gave him chills in the worst way. Mister. He hated that one. Almost as much as Mugen.

Solo bit his lip. "Mister? Something is truly strange in the state of Denmark if such a..." He paused to observe the dingy jacket, and battered looking jeans the boy had on, "Unscrupulous youth does not know my name!" The man coolly paced back and forth. The boy just watched, shakin' in his lil' black boots, "Who am I? You ask?" No one asked, in case you were wondering, "I am Solo The Mad. Denizen of Osaka, Lord of Information, Wielder of The Ancient Black Book of Destruction!" Smirking, he paused to get eye level with the boy, "Do you see this scuff on my shoe?" Solo didn't even have to point to his white loafer--the boy was already looking. Looking at that unsightly, good awful, tiny, microscopic black stuff on this man's shoe. The scuff that he may, or may not have made.

"Normally, I would beat the hell out of someone who screwed with my kicks. However...tell me your shoe size, and where you get your haircut, and I just might look the other way. Do we have a deal?" Solo's thumb and index finger were cradling the boy's chin. If looks could kill, Young Kuzunoha wouldn't even be getting a tooth ache from the weak gaze of this boy that resembled a scared puppy. The kid nodded. His whole body was trembling.

"R-R-R-R-Rei's, a couple blocks from here...in o-o-one of the wards!"

"And the shoe size?" Solo's face jerked closer to the boy's which caused the poor brat to jump out his skin.

"Four!" He whined.

"Good. A fair exchange of valuable information. Now get outta here. The smell of your fear's fucking up my cologne." Suddenly all that was left of the kid was the split of the crowd he made in his flight from the red eyed man.

Like after a job well done he grinned and poked out his chest. Every bit of info counts.

"Now to have some fun! ~"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raja the Iron Mistress Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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It wasn't the fingertip that got his attention. Solo had felt the eyes on him several moments before she touched him. Like the tiger, that gingerly stalked her prey this woman's golden eyes were fixated on him--hard.

Preying on children, now, Solo?” That foreign voice cooed.

When he turned around to properly address The Iron Mistress, the glint in those burgundy eyes of his suggested he would have loved for her to pounce on him. Raja Maia Mahasti was the type of woman that drove Solo The Mad...insane. She was the type of woman that could make you cry on the battlefield and in the bedroom. Not to mention she had a set of curves that embarrassed even the most dangerous race track. He didn't have much to to admire her...assets though, for the Oyabun of Kyubei-Kai had, judging by the look in her eye, come to do business with him.

"Fun would be,” Asking for the aid of an outsider was something Solo knew Raja hated. He gained some pleasure out of watching the powerful woman dig for her words, “helping me find Sawada Nobuyuki. We know he's around here somewhere. Hiding in the dark like a child.” Solo picked at the back of his ear, smiling. Everyone and everything made waves throughout Japan's underworld. The Families were no different, in fact, the waves they made were perhaps even larger than normal. Like throwing a boulder into a lake. Still subtle, transient, but if you looked closely, you might have caught something. There were rumors of the hunt for Nobuyuki. Solo paid the developments a passing glance. Nobuyuki's case was a subject of interest if only for that snake he kept around his neck. He didn't have an interest in interfering though. Thing like this unfolded better when you sat back and watched.

However...the Oyabun was here at his feet. Maybe he could use this situation to his advantage?

"Sawada Nobuyuki..." He rolled the name around on his tongue a few times as he checked the file cabinets of his dome for info. “Pasty bastard with the snake right? Hipster glasses, kind of sweaty? Must owe you all money, huh? I heard he was standing up to the gangs, only reason he hasn’t been snuffed out yet is because of the...you know.” Solo pointed at Raja’s jewel adorned neck, “O’ poisonous constrictor thou hast inflicted me with thy venom!” The business man waved one hand before him, like a maestro conducting an orchestra, “That snake. Word is, its no ordinary reptile. I’ve had some contacts try and get near him, and each one hasn’t made it back. I wouldn’t mind seeing him laid out...” Until now, the broker had maintained a suitable amount of distance between him and the Mistress. Now though, he inched ever closer towards the bronze skinned woman.

