Bunraku

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The Protector glared at his brother before moving forward. He knew what the other wanted when he gave him a Look. He spoiled him too much.

He casually bumped into the man, startling him from his grip on the girl. The guy turned around to glare at him but The Protector was fast. It was sad how he was so used to doing this. He protected his brother and those his brother's wanted to protect.

He had his scarf around the man's neck and watched him let go of the girl his brother was eyeing. When he released her, he nodded at her to leave. Really. She had to be dangerous. She would've been fine even when they didn't help.

He turned his attention on the man in his choke hold and pushed him away, watching him stumble to the floor. "Be nice." he told the stranger in green. He faced his brother and cocked an eyebrow. "Are we ready to go now?" he called out because they were late.

The Nightmare really wouldn't like that.

He gave a sigh as he punched the man in green in the face as he came rushing at him with a battle cry holding a dagger. He gave his brother a mocking look. See, this is why his type sucks.
 
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Just as she was about to reach her limit and reaching to scratch the green man's face, a man had bumped into him entangling a scarf around the green man's neck. She pulled her hands back before anyone saw it. Her arm was freed and her head had cooled. The man with the scarf nodded and in return, she nodded to smiling in courtesy.

So there are still people who would do such kind things in a place like this. She turned and saw the other brother and nodded at him as well. Or perhaps...an ulterior motive?

She turns and left, hands together in her sleeves. If she were to meet with the man in green or someone of his group again, none of them would be safe. She'd have them lying, bleeding and pleading to be let go. She wouldn't kill them though. She'd torture them but like they were in hell on Earth but no, she wouldn't kill them. She was not a murderer. She was an assassin. She would only kill if she was told to, of course, with the right price.
 
The Trickster smiled at the woman as she acknowledged him. She turned and left though, before The Trickster could think of his next move. He was happy with that, though.

"Nice." The Trickster told his displeased brother. "Well, she did say meet her here remember?" He looked around, walking a little bit. He smoked and scanned his surroundings. "Do you remember what she said she'd wear?"
 
The Protector flexed his left hand. It hurt slightly. The man in green had a surprisingly thick skull. He sighed and pinched between his eyebrows in exasperation. At times he felt less like a brother and more of a nanny, secretary, body guard and accountant to his brother. But he was fine with that. He was the elder brother after all, that was all just in the job description.

Besides, he liked his job. Keeping him happy and alive.

He looked around, pressing close to his brother just in case the guy in green had more companions. It wouldn't do if they got back at him by hurting his brother. "She was going to be the one who sticks out" he quoted what the Nightmare told them. His cold eyes looked around and saw a girl in headphones at the edge of the station.

"...what about her?" he asked, turning to his brother indicating the girl at the edge.
 
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After the majority of the current passengers disembarked from the train, the Biker pulled herself up to her feet before she turned and began to get her bike ready for disembarkment as well. She'd watched all of the colorful people leave, and now it was time for her to as well. The chain clinked as she unlocked it from around the wheels then put it into a small bag she had on her. Then she grabbed the bike, bigger than the standard, and began to push it out from the compartment. It took a bit of fancy maneuvering, but soon she had it securely on the pavement. She paid just enough attention to the folks around her to not run into anyone. Soon, she slid out of the station and into the actual streets.

She paused and glanced around taking in as much as the city as she could see from her current point.

"Sooooo, time to explore." She mumbled to herself before shoving her key into the ignition of the beast doing a combination of jumping and sliding to get into position. The metal contraption roared into life. There would be no sneaking around with such a machine for her. She again paused as she glanced around. Right or left?
 
As the train rolled into station, and people began exiting, a man, from god knows where, simply started walking right on into town, following the train tracks.

Y'see, the Man Who Walks didn't trust trains. Too small. Too easy to get caught up in. And not to mention, he was called the Man Who *Walks* for a reason. He walked nearly everywhere he went, and when he wasn't walking, he was probably doing something else worthwhile, like eating, drinking, sleeping, or killing. A loosely-hung gas mask was slung at his hip, for crossing the more brutal wastelands that covered the west and southwest chunks of America, but it wasn't in use here. Vegas, at least, wasn't filled with horrible toxic death. Just horrible toxic people.

He didn't care much about the petty disputes of the people in the train, how some of them looked more rattled than others. He didn't care about the Greenman that staggered out of the train like he'd gotten wailed on by a couple of trucks. He cared more about where his path was gonna take him, because his path was, well, the Path of Blood.

