RPG

Tokyo, National Museum, Honkan Building

A fundraiser gala was being held by Garyuu Zaibatsu, to gather money for the families of 432 victims of a train crash in Ueno Station. The event was located in the museum, as Ueno Station was the main public acess for getting there. The host was the owner and CEO of Garyuu Zaibatsu, the famous Usso Namae, a world recknowed businessman, known for his charity work and his incredible fortune, as he was ranked by Forbes Magazine as the richest man in Japan, and the 6 richest man in the world. The fundraiser was progressing smoothly, as hundreds of guest, from famous movie stars to influential political figures were there leaving donations. The party was held on the second floor, in the tenth room, "The Flow of Japanese Art". This particular room had been expanded months before the event, thanks to an amazing donation from the host himself, seemingly Usso enjoyed Japanese Art, and funded several archeology groups that were searching for pre-sengoku era art, the favourite of the wealthy businessman. How lovely, this fan is just flawless, dont you think Domon? a very energetic voice sounded over the others. A young lady, of no more than 20 years old, sporting a black dress, with extremely complex design sewn with golden threads. A young man in a black suit and white shirt, seemingly her bodyguard nodded and repplied with calm, Yes Ms. Nakamura, you're right. He seemed uncomfortable, maybe as he disliked working on the open. His employer was Miss Ame Nakamura, daugther of Dr. Goichiro Nakamura, the owner of Nakamura Heavy Machinery. The fan was part of Shingen Takeda personal collection, I have three or four in my private collection. a very calm and friendly voice spoke explained from behind. Ame face had a sudden change from curiosity to a shining smile, as she turned around and hugged the host of the event. Usso-ojisan! I'm so glad I could meet you here! The calm and composed bodyguard had a sudden moment of discomfort, easily noticeable by Usso, that had the amazing skill of reading people emotions as an open book. The CEO of Garyuu Zaibatsu, smiled as he loosened Ame arms from his waist. I'm also delighted of meeting you Nakamura-sama, if he was mad of not getting the proper honorific added to his name he didnt even showed signs of it. I hope you are enjoying yourself this evening, With a wider smile Ame repplied Yes, I've never thought that coming to a museum could be so fun, and this exposition is pretty interesting, the only thing I'll change is the music, I dislike folk music. She spoke without any dishonesty, speaking from her heart. Usso smiled, thinking what could have happened if he accepted her hand in marriage as her father wanted. His smile was gentle and warm, something that used to make women melt under his charm, Ame included, but thinking of him like a relative more than a love interest. Usso made a gesture to one of the attendants and spoked in soft voice as Ame started commenting something else to her bodyguards. The musis stopped and everyone in the room looked at the stage and clapped with dignity, more out a formality than real interest. A group of musicians dressed in traditional japanese attire got over the stage, but in a curious fact, some of them carried western instruments. Walking towards, Ame, Usso kept his charming smile, It was a pleasure to meet you Nakamura-sama, but I need to attend to other business. You said you disliked the folk music, so as a parting gift I'll let you discover your taste for it.

The group started playing, and their energetic music got everybody listening to them, including Ame and Domon. That let Kuro-san slip away from the room without being noticed. He walked throught a hallway until he reached an open scroll from the Heian era, the painting inside was a vivid representation of the Night Attack on Sanjo Castle. The Yakuza Emperor, know with his real face, a lifeless mask that seemed empty of any feeling or emotion, barely pressed the wooden frame around the scroll, and multiple blue lines, that started multiplying and expanding to the floor and the ceiling, formed a door, that slided to the side with a faint whisper. Inside there was a room with multiple high tech equipment, mostly satelital surveilance and communication. Kuro-san built the secret room when he gave the donation and brought his own architects from Mangetsu. He liked coming to the museum, as he always thought that learning from the mistakes of the past can get you a better future, so he decided to built a room here so he wouldnt need to leave the building if he needed to check on his shadowy business of the Kage No Zaibatsu, Mangetsu. Falken-dono can you hear me? asked throught the commlink, that was untraceable and had a voice changer function, so Kuro-san identity would stay as a secret. I hear you boss, should I start the operation? Kuro-san smiled, the ideas his mind brewed when he heared about an infinite power source were amazing and Falken would be the one to bring that fabled price to him. Start the operation, and bring me the Eternal Flow. 500 mts over the rampaging train, Falken was sitting over his hand-built vehicle, as mixture between a motorcycle and a jet plane he named Pilger Rocket. For this mission he had his hyper space arsenal ready, as he would fight against Crow Cementerio, that was nearby, at least according to Mangetsu intel. Falken moved lower towards the last wagon roof, but his instincts warned him on time, and he jumped from the Pilger just seconds before it was blown up by an orange meteor like object, that landed behind the train, and was left behind as the Sand Worm kept pressing foward throught the Dunes. What the hell was that? Asked Falken to hte commlink, hoping that the Mangetsu hotline was still on, but seemingly, as the commlink sucked power from the Pilger it didnt had enough power to get into the nearest Mangetsu outpost. He was cutted from any communication but he still had his hyper space arsenal, and he would need it, as he activated his bionic eye telescopic function and noticed that whatever tried to kill him before was running towards the train, and it didnt seemed happy. With the dust he could only notice the silouthe of a young man running in the desert, gaining terrain with each second. Falken was ready, whatever tried to get into this train and take his objective will die by a lead indigestion. Without even thinking it twice he summoned Ray Vulcan Handgun and the Aznable Particle Handgun, ready to shoot his way to the locomotive.