“So I’ll tell you what. I know him, I can take you and your boys to the last place my informants made contact with him. And I’ll even do it for a discounted price...” Solo’s words slithered from his mouth, to her ear. The snake on Nobuyuki’s neck couldn’t have done a better job of it itself. There was only hair’s distance between them now. He stood over her, admiring her body, peering into her eyes. Unlike many, The Iron Mistress fit his ideals of beauty to a T. Power, fear inducing power. The ability to change others and the world around oneself. And looks that captivated the eye. This was beauty. “I want to accompany you and your men on the hunt for him, and...” Solo’s hand was ready to reach out and brush against her neck--but he stopped himself, realizing what this woman might do to him if he made such a move, “You accompany me to my home after that is done.” The grin he had on showed all his teeth, he looked like a monster ready to bite into his meal, the way his canines gleamed in the lantern’s light.

“Do we have a deal...Miss Mahasti?

There were several things he did not know about this woman. Her family life, where she resided before coming to Japan, history before succeeded the chairman hat, and most importantly...what lied beneath those cloths. Oh! How he relished the thought! The desire of the physical was not the only goal he had in getting this woman alone. Having an Oyabun in your personal quarters would have many advantages for a man such as himself. A powerful brain, ripe for picking.

And pick was what he intended to do.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Raja the Iron Mistress Character Portrait: Hojo Kaito Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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#, as written by Cypher
Osaka, a dirty little pisspot filled with opportunity



"Way I see it, Solo-kun, 'less you plan on cookin' the oyabun a five-star dinner, showin' her a movie an' then maaaaybe offerin' up your immortal soul an' sweet candy ass as part of the deal, there ain't a way in hell she's gonna let you get yer nasty member in her skirts."

Kaito stepped out of an alley nearby, slouched as always, hands in pockets, looking nonplussed. If it weren't for the bloodstains on the cuffs of his shirt and pants he could have passed for any scruffy barfly on the street at the moment, but with those added into the equation, he looked just scruffy and angry enough to present a threat. If you knew his face and paired that with aforementioned stains, it wouldn't be unreasonable for the casual observer to shit their pants, or at least find a chill creeping down their spine. Without breaking stride, one hand went to his mid-back and wrapped around the grip of his Mauser, the other one hung at his side as he shoulder-checked Solo on the way to the side of the oyabun. Personally, Kaito wasn't above the thought of leveraging his boss into his bed either - that rack had been fuel enough for many a pleasant dream on a lonely night - but he knew his place at the moment was at his mistress's side, and it wasn't worth making enemies with an oyabun over a one-night stand.

He pulled the Mauser from the waist of his pants and held it loosely at his side, barely concealed from passers but visible enough to Solo and Raja, just in case the info broker needed some extra persuasion. He didn't bother with the hammer at the moment; mostly because he didn't need to apply any psychological force to the strange man (yet) but also because he had acknowledged that yes, the Mauser was, in fact, a semi-automatic, and therefore no, it was not required to pull the hammer every time.

"Well, boss," Kaito grunted, using his free hand to pull and light a cigarette from one of his pockets, "seeing as you gotta go to this ass-burglar here, I'm gonna go ahead and assume your search for information on this Noboyuki d-bag was about as fruitful as mine." He took a long drag from the cancer stick, then exhaled it through his nose. "Though I doubt even half as exciting and bloody." He looked pleadingly at Raja from behind his mirrored shades. "So," he said evenly, "do you wanna talk this out or should I start takin' fingers until he squeals?"

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Character Portrait: Raja the Iron Mistress Character Portrait: Hojo Kaito Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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"Way I see it, Solo-kun, 'less you plan on cookin' the oyabun a five-star dinner, showin' her a movie an' then maaaaybe offerin' up your immortal soul an' sweet candy ass as part of the deal, there ain't a way in hell she's gonna let you get yer nasty member in her skirts."

Solo didn't turn to address him. But the mere presence of the man made the hairs on the broker's back stand on end--he knew that voice. He knew this man.

"Hojo Kaito." He said it in a voice that was as excited as it was frustrated. Something about the 'Dog Cather's appearance made Solo's blood boil--hot. Hot like the beakers in chem class. Maybe it was because the file he had on Hojo and his exploits was chock full o' the brutal, bloody shit he gushed at. Maybe it was the gleam of the man's Mauser that excited him, probably placed into the open to divert Solo's advances on his superior.