Wherever he went, there was sure to be one hell of a massacre. It's just a matter of finding the right people to do it on.
 
She walked down streets and alleys. Taking shortcuts to reach the place she called home. There she stood at the door. It was unlocked. The door creaks open to reveal an old lady at a table, peacefully sipping a cup of tea. The old lady startled at the creak, turned to The Cat at the door.

"Maria, ma petite fille(my little girl). How i've missed you. Where have you been? Almost half year and not even a single letter. I was worried sick"

The old lady was like family to The Cat. They had no blood ties but The Cat was saved by and respected the old lady while the old lady was simply lonely.

"Yes. Yes. Tu m'as manqué aussi, Vèlancia(I missed you too)" The Cat walked towards the old lady pulling her gently into and embrace.

Ever wondered why The Cat didn't look Eurasian. Well, she wasn't. She was japanese. But since she was trafficked here and raised by the Vèlancia, she was given a new name and spoke a few French herself. Despite that, she did not forget her origins. Speaking and reading japanese books.

The Cat went up to her room. Empty and plain as it was with the exception of a wardrobe and a bed. She stripped off her kimono and exchanged them for a white shirt and a pair of white pants. She pulled on a pair of knee high boots and claimed her jacket taking it back down with her.

"I would love to stay but I have other things to attend to. I had just arrived and thought I could see you before I do."

She kissed the cheeks of Vèlancia and walked out the door with her katanas by her sides as she slides the jacket on. She walked down the streets hoping to be contacted for another contract. Walking by a milkman, like the cat she was, she swiped a glass bottle and popped it open sipping as she scanned her surroundings.
 
Perhaps the Greenmen wanted a bit of revenge for their bit of humiliation onboard the train. Perhaps they had ulterior motives. But what was important is that, unbeknownst to The Cat, she was being followed. And unknowingly, The Man Who Walks was, incidentally, walking in about the same direction as well. They thought the two were related. After all, both looked distinctly of asian descent, and perhaps he was some relative or somesuch.

Those men were wrong. And soon, they were about to be very dead. One of them came up from behind the Walker, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You. Guy. You're comin' with us. You're gonna get us that lady." Of course, the Walker's own plans were quite different. "Mm, I am, am I?" His hand rested lightly upon the hilt of the well-crafted katana at his side, sliding the whisper-quiet blade slightly from its sheath, showing only the faintest shine of steel underneath, and turning around to see the three men that had decided to accost him. All three of them were grinning like the cocky, arrogant bastards they were. They expected everyone to follow their orders. After all, this was their town. The first mistake they made was assuming that he would just let them.

With a step back from them, he slammed the blade back into its sheath all the way, and slid his left foot backwards, gripping the blade tightly. "I am Tetsuro Kojima, of my family there have been many stories told. For the glory of my ancestors, you will die by my hand." The three men simply laughed, and took out billy clubs, shaking their heads, and saying, "Oh man, you really don't know who you're dealin' with, buddy, do ya? We're the Greenmen. We're The Gardener's men. So we do what we want. So you tell us where your pretty cousin or whatever she is is at, or we're gonna smash your stupid squint-eyed face in, got it?" That was the second mistake they made. They insulted his culture. And the third mistake they made was completely underestimating who they were dealing with.

The Man Who Walks only tells his name to those he kills, or those he loves. And these men certainly weren't of the latter category. As the foremost one stepped forwards, Tetsuro's blade slid forth from the sheath like a whiplash, swinging his blade almost faster than the eye could see, as he stepped forwards to deliver the cut before the man could even blink. The man simply grinned, saying, "Ohoho, squint-eye's got a sword! Too bad he can't swing it right!..... Huh...?" With a sudden sharp howl of pain, his arm holding the billy club simply fell off, the stump where it was spraying out blood like a fountain. The man screamed in a combination of shock and pain, as Tetsuro flicked the blade off to the side, the blade collected upon the katana sliding off like water from the back of a duck. Shortly after, the man collapsed on the ground, slowly bleeding his life out onto the floor.

With two more steps, he closed the distance between him and the two last men, swinging his blade in a blinding circle before, once again, flicking it off to the side to clear the blood from it. The men sputtered, before yet again, horrifying wounds appeared upon their throats, one man nearly decapitated, their yells silenced by the cold steel of his blade. With a simple "tch" sound, he wiped the blade on a sash at his side, and resheathed it, stepping out of the alleyway and, coincidentally, nearby The Cat.

