kumogakure noire.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [2]

---

The shot of tequila he took was exceptionally strong and, for a moment there, the half-masked ANBU agent wondered exactly where this drink had come from. Did they export it from somewhere? Did it come from overseas? He may have remembered, once, but now he had forgotten. Wherever it had come from, however, he could not dispute the fact that it was expensive.

Considering his salary, however, he didn't mind. Life in Kumogakure no Sato as a Jounin-ranked ANBU agent was pretty nice, if you knew how to play your cards right. But things could, of course, get hairy when you least expected it. And, as a Jounin, it was their job to step into the thick of it and handle things. Situations like these were often far and in between, and they at least garnered rewards for the participant, but when they did happen-

A small gang of miscreants came crashing in through the doors of the tavern, the small bell located on its side ringing erratically, as if it were warning the patrons of the mayhem to come. The half-masked Jounin, although engrossed on his bottle of tequila, bothered to turn around and see what all the commotion was about. He sucked on a lime, which had previously been salted, as he watched the thugs come in.

He would have groaned with his displeasure had it not been for the lime that was currently between his lips. These thugs, it was obvious that they had come here to cause some trouble. They weren't regular customers, that was for sure, and they had no qualms about pestering the other patrons and demanding they get drinks- presumably for free. The Jounin, knowing he would have to set them straight, poured himself another shot of tequila in the meantime. Another night, another mission, and more nimrods.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [3]

---

He enjoyed the smooth taste of his liquor for the time being, biding his time for as long as he could before the thugs that had just come in started throwing chairs about. After his green eyes caught a glimpse of the anxiousness in the bartender's own orbs, however, he figured it was time he do his duty. This coincided with one of the thug's approach.

They laid a rough hand on his shoulder, prompting him to stop just as he was getting off his stool. His previous smile suddenly flipped upside down, his countenance radiating with a sense of annoyance. The thug had no idea what he had just done, laughing it away, asking if the red-maned ANBU agent had some money he could lend to a poor, alcoholic sap.

Then, without warning, the half-masked Jounin exploded into a flurry of action. He grabbed the other's hand, spinning around on his stool simultaneously, and twisted it so far that the thug began to cry like a little baby. He held it there for a moment, that awful and painful deadlock, and smiled with a toothy grin. That lion-like glare appeared in his eyes.

"You'll never," He began, as if whispering, but with a guttural growl. "Lay a hand on me again." Having said that, he twisted the man's hand even farther. A pain the thug once thought never could exist, violently surged throughout his body, as his comrades watched with amusement. They were, the Jounin then realized, cold and dickless bastards.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [4]

---

He released the thug he had in his grasp then, glaring at the man as he stumbled backwards in intense pain, clutching at his injured hand. And then, as if nothing had happened, the half-masked ANBU agent would return to his drink. Pouring himself yet another shot of tequila, and asking the bartender if he would kindly bring him some more slices of fresh lime.

The thugs, in the meantime, stared the Jounin down from behind him. Chairs and tables were already strewn about in the tavern, the regular patrons of this establishment now sneaking out, feeling that sense of dread that came with an oncoming fight. The leader of the wayward pack that had strolled in here, a man with a bald head and black vest, growled angrily.

The ANBU agent, in the meantime, proceeded to taking a few shots of his tequila, and subsequently, sucking on his limes. When the vulgar brute behind him started yelling out profanities, however, he stopped. That was what was to be expected from vulgar brutes such as them, but that didn't change the fact that it was disturbing his current vice.

Having believed, throughly, that his previous display would scare them off and save him the trouble of kicking some more ass, he was disappointed to see that it had not. So he down his previously poured shot of tequila, calmly sucked on his last lime thereafter, then hopped off his stool with an unruffled look upon his face. His eyes narrowed, staring at the thugs.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [5]

---

The thugs seemed to be slightly intimidated by his glare, but apparently not enough to back off. And, to be honest, he did not exactly want to pull out his Kumogakure no Sato headband and use that as an excuse for them to stop pillaging the shit out of this tavern. He knew, he hoped, that these "gentlemen" of sorts would have better manners than that.

If he could send them off on their way, having proven that humanity still had a shred of decency in this world, even in a society as civilized as this one, then the reward would be much bigger than just ryo and a mission to mark down. But the brutes before him only responded with steely glares and grinding teeth. His kind efforts, it seemed, would go to vain.

The leader of the group approached slowly, grabbing a chair by its top half as he did so, then charged with the wooden chair in hand and swung down. By then, however, the red-maned ANBU agent had avoided the potentially harmful blow. He had taken a swift side-step to his right, giving him enough time to curl his hand into a fist, and counter immediately.

