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It's a Trap! [Seven Bells A-Rank/Open] Sat Nov 30, 2013 10:42 pm
Bokuden
D-rank
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There has been a notification of massive puppets sweeping through friendly forces, route effort from the attack, locate, and eliminate this threat before the foot troops manage to catch up or the effects could be terrifying!
“Massive puppets sweeping through friendly forces, huh?” Bokuden thought to himself as he casually folded the sheet of paper which bore the notification and slipped it into his left coat breast pocket. His half-mast eyes would then fall down to his the countertop before him in the dimly lit bar in which he sat. “Of all the places this bastard could have gone,” he barely whispered as he let out a deep sigh of frustration, “He had to pick the shinobi village that was in the middle of being under siege by some crazy puppeteers. I should kill both of them.” Annoyed with the entire ordeal he found himself in, Bokuden simply located this old, run down bar, which surprisingly was still open and functioning while the village itself had been turned into a battleground.
Bokuden was the only customer in the bar, unsurprisingly. Any sane man would be either out fighting on the front lines in order to push back the oncoming assault or seeking refuge, either in some manner of bunker or outside of the village. Bokuden however, was interested in neither of these options. He had no business going out and taking the fight to the Seven Bells forces, this wasn’t his village. He had been fortunate to have not even encountered a single one of the hostile forces, the fights so far taking place further away from the section of the city he had found himself in. There was always the option of just deeming the situation too volatile to remain, head back to the docks, and leave, but he had no interest in leaving a mission incomplete. Besides, he was barely able to get off of the docks without rousing suspicion upon arrival with all of the added security precautions that the authorities seemed to be taking with Kirigakure currently being at war. Whether he liked it or not, it was both safer and more logical to remain in the village until he had either completed the assignment he was sent here to do in the first place or found a more secure way to slip out of these God forsaken lands.
So here he found himself, wasting time in an old run down bar in this hell hole of a village. Who knows why this bar was even open at a time like this, but he had to admit, this bartender was dedicated to his job. Any man who was willing to go to work and mix up drinks while his home was under attack and his countrymen were off fighting to the death was either dedicated beyond belief or equally as insane… or a coward, depending on the situation, but at this point Bokuden didn’t even care. He was thankful that there was a place he could sit down and get something to drink. Lord knows he needed one after this whole ordeal.
Grabbing his glass in hand once more Bokuden would swirl his drink around for a moment, listening to the ice clank against the sides, before gulping down what was left of his drink. It was a Black Russian, one part khalua and one part vodka, about as simple a mix as you can get. It wasn’t his drink of choice and he wasn’t even that avid of a vodka drinker, but it was quick, it was easy, and most important of all it was something that the bartender couldn’t mess up. Just because he admired the man’s dedication to his work by keeping the bar open even in the midst of his village becoming a battleground didn’t mean that he was just going to trust him to make any kind of complex drink with any kind of proficiency. Also, by the looks of the bar he found himself sitting in he doubted the bartender would even know how to make the drink he fancied at the moment; and he didn’t feel like teaching the man how to do his own job. Just sitting there in silence with his drink was enough. No offense to the bartender, but considering he wasn’t a woman nor a friend of Bokuden’s he wasn’t exactly what Bokuden would consider good company.
Still, he had no interest in drinking and mulling over all of the negatives that floated about him in his current situation. One by one he would recant the ingredients of the drink he would have so preferred in an effort to remove the thoughts of his work from his mind, if only for a moment. The Suburban: an ounce of rye whiskey, half an ounce of dark rum, half an ounce of ruby port, a dash of Angostura bitters, and a dash of orange bitters, stirred in a mixing glass with cracked ice and strained into a mixing glass with no garnish. Somehow he had the sneaking suspicion that the man behind the bar wouldn’t even have all of those ingredients, let alone know the recipe for the drink. To be honest he was surprised that he could even get a Black Russian. Sake is the drink of choice in the region of the world, and it quite often proved difficult to get one’s hands on more western drinks in anything but upscale bars that could afford to have liquors regularly imported.