She was one of them from the train. And perhaps it was she that they were looking for, and mistakenly thinking that he knew her personally, or somesuch. With a sigh, he stepped towards the lady, and said, "Ohayo Gozaimasu. Some men in green were searching for, I think, you. They lie dead at my hands." He shrugged, as if it was nothing serious. To back this statement up was the obvious fact that blood had been spattered over him as if it was a shower.
 
The Cat was quietly walking down the street. She could feel their eyes on her, their intention was obvious. The latest enemy she had made were the green men. She wouldnt attack then too soon. Afterall, she wasn't the type to make the first move. It was always the first person to attack would be the one to blame.

One...two...three... There were three men at er tracks. Easy prey. The blades by her side were hungry for blood. Unfortunately, they would have to wait as the steps of the three steps faded. She was curious but she wouldnt turn back since there was still the stpes of a man approaching her. She felt no bad intentions from him though.

It was then when he greeted her and explained himself. "Ohaiyo gozaimas. Thank you for your help but i wasn't sure I asked for the help. Anyways thank you." What was worse was that now, she owed someone and she didn't like that. She could tell he was telling the truth what with the blood all over him. The Cat looked at the katana by his side. It was no ordinary sword. There was story about it but she could remember here it was from. Sometimes, she have really bad memories for things.

"A swordsman. Admirable." She sighed and crossed her arms. It seems that now, i owe you for saving me. Just this once."
 
"I hardly did it to save you. They thought I was your cousin." He snorted once, a bit of a grin breaking across his face, as he brushes a faint bit of the blood from his arms. His own sword's bloodlust had been quenched for the moment, but he honestly expected more before the day was over. That was the nature of things, after all.

He seemed awful casual about the entire thing, as if he had done exactly this for a long time, and thought nothing of it. To be honest, he didn't even really care too much about the woman even "owing" him anything. He was a man who did things on his own whim, and he expected no bonds, nor returned them in kind.

"A bit of mockery in your tone, calling me admirable? I am the Man Who Walks. My path is well-known." He gives a short, courteous bow. He hadn't any reason to tangle with the woman, mostly because she was armed, and they were both, at least temporarily, aligned against the same forces that sought to destroy them. "As for owing me, do not think of it as such. You are not beholden to me, as I am beholden to no man." He simply shrugged, tapping the hilt of his katana once with his thumb.
 
She chuckled. Just because they were of the same race, it wouldn't necessarily make them related. These Americans. It was somehow funny how they think an asian is related to one another.

"Its not a matter of where you think i owe you or not. Its what i think and feel. If i don't I would be the one feeling guilty." Feelings were, afterall, something that she couldnt control. And guilt was one of the feelings that could easily get to her. It was a feeling that made her stay where she was, with Vélancia. She was guilty that she was taken in and raised by her. Vélancia took in The Cat without knowing her who she was or how she got to Vegas all alone. She even found The Cat covered in blood and none of it was her own.

It had been awhile since she met with a person of her own race, nevertheless spoke her own mother tongue with someone. Who knows it might even be fun to be with someone of her origin. At that very moment, she had just thought of an idea. Until she got herself a contract for assassination...

"You may call me The Cat. Yoroshiku. So for the time being. I will work with you." She gave a deep bow and a smirk behind a smile.
 
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"Bikini top girl?" The Trisckster followed his brother's line of sight. "Yup, definitely standing out." He tossed his cigarette to a nearby bin and straightened his suit. He's a bit vain sometimes, but that comes from his determination to keep his high class image. He detested their humble past.

He gave his brother a nod and strode to the Bikini Top Girl. Her hands were folded over her chest and she popped a bubblegum while tapping her foot. Apparently, she had been waiting for quite a while. He stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets. He popped a breath mint and handed one to his brother.

"Yama nashi, ochi nashi." He told her, noticing that they were about the same height.

"Imi nashi." She replied, sounding rather dazed. "Good to finally see you, Trickster. I'm afraid I'd grow a beard before meeting you."

"Yeah well, that's not really a good transport." The Trickster replied, gesturing vaguely to the train.

"Whatever. Let's talk elsewhere. This place sucks." She turned on her heel for one second. Then she turned back to them. "I remember making a deal with only one...?"

"I told you about my brother." The Trickster hissed angrily.

"Huh. Nice to meet you, mister." She said with an oddly done wave. It was rather childish. "Now come on, before another fistfight starts."

