(Round One) To Fraternize with the Underworld

OoC: Sorry this took so long. I've been really, really busy. The title could probably use some work, but...blah.

IC:

If a seedier place than the one Len now occupied existed on the entire planet, she resolved never to actively seek it out. Cigarette smoke—along with other forms of probably even more deadly ways to utterly destroy one’s lungs—hung thick in the air like a smothering blanket, granting the hole-in-the-wall bar an ethereal ambience. The scum of the city, people from any and all levels of the underworld’s “corporate” ladder, occupied the haphazardly-sized tables—everything from the common and lowly street thief all the way up to smugglers and back down to sporadic rapists. Using her peripheral vision, Len even thought she glimpsed a few well-known serial rapists and killers scattered around the large room.

However, the Butterfly Assassin had no interest in such petty hits, though she made certain to stay wary of the rapists. Her attention was focused solely—yet not obviously, of course—upon the bartender for the moment. She was a familiar sight in his bar, and the two had an understanding relationship. In exchange for Len’s abundant patronage, the bartender often passed along choice news and rumors which usually aided her in whatever assignment she might have at the time. To avoid needless conflict and bloodshed in his establishment, though, the man had set up a series of silent, unobtrusive signals he would use to communicate with Len. More often than not, he would tell her where he had hidden a piece of paper with whatever the latest rumor was on it specifically for her.

Tonight, however, she glanced discreetly out of the corner of her eye in his direction, only to detect the signal for, “I don’t have any new information for you.” Attempting to keep the disappointment from showing on her face, she casually ordered another drink, unwilling to just suddenly get up and walk out of the bar, having only been in it for about twenty minutes.

Two minutes later, she realized her mistake.

One of the more inebriated patrons managed to meander over in her direction and slapped a hand rather violently onto her shoulder, jerking her around and off her stool. Before she could react, Len felt her back harshly slammed against a wall and smelled the man’s alcohol-laden breath as he leaned uncomfortably close to her.

“Weeell…aren’ you jus’ a pretty li’l thing?” His speech was slurred, and he paused between every word as though having to take hold of the concepts associated with the sounds he was attempting to produce.

Rolling her eyes, Len reached for Stille hidden within her clothing, but to her surprise, the drunkard had enough wits about him to grab her wrists and pin them to the wall above her head, effectively restraining and preventing her from fending him off. His grip was like iron, and no matter how much she struggled, she was unable to break free long enough to go for her weapons. But Fallenstre was not one to give up so easily. A quick knee was all it took to force the man to release her, and she immediately drew Stille and held it precariously close to the man’s throat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?”

A few seconds later, she stepped over the crumpled, bloody heap she left upon the floor of the bar and exited without bothering to take in the astonished stares that followed her.

But she did not fail to notice a figure furtively follow her out into the streets.

OoC: Wow, what an honor it is to be in the same block as a living legend. I hope my performance is up to your standards, Mistress LEA.

IC: There wasn’t any point. Fuzen had no taste for stalking. To follow without being seen, well… That took something he didn’t have. He’d met others, people, if you could call them people, that could stalk their targets before they spring an attack, but they were much different than him. Some people, again, if you could call them people, were simply born with the talent, along with some other deformity that facilitated it, while others simply lacked presence. He fell into neither group. The fallen god was deformed, without a doubt, but nothing about his deformity, or, at least, nothing he had ever thought up, gave him that ability. And presence, oh, he is the very definition of overabundance. It seemed that, the more emotion one put into their movements, the more obvious they were to the one they were directed at. In such a case, only movement that lacked emotional content could be undetectable, so only the soulless tools of others could move in such a way. That was where he truly faltered. Each step he took, or the slightest movement his muscle made, was filled with a burning kind of emotion, and it made him furious to suppress it. Would he act in such a way, as he had when he first met his sword, his real target would not be the one being stalked. Following wasn’t the same as stalking.