In silence the two men would remain, the bartender refilling Bokuden’s glass with another drink without hesitation each time he slid the empty glass back down the counter. The two men had an understanding. The fact that they were both there, in that bar, on that day, while everything was going to hell around them, stowed away in this bar in complete silence told the entire story. Both of those men had a reason to be there, Bokuden to drink his problems away and the other man to… well, not even Bokuden was perceptive enough to pick that up.
For two troubled men who sat in a dark bar in the middle of a war zone the setting was surprisingly peaceful. The solitude of their sanctuary would be short lived however, as reality soon began creeping into the walls of the bar, the sounds of agony and war approaching from the distance, the rumbling of explosions shaking the counter top and disturbing the ice in Bokuden’s drink. The bottles stacked beside each other on the shelves behind the bar shook and clanked together, the sounds of clashing glass echoing throughout the empty bar as the war crept closer and closer. Even still, the two men would remain completely silent, not so much as a whisper or even a glance exchanged between the two. They both knew that this was an inevitable outcome. There was no escaping war, all they had done was put off for a bit longer what they knew all too well would soon consume the very ground on which they stood.
Not so much as a wince would show on Bokuden’s face as he shot down what was left in his glass, placing the glass back down onto the table demonstratively and slid it down the counter, drawing a glance from the bartender who was casually cleaning glasses behind the counter at the end of the bar. It was then that the silence between he and Bokuden would finally break as the bartender picked up the glass and glanced over at Bokuden once more before speaking casually, “Will you be having another?”
A smirk grew upon Bokuden’s lips as he let out a huff of air from his nostrils amusedly. “You didn’t ask me that this whole time up until now when you were just filling up my glass every time I set it down,” Bokuden said sarcastically as he ran a hand back through his hair, brushing away some stray strands which had fallen over his face, “Why the sudden concern for my drinking?”
The bartender let out an amused chuckle as he continued polishing the glass in his hand, the mood finally lightening between the two solemn men. “Well, what kind of service would I be providing if I didn’t care about my customers?” he mused snarkily, returning Bokuden’s earlier sarcasm, “I’m pretty good at telling when someone has had enough. I am a professional after all. It’s just one of those things you pick up after having as many years of experience behind one of these counters as I have.”
The room fell silent once again as Bokuden paused to ponder the gravity and the real meaning behind the bartender’s words. Bokuden was nowhere near drunk, something that anyone with decent observation skills, let alone a professional bartender, should have been able to see. They both knew what this was though, the time that had been allotted to them to be in peace while the rest of the world seemingly burned down around them had expired. Reality was knocking, and it was time for someone to answer the door. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Bokuden would respond calmly as he placed both of his hands against the counter top, using the wooden surface to push himself up and he raised himself out of his bar stool, “As much as I’d love to stick around and have another drink in peace, I don’t think that they are going to allow that to happen.”
“So you figured that out as well, did you?” the bartender said solemnly, pausing his glass polishing to look with empty eyes down at the counter before him, “To remain so calm through all of this and still have the nerve to drink and the wherewithal to remain perceptive enough to make that kind of observation… you’re skill is impressive, even for an experienced shinobi. One that is also certainly not of this village. I’d ask you about how you found yourself mixed up in all of this, but unfortunately as you said, time is running out.”
Without so much as throwing a glance the bartender’s way Bokuden would answer, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and the lapels of his coat before speaking once more, “Unfortunate for you perhaps, but fortunate for me. I don’t much like talking about myself. I’m nobody, just another man going to a bar to get a drink.”
“Somehow I doubt that very much, sir,” the bartender replied slyly, a small grin forming on his face, amused by Bokuden’s words, “But as you wish.”
“Alright then, I’m glad that we are both in agreement about it then,” Bokuden retorted as he reached into his coat for his wallet, “So how much do I owe you, mister…?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied without hesitation, not throwing so much as a glance in the direction of Bokuden as he made an effort to pay for his drinks, “It’s on the house. It was nice just having someone else in this old place for a change. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to remain nameless as well. I’m no one important, just another bartender doing his job.”