"Fucking weird password." The Trickster whispered to his brother as he followed.
 
Things like that sort of sentimentality, in his opinion, didn't make much sense to him. In the battlefield of life, one must stride confidently and do what one must, regardless of feelings. But two extra swords fighting with him certainly wouldn't be that bad of a deal, not at all. There've been worse hands handed to him in life, and killing three of the main man's henchmen wasn't gonna be that great for his health in the end anyways. "If you wish to come with me, very well. Just try and keep up, mm?"

To show that he was well and joking about this, he gave a short grin. He didn't think she could honestly actually keep up with him in a prolonged fight, but that didn't matter too much. He'd likely end up killing whoever challenged her anyways. This path would, more than likely, get him more swords. And more swords were always a necessity.

Once again, he slapped the flat hilt of his sword with the palm of his hand, and strode off and away, looking for, well, a bar. Any bar would do, as long as it had drinks, a man with information, and a couple of ways to pass the time.
 
As she trailed closely behind him, she could tell he was searching for a bar. Would he like to have some beer? Or perhaps sake? Wine maybe? Gently, The Cat tugged at the man's sleeve.

"Would you like to have a drink? I know a good place just around the corner. Although, it's not a very...peaceful place.

Without waiting for his answer, she led the way walking pass him and towards the bar. She kicked open the door and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Master, I'm back!" Some turned to look with faces filled with surprised, some smiled and greeted while others returned to their businesses. Most of them there were regulars and all the regulars knew her.

The place was also an inn which occupied criminals of all kinds and only criminals (unless you're a friend of a criminal) ; assassins, bandits, hackers. They were all there. Behind the bar was an old man in his 50s, big and muscular who smiled and greeted her.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't The Cat. I was beginning to think you died somewhere on the roadside," he joked. He set a glass on the bar and poured milk into it knowing full well what she'd order before he would even say it.

She pouted and stuck her tongue out at the old man like a spoilt child. "Yeah, right! I'm not that easy to kill you know." She walked and sat at where the glass was served and patted the seat next to hers. "Ne ne. Come. Sit and have a drink. It's on me. I'll even have a drinking contest if you want. Hehe."

Behind her, things were getting thrown around, from daggers, knives and forks, to mugs and even chairs as a brawl between a drunk man and a drunker man began. A man, not much her elder, strode confidently and enraged. "Hey, kitten! I challenge you to a duel!" And her reply? A tug of her eye downwards and a stuck out tongue.

(OOC: Master means owner of a bar in Japan)
 
Beer or wine was just a bit of a bonus, but admittedly, his reasons for seeking out a bar were, again, information. The best place to find out about the best swordsmen of the area were often a place where many men congregate, and speak of many things. Not to mention the fact that these places were, usually, rather useful for hiding in. He nodded at her tugging, before saying,

"I'll take a drink. And I'm not a very peaceful man. So that'll work just fine."

Of course, the Man Who Walks simply followed along with, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as it always did. It rarely left that position, ever. As they entered into the bar, a familiar sight was seen. It was the standard bar setting, with the standard bartender, and the standard group of ruffians and thugs that made up these kinds of places. As she headed on up to the bar and got her drink, he did likewise, tapping his fingers lightly upon the counter and saying,

"Plum wine." He moreso kept an eye out. Although she knew this place, he didn't. And he didn't like the look of people in this place anymore than any of the other places that he had been to. As the throwing continued and possibly escalated, he noted that man striding up to the Cat and challenging her to a duel. In response, his hand tightened around the hilt of his blade again.

"You don't want to fight her."
 
The man looked at The Man Who Walks irritated. Hands in his pockets like the amateur gangster he was. "What does a man like you have to do with The Cat? You think you're as good as her? Think you're better than her? You don't even look tha-" Before he could finish his last sentence, he was already on the floor face down.

What had happened was that The Cat had simply kicked him. It was a simple and almost painless kick if the receiver wasn't a average person. And unfortunately for the man, he was no different than an average man. She set a foot on his back with arms crossed across her chest.

"I told you, I only fight strong men and you're not one of them." She pulled her leg off his back and returned to her seat sipping her milk.

"I see you haven't lost your touch. Still kicking around, huh? I'm a bit surprised though. I didn't know you left the city to look for a lover. Oh, how fat you had grown up." He spoke and nodded his head at The Walker and served him his drink. "Don't forget to invite me to your wedding"

She almost spat her milk and turned her face to a bright red when he mentioned a lover. There was no way she would leave the city for a man. Not in this lifetime or the next.

