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What is this, I don't even.....
Topic Started: Jul 7 2011, 01:57 PM (1,007 Views)
C0nMoney
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It was a bright day, about noon. Daemon sat relaxed at the edge of the fountain. Smoke rolled from his SeaKing brand cigar, and he put down his issue of the Daily Logue a moment. Looking about something seemed peculiar, he didn't sense danger but something else....

Looking about he noticed the square was packed, there were at least 3 times as many people as usual. That was the strange part though, he had noticed a large part of the crowd wasn't doing anything. It certainly looked suspicious, he looked about towards some fellow marines. They seemed not to have noticed anything, he sighed taking a long inhale of his cigar. He was off duty, and things always seemed to happen when he was off duty. He knew what he had to do, get up and leave right now! He stood and folded his newspaper. Exhaling he began to stretch his limbs, and then it happened. All at once scores of civilians pulled out masks sliding them upon their faces, and pulled long sticks with ribbons attached. It was too late, whatever this was Daemon was fated to witness it. "Fuuuuuuck meeeee." he whined aloud as the mob began to dance in poor synchronization. Their were fat ones, and women, children, and men. He could tell, it all seemed pretty harmless. On lookers began to display various faces; shock, fear, amusement. Then he began to hear sounds that would make any member of law enforcement cautious, yelling and wails of pain. They were coming from all about, Daemon attempted to force himself through the mob. But quickly found himself back near the fountain with new bruises and a broken cigar.

After about 7 minutes the mob began to disperse, by this time Daemon had pulled another Seaking Cigar from his coat and had smoked a quarter of it. He sighed shaking his head, he and many of the townsfolk had witnessed something truly strange this day. As the last of the mob disappeared, he began to notice something strange. At first he thought one of the mob members has fainted from exhaustion, but soon realized he was wrong. A puddle of blood was forming below the body, Daemon wanted to slam his head into the ground but instead put his palm to it letting it slide down. Soon cries of dismay and yells of "My store!" and "My money!" were going up all about the square.

Within an hour Daemon had taken accounts of two store robberies and three deaths, the corpses had curved slices all about them. Daemon had never seen such curious cuts, He made notes in preparation for the report he would have to write and headed to base. It was going to be an interesting week.

He reached based quickly with intent haste, after writing a lengthy report he tried to search out the captain. But instead ran into Commander Tommin, the plumply cheeked marine took the report in one hand. He stood awkwardly in all his roundness perfectly straight. The commander was a very serious man although overweight. He quickly scanned the report, and handed it back to Daemon. "Well no need to bother the captain, I expect you can handle this issue Ensign." Daemon's facial expression never changed but mentally he raged, <DAMNIT!!!! IT'S MY DAY OFF!> But he nodded, "Yes sir." The commander nodded back, "Take a few others if you need. But I expect this to be handled this week if not next week at the latest." The plump man turned striding off, Daemon slammed a fist into a wall neither his fist or the wall seeming much worse off.

Daemon walked the length of a hall racking his brain, where to start? How to start? He was much a lowly pawn, Although able he had never handled his on investigation. But another thought occurred to him, the commander had said he could take a few other men. Daemon nodded and lit a fresh Seaking Cigar, to be a good leader he'd have to find some good marines to work with. But his problem was he didn't really know any other marines all that well, and the ones he did he didn't want to bring this to. What was he going to do now.
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Each wall was white as pearl, reflecting the glowing rays that danced through the skylights above. Their shine was outmatched only by the various utensils that hung from wooden racks and glistened like fancy war medals. Atop the counters, there was not a single crumb and below not a speck of dust on the spotless checkered floor. The room was silent, except for a slight hum that floated on the air, originating from the giant appliances that lined the back wall, like towering steel soldiers.

Rau stood completely still, his eyes closed, his breath silent, his expression…expressionless. There was a palpable atmosphere in the room. In fact, it was so palpable that one could cut it even with a spoon. He held his hands in front of him, slowly rubbing them together like some sort of monk, perhaps meditating in search of a higher universe or praying to almighty Buddha himself. But he was missing prayer beads and the sheen off a freshly shaved head. In other words, this was no monk standing so silently and so expressionlessly and he certainly wasn't meditating. No, he was preparing himself - steeling himself. Because he knew he would only have one chance - one chance to get it right

Suddenly, he let out a deep breath and opened his eyes. His sharp and unblinking gaze came down to look upon his helpless prey, which lay below him in a heap. Inside his head played one of those bamboo flutes. It played a soft spiritual melody, like the kind you hear when a samurai is getting ready to strike with his samurai sword. A slight smile escaped Rau's lips. Now was the time to strike; he knew it because the flute inside his head stopped playing.