“Fair enough,” Bokuden replied with a smirk, buttoning up his coat as he prepared to take his leave, “If that’s the case then, have yourself a drink. Anything you want, on me. “
The man would burst out in laughter at Bokuden’s remark, the mood in the bar finally lightening up to the point where they could speak freely. “Maybe I’ll do just that then,” the bartender answered, “Have to take advantage of other people’s generosity when you get the chance. You take care of yourself, don’t let yourself get too involved in all of that going on outside. This isn’t your fight.”
“You too, and I’ll keep that in mind,” Bokuden answered as he threw a large sum of cash down onto the bar counter anyway, “Now… it’s time for me to get to work I guess. Things outside just aren’t going to clean up themselves.” Bokuden would make his way towards the exit before turning around to speak once more, “Try to keep this place open until I get back, will you? If things are as bad as they sound like they are getting I might need a drink or two once the day is through.”
“I’ll try, but no promises,” the bartender answered through a feigned smile. The mood was slightly more light hearted than before, but there was still a heavy feeling of uneasiness weighing down the room. For all the pleasantries that were being exchanged, they were both well aware that this was very likely the first and only time their paths would ever cross.
The smirk that had previously sat upon his lips would then fade as he turned back to face the exit of the bar once more. “Yeah, no promises,” he replied, placing his hand against the cold door handle and pulling it open ever so slightly, “We’ll just leave it to chance, just as this meeting was. Take care of yourself, bartender.” No more words need be spoken between the two. They were both shinobi, whether they outright admitted it or not, ones who had been through the darkness at that. Silence was often the most merciful parting gift one could bestow upon men like them. And with that in mind Bokuden would open the door and make his way out of the bar and into the fray. It was time for Bokuden to go to work. This was not his fight, but these invaders were preventing him from getting his job done and that was unacceptable. The poor souls, if they had invaded but a few days later they would be spared the terror that would soon befall them.
Mission Count: 2353/3500
“Massive puppets sweeping through friendly forces, huh?” Bokuden thought to himself as he casually folded the sheet of paper which bore the notification and slipped it into his left coat breast pocket. His half-mast eyes would then fall down to his the countertop before him in the dimly lit bar in which he sat. “Of all the places this bastard could have gone,” he barely whispered as he let out a deep sigh of frustration, “He had to pick the shinobi village that was in the middle of being under siege by some crazy puppeteers. I should kill both of them.” Annoyed with the entire ordeal he found himself in, Bokuden simply located this old, run down bar, which surprisingly was still open and functioning while the village itself had been turned into a battleground.
Bokuden was the only customer in the bar, unsurprisingly. Any sane man would be either out fighting on the front lines in order to push back the oncoming assault or seeking refuge, either in some manner of bunker or outside of the village. Bokuden however, was interested in neither of these options. He had no business going out and taking the fight to the Seven Bells forces, this wasn’t his village. He had been fortunate to have not even encountered a single one of the hostile forces, the fights so far taking place further away from the section of the city he had found himself in. There was always the option of just deeming the situation too volatile to remain, head back to the docks, and leave, but he had no interest in leaving a mission incomplete. Besides, he was barely able to get off of the docks without rousing suspicion upon arrival with all of the added security precautions that the authorities seemed to be taking with Kirigakure currently being at war. Whether he liked it or not, it was both safer and more logical to remain in the village until he had either completed the assignment he was sent here to do in the first place or found a more secure way to slip out of these God forsaken lands.
So here he found himself, wasting time in an old run down bar in this hell hole of a village. Who knows why this bar was even open at a time like this, but he had to admit, this bartender was dedicated to his job. Any man who was willing to go to work and mix up drinks while his home was under attack and his countrymen were off fighting to the death was either dedicated beyond belief or equally as insane… or a coward, depending on the situation, but at this point Bokuden didn’t even care. He was thankful that there was a place he could sit down and get something to drink. Lord knows he needed one after this whole ordeal.