"M-master, you're getting the wrong idea. I was out on an assassination and theft contract. I would've killed that bastard if I didn't have to retrieve some kind of jewellery. And this man here is just someone I met not long ago. Say, could you get me a beer? Any kind of beer is fine."
 
The Protector aimlessly followed the two. He huffed slightly. Great. Another one of those girls his brother dealt with. He stopped his brother before he could enter any room the girl led him to.

"What have I told you about following pretty girls around?" he asked his younger brother. "You aren't getting in any closed of room with her."

Narrowing his eyes at the possible implications on how that sounded, he added something in. "You're going to end up with a knife on your neck." Pausing. "Again."

Seeing his brother's stubborn look, The Protector rolled his eyes. "And it's not kinky."

He turned to the girl who oddly enough was his brother's height. Small world. Yes, pun intended. "Where are we headed, Nightmare?" he asked her, asserting his role as big brother. It wasn't often he did that.

Or maybe he did and became to natural. Besides, his brother's best interest was why he was here. What his brother wants, he gets. Screw it if he set the world in fire. Though he would prefer to see his brother live through the flames first.
 
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"So you think I'm pretty?" The Dream said without turning to face them, still in her strangely sleepy voice. "I'm unarmed, hotstuff. I can put my music player in my chest but I can't hide a sword in my ass."

The Trickster's eyes widened as he let out a low whistle.

She turned her head sideways to look at the brothers a little bit. "We're going to an ice cream parlor. I don't like the weather. You must be hot in your clothes."

"Actually-" The Trickster began with a smirk. But The Dream interrupted. "I mean your brother. You look comfortable enough."

Wow, The Trickster mouthed to his brother. She continued walking and he followed.
 
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The Protector ignored his brother with an unamused frown. He rolled his eyes at his brother's insistent attention and placed a heavy hand on the other's neck, like a sort of half collar. It was needed, really. His brother had a tendency to run after something shiny. Or pretty. One to many times to count.

"Behave." he half whispered to his brother. "You want her to like you, brother."

He turned his hard eyes on the girl as they trailed behind her. "Nightmare, we're here for business. Not pleasure." he told her as they entered the ice cream shop.

His eyes scanning the store for any suspicious activity. He pushed his brother to a corner, covered by his form.

Remembering something, he stared the girl in the eye. "And anyone with half an eye can see you're pretty, but pretty girls are dangerous."
 
The Gambler paused, leaning on his cane as he considered which way to go. He was headed to a nearby bar, that he'd heard was a good place to get a drink, and more importantly for him, it was a known gambling den. He could pick up some coin there, maybe hook up with one of the local gangs for some protection. He knew someone in The Outsiders that would probably give him a hand. That was his best bet. First though, the bar.

Decided, he picked himself up and pushed on, ignoring the sounds of combat that had blended in behind him. His was a slow pace, as he observed his surroundings. A man of his occupation rarely made friends, and thus it was good to have a ready escape route. It took him roughly twenty minutes of exploration and observation to find the bar he was looking for.

As he stepped inside, he was just in time to catch one of the people from the train, one of the girls, kick a man to the ground. He shook his head and approached the bar. He waited for the Bartender to wait on them before he ordered his own drink. "Whiskey, don't care what kind." He said, expecting the man to fetch the most expensive stuff he had. He didn't mind.

He looked around the room quietly, before spotting a table of men with cards. That was his mark. He put some cash on the bar and made his way towards the table. "Mind if I cut in?" He asked politely. The men looked him over for a moment before nodding.

"Sleeves up." One of the men told him as he sat down. He looked them over and noticed that all of their sleeves were rolled up. He nodded in agreement and conceded to their will, rolling his own sleeves up. They set the stakes and he began playing, losing intentionally the first few hands, watching for their tells. After he'd learned them, he began playing seriously, taking their money with little trouble. He'd quickly made up his money he'd spent for the drink, and what he'd spent in the first losing hands.

Then he'd made some more money, he started chatting with them about the tournament. It was apparently being run by The Gardener. That was ill news for him. He'd been invited personally, so the note had said, by the host of the event. The Gardener was not someone he'd ever met, but if he was known so much so that the Gardener knew who he was, it couldn't mean good things. Worse, The Gardener knew how to find him. He continued playing, but eventually the players had had enough of losing their money, and packed up.
 
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