Suddenly and without warning, he attacked, plunging his hands downwards with a killing blow. He could feel the warmth and moisture as he pressed down against it, crushing it with all his weight. He began to fold and strangle it with his hands, trapping the air inside of it, not allowing a single breath to escape. There was no stopping him now that he had begun. He lifted it up high and slammed it back down with so much force that a white cloud rose up into the air. But he wasn't finished, not yet. Again, he lifted it up, this time with just one hand, and brought it back down with all his might. Then he began to knead it again, mashing his fists into relentlessly. His breathing was heavy now, but he couldn't stop, not yet. He was almost finished. It just needed a little more work and…

"That should do it!"
Rau wiped his hands on his apron, admiring his handiwork as he looked at the ball of dough that sat before him on the kitchen counter, white as snow, in a bed of flour.

"Bob-san was right," he chuckled. "Rubbing my hands together to heat them up before I knead the dough really does make it ferment faster."

Now it was time to let the yeast do the rest of the work. Pulling a bowl from one of the cupboards, he placed the dough inside of it and covered it with a towel.

"I'll come back for you when you've risen my friend," he spoke as if talking to a real person and left the bowl on the counter.

He'd return later in the day to work the dough again before letting it rise one final time. The process was also known as proofing. After that it would be ready to bake. Until then, however, Rau had some free time and he wondered how he could occupy himself. He could practice his swordplay in the courtyard or maybe go off the base for a while. Keeping busy was something important to him, especially now that his thoughts began to dwell heavily on his impending decision

Even though he had been a chef at the base officially for two years now, it was only recently that he had begun to consider becoming a marine himself. His dream was to become the head chef at the base, but the harrowing stories of the marines and their adventures on the high seas had evoked the adventurer in him. Still, his loyalty was to Bob, the head chef at the base, and he just couldn't bring himself to leave his mentor. After all, he taught him everything he knew about cooking and baking. If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't have this chance in the first place.

Grabbing his katana off one of the racks, Rau left the kitchen and made his way down to one of the courtyards. Maybe some exercise would help him get his mind off the matter. Though even if it did, it wouldn't change the fact that he had until the end of the day to make his decision. Oddly enough, that was roughly the same amount of time it would take for his dough to rise.
Edited by HohHoh, Jul 21 2011, 11:55 PM.
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Daemon was deep in thought, as he walked he tried to remember the names of any fellow marines he knew. He then stopped he noticed a younger marine staring, he realized he must have walked around this same hall over four or five times. Embarrassed he twisted on his heels, turning a sharp right he continued his ponderous walk. Then a name slid from the recesses of his brain, Roan! He was a childhood acquaintance of Daemon's from his hometown of Osula. Roan probably even considered him a friend, but Roan was not the sort Daemon desired along side him on assignment. Although a true marine, Roan was much like many Osulans, a natural born thug. Unlike Daemon Roan's parents had died at the hand of a prominent gang, causing Roan to damn piracy. But that didn't change his nature at all, if not for the incident with his parents, Roan would have climbed the thug hierachy of Osula easily. Instead one tragedy had crossed him over to the marines, the man was cruel, quick tempered, and dull witted. But what choice did Daemon have, that was one of the few able bodies marines who had come to mind. Daemon took a drag of his cigar, letting out a trio of neat smoke rings. He then headed to the kitchens, Roan was always hanging about there.

When he entered the cafeteria, he found a group of solemn marines talking, and eating quietly. He didn't recognize any of the faces, and decided to ask the kitchen staff. He turned another corner spotting Rau, "Excuse me. I'm looking for a rather tall marine oaf by the name of Roan, might you know of him? Usually hangs about the kitchens, probably begging for food." Daemon took a drag from his cigar and then pulled it away from his mouth, "Ring any bells?"
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Just as he rounded the corner towards the mess hall, Rau was stopped in his tracks by a marine approaching from the opposite direction. He started asking him something, though Rau didn't really catch it, momentarily distracted by the bitter smoke that invaded his lungs and stung his eyes.

Smoking a cigar in the mess hall? he thought to himself as he waved a hand in front of his face. Such blatant disrespect for the facilities.

It was his off day, but Rau wasn't surprised that yet another marine had come to him, probably for another special order he thought. Of course, his pride would never allow him to indulge in flattery, lest he break the samurai code by embracing the vanity of praise.

"I'm sorry," he spoke curtly, practically cutting the marine off. "I can't cook you any Roman loafs at this moment even if you beg for food. I might be hanging around the kitchen, but It's actually my day off and I was just-"

….....