A meal worth killing for

Since his evolution into a next phase of Reitter, Masako couldnt still describe what was happening inside him. His body functions and powers had changed and the mysterious shade of scarlet in everything he watched was getting him pissed. He could detect energy and life from afar, and when he was moving throught the Sahara Desert, after having a rough encounter with the Reitter Program new recruits, with powers he didnt understood, and even worse he couldnt take, maybe they made them inumne to his Reitter Skill, and that was troublesome. He was still more powerful with telekinesis, but his new powers, that concentrated his PK energy and reduced his range, so he was at disadvantage, even facing inferior Reitters as them. This new group had powers unknown to him, and even if his impulse was to rip and tear their guts and then track their handlers, the enhacement also affected his brain, and this new perception was allowing him to mantain his impulses on hold until he wanted to release them. This evolution seemed more complex that what his mind, even empowered by thousands of others, could understand. The Black Reitter was using a full body tunic he took from his meal, a man travelling on a camel. He filled the almost empty gourd this traveller was carrying with the man blood and started moving, following the second reason he came to such a secluded place. A massive energy signature was detected by him, and such energy, that seemed limitless couldnt be ignored. This kind of power could allow him to evolve into the next stage, as his intuition let him think. Tsk, this is troublesome, uninvited guests come to spoil my feast he said with a cold voice, as he moved closer, several others energy signatures were near the big one. He couldnt say how many as the interferecne caused his next meal was interfering. The Evolved Reitter decided to rush his pace towards the energy signature, and with a orange light he dashed in the air, cutting throught the scorching desert wind with a loud whistling. The sand was repelled by his TT barrier as he pushed towards his destination. His enhaced senses detected the origin of the energy, a train running in the middle of the desert. What the f%&$!?, that were Masako's thought for a second, but his increased brain capacity allowed him to understand the physical and mechanical requirements for something like this. His inner thoughts were interrupted when he managed to locate one of the lifeforms that wanted to make his banquet a tad difficult to eat. A dark haired man in a strange mix between a jet and a motorcycle was descending towards the train, without thinking it twice he charged toward it with killing intent. The dark clothed man, that upon a closer inspection had combat gear that seemed advanced to Masako, jumped from the vehicle and landed on top of the last wagon. Masako landed in the sands, and after kicking the scrap metal that hindered his movements away, he started charging towards the train, without noticing that somebody was moving alongisde him in a black motorcycle, and was aiming a strange gun towards him.