"Well, boss, seeing as you gotta go to this ass-burglar here, I'm gonna go ahead and assume your search for information on this Noboyuki d-bag was about as fruitful as mine." The Dog Catcher was taking a long puff from a cigarette, "So," he said evenly, "do you wanna talk this out or should I start takin' fingers until he squeals?" Young Kuzunoha had to laugh at that one. It was one of those laughs that came from the belly. Oddly enough, Solo's laughed lacked any outward malice. Every time the punk would laugh, it sounded like a big kid. Maybe that was why his laughter was so creepy. The fit of laughter lasted for several long seconds before he abruptly stopped. More like froze. He was still hunched with the laughing ceased, as if there was one last giggle working its way up through his torso.

"Ah, I guess it can't be helped~" Just like that, calm and cool, he backed away from the Mistress. "You are a good gangster aren't you?" Solo said with mocking glee. "Fine then, I'll back off. For now. How dare I stand against the man with the Mauser?" He playfully grinned at Mr. Kaito, "However, the fact still remains that you need the information I am holding.” He had a habit of talking with his hands. Pacing between both Kyubei folk he was calm, collected. “Allow me to accompany you to catch Sawada...and...” Solo paused, “A simple meeting with the Oyabun. Believe it or not, I have actual business to discuss." He winked at Hojo.

At that moment, music filled the air. A surge ran through the crowd, everyone knew what was up.

The Parade.

"So. Do we have a deal?" Solo looked at the both of them, burgundy glimmering with desire both hidden, and visible.

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#, as written by Cypher
Osaka, where the sky just got a little brighter (despite the rain)




Kaito's grip on the Mauser was tight enough to turn his knuckles white and pop up every vein on his skeletal hand. He didn't like Solo very much; frankly the guy creeped him out half the time and almost threatened him the other half. Sometimes he considered kicking that kappa friend of his down the stairs just to piss him off or send him spiraling into depression so he wouldn't have to deal with the fuck every time he couldn't extort and/or torture the info he needed out of someone. The pleasure of shooting him here would be tantamount to sex with a willing virgin minus the unseemly stains afterwards, but regardless there was a job at hand, and Raja was better at putting up with these kinds of jerkoffs than Kaito could ever be. Besides, his mistress had already accepted the deal, and although they had a working agreement, Kaito honestly believed the psycho-bitch of an oyabun, beautiful and dedicated though she was, would nail his intestines to a lamp-post and make him start walking the instant he stepped out of line.

Kaito hated his intestines, but he liked living, and so he'd compromised and told himself not to fuck with Raja for now. Especially considering she was the one who signed his proverbial checks and kept him up in booze and other such vices.

"Alright, alright," Kaito said, shrugging, his face impassive. One hand descended to his other pocket, gripping his hidden Glock-22 as he moved the Mauser back to the waist of his pants. "If Raja says you have a deal, I've got no choice but to not kill your rat ass." The shatei lowered his sunglasses and scowled, his face going from neutral to imposingly terrifying in a split second. He took a few strides towards the info broker. "But if I catch you goin' outta line around the oyabun, this -" His hand was a blur; the Glock was at Solo's chin in a split second - "is going to be the last thing you ever feel in your miserable fuckin' life." He pulled the Glock away and stepped back. "'course," he added, "I'm sure that'd be a tender mercy compared t' whatever the Mistress'd cook up for ya."

He looked at his oyabun and then back at Solo. "Well, what're we waitin' for? Every second we stand here gawkin' like fools is another second that slippery fangfucker's puckered asshole is considering his next move; and if we keep waitin' who knows if he'll be where he's at once we start movin'?"

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Character Portrait: Raja the Iron Mistress Character Portrait: Hojo Kaito Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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The deal had been made, and despite being held at gunpoint by 'The Dog Catcher' (which Solo half enjoyed, especially that threatening tone in his voice), it all went rather smoothly. Much better than he had anticipated. Somehow, Solo expected to have to force his hand, but it really had appeared that the Iron Mistress and her soldiers were in one hell of a bind.