…...

....

...


A single drop of sweat rolled off his brow as he realized what he had done. Then for added effect, a harsh gust of wind blew in from an open window, causing his clothes to ruffle rather dramatically. The strength of the gust also caused a rather oblivious marine at one of the tables to drop his pudding cup, which fell in slow motion. The splat from its impact with the linoleum floor cut through the silence. Rau knew what he had to do, for there was only one solution for an act so embarrassing - so dishonourable.


Seppuku...

He clutched his sword, pulling the blade out a few inches, readying himself for suicide. He'd spill his guts right there and end his miserable existence. But there was only one thing stopping him. After all, such a gruesome act would only prove more disrespectful than smoking in the mess hall. Plus, he didn't have his tanto, having had it confiscated by Bob-san after repeated attempts to gut himself. So after a few moments of looking like he was fighting his own possessed hand, he finally released the hilt of his weapon and let out a deep breath. No, there had to be a less drastic solution. But he needed to think quickly if he wanted to salvage his honour.

Dropping his head and pulling his bandana over his eyes, he cleared his throat before addressing the marine.

"Roan?" He said coolly, as if nothing had ever happened. "I'm sorry, I haven't seen anyone like that today. It's my day off you see and I was just heading down to the courtyard now. So if you'll excuse me..."
Edited by HohHoh, Jul 22 2011, 03:01 PM.
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Daemon was amused by the man's reaction to the smoke, was he some sort of tight ass pansy? The marines had their share of them, 50% Thugs, 50% Tight Asses. But the man was direct, he quickly denied Daemon any Roman Loafs. "What? No I didn't want any food." Daemon found it ironic, that it was this mans day off as well, Perfect. "Actually-" The man's demeanor quickly changed, in a manner that made Daemon alert. The man suddenly reached for his sword, Daemon in reaction reached for his cleavers. He liked to think of himself as rehabilitated, but infact he'd waste anyone who threatened his being. He wasn't ever going down without a fight, and he'd die before going back to prison.

But soon the tension dissipated, the man seemed to calm down. Daemon released the handles of his cleavers, and almost sighed in unison with the man. The man seemed to lose his heart, or something. At this Daemon inquired, "Are you okay? Do you need some medical attention?" But the man dropped his head, and responded evenly. Daemon smirked, the man was slightly interesting, and Daemon would get a kick out of the branch seemingly crammed up the fellow's ass. This guy would not get on his nerves nearly as much as Roan would, and if he was a pansy he'd be easy to order around, might even solve the crime all by himself. "Sorry you're not excused. I've been tasked with investigating some crimes in town, I've been told to take a few marines, so I choose you." Daemon let a crooked grin curl on the right side of his face, and then took another drag of his cigar letting the smoke roll out of his mouth. "I'm Daemon by the way, You can call me Daemon or Ensign Cash whichever floats your boat."
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"A boat can float in water." Rau straightened out to look the marine in the eye. "But it can also sink in it just as easily."

What Rau had just uttered was one of the most ancient of samurai proverbs, passed down through countless generations. It had many teachings to impart such as the need for balance, understanding and adaptability, for without those virtues, one was sure to sink even in the calmest of waters. In this case, however, it was just a fancy way of saying, I don't give a f*ck about your name.

How dare this ill-mannered thug barge into the mess hall, stink it up with his cigar-smoking and then boss him around him on his day off! Rau had met some disrespectful degenerates in his time, but this one took the cake, oh and Rau knew cakes alright! No one he had met before in his entire two years on the base had lacked civility as this brute did. There was not an ounce of grace, and though one may have interpreted his demeanour as confident, all Rau saw was arrogance.

First impressions aside, however, he was interested in hearing more about these crimes the marine was charged with investigating. It wasn't so much his desire to assist this brute that compelled him, but more so his concern for the townsfolk. He was, after all, a native of Loguetown and to turn his back on his own people would have been the most shameful act possible.

"Crimes in the town?" he inquired with genuine concern. "What kind of crimes?"

It was at that moment that the other part of what the marine said finally hit him.

He'd been told to take a few marines with him and he chose me?

A chef...

A chef on his day off...




Another gust of wind...

And another pudding cup fallen...

Just what kind of investigation was this marine leading? What kind of person picks a complete stranger, with whom he has had absolutely no prior relations and then asks said stranger to join them on official business? Not to mention the fact that he managed to pick, out of an entire base full of able-bodied marines, the one chef on his day off. And what the heck was with his nonchalant attitude about it anyway? It was as if he was predisposed to picking the first person he bumped into. He'd probably pick a trashcan if it fell in his path.