Tokyo, Japan

After contacting Falken, Kuro-san left the hidden comm room, and returned to party, just when the musical number ended. Between the applause and standing ovation, Kuro-san managed to slip inside the room without rising any attention. It's a shame I couldnt tell Falken about the back-up I send to him, as Mangetsu Satellital Network caught several others trying to get hold of the train. The Underworld Emperor thought of that as he clapped like the others. The man that he sent as back-up for his hired gunman was a old aquintance of him, from his years as a Yakuza. This man, at least 10 years younger than Kuro-san was a school delinquent in Osaka, also a friend of Aoki, the God of Gambling. His name was Juro Fuuma, and as a teen was a strange case, he was a delinquent with a heart of gold, he helped whoever he could and in more than once ocassion fought against the Yakuza, and a lot of times he beated the hell out of Kuro-san in his younger years. Juro was the only thing that stopped the Tsubasa Clan, the one that Usso used to be in, from taking over Osaka. An urban legend was formed around him, saying that he could beat anybody with his trusty switchblade, even martial artists. The truth about him, something that Kuro-san learned only years ago, was much bigger than that. Juro was part of the legendary Fuuma Clan, a group of shinobi that acted since the Sengoku era. While a comedy duo was acting on the stage, the Yakuza Emperor remembered the past, on how the kind hearted teen turned into the cold blooded killer he is now. He sympathized with Juro, since both of them went throught a similar situation, but while Kuro lost all emotion in the hands of tragedy, Juro demeanor changed to worse. After getting too much attention from the three rival Clans in Osaka, his threat was so great that the head of the Clans made a temporary truce to kill him. All his school, his friends, his family and everybody he knew and loved was taken from him. The rage that boiled inside him was too much too withstand for his mind, and he just broke. Kuro-san knew that becouse he was there the day every Yakuza in West Japan remembers and shivers in fear. He stood up, under a shower of the blood of his parents, his brothers and her little sister. He shouted more like a monster than a human being and rushed towards the execution squad, he took several bullets but kept running, with his bare hands he removed the jawbone from the first guy he caugh, and from that it got worse. He was fluent with Tiger Kung Fu, and soon all the Yakuza there were taught how to speak it, as he asked a question with his hand cutting chunks and removing bones and in exchange the criminals repplied with screams and grunts while the blood of the wicked mixed with the innocent. Most of the Yakuza were dead, and the others badly injured, he only moved inside the house and left with an ancient chest in his hands. For 20 years he vanished, and when he came back, he lacked any memories of the incidents, but the hate generated by them was still burning, maybe even more brightly, as he dint have any objective for it. Before he could start remembering about what happened when he met him again, Ame, that snekaed up to him while he was flashbacking, asked him for a dance, as now western music was playing. It'll be my pleasure Nakamura-dono. It'll be my pleasure... As he rocked back and forth the dance floor with a vals, he hoped that Juro didnt used the relic that he took from his home the day of the tragedy, he didnt had any control while using it.

Somewhere in the Sahara Desert, Over the last wagon of the Desert Worm

Falken was a man that liked a good challenge. He would laugh at danger, chuckle at risk and mock death. But in some cases that over-confident attitude, maybe even prideful, gained after facing dire situations in battlefields all around the world, played against him. This was one of those situations. After taking two steps foward a pair of robots fell in front of him. As he was knowledge of mechanics and robotics he instantly recoignized both battle droids, designs of Saitire Lefleur, a genius in robotic engineering. Falken sighed at the sight, as both of them were already more than a match, without counting the guy running behind the train. But when things are bad they only tend to get worse. Two wagons foward, a cloaked figure jumped over the roof with spark on his shoes. The cloacked gunslinger used a familiar gun and shot Falken from afar. The bullet was skillfully aimed towards him, passing under Blossom arm and slashed the Falcon Eyed Killer in the right cheek as he barely dodged it. Without any doubt there was only one man skillfull enough to make a shot so precise in the top of a supernatural train with two objects blocking his vision. The only man Falken considered his equal in terms of sharp-shooting and as a gunslinger. Cementerio, The Dual Wield Expert angry growl identified the shooter, as he cleaned the bloody wound in his cheek with his thumb. Falken wouldnt forgive Crow for dissassembling the Numbers, even if he didnt wanted to admit it, the Falcon eyed Mercenary liked that group of gun-wielding freaks, and Wolf was the best drink buddy in the whole world, his stories of Stalingrad and a bottle of vodka were two of Falken favourite things in the world. Even a heartless bastard like him, that would sell his own mother, could feel some comradeship for the guys in the same line of work than him. He was even offered Devil or Fairy position, as Western or Northern Falcon, but he dismissed it as he worked better alone than in a team or in a group of killers that competed to see how many they could kill in one night. Falken was pissed, but he knew that he needed to keep his head cool, specially in this situation, since his surveilance bots caught another guy behind the train, this one in a black and red suit, with bright scarlet eyes, was aiming the other guy that was running, while mounting in a black motorcycle. As grim the situation was, Falken excitment grew even more, as he would not only get payed more for this job thanks to the interference, but he would prove to be the best once again if he left this place in one piece and with the Eternal Flow.

