- Spoiler:
- Voyage Name: Street Sweeping
Location: Baltigo
Participant(s): Solo
Description: A skirmish between two fairly sized street gangs breaks out and quickly begins to spread throughout parts of the city. It's Musou's job to evacuate pedestrians and then assist in neutralizing the threat.
Enemies: 50+ Grunts
Goal: To Beat People Up and Get Some Clout
Ensign Samasu A man dressed in garbs resemblant of a samurai's set a porcelain shot glass of sake down on the wooden bar and looked over to his right. There, to his right, was a man who was dressed in formal business attire giving him an occasional glance as if he had recognized the samurai's face or maybe he didn't. This samurai was Musou. Well he wasn't solely a samurai anymore. He was now property of the world government as an Ensign enlisted in the Marines. Shifting his attention back forward, he got the barkeepers attention by raising a hand to signal for his bill. "P-please." Musou looked back to his right to see the man with the glances had approached him with a hand of Beli bills in his hand. Musou raised a brow at the man. It seemed he hand intentions on paying Musou's bill under the impression the samurai was a woman. "Please?" Musou's calm voice combed the man's nerves, but perhaps they brushed against the grain. His skin was already rose tinted from alcohol consumption, but now his skin went beet red from embarrassment. "A-a man?" The beli bills crumpled as his grip on them tightened and then Musou averted his attention back towards the bartender and he just shook his head. A section of the bar erupted in laughter and the man scurried back to where he had come from with raised shoulders and his head low. Pulling the appropriate amount of money, Musou paid the bartender and began to leave the bar. Just as he was almost in arms reach of the door, it burst open. Three men, one looking practically dead came in the bar and demanded drinks. The two who were in better health carried their bloodied comrade by his armpits and sat him down. His head dripped with blood, his shirt was soaked in blood from wounds on his torso, and one of his pant legs were ripped off showing gruesome burns down from the shin to where his crispy burnt shoes were. Musou wasn't the only one with eyes stuck on this trio. While in Baltigo the unusual happened, this was particularly unusual. "Um. . . I'm sorry gentlemen, but we can't serve you while that man is in that state. It's just unethical and its grossing out the other customers." A waiter had approached them and said this to them. At that they looked around the bar with furrowed brows and everyone but Musou turned their eyes away from them. "That fellow there has no problem with us being here." One of the men pointed this out as if it'd give them leverage in the dispute, but it obviously meant little to nothing, especially since Musou was on his way out. "Errr, yes, but that one man isn't the majority of the bar sir." The two goons who were in good health exchanged a moment with mutual glances of disbelief. Please . . . I won't last much longer. This was my favorite bar, I just want one Rashomon Special before I die. Grant a man his dying wish please." It was painful to watch the bloodied man rasp the words out his mouth, the waiter even had to lean in a bit to completely hear him. After hearing his words he looked for help with the bartender, but the man just shook his head in disapproval. This is where things went sour. |