All things considered, Rau was beginning to seriously doubt this individual's ability to solve whatever crimes he was ordered to handle. In fact, he thought that simply assigning this investigation to this so-called marine was a crime in and of itself. And he would commit seppuku - tanto or not - before he left the fate of the townsfolk in the hands of this uncultured ruffian.
Edited by HohHoh, Jul 23 2011, 01:24 PM.
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Although Rau's impression of him might of been one of an enormous idiot, Daemon was actually quite intelligent. There was no excuse for his random choice of Rau, other than he didn't socialize with many marines. That was however his fault, he would not take slights from a man he was charging to work with him. He knew the man had meant something ill with his saying, but it had completely escaped Daemon's understanding. Daemon decided then he had to be stern with this fellow, or he might as well have choose to work with Rau. He then took another puff of his seaking brand cigar, "Are you foretelling our failure or something? Cause with your help or not, I'm going to solve these issues. I'd appreciate none of that cryptic talk, if you can help it." The man's less than kind manner somewhat changed though, his interest in stopping crime was genuine. That was a trait Daemon could admire, although he didn't truly care about crime. He only cared to make sure to do a good job, and keep his job. But his job being a marine, it gave him a unique point of view to more or less be an uncaring former gangster.

"Well day off or not, you seem to be at work. Much like myself, I was in town enjoying my day off when I witness indirectly a devious crime. Thus I came to work to report it, and now I'm working." He took a drag of his cigar looking at the man evenly, "From what I understand there is someone organizing groups of people knowingly or unbeknownst to them, they are masking another group's crimes." He then took the folder containing the report from under his arm, and thrust it into the man's arms. Daemon then felt a pang of hunger, "Do you know what they have in the cafeteria today?" Daemon turned, and headed for the cafeteria. "I'll be eating while you regain your civility." Turning back around the corner he soon entered the cafeteria, many groups of men silently or loudly enjoying their meals. His theory about the makeup of marines playing out before him, he entered the cafeteria line noticing a sign that cheerily noted it was pasta day.
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As Daemon forced the folder into his hands, Rau couldn't help but wince, slightly insulted by his straightforwardness. Though he bit his tongue, preferring not to stoke the fire between them. He opened up the folder and followed the marine's lead as he examined his findings. There wasn't anything new really, besides what Daemon had already told him. Even so, Rau couldn't help but find the crime and its surrounding circumstances extremely unorthodox.

Masked individuals armed with poles performing synchronized dancing? If not for the acts of assault, battery and theft, the whole thing seemed more like an exhibition or a festival performance of some sort. But even if he could get past the sheer absurdity of it all, something about the whole affair still didn't still well with him. After all, it seemed like a great deal of trouble to go through just to beat someone up or steal a few trinkets. What's more, for so many people to be involved, they all would have needed a common motive, and even then it was hard for Rau to accept it. After all, he had lived in Loguetown all his life and he just couldn't believe that the townsfolk would be complicit in beating and robbing their own.

"I don't presume to foretell anything," Rau said under his breath as he took a seat across from Daemon. "No creature in the world can make that kind of boast."

Then he closed the folder and looked up at Daemon before speaking. "Your case is an interesting one and though I may just be a commoner, I think that even a professional would find this highly unusual."

Rau didn't speak right away after that. Instead, his expression suddenly became stern, caught by a sudden realization. He took a moment to survey the the mess hall, eyeing the various patrons. Most of them were marines, low-ranking marines but marines nonetheless. They were all enjoying their meals, chatting, sharing stories and rumours. Having spent so much time serving them on the base, they were almost like regular people to him, but he knew better. He knew what separated them.

Then, turning back, he spoke rather solemnly this time. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can help you…"

He then slid the folder back to Daemon before continuing. "If you need help, there's plenty of marines on this base, in this mess hall even. They've all made a commitment to serving." Rau placed his katana on the table, maybe as a sign of his own resolve. "I hope you understand, I have a great deal of respect for what you do. And it's for that very same reason that I must decline. Simply put, I think marine business should stay marine business."

Rau then rose from the table and turned to leave. It wasn't that he didn't want to help; he did. He would see to it that justice was served in Loguetown, but he was still just a chef, and he had too much honour to pretend otherwise.
Edited by HohHoh, Jul 24 2011, 06:15 PM.
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Daemon listened to the modest man, silently sturring cheese into his spaghetti. When the man finished his long speech Daemon didn't skip a beat, "Are you refusing orders marine? Everyman on the base is a fully fledged marine, no matter what task they handle on base. If you're refusing I'll have your name to submit file for insubordination." Daemon finished his stirring and then took a bite, "The food is always so good here." Daemon's head turned to Rau, "I don't quite know what the problem is, I've giving you a chance for you and I to prove ourselves. Now you can either cut the low self esteem, or get in more trouble. Either way I don't care, when I finish this meal, I'm going to get to work."

