Daimon Masaru (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
howamanlives) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thefolder2013-08-15 07:58 pm
howamanlives) wrote in thefolder2013-08-15 07:58 pm
(no subject)
Who: Masaru, Agumon, open to all
What: Noir Event
When: August 15th
Where: "A seedy, run-down part of town"
For a while now, Masaru had been out of commission. Getting impaled and slashed open by a bunch of blades from a SangLoupmon will do that to a guy. So while the Digital World had up and shifted around him twice now, he'd been laid up...
... but never say that a banchou can't arrive fashionably late.
But then again, Masaru isn't exactly himself right now.
Kicking in the door to where a bunch of n'ere-do-wells, which included a number of Gazimon in cheap fedoras, were currently watching over a bunch of ill-gotten goods (or just playing cards. But illegal gambling is bad too, right?). Their lips curling into a sneer, they turned to face their intruder...
Masaru had become like a parody of himself. Not only was his hair styled into a large, prominent pompadour, he was wearing a gakuran over his shoulders with no shirt, bandages around his waist, and held a sprig of leaf in his mouth.
"Who the hell is this joker?!" snarled one of the Gazimon, who happened to be missing one of his fingers.
Masaru narrowed his eyes, moving the sprig of leaf from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Who am I?" he said, his voice a hoarse, barely comprehensible growl.
"I'M A REAL MAN, YOU PUNKS! AND I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PAY FOR TAKIN' ADVANTAGE OF THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN!"
A few screams, a charge, and several acts of hard-edged, gritty violence later, and Masaru had torn into the warehouse fill of criminals. While Masaru engaged in what he did best, a lone Agumon stood outside, looking uncharacteristically meek and nervous... he wondered if, perhaps, the criminals inside would come after him for ratting them out to the "Banchou Killer." But this guy was so cool! He even let him call him "aniki"...!
Either way, it was causing a lot of commotion, which would undoubtedly be heard by anyone nearby...
What: Noir Event
When: August 15th
Where: "A seedy, run-down part of town"
For a while now, Masaru had been out of commission. Getting impaled and slashed open by a bunch of blades from a SangLoupmon will do that to a guy. So while the Digital World had up and shifted around him twice now, he'd been laid up...
... but never say that a banchou can't arrive fashionably late.
But then again, Masaru isn't exactly himself right now.
Kicking in the door to where a bunch of n'ere-do-wells, which included a number of Gazimon in cheap fedoras, were currently watching over a bunch of ill-gotten goods (or just playing cards. But illegal gambling is bad too, right?). Their lips curling into a sneer, they turned to face their intruder...
Masaru had become like a parody of himself. Not only was his hair styled into a large, prominent pompadour, he was wearing a gakuran over his shoulders with no shirt, bandages around his waist, and held a sprig of leaf in his mouth.
"Who the hell is this joker?!" snarled one of the Gazimon, who happened to be missing one of his fingers.
Masaru narrowed his eyes, moving the sprig of leaf from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Who am I?" he said, his voice a hoarse, barely comprehensible growl.
"I'M A REAL MAN, YOU PUNKS! AND I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PAY FOR TAKIN' ADVANTAGE OF THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN!"
A few screams, a charge, and several acts of hard-edged, gritty violence later, and Masaru had torn into the warehouse fill of criminals. While Masaru engaged in what he did best, a lone Agumon stood outside, looking uncharacteristically meek and nervous... he wondered if, perhaps, the criminals inside would come after him for ratting them out to the "Banchou Killer." But this guy was so cool! He even let him call him "aniki"...!
Either way, it was causing a lot of commotion, which would undoubtedly be heard by anyone nearby...