A swift blow to the back of the man's shiny bald head was all that it took to knock his ass down, the forceful impact of his body against the wooden floors shaking the very ground itself. Everyone paused from their teeth-grinding, and glaring, and insulting, for a moment. All of them, except for the half-masked Jounin, couldn't believe what had just happened.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [6]

---

The abrupt- and quite frankly shocking- defeat of their leader put the gang of thugs and brutes into an uproar. The bartender who- unlike the rest of his civili patrons- had not decided to sneak out, was now making a beeline for the back-door, leaving the sanctity of the tavern in the red-maned Jounin's care. Noticing the bartender's abrupt leave, he would try his best.

The thugs before him all tried to arm themselves with whatever they could. Some of them, like their leader, grabbed the wooden chairs that inhabited the center of the tavern floor. Others went for the empty beer bottles strewn across the tables, smashing them against the side of said tables to create sharp edges on one side. And some, provided themselves with one.

More than a few had their own personal weapons. Some took out small knives, and chains, and even a hammer. Others wielded brass knuckles, and nunchaku, and claws. Seeing the accumulation of all these weapons, the red-maned ANBU agent sighed. This was going to end up being a work-out, just like all of his other missions, and he didn't like it.

Not finding any other alternative in sight, however, he would need to get down to the nitty-gritty of this physical combat. The fact that he didn't appreciate fools that didn't fight fair only filled him with the rage necessary to fuel his predatory instinct. He had the will of the lion within him. A will for victory. And he was going to let them see this will manifest.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [7]

---

They came rushing towards him without warning, swinging and bashing and growling and yelling. Their battle cries bounced off the walls and shook the very fabric of space that surrounded them. The Jounin, a master of action and reaction, quickly moved his arm backwards and grabbed the tequila bottle he had ordered with the gloved hand that followed.

Having grabbed this long bottle, still filled halfway with its intoxicating liquid, he would smash the first thug that got in his way on the top of the head, effectively knocking him out for the time being. He ducked as a chair came flying in, made a break for it when he saw an opening, and punched a thug deep in the gut- forcing him to fly backwards in immense pain.

Subsequently, the thug crashed into a wooden table and completely shattered it. When the armed thugs came in, things got a lot more serious. The half-masked Jounin needed to constantly side-step, leap, swerve, duck, and backtrack to avoid all the slashes, and swipes, and stabs that were coming his way. It wasn't an easy task, it took a lot of stamina.

But thankfully, he managed to evade just enough attacks, and buy himself just enough time, to get his opponents exhausted, too. When he noticed that undeniable look of fatigue in their eyes, he immediately went into the offensive once more. He was trained. They were not. It was as simple as that. Relentlessly, the Jounin would continue his assault.

[Estilo]

Roughhouse [8]

---

A chair hit him and shattered across his back, hard and nasty, fueled by a fear that could only come from the inexperienced. The assault that had come from the chair-wielding thug was followed by a prompt series of swipes from the nearby nunchaku. This brief action, little did the nunchaku-wielding thug know, only pissed the red-maned ANBU agent more.

Roaring with an uncontrollable rage, he tightened his hands into fists and began his lunge towards the first thug in his line of sight- which, of course, happened to be the nunchaku-wielder. He grabbed the nunchaku just before they slapped him again, ripped them from the man's grasp, and tossed them behind the counter. This was followed with a prompt beat-down.

When he was done beating on that asshole, he grabbed a chair and swung it ferociously at the knife-wielding thugs coming his way. The first was a warning swipe, the other knocked one of them out. They still kept coming, however, now only five people strong. Realizing that his stamina was just about out, the half-masked ANBU agent leaped backwards.

He issued a quick set of hand seals, his hands entering a flurry of motion as his opponents looked on with fear. Before they could do anything, however, his technique had already been executed. It was called the body paralysis technique, and he had trapped them all within it. Smiling, he advanced. If they liked to cheat, then so would he. Just this once.

G A M E O V E R

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[Estilo]

Chapter Eleven

Sewer Crawl

name; sewer crawl
rank; b
description; Sometimes the elaborate systems we set up don’t exactly work like they’re supposed too, this just happens to be one of those cases. One of the sewer systems underground recently get epic jammed. We need a Ninja to go down there and figure out what the problem is and how to fix it. The hard part isn’t that though, that’s not getting hopelessly lost in the elaborate maze of tunnels or swept up in the disgusting sewer water.
reward; 300 experience, 5,000 ryo
minimum shinobi; one
mission status; interminable

He had been asked by a pretty important official to take upon a task he found very, very... unappealing. But, having this official in question as a friend, came with its own sacrifices. Apparently, no other shinobi in Kumogakure no Sato had the ability (or insanity) to complete this mission and see it through. No one wanted it, the red-maned Jounin thought.