A few minutes later he finished his spaghetti laying his fork down and belching. He then pulled another seaking brand cigar from the inside of his jacket ,and quickly located his lighter setting the cigar aflame. "So now I'm going to do marine work, and look for some more leads." Daemon rose a plume of smoke trailing as he moved. He then passed the man, expecting him to follow. If he didn't he cared not, there was a base full of marines dying for an assignment.

He strode out of the mess hall his marine overcoat, and a trail of smoke flowing behind. He returned to the barracks retrieving his cleaver belt, after strapping the belt on he removed his marine long coat, and headed out. He soon exited the base and was quickly in town, for a time he trudged about. Nothing remarkable happened, he kept his eyes open looking at civilians closely, trying to find just a single clue. Then it came, he had almost passed an alleyway when he spotted children playing in familiar masks. He approached, "Hey there, could you kids tell me where you got those?" He gestured towards the largest one's mask, "Yeah Mr-" A smaller looking brat covered his mouth, "Give us some beli." He said this sternly, he meant it. He could tell by the larger kid's reaction this one was the leader, he considered threatening them, and even spanking the strong willed one. He decided on the extreme route, his hand extended outward towards the child. Suddenly he remembered Rau, he might not take kindly to him bullying a child for information. So he reached in his pocket taking out a few bills, he then begrudgingly handed them to the child. The impertinent child even counted the money out first, then he pointed at the building right beside him. "Second floor." Daemon thought about swiftly grabbing the bills back, but he figured he could potentially get his funds back from the marines, investigation costs or something. He did however slap the kids hand the money going flying, the rest of the children surged forward getting their share. As he headed out the alley, the child gave him a sort of "You'll rue this day" look, Daemon smiled.
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Rau thought it was a rather good recovery. Now all he had to do was walk away without turning back and he would succeed in looking like a bonafide badass - an honourable badass. Unfortunately, he again grossly underestimated the extent of Daemon's persistence, who nearly inhaled his meal, rose from his seat and strode past Rau, bumping him as he went by. The poor chef was left in a stupor, reeling from the thousand curious eyes that now pierced him from all directions.

Refusing orders…insubordination…low self esteem…finish this meal?
Never before had he felt so assaulted. It seemed that Daemon had taken the liberty of gutting Rau before he could do so himself, showering him with a barrage of threats, orders and disregard, for which he could mount little defence. He took a moment to recover from his many wounds before running after the marine's trail of smoke, a hand over his mouth as he did so.

As he left the mess hall, however, the smoke trail had dissipated along with the man. He was only a few meters ahead of him. Where on earth had he gone?

"What speed this demon travels with," Rau said, grasping at the air.

He spun around on his heals, scanning in every direction but to no avail. A heavy feeling set in the pit of his stomach. Had the marine gone off already to report him for insubordination? He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. Insubordination? What insubordination? There was no basis there at all as far as he thought. He was just getting caught up in the man's rhythm.

Just then, the familiar scent returned, one Rau had hoped to have experienced for the last time.

"How on earth does one smoke so much?" he grumbled as his eyes search through for the source.

He finally spotted him leaving through the front doors and sprinted down the length of the corridor, his straw sandals sliding clumsily underneath his feet.

"Now just wait a minute!" He exclaimed as he finally caught up with Daemon halfway down the steps. "I'm not so meek to simply be bossed around like some second-rate....second-rater!"

Rau continued to ramble incessantly as they continued into town, most of his sentiments being drowned out by the growing clatter of the townspeople, the rest disregarded as usual.

"Are you even listening to me?" he finally finished, almost bumping into Daemons backside. "Why've we stopped? Have you finally decided to do the honourable thing and apologize for your many grievances?"

He folded his arms, giving Daemon time to come up with an adequate apology, but was quickly brought back to bitter reality when Daemon simply walked into an open alleyway, leaving him, again, dumbfounded.

"Of course...it's my fault for expecting any better..."

There were some children playing in the alleyway who seemed to have caught Daemon's attention. They were wearing masks. Perhaps the same one's from his report? Rau watched from a distance as the marine exchanged a few words with one of the bigger kids. After some coaxing, the masked youth pointed to the upper floor of a neighbouring building, indicating where they bought their unusual facial accessories. Afterwards, Daemon gave them all some money, not much, but enough to warrant some surprise from Rau. Perhaps this brute was not as unkind as he had come to think of him.