With an arrogant grin in his face he said to the bots, Let's dance soon-to-be scrap metal, and threw the Ray Vulcan Hand Gun and the Aznable Particle Revolver up and foward, towards a bunch of meters behind the bots, just over them. Thanks to his bionic enhacements he had the exact ammount of force to send the guns with cyrurgical precision. As the guns left his hands, you could say in the same instant, three grenades appeared from the thin air, just in front of Falken summoned from his Hyper Space Arsenal. The grenades were ammuniton of the Cehack Grenade Launcher, one a smoke screen, that would only last a second with this wind, and would mostly hide his movements rather than obscuring the bots, and the other a radar scrambler, hoping to at least stop the sensors of the Lefleur crafted robotics to make his plan work. He kicked the first two, that were activated by his thought and placed the third in his jacket pocket. As the grenades were moving and the pistols were half way to their intended destination, Falken charged, just as the smoke started cloaking his movements, and the radar scrambler inhabilitated any type of sonar effect. The Hyper Space Arsenal Opened again, and outfitted him with the Seiei Twin Gunblades, he started shooting towards the weak spot he could detect in the bots, hoping that his mechanical knowledge and his enhanced eyesight allowed him to really detect real ones. With agility that exceeded the grace of a olympic level athlete, Falken jumped and shooted towards the ground, using the overpowered recoil of his weapons, that would break the bones of a regular man, to gain height, and as he vaulted over the bots, and send them back to the arsenal. Then the shooted from above with the same pair of handguns he flinged at the start of this attack. The highly heated bullets from the Ray Vulcan Handgun rained over Blossom, while the Aznable Particle Beams targeted Leaf. As he landed behind the bots without doubting for a second or turning back to check his sucess or failure he flinged the third grenade a potent corrosive acid, and then runned towards Crow, ignoring if the bots were destroyed or fine, as he trusted his own skill and luck. As he runned foward he reloaded both guns, only fractions of second slower than Crow's Trick...

Behind the Desert Worm, Sahara Desert

The blazing sun almost lighted in fire the desert itself, as the sound of locomotive breaked the silence of the Sahara. The Desert Worm continued it's infinte journey throught the evershifting golden sand. In this landscape, that seemed to have escaped from a dream, a brutal battle for supremacy was being held. The Award was the locomotive engine powersource, a unlimited power that almost everybody in this battle wanted to get their hands on, for their own personal gain. Without knowing any about the engine, nor the locomotive history, Masako Hihashi, the Black Reitter, a superhuman with amazing telekinetical and telepatic powers, was chasing behind it, as the Eternal Flow, emmited a distintive and powerful energy, something he wanted to consume. Masako's lust for power had a clear goal, gain enough to power to destroy the men that created him in the first place, and now wanted to destroy him, as if he was a mistake. The Renegade Reitter had been under attack from newly created superhumans, with the same abilities he used to have before evolving into a more close combat outfited body. This increase in his close combat abilities, and sensorial skills also marked a disminution of his ranged powers, thus forcing him to start thinking before jumping into battle, as he lacked any ranged alterantives except flinging things, and he was too acustomed to using Telekinesis to crush his enemies and see them driven before him, without forgetting to hear the lamentations of their women. Masako noticed the opponents he had to beat to get his hands on whatever was generating that energy signature he was sensing. Two gunslingers, that thankfully to his PK signture reading he could tell they werent simple humans, and consuming them would be perfect for a quick increase of his powers. The other two were robots, he recoignezed them from somebody memories as Battle robots, but he didnt worried about them Piles of junk that fight, were his thoughts. He could feel another prescence but he couldnt determinate where it was coming from. Masako didnt take a lot of worry in that either, the Renegade Reitter thought himself superior to any living thing in the planet, thus thinking that the best course of action would be to kill them all to cleanse the Earth from imperfect creatures, as he disliked humans, even if he was created by them. His brilliant mind, enhanced by the memories and knowledge of military, scientific and fighting geniuses, gave him a thousand of strategies of tactics to follow and take advantage of the terrain, or the weaknesses he detected on the opponents. But most of the time Masako charged foward without taking in account this strategies thought by his brilliant mind. This ocassion wouldnt be an exception. The Schwarz Reitter was thinking too jump up the wagon, and the kill, maim and destroy anything in his way with extreme prejudice. Using the PK Dash, he moved foward, without realizing that just besides him, cloaked by the sand clouds formed by the speeding train, the man in the black bike followed him.