And so, as the half demon contemplated his approach, the fine female fighter he had his eye on got up, paid her tab in full, and finally left the establishment, leaving an alcoholic stain on her table as the only sign she had been there. And so, with a scoff, he let her go. Why? Stalking had very little to do with it. It was because his beauty and wit might have been able to charm her. That wasn’t what he wanted that night. The only thing his eyes could see was the blood of his next victim being spilled. There were only two ways that could have happened. After following her, a sneak attack, instantly killing her, or, after the short, boring fight that was sure to come from that weak minded woman, killing her with a bit of dignity. Neither option would satisfy his current urge. His presence was filled with the desire for violence, to the point where a short fight would leave him hungry, but stalking would still leave a bad taste in his mouth. He, Fuzen, needed a murderer, a murderer with the same presence as him.

After that, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. His eye wandered to the only other woman in the low class bar. She looked harmless, but hope still reigned in the form of a knife she tried to conceal within her clothing. If she didn’t prove herself, then he would have to pick a less satisfying target. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to find one though. All of the men looked to be either regular criminals, among which there were sure to be a killer or two, or plain disturbed.

What a joy it was when the harmless looking woman was finally attacked by one of the more inebriated patrons milling around the place. For such a pretty face, she sure did kill him fast. By the time it was all over, most of the low-lives were, understandably, in a state of shock. For them, it was likely something of a surprise, if not a fright, to see one man torn apart so quickly. For the one half demon among them, however, it was a sign. After that, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. His feet wandered out of the bar in pursuit.

“Stop where you stand,” Fuzen called out, drawing her attention had he not a hold of it already, “This is The End for you.”

A pair of feet walked silently over the endless cracked, stone slabs placed shoddily together to form a makeshift street. Of course, you could expect little better from the town. If anything, the streets were the nicest part of the town. Most houses and buildings lining the streets had broken down, and looked liked they could be destroyed by a child’s touch.

The town had been doing poorly lately. It had lost trade routes and was unable to establish new ones, sending the economy into a downward spiral; and the towns folk, unable to cope, looked into the bottle for answers, drinking the last of their remaining years away.

Tsuukai looked at the poor that lined the streets, some sleeping other awake, and staring at the traveler, with utter disdain. Pathetic fools, unable to deal with the harsh reality of life, do not deserve to live. I suppose what they were doing was hardly living at that point. As the darkly cloaked stranger's feet moved him closer to the seedier part of town, his nose caught wind of the stench of death. He was so used to it by that point that he could smell it from miles away. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head as if looking towards the ground; and then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows.

The Master Of Shadows found himself in a foul smelling bar. Not just because of the heavy fumes that coated of the bar was it foul smelling, but for the sack of flesh that lay limp in the corner. Using the patrons’ distraction as an entrance, he leaned silently against a nearby wall, watching the crowd closely. It seemed everybody in the bar was so attracted by the fresh death that they paid attention to nothing else.

Well, all but one man, who seemed to be heading for the only exit. The man headed for the door wasn't the killer. Tsuukai didn't sense the smell of the dead on him; however, he appeared to be one who wished to be. His obvious focus on the door, coupled with the look of insanity in his eyes told the dark cloaked stranger that he was not to be trusted, or ignored.

Silently, and without moving a muscle, the traveler followed the man, watching his movements from the shadows. It was not long before the man who looked with malice found what he was looking for. Taking a step, he approached a small looking women, who, judging by the fact her muscles seemed tense, was well aware of her followers presence. The man who was following her called out to her, as if not at all aquatinted with the aspect of a “surprise attack”, and the girl turned to look at him with cold, almost dead, eyes.

Watching from the shadows, Tsuukai was struck with a quandary: He knew that a fight would soon break out, and he had one of two choices. He could either inject himself right away (because in his mind, striking first against a women was an intolerable dishonor) or he could wait it out; and let himself be known later, when it most benefited him. The girl, who looked rather bored as she stared at the attacker, seemed to be able to help herself. If his intuitions were correct, she was the one who killed the man in the bar.

Deciding discretion over valor, Tsuukai stood hidden in the shadows, watching till he could decide upon his next move. After all, either one of them might be able to fetch a hefty reward for their capture. While at the same time, hoping that neither one of them would catch wind of his presence. Time would judge if he joined this battle or not.

OoC; There I posted...now stop bugging me about it