"What do you intend to do?" Rau said with a raised eyebrow as Daemon approached him. Then turned to follow him before continuing. "It's not a crime to sell masks you know. And even if the craftsman or vendor knew about what their merchandise was going to be used for, what makes you think they'd confess to being an accessory?"
Edited by HohHoh, Jul 25 2011, 11:46 AM.
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Daemon stopped at the lip of the alley, "You do talk a lot don't you? Try to only speak when you have useful information to this case." He then took a few steps walking to the front of the building, from what he could see the bottom floor was an instrument shop. Daemon stood idle for a moment staring into the window, he'd always been a music lover. Probably residual nostalgia from his brief childhood on Karaoke Island, various tragedies and jail most crowded his memories now. With that he approached a door to the right, which led to some establishment upstairs. He mounted the stairs quickly coming to a pair of double doors, on the left door it read 'Pitter', and on the right it read 'Pat!'. Daemon was perplexed for a moment, that didn't seem like any sort of mask shop name, so he pushed open the door.

As he walked in there was a large single room, with fine polished wood floors. On the right stood a display with a large triangle symbol atop, the large triangle was made of three smaller ones. Daemon was reminded of some game he used to play as a child, there was a bowl of pills to the right of it. Something about it seemed very suspicious, there were many bottles of said pills near the display, Daemon grasped one. Reading the brand it read TriTrio, Daemon had never heard of it. "Ever heard of any supplements made by TriTrio?" He then deftly pocketed the bottle. Turning about he put his hands to his hips, he then grasped another cigar from within his coat. Putting it to his lips he soon met it with his lighter, "Oh my bad I've been rude, want one?" He almost laughed aloud as he extended the cigar towards Rau, messing with the guy was much too simple.

He then spotted an office door, striding forth he first knocked. A effeminate voice replied, "Come in~" Daemon strode in exhaling a large plume of smoke intentionally, he spotted the man who's voice perfectly fit his visage. He was wearing a flamboyantly colored leotard of yellow, and blue. His hair was golden blond and curly, Daemon was already judging him mentally, <Clearly a woman in a boys body.> He scoffed aloud. The man crinkled up his nose at the smoke but soon recovered, "How can I help you officer?" Daemon sighed, "I'm Daemon Cash, This is my associate." He then recounted the events of the morn.
"Well those dancers were indeed students of mine, I was even apart of the group. But I assure you I had no part of these heinous deeds." The man finished dramtically. "Hm well if you have any additional information, make sure to contact the marines." The man grinned perfect dimples forming in his face, "Will do officers, you guys have a great day!" Daemon gratefully exited the office, he could only stand such people for so long. "Disgusting."
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"I'll try my best," Rau retorted in a dry tone before turning to follow him.

He waited a moment for Daemon to reminisce about something, deciding that it was better not to ask, lest he pursue another lost cause. After that was over, the two of them began climb the stairs. Rau still wasn't sure how he felt about the situation, though he was undoubtedly curious about what waited for them on the floor above. And since he was there anyway, he figured there was no reason he couldn't just tag along, only as a concerned citizen of course.

It was safe to say that when they reached the second floor and stepped through the doors, both of them were somewhat surprised if not disappointed. Nothing needed to be said of it for their confused expressions were explanatory enough. Rau could only think of one thing as he surveyed the room - if this really was a shop, though at this point it was doubtful, but if it was then it certainly wasn't a very good one. There were no masks on display. In fact, there wasn't much of anything on display except for a few ornamental pieces that clearly weren't for sale.

Rau walked over to Daemon who had picked something up from a little display. It looked to be some sort of medication or supplement, though he didn't recognize it.

"TriTrio?" Rau said with a furrowed eyebrow. "No, I can't say I've heard of any supplement like that." - then with a slight shrug - "I guess it must be newly imported?"

He then looked up to see Daemon with an outstretched hand, a sly grin on his face as he offered him a cigar.

"Thank you," Rau managed as he took it from him and then promptly tossed it into the trash receptacle ten feet away and with pinpoint accuracy too.

Daemon didn't dolly after that and went to investigate the back room. Rau took a moment to look over the display one more time before following shortly after. He found his cohort conversing with a rather obscene looking woman - or rather, an obscene looking man dressed as an obscene woman.