So, much to his chagrin, he took the mission anyway. He felt that he'd essentially been burdened with the work of a Chuunin, but there was no helping it. Whether Genin, Chuunin, or Jounin, he was still a shinobi of Kumogakure no Sato. That meant that he always had duties to fulfill, and he couldn't ignore them just because he really disliked them.

With nothing more than a huff of displeasure, he'd exit the comfort of his clean and classy apartment home, and go looking for a sewer hole. Being the minor germ freak that he was, he definitely wasn't pleased with getting his clothes dirty down there. But, like he so often tended to do, he had come prepared. He wore his old, and once ignored, Chuunin outfit.

Although the fact that he was a Jounin, wearing this long outdated uniform, embarrassed him to a certain degree. He figured that there would be no one else to see him down in the depths of Kumogakure no Sato's sewers. He wore a beige military vest, long-sleeved black shirt, and an old pair of unused khakis. And, he didn't mind dirtying these at all.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [2]

---

The manhole he was looking for was situated on the street in front of his apartment complex, and he was headed directly there with a crowbar in hand. Having reached his destination, he would pry the metal coin that covered the hole, off, and then he would proceed down the flight of metal bars that would lead him into the murky sewers below.

He could smell the shit and the grime from up on the street level, the sound of the metal top he had taken off sounding and echoing down said hole. Sighing, once again wondering what had possessed him to take upon this mission, he latched the crowbar to his hip and proceeded down. Simultaneously, he cover the manhole with the disc once more.

Having ensured that no civilian would accidentally fall, his conscious was clear, and he could continue on with his assignment. He landed into the murky, ankle-high, waters of the sewer system beneath Kumogakure no Sato- happy that he had not brought along his favorite pair of boots. Pinching his nose tightly for a moment, he would continue on.

The old and cheap pair of boots he had decided to bring along for this assignment sloshed and struggled through the mush and nastiness of it all. He took out a flashlight, tired of all this disgusting darkness ahead of him, and switched it on. Rats immediately scattered, their beady little eyes gleaming yellow as they caught sight of the bright light.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [3]

---

There was no telling exactly what was plugging up one of the large tunnels in the network of this sewer system. To be completely honest, the half-masked ANBU agent couldn't even begin to hazard a guess. But, whatever it was, he would find it and solve this little issue of theirs. Many of the uptown districts bathtubs and toilets were being plugged up, after all.

As he continued with his walking, and with his sloshing, his ears would prick at the sound of something. It sounded like an echo... but he could barely tell that it was not. Something else was sloshing in these waters, rhythmically, with him. And he didn't like the sound of it. Whatever it was, it was at least as big as him. He could tell that much from the sound.

When he reached an intersection between tunnels, he quickly stopped in his tracks. His sloshing was put to an immediate halt, but his friend's sloshing stopped seconds after. It was trying to hide itself, masking its movements with his own, but wasn't quite good at it. So the red-maned Jounin turned his flashlight to and fro, in an attempt to find it and root it out.

In the back of his mind, he prayed that it was not some sort of gigantic rat. If it was, he had the strangest feeling that he would go absolutely berserk. But alas, nothing popped up on his radar. Whatever it was, it was clearly hiding out of sight. Wary for his safety, the half-masked ANBU agent continued on nonetheless, sloshing through the green muck once more.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [4]

---

The beam of light that came from the flashlight he held wasn't exactly suited for this sort of darkness. It limited his sense of sight severely, and forced him to slow down whenever he felt he was getting lost, or headed in the wrong direction. But he followed the instructions he had been given at the mission compound, which he had memorized prior to descending.

And, soon enough, he reached a rather large clearing of murky water that signaled the center of this part of the sewer system. Having successfully gone through the first half of the network here, he was now faced with a decision. There were three separate paths he could take, each leading into a separate tunnel. Each one of them could lead him to the problem.

Each one looked as menacing as the other, each one made him think that he would get lost in this network of sludge and bad odor, when clearly he couldn't stand to be here a minute longer. But, following his gut, he decided that he would go ahead and move into the tunnel that resided in the middle. So, giving his choice a try, he continued on forward.

The darkness that surrounded him on all sides was daunting. For a moment, his flashlight displayed the sight of long sprayed graffiti adorning the stained walls. He wondered who had been crazy enough to come down here and spray something so pointless, where so few people could see it. Surely, this was the work of careless, reckless and stupid teenagers.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [5]

---

His boots now contained that nasty liquid muck within the insides of its crevices. He could feel his socks soaking with the vile water that managed to squeeze through the tightly-tied foot wear. it was gross, and his face had since become the epitome of disgust. But he continued on, figuring that what he started down here, might as well be finished.