That's why people came to him. That's why they all came to him. One way or another, anyone who wishes to get ahead in this country seeks him out. It was for this very reason that Solo The Mad simply adored his job. It was a position of power completely independent of those other spots. See, people like Raja before him, or Terajima's Isamu...they were only powerful so long as their gangs retain control. It was shaky, risky. Too...what was the word? It wasn't...stable. Now, the role of an information broker, a very good information broker, means that you stay relevant. Your power, your mark never fades. People will run to you when they seek an edge. The 'war' in Osaka is a perfect example of the permanence of the Broker. The gangs want to win? They come to him. One gang comes for help on an attack on one gang, then, he uses that same information on the coming attack as leverage with the next gang. It's a cycle that continues the bloodshed, and lines his pockets.

It was a damn beautiful thing.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men," Solo recited coldly. He pulled from his coat pocket his phone, with a few swipes of his finger along the screen a map of the city appeared. A blinking green blip marked an area just a few blocks away, "Your man is hiding out just down the way from here," He tapped the screen again, words appeared along the blip, "The Butterfly. Ah, i've been there. It's a love hotel. Ironic that he's hiding out there. That snake is the only action the worm's probably gotten." There was a wicked look on the broker's face. "I suggest we take a small team. The Butterfly isn't that large of a building, too big of a squad will alert him--and we'll have to get the jump on Noboyuki if we hope to avoid that thing." Solo wiggled his hat. There was a fire burning in his belly, and it wasn't all of that eel he downed earlier into the festival. He was excited.

"Shall we?"

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Character Portrait: Hojo Kaito Character Portrait: Solo The Mad
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The Catcher and the Hound – Rough Days Are Rollin'

She'd seen her fair share of brothels, dingy little love shacks, and grossly overpriced prostitute stations. The smell of incense was thick and heavy in the air – to hide the musky smell of sweaty bodies, sickly odours and heavy-petting activities. Inside, a husky servant mutely offered takes their coats and hats, proffered hands sweeping outward, until nothing dropped into his fingers. Mutual stares of aggression sent him backtracking behind the wooden desk like a scuttling crab. A dozen screens displayed a variety of girls: blondes, redheads, brunettes, with skin of almost every hue. Some were nude; others had cheaply made oriental costumes. Most of them were alone, quietly, silently, obediently waiting. Some sat demurely; others display themselves in poses that made the Iron Mistress screw up her eyes in consternation. Breasts bared and thighs jiggling with slow, methodical movements.

“Tweak some nipples and see what happens, boys – let's get in, get the fuck out, and enjoy ourselves. It's not every day I catch one of my own being naughty.”

The Iron Mistress nodded, gesturing idly, before stepping aside so that Solo could take the lead. Even she could admit that she wasn't familiar with this place – didn't know the ins or outs of the hallways or where, exactly, that little slime bag would be squatting. Invincible, untouchable. She felt an electrifying thrum pulsing down her forearms, thick as syrup in her veins. She was raw. She was explosive. She worked on gut instinct, winding together like well-oiled cogs: decisively cruel. As a child – it was what she lived for. Climbing trees and breaking bones, riding bikes into poles and grazing knees. She liked action, liked adrenaline rushes. The bubble-popping receptionist only curried her renewed aggression, callow and coarse. Her thoughtfully allocated steps brought her in front of the desk. Instead of resorting to passive conversation like Solo had, the Iron Mistress slapped the bronze key from the lady's manicured fingers and grabbed her chin, pulling forward, hard. The woman's eyes bulged hotly: half from surprise, half from the stripling fear that she'd be forced to carry out the command while her face was captive: “Best swallow that gum, tits.”

The wrinkled woman swallowed thickly. The Iron Mistress smiled, leaning across the chipped wooden desk, artfully decorated with pen scrapings and heart-encircled names, until she finally released her with a final cheek-pat. She snatched up the fallen key, pinching it between her fingertips as if she were dangling a bone in front of a dog. This was going to be a beautiful, sweaty, messy prize. She tipped her head forward, ushering them to fall in behind her. Graceful, as always. Even if she wasn't particularly known for her precautions, she didn't feel like throwing it all in the wind and getting caught with her panties down. Her steps, while calculatingly slow, seemed to avoid the creaking planks and possible rotting areas – and her blood, her blood sang the closer they came. It was in the twist of her lips. It was the way she unconsciously cradled the hilts of her throwing daggers, strapped disconcertingly across her upper thigh. There it was: his door. Was he waiting? Was he blubbering in the corner?

He would kneel.