The marine asked him the standard questions, receiving all the standard answers. Still, Rau was surprised that Daemon didn't push the matter, but was instead rather relaxed about the whole thing. After finishing his somewhat tame interrogation, he turned on his heel and left, asking the so-called dance instructor to contact the marines if he remembered anything else, though from the tone of his voice, Rau didn't think he was counting on it.

Seeing Daemon disappear behind the door, Rau turned back to face the gender confused boob who only smiled back.

"Something I can help you with?" he grinned with his bony little hands clasped together.

"Well... I was just wondering" Rau replied slowly, somewhat unnerved by the creepy way he was rubbing his hands together. "You wouldn't happen to have one of those masks lying around would you?"

The man returned a somewhat puzzled expression. "I think I might, why do you ask?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow one. It could prove useful as evidence."

He didn't respond at first, looking somewhat lost for words.

"O-of course," he finally mumbled in an effeminate voice that bordered on overkill. Then he retreated into the back, returning with a mask which he handed to Rau, though with a hint of reluctance. "A-anything to help the cause." he added with a weak smile.

"Fine craftsmanship," Rau said as he examined it. "Thanks for your cooperation." And with that he left, having spent more time in there than he would have liked.

"What a weird little -" Rau stopped mid-sentence as he stepped outside, his eyes shifting from Daemon to the two young men who were standing on the step below him - students perhaps? He quickly placed the mask inside his jacket and joined them; they were already in conversation.
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C0nMoney
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Daemon patiently waited for Rau to return, while he did he snagged a second bottle of the TriTrio supplement. He took a drag of his cigar crossing the large room towards the double doors, as he stood by the door he could hear voices, that must have been men trampling up the stairs. "Now that we're here I really wish we didn't come Bruce." Another tempered voice replied, "Look you wanna sit around feelin like a slug all day you can, Lets get the pills and then go back home." Daemon took this opportunity to slide out the right most double door, the men caught site of his marine insignia's and tried to calmly retreat. "Better stop, or I might feel like policing." Daemon took a few steps, stopping at the edge of the landing. He pulled one of the many bottles he had taken, "I have what you need, Why don't you just give me something in return." The pair was obviously dubious about their options, the man on the lower stair looked like he was seconds from running away. "I already know your faces, All I need is for you to answer some questions." When Rau joined him he gestured for the men to continue down the stairs, once in the street he spotted the flamboyant instructor in a window, Daemon gave him a smile.

The foursome stepped into the same alley from before, "So gentlemen, Tell us everything you know." The bolder one named bruce spoke first, "About what?" Daemon tilted his head back blowing his smoke directly upward, "About the dance studio's scheme, how they are masking crimes with dancing mobs." Bruce got a worried look on his face, "All I know is Feyl taught us a dance, and the drugs are so addicting-" Daemon cut in, "Wait who is Feyl? and What drugs?" Bruce pointed at Daemon's pocket, "Those drugs, and what type of marine are you. You didn't ask his name?" Daemon scowled but bruce continued, "Feyl taught us the dance and we danced, I don't know bout no crimes." The other more fiendish one spoke up, "Can I have a pill PLEASE?!" Daemon's head swayed back, It'd be wrong to enable the man's habit, but men had their vices. Daemon tossed one of the bottled to Tibbers, "So you joined his dance club, for drugs?" Bruce shook his head, "Naw me and Tibbers wanted to learn how to dance so we could get some girls.He told us the supplements would help us dance longer, and become stronger." Tibbers must have been content after consuming the drugs, cause he looked comfortable and was smiling. Daemon looked to Rau, "Any thoughts?"
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Rau was at a loss for words. This new wrinkle in their investigation was not something he expected in the slightest. They were inquiring about some unusual criminal activity, but in the process had uncovered something wholly different and all the more disturbing. Was Loguetown - the only home Rau had ever known - the victim of drug trade? Try as he might, he couldn't help but imagine the worst. He barely caught himself before his inner thoughts could manifest themselves outwardly and betray a cool-headed guise.

Thankfully, Daemon took the lead in the questioning, giving Rau a moment to collect his thoughts. Although the more his companion uncovered, the harder it was for Rau to hold back. His fists were clenched, visibly shaking even, but no more than the frail drug-ravished bodies that were standing before him. He pitied them, sure, but pity was soon overridden by anger. Anger at their ignorance, their lies, their lack of honour. But most of all, he was angry at the little goon that had caused them to be that way.

"Anything to help the cause?" Rau muttered under his breath as he glanced up at window of the dance studio, hoping to catch a glimpse of the weasel who resided there.

