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Serious A proposition of great consequence

Your God Crunchy Alfredo

Sauce?... I'm already a Demon
Honorary Member
CRP Core

It was deep into the winter season, the harsh tundra landscape the renegades found themselves in barren and frigid. The wind howled on the blanket of white out stretching desolation, blowing the dead tree’s tangling branches in a dance of it’s gale. Tucked far back in the battle weathered compound of concrete and tents, in a small red wood shack, sat a man quaintly on the folded pillow on the wood floor of it’s hand crafted interior. The man was sitting in front of his table that hung low to the ground, a metallic and battered kettle resting a top a heat pad on it’s wooden surface. He was an older man, a few white hairs starting to salt in the black of his beard and the sides of his hair. His face scared and the folds of his eyes beginning to crow. He wore his Renegade uniform under a heavy winter jacket, T.Yuuta written on the tag. He was patiently writing in his kanji filled journal, waiting for the pot to whistle and tell him tea was done.

It whistled not to long after her set it to brew, a hand reaching for the handle to remove it from it’s heat. But a cold chill seeped through his coat, and down to the bone, stopping his hand short in hesitations as he sensed something was wrong. A dark void filling the exterior landscape the shack rested behind as a thick and heavy tension grew in the air.



“Room for...One more...”

“Forgive me for the...intrusion, Mister. Yuuta I...Don’t mean to impose.. But it seems you and I have some...matters to, discussss...” It was a man the Samurai had never met before, a sickly slender figure in a blue well pressed suit. His demeanor alien in intimidation, a sense of unease and tension hung heavy around his being, and his posture was stiff and uncanny. Still, the man was no stranger to weird occurrences such as these. He gestured a hand from his journal, allowing the stranger to sit. “Are you a fan of Jasmine tea?” He questioned setting up a cup and pouring the kettle for him.

“It is of..little..Importance”, the dark figure toned in an odd manner with a perk of his brow. Coming to a seat. “Thisss happening... Yuuta...is not of, coincidence. Pieces are moving, and...Tides are, changing... I wouldn’t want to be accused of asking to much of...a stranger but..” The odd man grabbed the glass of poured tea, lifting it from the table, without touching it to his lips he set it down empty. “I...require your experience Mister...Samurai mmm...My, employers need another... man, for the job, you see and...Well, you’re no stranger to...The touch of the portal storms..”

The man at the other end of the table watched through the sips of his tea, listening to the strange man’s oddly spoken offer. He sat in silence for a moment in the stern of his gaze. “You’re not giving me a choice are you.”

“No...Choice is a luxury you...your wife.. forfeited for you when she...cheated her ending...Consequences you.. understand.” The suit clad being lent into the table, bridging his fingers as he continued. The room began to shift and break apart as it got enveloped by the creeping void outside, until it was just the two and the items in the room. “Hhhhhah, an eye for an...eye if you will, Takahiro but...Finish your work in a timely..manner, and you’ll... Reunite with her...eventually.” He sputtered from the purse of his growing smirk. The tired yakuza finished his tea, setting the clay cup to the table as he rested back against his floor mat, looking to the man. “Consequences.” He repeated, looking a bit worn from those words. “And what will you have me do?”, he spoke firmly.

“You’ll do what...No man or, entity...Could do before you... With your capable experience and...The touch of your... Unlucky nature... My employers believe..With a, high level of certainty...you are just the man to set the flow of order in...motion.” The shambling figure inhaled sharply as his gaze focused on the Samurai. “We’ll be taking you now...Mister Yuuta, expect a...short respite, before you...come to use...” The room felt heavy as the weight of it bared down intensely against the two, the tension in the air palpable and creeping. “When the time comes... you’ll be moved to Israel to dismantle..an...illegitimate state... your efforts causing a cascade of...unforeseen consequences, and the eventual freedom of...Palestine but, let’s not... get. Ahead of ourselves, shall we hmm?”

The man stood up, fixing his government suit and tie as he lifted his brief case. A beaming white line formed at the ground at the side of the table, lifting up to reveal a narrow rectangular entrance of light in the void of darkness. A door creaking open. “Now Samurai... We don’t have all day or rather.. the illusion of such...and, my employers are expecting...great things to come from thiss, partnership. So...let’s not, keep them waiting.” The salt and peppered Japanese man looked at the doorway, heaving a sigh as he closed his journal and set it next to a violin case, reaching up above the shelf at the back to grab his swords and fixate them to his belt. He tensed his brow, not wanting to leave the home or the people counting on him, especially not his wife. “Thanks for..the tea by the, huh...way it was...within, acceptable parameters..“, offered the suited man. Takahiro bowed at his complement and made his way through the gate, followed shortly by the man as it closed behind them. The table now sat alone for a moment in the void before snapping back to reality, the kettle whistling once more. Everything untouched except the missing samurai and his tools.
 
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