In a blur Masako reached the last wagon railing and grabbed it Tsk, piece of cake, were his words as he started climbing. As he was about to reach the roof of the wagon his instincts kicked in, warning the Reitter from incoming danger. From his right side several bullets flied towards him. Thanks to his enhanced reflexes, senses and speed, he managed to jump backwards, using a PK dash as first movement and landed in the trail of the Desert Worm. In a normal situation Masako wouldnt dodge the bullets, as the ammunition from regular handguns bounced off his skin, that as a Reitter, was enhanced beyond any human. but in this case, he dodged it out of a hunch, as his PK Senses, that allowed to see the emotional auras of living beings, finally notice that fifth prescence that was lurking around. The Renegade Reitter didnt trained a lot with his PK sensing or telepatic abilities, as he prefered more straight foward and offensive attacks, than illusions and mental attacks. This preference was the thing that stopped him from noticing why he couldnt pinpoint the location of the attacker. Trying to find the source of the emotional signature of this man, was trying to search for a single drop of water in an ocean. The Emotional Aura of this man was black as the night, burned like the molten core of the earth and was as inmense as a galaxy. More than a human being, Masako could only call it a cluster of hate. The hidden shooter suddenly surfaced from the sand clouds, driving a jet black motorcycle looking vehicle, with wide wheels, and an array of high technology unknown to the Renegade Reitter, even after searching the information and memories from the ones he consumed before. The man used a white wifebeater and a black open shirt. He had black pants and combat boots and in each hand strange looking guns, made from some unknown material that looked like Obsidian. From his traits and general looks he seemed asian and between 30 and 40 years old, upon a closer inspection, Masako reached the conclussion that his opponent was Japanese, as he had a massive Yakuza Tatoo in his back, visible thanks to the wind moving the shirt. This man was Juro Fuuma, last living member of the Fuuma Shinobi Clan, and Guardian of the Crest of Hate, working as a hired gun for Kuro-san. With a simple press of a button, a pair of hooks flied from under the Motorcycle front lights, making the vehicle attach to the back of the last wagon. Without wasting a second Juro stood up and started shooting Masako. The bullets were heavily charged with the Emotion Aura he was creating, so a minor wound could infect anybody with the same hate that burned so brightly inside Juro's mind. Masako could handle that without going crazy as a normal human would, but surely his ability to focus to use his powers would decrease if he got infected by the Hate Crest, Moeru Kirai (Burning Hate) ability. The Renegade Reitter taunted Juro I dont know and dont care who you are old man! But you'll need more than fucking bullets to stop me!!! while he dodge the bullets using short and precise PK Dashes. He got the hang of this skill after having to dodge and enter the range of the Reitter sent to attack him, this experience added to the Shunraki taken from several martial arts experts (Technique to break throught the opponent range (Maai) to get into close combat without getting counter attacked) was more than enough to avoid Juro's almost flawless marksmanship.

Even as he could dodge every bullet, Masako wasnt able to press foward, as Juro kept him back using the minimum ammount of bullets needed. But soon, the Guardian of the Crest was out of bullets, and thus, allowed Masako to charge foward. The Reitter thought that the danger was already over, but as he dashed foward, pushing himself with the PK powers he had, he noticed that the Hate Aura only increased, and was now visible for the naked eye, as a black and red currents of wind, swirling around Juro from tip to toes. Masako couldnt shift directions or break in mid-dash, and when the medallion that Juro carrie around his neck suddenly erupted in red light, the most concentrated point in the massive Emotional Aura that surrounded the Kiraigo, he knew he was screwed. A blast of cutting wind impacted against the charging Reitter and essensiattly worked as counter-attack, taking advantage of the extreme speed and strenght Masako was using to break with wind caused by the train, and also took advantage of that same current, adding to his attack. A thousand small cuts were opened in Masako's chest, throwing him to the ground like a dead weight. If he didnt used his TT Barrier to shield himself, the Schwarz Reitter would be sliced in the ground, bleeding all over, but thanks to his quick reactions, he managed to block most of the damage and before the train moved too far away he was already chasing it again, as the minor wounds in his chest started to close. Juro, that had released the power of his relic, Kamaitachi, had some traits, that could only be described as demonic, his hair got suddenly spiky and got some red reflections, his factions got sharper and more sinister and his eyes glowed with a devilish red light. The ammount of time that took Masako to stand up and regain the lost ground was more than enough for the Kiraigo, to reload his guns and getting inside the wagon, instead of facing the robots, he would bypass them from below and then cut the wagon. Masako tried to jump inside, but he barely managed to get out unharmed as he couldnt dodge Juro bullets inside the train. Get back here you fucking old fart and face me!! Masako growled like a beast, frustrated by his much more cunning and resourceful adversary, that didnt even bothered with repplying to that challenge as he moved foward the wagon. Without any other choice he jumped up the roof, getting face to face with the robots built by Ms. Lefleur. Great, moving pieces of junk, the Reitter spitted and the wind blew his spit backwards, I fucking hate robots. Masako, placed his hands on the roofplates, and used Tactile Telekinesis, trying to dissassemble the roof, this was something he didnt used much, as he prefered to beat down any opposition with his own hands, but after being outsmarted by the silent Guardian of Hate, he decided to listed to his head and try to make the battlebots fell of the train.