When asked for his opinion, he didn't answer at first, instead trying desperately to put a stopper in his emotions. But after failing to untie the knot in his chest, his desperation turned instead to spite. Without a moments notice, he grabbed the one named Tibbers by his collar and lifted him till he stood on his toes. The bottle he held in his hands fell from his weak grasp, spilling its contents all over the alley.

"So you just wanted to impress some girls huh?" Rau said in an unexpectedly subdued voice.

Tibbers didn't say a word. He only scratched at Rau's arm, struggling to get free. He shot a desperate look back at his companion as if to say, help me, but Bruce only shook his head slightly and stepped back in response.

"Didn't know about any crimes huh?" Rau snarled this time as he tightened his grip. "What about the crime your committing right now?"

Tibbers turned back to his captor, realizing there was no escape. "Look man..." he finally managed, gasping for air as he spoke. "I-I don't know wha-"

"Tell me," Rau cut him off. "If you weren't interested in dance lessons anymore, then why come here? Why not go to a pharmacy for your supplements?"

"W-well you see sir," Bruce stammered uncontrollably, but chimed in finally, perhaps feeling guilty about abandoning his friend earlier. "What h-happened was-"

"You tried your best right?" Rau cut him off just as he did Tibbers. "But when you couldn't find any, you decided to fly back to that weasel upstairs, like moths to a flame." He shot them both a searing look, his words taunting them to retort, but his malicious expression holding their silence. "I see the two of you have only been educated in how best to destroy yourselves," Rau continued. Then with his free hand, he reached for his sword, pulling it out and holding it over his head. "If you ask for it, I can make things easier for you and speed you on your way to oblivion. It doesn't look like you value your lives anyway."

Before either could utter a word of protest, he swung his katana downward, stopping an inch from his victim's face. Oddly enough, it was Bruce that fell back as though he had been the one an inch from death. Rau held his blade between Tibbers' eyes for a moment before finally dropping the poor lad on his backside - beside his equally distraught friend.

"If I ever catch you here again," Rau said calmly this time as he wiped his blade on his sleeve. "I'll send you to the other world - free of charge."

Then in one swift motion, he sheathed his weapon, snapping the two out of their trance. They clambered onto their feet and sprinted out of the alleyway, disappearing into the crowded street.

Rau let out a deep breath, his shoulders slouching, overcome by fatigue - or maybe grief. His expression relaxed as if he had transformed back to his normal self. And now instead of anger, a great sadness overtook him as his gaze fell upon the little bits of poison that littered the alleyway. He hoped he had done some good in scaring those two away, but even that was of little comfort to him, for he knew there were countless more where they came from.

"Sorry...did you have anymore questions for them?" he said weakly to Daemon, kneeling down and to pick each and every pill off the ground, for fear that some unsuspecting child should happen upon them.
Edited by HohHoh, Aug 1 2011, 06:57 PM.
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A strong wave of air blew against one of Loguetown's main streets. In the middle of the busy crowd in continuous motion, a cloaked sillhouette wearing a dirty Marine cap on it's head stops in it's motion, looking up to the sky as soon as the blowing wind came to a stop. The marine reached over for his cap " Pssh. " he said in an uninterested manner. He grabbed ahold of his cap, flicking it to the side in a swift motion as it bumps against a passing local's head. " It ain't that sunny today anyways. " the man thought out loud as he kept on walking. In his stroll, he happened to pass by a fruitshop stall. He reaches into his pouch to pull out only a few rusty coins which he sets onto the stall's surface, giving the owner an upwards nod to catch his attention. " Afternoon. I'll have just a Golden one. " cloaked Iridian asked of the old fruitshop owner before having a golden apple tossed at him. Iridian caught it in mid-air, nodding to the man in acknowledgement as he walks off, beginning to take a few bites on his fruit.

He started looking from left to right as he traversed the busy street, losing focus on what's in front or behind him. Little did he know, a specific person rushing away as though running from the devil himself just made a turn from a dark alleyway. The man bumped straight into the shady-looking Iridian, only giving him a brief, fearful look before passing across him to run. Iridian frowned as his apple fell out of his loose grip, spreading his cloak away from his torso with the swing of a hand, and grabbing ahold of the sheath of his sword. He walked cautiously to the alleyway Tibbers ran away from desperately, each step seeming wary as he held the hilt of his Kurgan blade. Nervously, the marine made the turn, unsheathing his blade in same motion as he pointed it forwards in case something was to await him behind the corner. At the sight of the two marines, he lowers his sword, his facial expression turning blunt as he asked in an indifferent manner. " The heck's this? "
August Leland • Marksman • Bounty: 0 • SD Earned: 0 • Beli: 100,000 • Location: West Blue
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