Grabbing his glass in hand once more Bokuden would swirl his drink around for a moment, listening to the ice clank against the sides, before gulping down what was left of his drink. It was a Black Russian, one part khalua and one part vodka, about as simple a mix as you can get. It wasn’t his drink of choice and he wasn’t even that avid of a vodka drinker, but it was quick, it was easy, and most important of all it was something that the bartender couldn’t mess up. Just because he admired the man’s dedication to his work by keeping the bar open even in the midst of his village becoming a battleground didn’t mean that he was just going to trust him to make any kind of complex drink with any kind of proficiency. Also, by the looks of the bar he found himself sitting in he doubted the bartender would even know how to make the drink he fancied at the moment; and he didn’t feel like teaching the man how to do his own job. Just sitting there in silence with his drink was enough. No offense to the bartender, but considering he wasn’t a woman nor a friend of Bokuden’s he wasn’t exactly what Bokuden would consider good company.
Still, he had no interest in drinking and mulling over all of the negatives that floated about him in his current situation. One by one he would recant the ingredients of the drink he would have so preferred in an effort to remove the thoughts of his work from his mind, if only for a moment. The Suburban: an ounce of rye whiskey, half an ounce of dark rum, half an ounce of ruby port, a dash of Angostura bitters, and a dash of orange bitters, stirred in a mixing glass with cracked ice and strained into a mixing glass with no garnish. Somehow he had the sneaking suspicion that the man behind the bar wouldn’t even have all of those ingredients, let alone know the recipe for the drink. To be honest he was surprised that he could even get a Black Russian. Sake is the drink of choice in the region of the world, and it quite often proved difficult to get one’s hands on more western drinks in anything but upscale bars that could afford to have liquors regularly imported.
In silence the two men would remain, the bartender refilling Bokuden’s glass with another drink without hesitation each time he slid the empty glass back down the counter. The two men had an understanding. The fact that they were both there, in that bar, on that day, while everything was going to hell around them, stowed away in this bar in complete silence told the entire story. Both of those men had a reason to be there, Bokuden to drink his problems away and the other man to… well, not even Bokuden was perceptive enough to pick that up.
For two troubled men who sat in a dark bar in the middle of a war zone the setting was surprisingly peaceful. The solitude of their sanctuary would be short lived however, as reality soon began creeping into the walls of the bar, the sounds of agony and war approaching from the distance, the rumbling of explosions shaking the counter top and disturbing the ice in Bokuden’s drink. The bottles stacked beside each other on the shelves behind the bar shook and clanked together, the sounds of clashing glass echoing throughout the empty bar as the war crept closer and closer. Even still, the two men would remain completely silent, not so much as a whisper or even a glance exchanged between the two. They both knew that this was an inevitable outcome. There was no escaping war, all they had done was put off for a bit longer what they knew all too well would soon consume the very ground on which they stood.
Not so much as a wince would show on Bokuden’s face as he shot down what was left in his glass, placing the glass back down onto the table demonstratively and slid it down the counter, drawing a glance from the bartender who was casually cleaning glasses behind the counter at the end of the bar. It was then that the silence between he and Bokuden would finally break as the bartender picked up the glass and glanced over at Bokuden once more before speaking casually, “Will you be having another?”
A smirk grew upon Bokuden’s lips as he let out a huff of air from his nostrils amusedly. “You didn’t ask me that this whole time up until now when you were just filling up my glass every time I set it down,” Bokuden said sarcastically as he ran a hand back through his hair, brushing away some stray strands which had fallen over his face, “Why the sudden concern for my drinking?”
The bartender let out an amused chuckle as he continued polishing the glass in his hand, the mood finally lightening between the two solemn men. “Well, what kind of service would I be providing if I didn’t care about my customers?” he mused snarkily, returning Bokuden’s earlier sarcasm, “I’m pretty good at telling when someone has had enough. I am a professional after all. It’s just one of those things you pick up after having as many years of experience behind one of these counters as I have.”