Upon reaching yet another clearing in the sewer system, he looked about for any sign of life or activity or something that could prove to be the answer to the question he was looking to have solved. The clearing was only the forefront for yet another tunnel and, as he approached it, he would find that the tunnel was blocked off by a thick wired fence.

So, realizing that this was clearly a dead end, as the wired fence allowed the passage of liquid contents easily, he retraced his steps and chose a different tunnel to navigate through. This time, he was lead to a clearing that showed no sign of an adjacent tunnel. Although, much to his disgust, he did find a sea of mysterious meat floating in the murky green water.

With the two previous entryways leading to dead ends, there was now only one way he could go. The way, he knew, that would lead him to the source of the problem he was trying to answer. But as he walked again, his boots sloshing through the muck, he heard that sound once more. The thing that was following him had continued to follow. But what was it, exactly?

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [6]

---

He tried to ignore the mysterious thing that was currently following him, suspecting that the thing did not want to be seen, and would only disappear if he turned around and acknowledged its presence. So, he continued on. As he moved forwards down that dark and murky tunnel, the stench of something started to grow. It blended with the smells of the dark sewer.

The smell was very much like cat piss, mixed with human feces, mixed with garbage waste, and a rotten cabbage. It insulted the sense of smell horribly, it brought tears to his eyes, subsequently blurring his vision for a moment. And he dare not- at least not now- wipe at his eyes with his stained and dirtied hands. This mission, he realized, was absolutely awful.

As he grumbled on to himself about the ridiculousness of the entire thing, he would reach the clearing at the end of the tunnel. For once, lights adorned the walls, albeit being very faint and unreliable. But, that didn't matter for now. See, he could now see what was plugging up the tunnel down here. And it was so gruesome and nasty, that his jaw dropped.

A fat blob of brown and jelly kept the tunnel entrance covered, jammed in there as one would jam a stick of toothpaste into a sink hole. It looked like an overgrown zit, pulsating and pumping, as if the thing were alive. And, when he heard something like a stomach suddenly groan- that awful sound bouncing off the walls- he wondered whether it was alive.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [7]

---

This thing, this abomination, could it really be alive?! He could not, for a moment, believe that something so vile and disgusting could exist. Down here in the depths of Kumogakure no Sato, no less! It astounded him, and he wondered exactly where this thing had come from. Then came the scent of peanut butter and jelly, wafting gently past his nostrils.

He raised an eyebrow in immediate doubt, shaking his head, again unwilling to believe. But this time, it was for something entirely different. A monster, composed of peanut butter and jelly, How could anyone expect him to believe that so easily? But, apparently, proof of such a creature's existence was right in front of him. Now he would have to deal with it.

Suddenly, however, the sloshing sound that had been following him picked up in pace and became clearer and clearer. It was rushing towards him and, before he could turn around to evade or counter, it swamped over him. A sensation of cold and stickiness overcame his senses, and he struggled to swim free. When he opened his eyes, he saw what it was.

He had been trapped within a blob of purple jelly. A sub-creature of the monster that had been plugging up the sewer tunnel, and an apparent slave of the thing. Caught within the sticky innards of such a creature, he tried to swim out, but found the effort pointless. Somehow, it was keeping him trapped within itself tightly, and he had no way out.

[Estilo]

Sewer Crawl [8]

---

He came up with an idea. Though his body floated helplessly within the blob that had trapped him, he could still move his hands to some degree. So, determined to issue the hand seals he required, he began to charge his chakra. He was coming out of this, one way or another, and he wouldn't allow his death to be facilitated by a blob of jelly.

The lightning dragon tore through the fat blob of jelly, ripping it in half with such a ferocity that its pieces flew all over the place. With it destroyed completely, the red-maned Jounin was certain that the monster could be considered dead. So, he picked himself up from the grimy green water promptly, setting his sights on the bigger one.

He readied his attack, another set of hand seals being prepped, more chakra being charged within his body- subsequently electrified with lightning particles. Like its hasty little slave, the half-masked ANBU agent was prepared to rip the thing obstructing the tunnel in half. But, he figured, he would need something a bit more substantial. Two dragons.

He sent them off in all their electric blue glory, having them roar as they tackled the fat brown and purple creature before them, then watching with amazement as they and the monster exploded into pieces. One scattered bolts, the other jelly. Which was then, of course, followed by a sudden flood of nasty water that nearly drowned him. The mission was over.

G A M E O V E R

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