The room fell silent once again as Bokuden paused to ponder the gravity and the real meaning behind the bartender’s words. Bokuden was nowhere near drunk, something that anyone with decent observation skills, let alone a professional bartender, should have been able to see. They both knew what this was though, the time that had been allotted to them to be in peace while the rest of the world seemingly burned down around them had expired. Reality was knocking, and it was time for someone to answer the door. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Bokuden would respond calmly as he placed both of his hands against the counter top, using the wooden surface to push himself up and he raised himself out of his bar stool, “As much as I’d love to stick around and have another drink in peace, I don’t think that they are going to allow that to happen.”
“So you figured that out as well, did you?” the bartender said solemnly, pausing his glass polishing to look with empty eyes down at the counter before him, “To remain so calm through all of this and still have the nerve to drink and the wherewithal to remain perceptive enough to make that kind of observation… you’re skill is impressive, even for an experienced shinobi. One that is also certainly not of this village. I’d ask you about how you found yourself mixed up in all of this, but unfortunately as you said, time is running out.”
Without so much as throwing a glance the bartender’s way Bokuden would answer, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and the lapels of his coat before speaking once more, “Unfortunate for you perhaps, but fortunate for me. I don’t much like talking about myself. I’m nobody, just another man going to a bar to get a drink.”
“Somehow I doubt that very much, sir,” the bartender replied slyly, a small grin forming on his face, amused by Bokuden’s words, “But as you wish.”
“Alright then, I’m glad that we are both in agreement about it then,” Bokuden retorted as he reached into his coat for his wallet, “So how much do I owe you, mister…?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied without hesitation, not throwing so much as a glance in the direction of Bokuden as he made an effort to pay for his drinks, “It’s on the house. It was nice just having someone else in this old place for a change. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to remain nameless as well. I’m no one important, just another bartender doing his job.”
“Fair enough,” Bokuden replied with a smirk, buttoning up his coat as he prepared to take his leave, “If that’s the case then, have yourself a drink. Anything you want, on me. “
The man would burst out in laughter at Bokuden’s remark, the mood in the bar finally lightening up to the point where they could speak freely. “Maybe I’ll do just that then,” the bartender answered, “Have to take advantage of other people’s generosity when you get the chance. You take care of yourself, don’t let yourself get too involved in all of that going on outside. This isn’t your fight.”
“You too, and I’ll keep that in mind,” Bokuden answered as he threw a large sum of cash down onto the bar counter anyway, “Now… it’s time for me to get to work I guess. Things outside just aren’t going to clean up themselves.” Bokuden would make his way towards the exit before turning around to speak once more, “Try to keep this place open until I get back, will you? If things are as bad as they sound like they are getting I might need a drink or two once the day is through.”
“I’ll try, but no promises,” the bartender answered through a feigned smile. The mood was slightly more light hearted than before, but there was still a heavy feeling of uneasiness weighing down the room. For all the pleasantries that were being exchanged, they were both well aware that this was very likely the first and only time their paths would ever cross.
The smirk that had previously sat upon his lips would then fade as he turned back to face the exit of the bar once more. “Yeah, no promises,” he replied, placing his hand against the cold door handle and pulling it open ever so slightly, “We’ll just leave it to chance, just as this meeting was. Take care of yourself, bartender.” No more words need be spoken between the two. They were both shinobi, whether they outright admitted it or not, ones who had been through the darkness at that. Silence was often the most merciful parting gift one could bestow upon men like them. And with that in mind Bokuden would open the door and make his way out of the bar and into the fray. It was time for Bokuden to go to work. This was not his fight, but these invaders were preventing him from getting his job done and that was unacceptable. The poor souls, if they had invaded but a few days later they would be spared the terror that would soon befall them.
Mission Count: 2353/3500
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 